My other stuff
Flickr
Twitterfication
Search
Archives

Entries in Genitals (2)

Wednesday
Dec242008

Accessorize, exercise, jizz.

Sex as a subject has become rather pathetic, to be frank. The myth that those who sleep with a lot of random people are really confident is complete and utter horse shit. In my experience men and women who behave in this way are in fact incredibly insecure. Constantly seeking confirmation and reassurance that they are as beautiful as they have convinced themselves. Is that acting secure? Turning sex into some sort of power game or just immediate gratification drains it of all passion. I don't want sex to just be pieces of meat flapping against one another. Marinated in alcohol and anxiety. People shouldn't be picked up like accessories. You are not the centre of the cosmos. Your fleeting happiness is not the answer to the mysteries of life. Get over yourself. And the two of you clumsily jamming your genitals together on your room mates well-worn old couch is not passionate and sexy. No matter how many times you repeat this lie to yourself in an attempt to maintain that  hard on/stay wet. I gave up one night stands some time ago. At first it wasn't a moral choice or even one that came out of any deeper introspection. It was just a path taken out of a practical nature. People in general are absolutely terrible at fucking. Just awful. The quality was never as good as with someone I got a little bit familiar with. People who have such low self-esteem that they pathologically need to swallow another human beings bodily fluids every weekend tend to not have been in many meaningful relationships of any greater lengths. Therefore they have, out of a strictly numerical standpoint, fucked far fewer times. Practice makes perfect. There appears to be a tipping point where the quality of the bedroom shenanigans and the quantity of sexual partners converge and then invert. Both in a grander scheme and in specific situations. Taking pride in appearing sexually attractive to people who will fuck just about anything is like being proud that you are Garry Glitter's search engine of choice. It's at best quite meaningless, at worst loathsome. Tickling the fancy of someone you find to be truly unique. Having them share their innermost contrivances. Being able to disappoint in a painful way. That is sexy. That is beautiful. Poking someone in the groin while trying to refrain from spewing because of the motion and too much tequila is not. Unknown people are not. Acting tough will never be.
Monday
Nov032008

Random musings from a random mind.

On language: The person who coined the phrase "A picture is worth a thousand words." was clearly not familiar with minimalist photography. I've seen some pictures that could be summed up with a single sentence. Or a hand gesture. If cash is king, does that mean that weed is the jester of the court? And what then is credit? Not to mention what ass is in this little period piece. I demand to know where all forms of payment stand in the social hierarchy of feudal despotism. "Free speech zones" is such an oxymoron that I think you could actually stop time if you stand exactly half way between two of these areas and say something controversial. Either that or the very fabric of space will rip open like a bed sheet and cause the end of the universe. That's powerful stupid. That someone can be "legally blind" would seem to indicate that there are forms of blindness that are illegal. What would be the punishment for being illegally blind? A blind person probably fares pretty well in prison. It's not like a blindey (a word for blind people I just made up) is going to get depressed by the view, or the lack of freedom to roam. What are the authorities going to do? Sew their ears shut? On violence: If a woman ever kicks me in the balls I'm going to punch her in the cunt at the first chance I get. I'll swear to whatever imaginary character you want on that. I can't even picture myself hitting a woman in any other situation (pun intended in every possible way). It's not alright to strike nads, unless some sort of attempt at rape is involved. And even then there are nuances and levels. Like in the movie Robocop when he shoots that rapist in the dick. That shit ain't cool. OK? It's excessive penis punishment. There's an entire gray-scale when it comes to dick violence. You can't just go around blowing blasting exploding off penises at every sign of trouble. When in doubt, aim for the face. That's what I always say. Think of the guy's parents. I suspect they would much rather have a closed casket service and know that their son's genitalia is at the very least still attached to his body. It's comforting. "Well thank God they shot him in the fucking face, huh?" - they'll be saying. On blogs: Most bloggers write as if they're trying to break their computers, and my tiny little brain. Random clusters of misspelled words describing their mind-numbingly boring activities. A mash of garbled words and meaning assault my senses. They should at minimum have the decency to punctuate properly. This will allow me to more easily discern when the first sentence is over. That way I can stop reading at the earliest possible moment, turn off my computer, go outside and weep a little for a language lost. On love: We all want to be loved, but we do not all get to be. The amount of love in the world is not equal to the number of people. Unfortunately some of us will have to do without at times. Think of it as a rolling blackout of love. All the more happy you will be when the light finally returns to your life, sooner or later. Even the most evil and vile dictator, who has worked very hard at being feared, would much rather be loved. He just doesn't know know how, since he's a sociopath. Yet the yearning remains. There's nothing abnormal or unusual or unnatural with the need to be loved. Just with some of the ways we go about trying to attain it. Beating someone to death with a strap-on is not acceptable, whatever the motivation behind it. Love is if anything irrational. It can't be quantified with reason or logic. We should not even try. To do so would be to diminish it. To make it into something less than it deserves to be. Maybe some find it alluring to try to decide what love ought to be in their lives and when it is to appear. To me, it just seems preposterous. You're the master of your own fate, not of the very essence of your being.