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shiny objects

Monday, July 05, 2004


Love. It's nothing really - just a neurochemical cocktail designed by evolution to ensure procreation. That burst of happy-go-lucky sentiment, rushing giddily through your synapses, is just a spurt of dopamine. Your adrenal glands shudder to norepinephrine's programmed cadence; a pounding heart ensues. Any sudden bliss you may feel is, was, and always will be phenylethylamine.

Awash in a sea of autointoxication, your brain can no longer coordinate reason, logic, and action. Your limbic system kicks into overdrive. Your emotions surge, warp, and flow. Think you can't live without your significant other? That's oxytocin for you. But let's face it. You don't care any more. You're after those post-coital endogenous opioids, the body's natural equivilant of heroin.

Once a junkie, always a junkie.


Me, I just want my fix.


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