Longing for surreal humour

I've read an article on BBC news today which says doctors should take more heed to the symptoms of love-sickness http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/london/4240579.stm.

I'm only interested becuase recently I was suffering the symptoms of what I assumed were sugar withdrawal (have given up refined sugar), but was also going through a little bit of an emotional attachement to someone, and could have confused these symptoms with the early stages of infatuation (not being able to eat, tummy ache, nausea and obsessively checking my e-mail).

Anyway, now that the symptoms have subsided somewhat, and the young man in question I have not communicated with in the last few days, they have not disappeared completely, but suffer a dull sort of throbbing in the pit of my stomach, even when I have fed it good nutritious and well balanced food. I'm worried that even though they are not extreme, they are still present. Dammit! Ah well, such is life, I suppose! I'm sure given a few more weeks I'll have forgotten about it all and will have much better things to think about.

How can such a brief entanglement lead to such uproar?

The doctors said that up until the 18th Century, love-sickness was a valid medical condition because of extreme behaviour triggered by it. For some reason I am imagining Gwenneth sitting on a pile of post.... Maybe I should begin to imagine myself sitting on a pile of post. Or maybe swamped by it. Then at least I would have something to do instead of just concentrating on a spoon with a friend.

This piece of surreality leads me to my next topic. I am in the middle of a FANTASTIC book by Woody Allen (TB I will send it to you when I'm finished, it is so good) called The Complete Prose, a collection of three of his books and contains a selection of ridiculous stories and observations in small, bite-sized chunks. One chapter is called 'The lesser known ballets', another 'If the Impressionists had been Dentists' and takes the form of some letters by Vincent to Theo recounting his traumas at the restriction in artistic expression of doing bridge work. Yet another chapter 'Match Wits with Inspector Ford' is a series of surreal and ridiculous murder mysteries whose resolutions bear no resemblance to the crimes in question. It reminds me of a particularly obscure game of consequences... It is also very clever, very funny and has me laughing out loud every time I read from it. Not to be missed, and certainly not for people who need a sense of humour transplant, although if you read the book, it would save you thousands in medical fees.