Bruce: I Did Not Find Love. . .

Obtained from: Kids in the Hall FAQ
Transcribed by: stc108@psu.edu

Bruce: I'm gonna slow things down a bit. Where was the love my horoscope promised? I have looked under my mattress where I keep things, hidden. There was no love for me in the corridors of power. I found no love in the bar. Just songs about love and bourbon, lots of bourbon. There was no love in volunteer work, in "just being myself." I found no love in bank line-ups, in the sports section of my daily newspaper. I found no love in the Canadian praries, just farmers. Farmers with their own problems, and used farm equipment. I did not find love on the phone, just a network of the un-loved, with something called "call waiting." I did not find love at Eaton Center, just bargain hunters, bargain hunting. I found no love at the Karoake club, I think. See, I couldn't make it inside. Noone needs love quite that badly. There was no love in the VIP room of the Big Bop. Just me and a bowl of peanuts, and Bryan Adams. I talked to the bowl of peanuts all night, if you know what I mean. Would you believe I actually looked for love in the health food store? There I only found women buying steroids disguised as sea kelp. There was no love for me in the day care industry, just hard women dressed in pink. I found no love at the antique market, just hopeless couples muttering about the family unit, the family unit, the family- shut up. I found no love in burning the bottom of my feet with Cigarellos. Just a certain amount of artistic satisfaction. I found no love in the hollowed-out belly of a dead elk. Just warmth, and quiet. But then the questions: "Hey, why are you in the hollowed-out belly of a dead elk? Are you in there because of love?" And always, "You know if you're homeless, man, you cannot sleep there." There is no love in writing about love, only a deadline.