Some years ago I wrote a poem - quite a bad poem - about Valentine's Day. About the cynical thing of it, yet the wondering-if of it, and the little dabbed-away tear of the disappointment of it. Boo hoo hooooo. I growl now thinking about all three of those positions, just a little growl of experience and age. What a waste of effort is involved in projecting wishes and hopes and how little return there is for it.
Anyway, it was published in the Herald. It did not result in happiness, invitations to drinks, mysterious bouquets of flowers, anonymous heart shaped boxes of chocolate cherries, or proposals of marriage. I don't think it even resulted in a fee.
So I'm not a 'lover' (Ha. Ed.) of the commercial exploitation of the idea, i.e. of LOVE being celebrated nominally in the name of a dead Saint, on one particular day (call it a long weekend with a massive amount of foreplay) in the year.
This past week on twitter I've been emitting a lot of kitsch Valentine cards - which I might post here later to get out of my system/off my hard drive - and yesterday, remembering the clever twitter-meme begun by Jane Harris - namely, spoofing the vast quantity of novels titled 'THE GIRL WHO... - novels written by authors of all genders, but made most famous by Stieg Larsson's Dragon Tattoo Girl - (you've got lost now, haven't you? Ed.) - where was I - oh yes - remembering that AND pondering the foolishness of cutesie Valentine wishes made with coy tongue in bulging cheek (OOo-er. Ed) I wasted some more effort and fooled around a little with images and words, and in short, I made two V cards - Valentiney-cards for women who can't stand the whole shenanigans.
Here they are. I could make a series. I could sell them as e-cards. I could... exploit them. Maybe. (Haven't you got better things to do? Ed.) In the meantime, I hope you enjoy them, and if you want to tell me so you'll find me on Twitter...