Just a warning: this blog is going to come across as very meanspirited.
I'm in the library right now and my thoughts (each one a precious gem) are being sullied by the sound of a volunteer teaching an illiterate adult to read.
How sweet! How heartwarming! But, in the end, WHAT THE HELL IS THE POINT???
If you cannot read by adulthood you are already HOPELESS - and nothing will remedy that sad situation!
If you work REALLY HARD you might be a MEDIOCRITY by the age of 50 or 60!
Someone like Heidegger would pretentiously compare human thought to Mount Everest! If I'm in the Himalayan valley this poor schmuck has not even left Jersey!
Besides, has he not heard that "with knowledge increaseth sorrow?" If you can't think, don't put yourself to the trouble. It can be painful out there! I would not trade ignorance for bliss, but this poor dolt does not have a choice.
The rabble enjoy all sorts of pleasures. They enjoy sex with inferior-loving partners - even though they don't understand it! As a matter of fact, my intelligence has been treated as some kind of liability. Others have discriminated against me and witheld the pleasures of the flesh from me because I -God forbid! - actually have a human soul!
The rabble enjoy cheap, salty, sugary, fattening, ultimately tasteless food, dumb television shows, insipid music and fast cars. Back in Medieval Europe their ancestors shoveled the king's shit without ever having seen the king.
They are perfectly happy without words. They will never enjoy literature for literature's sake! They'll never think of laminating a good book so that they can read in the shower. They'll never rave about a good book for days and days and think of nothing else. They will never grow so attached to a book that they will feel an urge to SLEEP with a book when approaching the last few pages.
Their literacy will just help them to find a job other than the most brute physical labor - which is the labor they are made for and the labor they most enjoy! That's it! Nothing will instill a love of reading in them!
Oh, I'm so superior! Oh, I'm so superior!
But Geez Louise! Do you really need to interrupt my thinking and my writing with your rote, stilted reading.
"The - man - walked - the pup-py."
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Against Nature
I may have found another literary soulmate: J.K. Huysmans. I am reading Against Nature. It is HILARIOUS!!! Laugh out loud funny! My favorite part so far is when the protagonist becomes incapacitated for weeks because he had to look at a common person's face. He was so horrified at seeing mediocre people that he had to run back to his mansion and hide in his books! This character is ME.
What would he think of "Jersey Shore"? I live on the Jersey Shore and I encounter these parasites every day of my life. Bourgeois suburbanites with their nose to the ground, looking for a piece of gold. Wheeling, dealing, cheating, saving, scrimping, slaving and swindling money from their own families! There's often nothing wrong with most evil, but there's always something wrong with SMALLNESS and PETTINESS. That's it!
My only issue with J.K. Huysmans is that he was a bit of a Catholic apologist. But this is forgivable. If anything it somehow makes him even more exotic.
Christianity is not healthy for ubermenschen like me, but the cast of "Jersey Shore" could - to paraphrase Nietzsche - use quite a few large doses of Christianity and Schopenhauerian Pessimism.
And, yes, nature can be both refreshing and tiresome. Isn't the Museum of Natural History sometimes more exciting (and safe) than a safari? Now I know what may have influenced the Satanic call for artificial environments where each man will be free to be himself without outside interference.
What would he think of "Jersey Shore"? I live on the Jersey Shore and I encounter these parasites every day of my life. Bourgeois suburbanites with their nose to the ground, looking for a piece of gold. Wheeling, dealing, cheating, saving, scrimping, slaving and swindling money from their own families! There's often nothing wrong with most evil, but there's always something wrong with SMALLNESS and PETTINESS. That's it!
My only issue with J.K. Huysmans is that he was a bit of a Catholic apologist. But this is forgivable. If anything it somehow makes him even more exotic.
Christianity is not healthy for ubermenschen like me, but the cast of "Jersey Shore" could - to paraphrase Nietzsche - use quite a few large doses of Christianity and Schopenhauerian Pessimism.
And, yes, nature can be both refreshing and tiresome. Isn't the Museum of Natural History sometimes more exciting (and safe) than a safari? Now I know what may have influenced the Satanic call for artificial environments where each man will be free to be himself without outside interference.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
3 Blogs in One (Not the Metallica Video)
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Recently, someone (I won't mention any names) compared me to a sloth.
"What kind of animal do you think I would be?" I asked.
"A sloth!" she said.
A sloth? Do most people even know what a sloth is? They are arboreal creature of Central and South America and, well, they are not quite like any other creature on earth. Just like me.
"A sloth? What other creature would you compare me to?"
"A bat. You're kind of bat-like."
A bat? You can't compare me to a creature commonly thought of as noble, like a lion, a bear, a wolf, a seal or even a bird?
"Geez! What are you going to call me next, an eel?"
"Well, you are kind of slimy."
"Gee, thanks!"
Maybe I can be some kind of chimera, a cross between a sloth, a bat and an eel. Maybe you can find me somewhere in some Medieval bestiary (though at that time sloths were not known to Europeans.)
So, here I am, at the age of 29. After so many years of thinking of myself as Mr. Cool, Mr. Rebel, Mr. Rockstar I have been reduced to a Sleebat (Sloth-Eel-Bat.) Gee, Sleebat sounds kind of like an Indian name - hint, hint. Well, it doesn't really sound South Asian, but only foreign I guess.
I'm going to own my Sleebatness. I'm taking it back. Every single one of those creatures has some attribute.
Sloths know how to relax and take it easy. They're not tainted with the frantic, manic bourgeois obsession and compulsion to consume, consume, consume. They just want to eat their leaves and be left alone - just like me. And for the most part they are left alone - just like me. As far as I know they are not even poached. The vulgar have no use for them - just as they have no use for me.
Eels are creepy enough to glide through nice, icy mountain water mostly undisturbed. Sometimes they end up in sushi rolls, but those are probably only Japanese eels. Besides, like eels, I enjoy biting into young female asses.
Bats are dark, mysterious creatures of the night - just like me. They are closely associated with vampires and can anything be more glamorous and romantic than a vampire? Not only that, but vampires are trendy right now - I've finally become trendy.
So I will own my Sleebatness!
I'm taking it back!
"What kind of animal do you think I would be?" I asked.
"A sloth!" she said.
A sloth? Do most people even know what a sloth is? They are arboreal creature of Central and South America and, well, they are not quite like any other creature on earth. Just like me.
"A sloth? What other creature would you compare me to?"
"A bat. You're kind of bat-like."
A bat? You can't compare me to a creature commonly thought of as noble, like a lion, a bear, a wolf, a seal or even a bird?
"Geez! What are you going to call me next, an eel?"
"Well, you are kind of slimy."
"Gee, thanks!"
Maybe I can be some kind of chimera, a cross between a sloth, a bat and an eel. Maybe you can find me somewhere in some Medieval bestiary (though at that time sloths were not known to Europeans.)
So, here I am, at the age of 29. After so many years of thinking of myself as Mr. Cool, Mr. Rebel, Mr. Rockstar I have been reduced to a Sleebat (Sloth-Eel-Bat.) Gee, Sleebat sounds kind of like an Indian name - hint, hint. Well, it doesn't really sound South Asian, but only foreign I guess.
I'm going to own my Sleebatness. I'm taking it back. Every single one of those creatures has some attribute.
Sloths know how to relax and take it easy. They're not tainted with the frantic, manic bourgeois obsession and compulsion to consume, consume, consume. They just want to eat their leaves and be left alone - just like me. And for the most part they are left alone - just like me. As far as I know they are not even poached. The vulgar have no use for them - just as they have no use for me.
Eels are creepy enough to glide through nice, icy mountain water mostly undisturbed. Sometimes they end up in sushi rolls, but those are probably only Japanese eels. Besides, like eels, I enjoy biting into young female asses.
Bats are dark, mysterious creatures of the night - just like me. They are closely associated with vampires and can anything be more glamorous and romantic than a vampire? Not only that, but vampires are trendy right now - I've finally become trendy.
So I will own my Sleebatness!
I'm taking it back!
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Communion
I ordered the film "Communion" from Amazon.com. I think "Communion" may be the only decent film ever made about the alien abduction phenomenon. It is certainly the only intelligent film ever made on this subject. And, yes, it is much, much, much better than the overrated "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" which was just a pastiche of pitiful alien pop culture cliches. To a true afficionado such as myself, it was an embarrassing hack job.
Yes, what is most striking about "Communion" is that it is intelligent. I read that the director was constantly battling the studio. That must have been a battle of epic proportions.
It is such a strange film. The creepiness comes from the fact that it is so odd and bizarre. It is scary because is is so UNLIKE most scary films. Most scary films make sense (a psychopath with a chainsaw wants to kill and eat you), but when you have something that is WEIRD it is a bit more unsettling. At least you can avoid abandoned houses and lakeside campsites.
The film is also hopeful, inspiring. I get chills when I think of some of the most poignant scenes.
My only criticism of the film is that the special effects were not quite up to snuff in 1989, which is now 21 years ago.
Boy am I OLD!!!
Yes, what is most striking about "Communion" is that it is intelligent. I read that the director was constantly battling the studio. That must have been a battle of epic proportions.
It is such a strange film. The creepiness comes from the fact that it is so odd and bizarre. It is scary because is is so UNLIKE most scary films. Most scary films make sense (a psychopath with a chainsaw wants to kill and eat you), but when you have something that is WEIRD it is a bit more unsettling. At least you can avoid abandoned houses and lakeside campsites.
The film is also hopeful, inspiring. I get chills when I think of some of the most poignant scenes.
My only criticism of the film is that the special effects were not quite up to snuff in 1989, which is now 21 years ago.
Boy am I OLD!!!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Meditation
Until now I was afraid of meditation, afraid of it making my earthly life less rather than more.
Probably because I was doing it incorrectly. I was doing something different every day, which is a recipe for failure. The important thing to remember is to do the exact same exercises every single day without fail. Exercises may be added, subtracted or altered only a little bit at a time.
In my opinion this is important in case I happen to get off on the wrong stop, on the wrong floor. Meditation must be apolitical. Neutral. More neutral than Switzerland. In that space there can be no good or evil, right or wrong. There can be no opposites and there can be no non-opposites. There has to simply be nothing. One must float in the cosmic ocean and if even the cosmic ocean is thought of that is too much of a thought, too much of a concept.
And this is most important: THERE CAN BE NO MORAL IMPERATIVES.
Before I was fitting my meditations to an agenda. For instance, when I was with my ex, I was over-meditating to kill the flesh. The only thing my over-meditating seemed to do was to make me more fleshly (I became something of the sex maniac that I am now, spending most of my time in Manhattan peepbooths) and to, after the fact, make me furiously OCD that I somehow damaged my psycho-sexual apparatus. This didn't happen, of course, but I did get off on the wrong stop, a neurotic and compulsive stop.
At other times I've placed other agendas and goals on my meditation. Again, one cannot alter the meditation to fit anything. It is the one place that is free from all of that! That is why it must always remain the same and only increase or decrease gradually.
Last night I realized that I am absolutely loaded with moral imperatives. While meditating, my mind is saying: "Think this. Don't think that. Do this. Don't do that." None of it is what I want to do or not do! Those voices, those commandments, those imperatives are ALL from others. Last night it seemed as if not one thought was mine! No wonder I am so prone to boredom and depression - I am always worried about my duty! How much fun is life when it is treated like a duty carried out from moral commands that I do not fully agree with or understand? And even if I do wish to abide by some of these imperatives meditation is NOT the place to dwell on them! You notice how I refer to meditation as a place? That's because it is its own time and place.
Will meditation help to make me less moral? Hopefully. If anything I have been too moral throughout my life. The fact that I never had a childhood (that I was never allowed to let loose, let my hair down and have fun) has only had me compensate in various outrageous ways.
Hopefully meditation will also make me less overly-intellectual. There's not enough of the intellectual in the world today, but when I speak of the overly-intellectual I am thinking of the endless cud-chewing rumination that takes me far from all the joy of life! Maybe I will soon be a romantic once again.
What's most odd about the changes that have taken place since starting my latest round of meditation is that my practices have made me more sane and rational. I am actually much less superstitious than I was before. It's like all the fears, clouds, confusions and muddledness around my supernatural interests have been cleared away. I am now almost beginning to feel like a skeptic, like someone who is less inclined to believe the fantastic and more likely to debunk it - without ceasing to believe in the extraordinary and unbelievable. My OCDs always thrived on superstition and now I'm not as afraid that if I don't do this or that around this or that thing something bad will happen.
Cutting through my own superstitions has also made it easier for me to see the nonsense of most organized religions, especially Christianity and Islam. Anyone who is dogmatic or fundamentalist in either of the above two faiths is further from any kind of religion than the most fervent atheist. They are farther from religion than anyone.
Wow. Geez. Don't I sound so much saner than usual? Don't I sound as cool as a cucumber?
Probably because I was doing it incorrectly. I was doing something different every day, which is a recipe for failure. The important thing to remember is to do the exact same exercises every single day without fail. Exercises may be added, subtracted or altered only a little bit at a time.
In my opinion this is important in case I happen to get off on the wrong stop, on the wrong floor. Meditation must be apolitical. Neutral. More neutral than Switzerland. In that space there can be no good or evil, right or wrong. There can be no opposites and there can be no non-opposites. There has to simply be nothing. One must float in the cosmic ocean and if even the cosmic ocean is thought of that is too much of a thought, too much of a concept.
And this is most important: THERE CAN BE NO MORAL IMPERATIVES.
Before I was fitting my meditations to an agenda. For instance, when I was with my ex, I was over-meditating to kill the flesh. The only thing my over-meditating seemed to do was to make me more fleshly (I became something of the sex maniac that I am now, spending most of my time in Manhattan peepbooths) and to, after the fact, make me furiously OCD that I somehow damaged my psycho-sexual apparatus. This didn't happen, of course, but I did get off on the wrong stop, a neurotic and compulsive stop.
At other times I've placed other agendas and goals on my meditation. Again, one cannot alter the meditation to fit anything. It is the one place that is free from all of that! That is why it must always remain the same and only increase or decrease gradually.
Last night I realized that I am absolutely loaded with moral imperatives. While meditating, my mind is saying: "Think this. Don't think that. Do this. Don't do that." None of it is what I want to do or not do! Those voices, those commandments, those imperatives are ALL from others. Last night it seemed as if not one thought was mine! No wonder I am so prone to boredom and depression - I am always worried about my duty! How much fun is life when it is treated like a duty carried out from moral commands that I do not fully agree with or understand? And even if I do wish to abide by some of these imperatives meditation is NOT the place to dwell on them! You notice how I refer to meditation as a place? That's because it is its own time and place.
Will meditation help to make me less moral? Hopefully. If anything I have been too moral throughout my life. The fact that I never had a childhood (that I was never allowed to let loose, let my hair down and have fun) has only had me compensate in various outrageous ways.
Hopefully meditation will also make me less overly-intellectual. There's not enough of the intellectual in the world today, but when I speak of the overly-intellectual I am thinking of the endless cud-chewing rumination that takes me far from all the joy of life! Maybe I will soon be a romantic once again.
What's most odd about the changes that have taken place since starting my latest round of meditation is that my practices have made me more sane and rational. I am actually much less superstitious than I was before. It's like all the fears, clouds, confusions and muddledness around my supernatural interests have been cleared away. I am now almost beginning to feel like a skeptic, like someone who is less inclined to believe the fantastic and more likely to debunk it - without ceasing to believe in the extraordinary and unbelievable. My OCDs always thrived on superstition and now I'm not as afraid that if I don't do this or that around this or that thing something bad will happen.
Cutting through my own superstitions has also made it easier for me to see the nonsense of most organized religions, especially Christianity and Islam. Anyone who is dogmatic or fundamentalist in either of the above two faiths is further from any kind of religion than the most fervent atheist. They are farther from religion than anyone.
Wow. Geez. Don't I sound so much saner than usual? Don't I sound as cool as a cucumber?
Friday, April 9, 2010
Actually...
I don't want even a trace of bitterness in my blog. So many people I care about have come through for me. People love and appreciate me so much.
I was just writing about the motive for the story. Since the story has been out everyone has been so good to me - even better than usual.
I was just writing about the motive for the story. Since the story has been out everyone has been so good to me - even better than usual.
Trying to sell the Aliza novel...
Well, this week was a very good week. I was run in the New York Press this past Wednesday. The philistine in me (and let's face it - I always have been a philistine and I always will be a philisine) gets off simply on seeing my name in print. Let alone having a 900-word story in print.
Not only that, but this piece scrambles the codes. That's what the most creative schizophrenic does: he scrambles the codes. This is a rather odd, bizarre piece. Just like me - odd and bizarre.
But what is most rewarding about this latest success is that I turned terrible pain into something tangible - something that is sitting in thousands of bins in New York right now. My work LIVES. It's all over the streets of the only city that matters. My pain was not in vain (nice rhyme.) I did something creative with it.
I wrote that piece after several nights of difficulty sleeping. I was plagued by the fact that I have only been able to do probably less than 1% of what I have wanted to do sexually.
It was motivated by Aliza. I wrote a short novel about Aliza. I'm my own harshest critic and I must say that the short novel is a miss. It's a pretty good miss (better than 99% of the stuff out there that sells - better than Junot Diaz), but it's still a miss. See, I would have to write a series of interconnected novels, a volume which would be bigger than Proust's Remembrance of Things Past to really "get it." For ME to "get it" - let alone others.
See, Aliza is the avatar of our time - of everything that went so TERRIBLY WRONG.
This is what Aliza represents to me:
To me she represents every single gorgeous female ass that I watched pass me by. SHE IS EVERY LONELY NIGHT AT A CLUB. She is every tight Italian or Puerto Rican ass in tight pants passing me by in a club. She is everyone who worshipped the inferior while shunning the superior. She is all the shame of Sega Genesis and a corporatized sexuality.
SHE IS EVERY GIRL THAT LAUGHED AT ME BECAUSE I COULDN'T DANCE.
OR BECAUSE I SAID WEIRD THINGS.
OR BECAUSE I WAS AWKWARD OR NERVOUS.
OR BECAUSE I TALKED OVER HER HEAD.
OR BECAUSE I SHOWED WEAKNESS.
OR BECAUSE I SHOWED VULNERABILITY.
Here's the important one:
SHE IS EVERY GIRL WHO SHUNNED ME BECAUSE I WAS NAIVE AND INNOCENT.
SHE IS EVERY GIRL WHO SHUNNED ME BECAUSE I WAS NAIVE AND INNOCENT.
SHE IS EVERY GIRL WHO SHUNNED ME BECAUSE I WAS NAIVE AND INNOCENT.
Or
SHE IS EVERY GIRL WHO WAS FORTUNATE ENOUGH TO EXPERIENCE SEX AND DRUGS AS A TEENAGER
See, the shambles of my teens and much of my 20s are a perfect example of when the ideal clashes with harsh reality.
There is desire and then there is attainment. I had all the desire in the world and frustrating road blocks were constantly thrown in the way of the attainment of those desires. I don't have to be Freud to tell you that THIS is what gums up the works and leads to every psychological problem under the sun. If only half of my desires were met I would be a much better-adjusted person.
At every party, club, social event all of those tight asses passed right in front of my face. And so seldom did they allow me to do anything about it.
They TEASED me.
They TORTURED me.
They TANTALIZED me.
They MOCKED me.
They LAUGHED at me.
And worst of all:
THEY PATRONIZED ME!!!
Well, you know what? This story that was run in the New York Press should tell you that I have some experience with depravity too.
I was held back by people like Aliza but I have persistently followed the blocked road that should have been easy to cross. YOU'RE NOT GOING TO STOP ME FROM BEING HUMAN!
At heart I am indeed a FIGHTER. For Christ's Sake, half the time I can only think in terms of power, dominance, weakness, submission. I was raised to think only in terms of that binary code.
I'm one of the rare, elite few who can ejaculate at least 35-40 times a week. For me to feel so much and to receive so little. A travesty. A waste. An unforgivable sin committed against me.
Well, as of last Wednesday it has been time to fight back.
THOSE WHO HAVE WRONGED ME WILL BE FORCED TO MAKE AMENDS FOR THE SINS COMMITTED AGAINST ME.
On that note I would like to thank the few, rare, exceptional, extraordinary individuals who have loved and helped me.
You know who you are.
Not only that, but this piece scrambles the codes. That's what the most creative schizophrenic does: he scrambles the codes. This is a rather odd, bizarre piece. Just like me - odd and bizarre.
But what is most rewarding about this latest success is that I turned terrible pain into something tangible - something that is sitting in thousands of bins in New York right now. My work LIVES. It's all over the streets of the only city that matters. My pain was not in vain (nice rhyme.) I did something creative with it.
I wrote that piece after several nights of difficulty sleeping. I was plagued by the fact that I have only been able to do probably less than 1% of what I have wanted to do sexually.
It was motivated by Aliza. I wrote a short novel about Aliza. I'm my own harshest critic and I must say that the short novel is a miss. It's a pretty good miss (better than 99% of the stuff out there that sells - better than Junot Diaz), but it's still a miss. See, I would have to write a series of interconnected novels, a volume which would be bigger than Proust's Remembrance of Things Past to really "get it." For ME to "get it" - let alone others.
See, Aliza is the avatar of our time - of everything that went so TERRIBLY WRONG.
This is what Aliza represents to me:
To me she represents every single gorgeous female ass that I watched pass me by. SHE IS EVERY LONELY NIGHT AT A CLUB. She is every tight Italian or Puerto Rican ass in tight pants passing me by in a club. She is everyone who worshipped the inferior while shunning the superior. She is all the shame of Sega Genesis and a corporatized sexuality.
SHE IS EVERY GIRL THAT LAUGHED AT ME BECAUSE I COULDN'T DANCE.
OR BECAUSE I SAID WEIRD THINGS.
OR BECAUSE I WAS AWKWARD OR NERVOUS.
OR BECAUSE I TALKED OVER HER HEAD.
OR BECAUSE I SHOWED WEAKNESS.
OR BECAUSE I SHOWED VULNERABILITY.
Here's the important one:
SHE IS EVERY GIRL WHO SHUNNED ME BECAUSE I WAS NAIVE AND INNOCENT.
SHE IS EVERY GIRL WHO SHUNNED ME BECAUSE I WAS NAIVE AND INNOCENT.
SHE IS EVERY GIRL WHO SHUNNED ME BECAUSE I WAS NAIVE AND INNOCENT.
Or
SHE IS EVERY GIRL WHO WAS FORTUNATE ENOUGH TO EXPERIENCE SEX AND DRUGS AS A TEENAGER
See, the shambles of my teens and much of my 20s are a perfect example of when the ideal clashes with harsh reality.
There is desire and then there is attainment. I had all the desire in the world and frustrating road blocks were constantly thrown in the way of the attainment of those desires. I don't have to be Freud to tell you that THIS is what gums up the works and leads to every psychological problem under the sun. If only half of my desires were met I would be a much better-adjusted person.
At every party, club, social event all of those tight asses passed right in front of my face. And so seldom did they allow me to do anything about it.
They TEASED me.
They TORTURED me.
They TANTALIZED me.
They MOCKED me.
They LAUGHED at me.
And worst of all:
THEY PATRONIZED ME!!!
Well, you know what? This story that was run in the New York Press should tell you that I have some experience with depravity too.
I was held back by people like Aliza but I have persistently followed the blocked road that should have been easy to cross. YOU'RE NOT GOING TO STOP ME FROM BEING HUMAN!
At heart I am indeed a FIGHTER. For Christ's Sake, half the time I can only think in terms of power, dominance, weakness, submission. I was raised to think only in terms of that binary code.
I'm one of the rare, elite few who can ejaculate at least 35-40 times a week. For me to feel so much and to receive so little. A travesty. A waste. An unforgivable sin committed against me.
Well, as of last Wednesday it has been time to fight back.
THOSE WHO HAVE WRONGED ME WILL BE FORCED TO MAKE AMENDS FOR THE SINS COMMITTED AGAINST ME.
On that note I would like to thank the few, rare, exceptional, extraordinary individuals who have loved and helped me.
You know who you are.
Monday, April 5, 2010
A Free Love Rant
I watched part of the film "Kinsey" last night. Alfred Kinsey was a hero. A freedom fighter.
So many years after the Kinsey Report our society is still so immature about sex. The shrill, chattery Tiger Woods nonsense makes my point that when it comes to sex most people in our society are still just CHILDREN.
We're in a Neo-Puritan time now. The Judeo-Christian current (thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, etc...) is still there, but now consumerism has placed new restraints on us.
Poor, pathetic confused cases, victims of our time and their own weakness (Neo-Puritans like Kurt Cobain and David Foster Wallace) just make it worse with their weak wills and intellectual laziness. Their hatred of life and themselves was a response to something, but they were too muddled to find out what and to properly deal with it.
THE HUMAN RACE JUST SEEMS DETERMINED TO NOT BE FREE!!!
I was in a relationship for four years. My ex from that relationship was not able to love me. As much as I loved her, she just wasn't able to love me. She wanted me to be someone else. Like my cunt mother she couldn't love me for who I was. Thank goodness I have finally found people who do love me for who I am. You know who you are.
She wanted me to be someone else. That's not love. That's just GRUESOME.
Some people cannot be sexually exclusive. It doesn't make us bad people and it doesn't mean that we don't love the people we begin relationships with. It just means that we accept the reality that sexuality cannot be tucked away and contained in a tiny little box. It's like the bisexual who has sex with men because his wife doesn't have a penis. Sometimes you want a diffeerent woman - or man. Or anything. There's so much love, life and pleasure to give and receive - why not practice the most idealistic sort of "Free Love"?
Yes, human jealousy is very real, but how does it relate to sex? I hope my future wife has sex with other men. That would only be fair to her. I can imagine that she would need a break from me now and again. As long as she used condoms and birth control I would give her my encouragement. If I can be free, why can't she?
I've never been sexually jealous of a person after I have slept with them. The only time I have been sexually jealous is when I have not been able to sleep with a particular person. I did not get to experience the deepest human mystery with this person - and someone else did. THAT is what makes me jealous. Once I do have sex with a person I want that person to be as free with as many partners as he or she desires.
So many years after the Kinsey Report our society is still so immature about sex. The shrill, chattery Tiger Woods nonsense makes my point that when it comes to sex most people in our society are still just CHILDREN.
We're in a Neo-Puritan time now. The Judeo-Christian current (thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, etc...) is still there, but now consumerism has placed new restraints on us.
Poor, pathetic confused cases, victims of our time and their own weakness (Neo-Puritans like Kurt Cobain and David Foster Wallace) just make it worse with their weak wills and intellectual laziness. Their hatred of life and themselves was a response to something, but they were too muddled to find out what and to properly deal with it.
THE HUMAN RACE JUST SEEMS DETERMINED TO NOT BE FREE!!!
I was in a relationship for four years. My ex from that relationship was not able to love me. As much as I loved her, she just wasn't able to love me. She wanted me to be someone else. Like my cunt mother she couldn't love me for who I was. Thank goodness I have finally found people who do love me for who I am. You know who you are.
She wanted me to be someone else. That's not love. That's just GRUESOME.
Some people cannot be sexually exclusive. It doesn't make us bad people and it doesn't mean that we don't love the people we begin relationships with. It just means that we accept the reality that sexuality cannot be tucked away and contained in a tiny little box. It's like the bisexual who has sex with men because his wife doesn't have a penis. Sometimes you want a diffeerent woman - or man. Or anything. There's so much love, life and pleasure to give and receive - why not practice the most idealistic sort of "Free Love"?
Yes, human jealousy is very real, but how does it relate to sex? I hope my future wife has sex with other men. That would only be fair to her. I can imagine that she would need a break from me now and again. As long as she used condoms and birth control I would give her my encouragement. If I can be free, why can't she?
I've never been sexually jealous of a person after I have slept with them. The only time I have been sexually jealous is when I have not been able to sleep with a particular person. I did not get to experience the deepest human mystery with this person - and someone else did. THAT is what makes me jealous. Once I do have sex with a person I want that person to be as free with as many partners as he or she desires.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Cadbury Eggs and Unhealthy Choices
Anyone who reads my blogs would think that my entire life revolves around buying food from supermarkets and convenience stores. Well, it kind of does.
Today I was standing in line at Quik Check. The man in front of me was buying the following items: a Rock Star energy drink, a carton of half and half, a Twix bar, a Snickers bar, two Cadbury eggs and a pack of Marlboro Lights.
Talk about some unhealthy choices. The guy - no surprise - looked like shit. He was probably my age, but he looked at least 20 years older. And with that particular combo he is just asking for impotence. I put health first. No wonder I can still ejaculate ten times a day.
Because he bought two Cadbury eggs he was entitled to get a third one free. But the display was empty. The loud, populist, bleached-blonde aged guidette with the Virginia Slims smoker's voice said: "Hey! I need another Cadbury egg! He's supposed to get a free one with this." The other clerk said: "We're all out. We finish off that promotion and that's it!" "But that's not fair!" Who cares? He doesn't need another Cadbury egg!
Thursday, April 1, 2010
A.C. Cheesesteaks
This is a poem from a time when I was still drinking alcohol and eating beef (from before I was a good Hindu.)
I burped
a drunk burp
and tasted
an
Atlantic City
cheesesteak
(A.C. cheesesteaks are much better than Philly cheesesteaks - A.C. has the best in the world)
A.C. cheesesteaks bring me back to my Grandparents dining niche
in Brigantine
a tiny island off the coast of A.C.
One early Summer evening a drunk sat outside
in front of the entrance to the dunes and the beach
and started loudly cursing.
"Fuck this island! Fuck this place! Fuck everybody! Fuck you!"
My Grandparents
and their old friends
said:
"That's awful! That's terrible! There are children around! Somebody ought to call the police!"
And they did.
They arrested this man
10 minutes later
The Atlantic City cheesesteaks were delivered
soon after
At least the drunk didn't interfere with our meal
We went to sleep
under air-conditioning
to drown out the waves
A pit of existential dread in my stomach
and
at the same time
not a care in the world.
I knew I was young.
I burped
a drunk burp
and tasted
an
Atlantic City
cheesesteak
(A.C. cheesesteaks are much better than Philly cheesesteaks - A.C. has the best in the world)
A.C. cheesesteaks bring me back to my Grandparents dining niche
in Brigantine
a tiny island off the coast of A.C.
One early Summer evening a drunk sat outside
in front of the entrance to the dunes and the beach
and started loudly cursing.
"Fuck this island! Fuck this place! Fuck everybody! Fuck you!"
My Grandparents
and their old friends
said:
"That's awful! That's terrible! There are children around! Somebody ought to call the police!"
And they did.
They arrested this man
10 minutes later
The Atlantic City cheesesteaks were delivered
soon after
At least the drunk didn't interfere with our meal
We went to sleep
under air-conditioning
to drown out the waves
A pit of existential dread in my stomach
and
at the same time
not a care in the world.
I knew I was young.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)