I’ve never fully understood this heart on the sleeve thing. A lot of people mention it when describing themselves. Whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing, I really can’t say. After all these years of hearing people talk of their misplaced hearts, I still conjure the image of a bloody sleeve and instantly move on to more pleasant thoughts. But really, of all places, who wants a fucking heart on their sleeve? Even in the metaphorical sense, there has to be a more suitable place to park such a descriptive literary organ. Why not wear it in your shirt pocket? It would still be accessible but a little less noticeable. I’ll wager the pocket would make for a better impression, especially when meeting someone the first time. One could even use a plastic liner to keep the shirt from staining so badly. Maybe it’s just me. After all, if some folks wear a heart on their sleeve, mine is on the floor in the closet somewhere. Is that why I have a hard time writing from the heart? I can’t find the damn thing. I guess I wear my heart crumbled up in my clothes hamper between some sweaty socks and dirty boxer shorts.
And how about this heart of gold thing?…….oh well, another time.