WPC Me ASAP (aka Flex Your Love Muscle)

      I tell him I have to go to the restroom. Evan says sure. I go to the phone instead and call Trent, who got back from Palm Springs and ask him if he saw Julian there. He tells me no and that the coke he got from Sandy sucks and that he has too much of it and can't sell it. I tell Trent that I can't find Julian and that I'm strung out and tired. He asks me where I am. 
     "In a McDonald's on Sherman Oaks," I tell him.

     "That's why," Trent says.

     I don't understand and hang up. 

                                        - Bret Easton Ellis, Less than Zero

     This past week, the twenty-sixth through the twenty-ninth to be precise, I attended the White Privilege Conference in Madison, Wisconsin, and before anyone gets all "But Kmork, who needs a white privilege conference?" on me, rest assured that I know you would never say such a silly thing. Then again, maybe you would, or maybe you'd say, "But Kmork, everyone knows humanity isn't your thing, so what's the deal?" yet that inquiry would be of some merit, at least, although you'd still be a dick for asking.*
     There's plenty of time to discuss the conference, of course, mostly because this is my blog and I'll do what I damn well please! but also because I don't have much of a personal and/or social life to distract me; thus, consider this the first in a series of magically delicious posts pertaining to this year's WPC. That being said, let's discuss something which had thrown me off; you know, one of those What the hell have I gotten myself into? moments. The thing is, the keynote speaker instructed us to, more or less, flex our love muscle (or muscles**) throughout the conference. Those in the know will understand the dilemma encountered.
     For those unaware, I have 7,297 songs in my iTunes collection. Of this number, 306 have 'love' somewhere in the title, and approximately 6,000 more discuss the topic of love. Here's an excellent example, in more ways than one:

     Great song, great video, right? Right! Beyond academic terms, however, I wouldn't say I actually get the point of this or any of the other 6,306 songs mentioned previously, so when some dude up on the stage directed me to let love be our guide for the rest of the conference, you can easily imagine the resultant confusion. I mean, if the guy had ordered us to flex our amorality muscle, I would have leapt from the chair and started partying 45 Grave style.

   Awesome song, awesome scenario, right? Right! But no, the guy had to go with love. Always with the love. At that point, it became a multiple choice scenario of sorts, as I could have elected to A) slide into a homicidal frenzy; B) head to the bar way, way early; C) go back to the hotel, take a nap, and hit the gym; or D) work around the love. Surprisingly, I opted to work around the love; how and why are another topic for another day, suffice it to say that it was worth the effort.

That, and there wasn't any flexing involved. 

* You might have a point, too, but let's not get caught up in such tangents.
** I'm no biologist, mind you, but the anatomy of love looks pretty fucked up when dissected.