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Thursday, September 24, 2015

Two-Headed Boy

The way I see it, there are two categories of lovers. I'm not just talking about interlocking genitals either. I'm referring to love of all things, beauty, art, music, whatever. These two categories are like the two ways one can fish. Catch and release, or gut and take home.

I've always considered myself to be of the former type. For most of my life, I was fine with the experience itself. I had no need to capture it. I loved, and I let my love be.

The other type feel a compulsion to own all they love. They want to capture it and take it home with them. They want it documented, contained, and readily available. These are the people at concerts with phones held high. The ones taking pictures of sunsets, downloading all their favorite albums, texting their lover 300 times a day.

I see nothing inherently wrong with either practice, nor am I condemning any of them. I am simply noting an observation. I've simply never felt the need to hold onto the things I've loved. I am content with the experience itself. I take what is given me and let it come and go as it pleases. I saw this as a fact of life. When we die, we leave everything behind, so what is the point of fruitlessly trying to hold onto anything?

When beauty comes my way, I let it. And when it goes, I also move on.

But there are those who feel the converse. They desire control. They are not content to let some outside force govern when and where something lovely happens to them. They want to instantly call up happiness from the massive vault of significant moments they lord over.

There have been many times a song is played that I adored and the moment and memory were enough for me. The idea to record the song's information to find and keep for myself later never occured to me. Maybe I'll hear it again, maybe I won't. The other type will flip shit if they hear a song they love and don't note down the artist, album, year it came out, backstory of the band, etc.

I think I somewhat understand them. In fact, most people are them. I'm one of the few exceptions. For as long as I've lived, they have tried to convert me to their ways. They think I'm insane for not trying to keep what I love. They ask what I will do if I never hear it again. I say, then I'll never hear it again, I'll just do something else. This blows their mind.

I had hoped with age, these people would change, but they won't. I can see it now. Many older people still feel this way.

I get a lot of shit for being myself. Apparently my personality is some strange patchwork quilt of minorities and exceptions. That's okay, I guess. I've been trying for years to see from their perspective, and I think I have a general idea.

Honestly, I think the main cause is insecurity and fear. If what you love isn't firmly within your grasp, you might lose it forever. Documenting all you do is proof you have lived. Constant entertainment forms a sort of barrier between oneself and death.

Like safety, this is but an illusion. Love is like sand and the harder you try to hold onto it, the more it slips through your fingers. All the instagrams in the world can't stop the inevitable flow of time from washing away all memory of you. And not acknowledging death doesn't make death any less ineluctable.

I'll adopt a few of your ways in order to share a bit of my world with you, but for that reason alone.

Sunday, September 20, 2015

When In Rome

The saying doesn't end there. It's only the first part of it. The rest is implied. This is how common saying usually go. Common sense/knowledge takes over from there.

But I've been noticing a little problem lately. There are people so daft, they don't realize that these bits of statements like "the grass is greener" or "when you can't beat em" are only parts of larger sayings. (The rest being so abundantly obvious there is no need to actually speak it.)

The problem is mainly a philosophical/spiritual one. Many sects and orders have overtly bleak life views when not understood correctly. Buddhism is a great example of this. "Everything suffers" can be perceived as an immensely negative statement at face value. But... it's not. It is only the beginning. A necessary step on the road to peace.

"God is dead" is a freeing statement. Nietzsche's quotes are some of the most misused today. My heart truly goes out to him. First the Nazis, then the hip intellectuals, now the misguided neo-nihilists. He's so often used for malign purposes that it makes me want to cry. The death of God isn't some hopeless misery, it's a cage removed. No longer are we bound to the chains of organized religion. We are finally free to seek meaning for ourselves, taking whatever we'd like from whatever we want. A bit of Taoism here, a dash of Christianity there, some Manichean ideas tossed in for flavor, and maybe a couple teachings from Hassan i Sabbah. We can find purpose for ourselves with no more arbitrary limits.

But I digress. I'm not here to speak about these concepts individually. I just want to bring to light how, with a bit of thought and effort, the depressing garbage spouted by the disillusioned misanthropic youth are actually early steps to inner peace.

Now I know, I know, you want everything spoon-fed to you so the thought might never occurred to try, but you really should. For your own sake. Only you can save yourself.

Today, on social media, I posted this: You can't do or say anything these days without someone hating you for it.

At face value, it seems a little depressing, doesn't it? It's not. Not at all. You simply need to follow the organic flow of this thought.

I grew up ignored and hated. Unlike some spineless little wimp, I did not try extra hard to garner attention and praise. I saw the world around me and accepted it as it is. Why waste time seeking impossible praise? Instead, do what you enjoy, what's fulfilling to you. As for hate, well if I'm going to be hated no matter what I do, then fuck it, I'll do whatever I want. The approval of others no longer applies to me.

For instance, if I have to fart, I might worry about being laughed at or insulted, so I would opt to sit in discomfort, only to be made fun of for sitting weirdly. So fuck it, let my ass sing! Let them laugh. I feel great. You don't like it, I'll aim that fucker right at you.

You really don't have to do anything you don't want to. Their control is but an illusion. Only by understanding and making peace with hard facts of life will you be able to overcome them.

There's no such thing as fairy tale love, you say? Well fuck it, then I'll make my imperfect love work. I'm a meaningless speck of dust, you say? Well phew, that's a load of my back. Now I know I can fuck up as much as I want and it doesn't matter. No one is really happy, you say? Oh that's great! Now I don't have to feel bad about feeling bad. Everyone is crazy, you say? Wonderful! I don't feel so ashamed of my insecurities. It's something we all have.

The list goes on. I like to call it The Positivity of Pessimism.

So next time you hear or read some seemingly depressing shit, take a moment to think about it. The person saying/posting it is probably just being a miserable bastard by leaving out the good part.

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

I Touched Her Thigh... And Death Smiled

In the dim half-light of a local bar, hermetic and shrouded within the din of hazy thoughts and twisted minds, I sit, waiting for tomorrow.
Across the writhing, swaying expanse I notice an ethereal creature swathed in black leather surreptitiously admiring my... pulchritude.

Her eyes look into mine with open, daring lust. Boldness and challenge electrify my brain.

"Destroy me, I'm yours."

Casually, I stride past the mindless meatbags across grimy floorboards. The air is thick. Heavy. I'm swimming on a current. Drawn inexorably to the wild animal bathed in blue neon light prowling the deltas of her vicissitudinous presence.

A boundless expectation floods the interstice of our forms. Words yearning for utterance pummel the ramparts of my lips. Burned out pathways brilliant with luminescence.

Sublime Lupa. Formless nephilim. Unbearably weightless. Cascading into me as gently as moonlight falling down. Exquisite resplendence in my arms. Soft and warm, her lulling aroma of undiscovered places and wild forests transcend through my mind driving me mad with desire.

Her calm, even breath caresses my neck. Fingers probing the small of my back. Her breathless whisper musically ringing in my ears electric and benevolent. Slightly swaying in magnetic embrace the world outside vanishes in a puff of smoke.

I pull back ever so slightly. Turn her face to mine. Our lips meet. Commingling spirits trespassing upon each other's dreams. A curtain of sparks floods my vision in shimmering brilliance. Simultaneous frailty and strength. I want to hold on to this instant forever.

Our lips part, the stars gradually extinguishing. Time seems to extend inexorably before us. We stand immobile, arms enveloping each other. Clinging to a guttering flame of hope.

A flame that dies.

She writes her phone number on a scrap of paper ripped from a nearby flier. I accept it gratefully. I hold her hands. I kiss her once again. I turn and walk away, not sparing a look back at the angel with a halo of blue. Fading back into night, into silence, into nothing.

No Matter How Close Two People Are, An Infinite Distance Separates Them.

I like humour that is engaging and tricky. Some have called me an asshole for my special kind of jokes. I guess they're right, but fuck em. My style has a purpose.

I want to get you to think. And more importantly, I want to get you to think in different ways.

But not only that. The type and presentation of my humour does much more. They are, in a sense, tests. When I interact with you, I'm learning about you. You can learn more by talking than by listening.

Much information is purposely omitted. I call these spaces "Intuitive Gaps." The larger the space, the harder the trail is to follow. Like in animal tracking, there is a very definite trail left in these gaps. Anyone can follow one footprint to the following footprint, but to follow a winding trail through the forest takes skill and knowledge. The further down you can track the animal without straying, the better you are of a tracker. The same applies to Intuitive Gaps. The larger the space, the further your mind must be able to leap. The further you can leap, the more intelligent you are. This is only the tip of the iceberg.

One can be intelligent in some areas, and lacking in others. Variety is essential. This is why constant testing is imperative to a more accurate reading.

Many statements are of an ambiguous nature. A compliment to one is an insult to another. The more ambiguous the statement, the more freedom you give the listener to choose its meaning. In film-making, there is an isomorphic technique. You have your actor give as emotionally devoid of an expression as possible. The viewer will project their own feelings onto the actor. The same can be done with language.

I find people I like by applying these and myriad more methods.

Every little action both physical and verbal carries deep, rich meaning.

It is not simply what you say. It is a slight dilation of the pupils, the angle of your chest to my chest, the pitch of your voice, a wrinkle in the corner of your eye, the blood distribution throughout your body, the speed between reactions, the directions your eyes wander to. The real trick is picking up on these signals without being caught. Putting your subject at ease is first and foremost if genuineness is what you're after. Openly studying someone destroys that.

Even harder is to be aware of your own actions and reactions as you do this.

If at any point you feel I am insane or entirely arbitrary, it is simply that you could not follow the trail.

Sunday, September 6, 2015


There's something inorganic, and therefor disingenuous. about quotes from historical figures or celebrities. There is an unrelatable diconnect. It just doesn't feel "real." It functions more like a piece of propaganda, only carrying significance for those who have already fully submitted to its ethos.

To the rest of us, it is registered as a meaningless annoyance and promptly blocked out before its message can be delivered. People who actually use their brains respond much more positively to organic self-expression, even if it is less powerful or elegantly worded, than a Gandhi repost or a Neil Degrasse Tyson meme. Even when it is flawed, natural expression is more engaging and feels truer. More constructive conversations begin this way. Quotes from historical figures or current celebrities tend to incite ignorant screaming matches of a caliber only slightly higher than that of a religious debate.

You may find yourself writing a page of material before you choose just the right words, but I believe it is worth the effort. I mean, just look how genuine the previous sentence feels. There is a famous quote that says the same exact thing. Yet, if I were to have used that quote, I would have come of a bit preachy and pretentious. Instead I use my voice to speak my message.

Speak what you honestly believe, from an unguarded, slightly afraid place inside of yourself, or no one is going to give a shit.