in love and death

Damnit all if I haven't been away in awhile. Of course as you can tell merely by the intro I'll probably have nothing interesting to say short of "Whoa, I've been gone..." and "Whoa, now I'm back". And indeed you would be correct.
Or at least very nearly correct...
You see as well as planning to say something interesting in the near future, I'll do you one better and bring up the idea of something interesting, thus possibly leading to more interesting dialogue at a later date. (How many times am I bloody going to say "interesting" in this blog?)
Has anyone ever watched "Sparkhouse"? Very well done English drama, which correct me if I'm wrong, takes place in Yorkshire? And follows the lives of two young lovers, Andrew and Carol. (Carol played by the thoroughly lovely Sarah Smart.) I say well done because Sallyt Wainwright, who wrote the teleplay, really seemed to know intimately and capture the strange and rare bizzarities that love is always coupled with. And not just lusty puppy lets fuck and never speak to one another again love, but love beyond station, income, marital status, indeed anything and everything until blood stops bounding through your veins. The real thing in other words, but there begs my question, in pertaining to, big surprise, the American mindset.
In the end, Andrew, despite the fact he's married and has a child, begs Carol, just recently married herself, to run away with him. After a scuffle, he gets his ass beat and tossed off the farm. Later he is found dead after opening up his own veins. Suicide. Pfft, figures.
Albeit a rather Japanese ending, I know that most Americans see what Andrew did as a lapse into weakness. I've heard this same Barbaric, Neanderthal mentality applied to psychology. No one is ever really mentally ill, they just have flaws of character. Aren't disciplined enough. That attitude reflects itself in our love stories. It's almost always the man going to some insane lenght to get the girl of his dreams who doesn't know he exists. Occasionally the girl who really loves him is his secretary or goofy best friend.
The frightening thing to me is both scenarios are horrible Capitalistic punchlines. Sheer propaganda. If you want a girl, no matter how bizzare and unpractical it may be, just get a really good job and buy her shit until she succumbs. Sky write her name, have Michael Jordan come out of retirement and play and exhibition game in her honor. Buy her a big shiny rock that people die daily to provide the love-stricken of our country. She'll shag you sooner or later. Everybody has got a price.
Or even better. Look, you've been shit on by the system. You'll never make enough money to get that girl. Why not settle for the girl who lives in the same dump you do? Lord knows she'll be low maintenance, and she'll probably make you more happy anyway. Let the guys with cash go after the Charlize Theron's of the world. Go home and appreciate the Cate Blanchet you ended up with.
I'm not a fan of suicide. I don't think it solves much. Often I think it's a bit cowardly. But I am a fan of being sincere. Of being genuine. Andrew was controlled by his parents his whole life. He found himself making the same mistakes over and over and he was only getting more miserable. If someone could have been there for him, he probably wouldn't have killed himself, but let's not start calling the guy names. Let's not say he was weak, or crazy or undisciplined. He was in love. That brings with it its own set of circumstances.
I'd rather make fun of the guy in the Cialis commercial. He can't get it up. What a loser, what a sexless, neuter freak. What a failure as a man. How undisciplined, how weak of him not to be hard. How pathetic...oh wait, that's a medical condition you say? Not fair of me you say? Well I say depression, tragic tortured love, is just as, if not more of a legitimate condition. So lets stop all the name calling bollocks.