"I miss the comfort in being sad..."

Nirvana is always a nice exclamation point to a day... well, perhaps more like a semi-colon. It is always a nice band to continue a very old thought. I was surfing dictionary.com yesterday and came across a lovely word with a dubious double meaning... imago

i·ma·go

   [ih-mey-goh, ih-mah-]  Show IPA

–noun, plural -goes, -gi·nes  [-guh-neez]  Show IPA.

1.

Entomology . an adult insect.

2.

Psychoanalysis . an idealized concept of a loved one, formedin childhood and retained unaltered in adult life.

but it is not just an adult insect. Further definition reveals that it is more exactly an insect that has reached sexual maturation... in addition to this idealized archetype of adoration. I like the idea of an idealized concept. I don't know how helpful it is that the imago stays stolid in our hearts and subconscious minds into our latter years. Perhaps the imago isn't the most forthright person. Perhaps it is an obsession with a villain or at the very least an anti-hero... someone whose flaws are enthralling, like the mopey aspect of Kurt Cobain or the vengeance of Heathcliff... the helplessness of Louis de Pointe du Lac... the lurid obsessiveness of Robert Lovelace... I have such a long list of imagoes that have made me comfortably sad. 

It's something in the eyes. It's something in the way the lock gets tucked behind the ear. It's a gravelly sigh or just the way a young man clears his throat between cigarettes that makes my toes curl the way the guitar solo does in Frances Farmer Will have her Revenge on Seattle. Maybe it's the way the laces of black Converse sneakers turn grayish after a few months that makes my eye lashes flutter. Whatever it is I know I will find it again.