Brad Walsh

The Two Sides of Monsieur Valentine

I have mixed feelings about Valentine’s Day. On one hand it’s nice to be romantic and cutesy for no good reason, but then of course when you think about it for more than five seconds, it’s very clear that the day is way corporate and fabricated and fosters herd mentality and other liberal arts school catch phrases. In years past I’ve mostly been single on Valentine’s Day; for some reason I often had breakups in December or January. And it hasn’t been bad or depressing, because usually the only way I’ve paid attention to the day has been by making valentines for my friends. Though I haven’t done that, either, in the last couple of years, probably because I have a real life now and I’m not in college in the middle of rural Ohio with nothing better to do.

But so this year it’s February 14th and I happen to like someone. We’re not having a Valentine’s Day date (because that’s the part that seriously makes me want to puke when I think about it), but we are hanging out this evening indoors. Which is nice.

Exactly one year ago right this very moment, Nicole Richie gave me a Dr. Pepper.

I love me some candy hearts. A year or two ago I bought three big bags of them in March from a thrift store because 1. I am cheap and 2. I am disgusting. They lasted maybe until the summer, which was very controlled of me. On February 15 sometime in middle school I stayed home “sick” and God worked justice on me by making me taste twice all ten pounds of candy hearts that I ate on my own all day. I threw up pink and it was horrible but also awesome.

My Valentine’s Day gift to you is an image of my kidney stone:

It looks much scarier in photo than it does in person. In actuality it’s maybe half the size of a pea, which is still large, but those pictures make me feel apocalyptic. I am not a cavernous mine. How did my body make a crystal like that? Are there fraggles living inside me? Bodies are gross and amazing.

I got this at a junk store in Williamsburg with Cameron last weekend and I love it so much:

I’m not on crack or mushrooms or psychedelics, by the way. Those last few entries have been the product of boredom and Wikipedia and introspection.

If you are a photographer and know anything about external flashes for Canon digitals, pleeease get in contact with me, I have a (probably simple) problem that I need help with.

Also, Aimee from Bad Girls Club looks just like my friend Sharon, if Sharon were less pretty and more ghetto.