Sunday Morning Subtle But Obvious Organized Self Abuse Swim Club

I have a lot of memories, I seem to not be able to shut up the monkey mind, I over analyze. I now get to do all that while learning to type.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Whoa Nelly

I am not afraid of porn. I’m not particularly interested in it either.
I just read a filthy, filthy, book. And not filthy in a good way like Nitro von Borax’s “Pigglyland”. My cup of tea is like, looking at pictures of emo boys kissing or reading some mild erotica. Nothing too taxing or graphic. Having read “The Happy Hooker” when I was 10, then having lived the life I have, I am just too jaded to be thrilled by the hardcore.
When I picked up this particular novel that came with a load of books primarily comprised of self-help, christian mysticism, get rich schemes, vitamin bibles, and computer language manuals from Oliver's fathers estate I expected the male version of a bodice buster. Perhaps I might have a mild frisson', eh?

It says on the back cover “Mother’s Three Daughters" is one of the most famous works of fiction of the early twentieth century, thought to be the work of French novelist Pierre Louys, (I can’t find the umlaut anywhere, it should be over the Y), the author of “Aphrodite”.
It goes on to summarize the plot and then quotes Wayland Young saying
“ A notable modern novel written out of a perverse compulsion.... This is one of the largest and most real presentations of the whore-charachter in European fiction.”
If only that had meant something to me at the time!

The cover art did nothing to warn me either. As usual you just can’t take the era out of the girl. The three models in the photo are so definitively from the late 60’s, early 70’s. No amount of faked up, turn of the century, chemises and pantaloons could ever convince anyone otherwise. As well as so clearly not being 10, 14 and 20 years old like the prostitutes in the story. Oh, did I not mention that two of the prostitutes were under 15? The most sadistic and jaded one being the 10 year old? Anne Rice’s weak attempts at a titillating baby vampiress has NOTHING on this.

I will never, ever, think of the victorians and post vicky’s the same way again. Corphragy, sadism, incest, anal, bestiality and really, really, naughty, potty mouths. This so totally explains why generations all around that era were so completely conflicted. And here I was wondering what the hell was going on with Japanese porn lately, what I thought was a “sudden and new” obsession with corphragy, it turns out is just another turn of the wheel.

I am way out of my league with this one, I think a couple months strict diet of children's books is needed to put my digestion back in order.

(Did I mention the male narrator is a royal asshole?)

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Saturday, May 10, 2008

Oh My Freakin’ God

That Duggar woman is having her 18th child.
Lady, it’s a VAGINA not a clown car.

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Monday, July 02, 2007

Gibby is the king of awesome

I just got a comp with "Movin' To Florida" on it (which I pretty much bought it for). I don't know why I think this is one of the best songs ever, I just do. I haven't even heard it, in like, 20 years and it's been haunting me the whole time. Well I just listened to it about 16 times and here as best as I can tell are the lyrics-

Moving To Florida The Butthole Surfers

I’m a’gonna move down to Florida
and I’m gonna bowl me a perfect game
I’m gonna cut off my leg down in Florida
and I’m a’gonna dance one legged, off in the rain

Well they say that Sidney Portier was a blind man
and they say that LBJ was a Soviet Jew
I tell that when I go down to Florida way
there ain't no kind of sexual healing that I would not, should not or could not do
I say this right here

Well I’m moving down to Florida
and you know that I’m a’gonna have to potty train the Chairman Mao
And I’m gonna make the governor write my doo-doo a letter child
And then I’m gonna grind me a White Castle slider outta India’s sacred cow

Well I’m goin’ down to Florida child huh huh
and I’m gonnna build me the atomic bomb
I’m gonna hold time hostage down in Florida child
ain’t nobody, ain’t nobody gonna tell me what to do, stepchild

By this time I guess you figured out about Florida
Turn the muddy water inta’ vaseline stained
They be making tadpoles the size of Mercury’s in Florida
That be telling Julio Iglesias what to sing now

Well whoever said that Sidney Portier was a blind man
knew the same of Elvis Presley too
Cuz all the sausages that dance like Ray Bolger on the hood of a car in a traffic jam
Know just exactly what to do - right here

Well I be going to Florida
pole cats and dusty seminoles son
You know that I’m in Florida
just like Vince I walk (unintelligible)
When I went down to Florida I got hurt
So I took all the children down to Florida
then I started to get lonely gee
Well I’m never going back to Florida
That's why I’m leaving J W
When I settle down in Florida
I’m a gonna explode the whole darn Tampa Bay
Get that boy in Florida
to teach me what to do

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Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Damn Essay

AM earworm (You’ve Got To) Hide Your Love Away - Lennon & McCartney

It wasn’t really my intention to get up this early. Given, the cats were doing the usual 6:14 am, exploratory, breakfast bid for attention. I can usually growl, turn over, cover my head and get another hour though. But the brain engine started revving. The volume on the earworm went up. And I had to pee.
Upon returning to bed people were long and loudly laughing outside my window and I thought to myself “who laughs like that at 6:15 in the morning? They must be trippin’ or something.” Then I wanted to get up, to spy on the laughers, to see if they were tweaked. I hope not cuz they were pushing a baby carriage begging the question “where in the world are you taking your baby at 6:16 in the morning anyway?” Maybe to church.

Now I’m up. The cats are fed and Little ghee has performed the obligatory breakfast dance. My own stomach starts growling warningly and the roommate clogged the sink so dishes wait in a pile for his return from work to fix his screwup.

And that brings us to the subject that is on my mind of late. Lying. Why do people so casually do it? I, myself, cannot escape culpability on this. I admit I am a fan of the sin of omission if it’s going to prevent a big problem. BUT (and it’s a biggish but) that is usually a deliberate, planned maneuver to avoid hurting someone's feelings or putting them on the defensive. After spending many years purging myself of the lying factor (apparently there’s a gene for it in my family or something), I became what some friends and coworkers called “ the queen of no tact”. It is a fact that rabid, ruthless, truth telling is most unwelcome in our society. It is however interesting to note that several of the people who shamed me most often and most enthusiastically about my brutal truthing were in the final analysis found to be avid and compulsive liars themselves. I adopted a “shut my mouth” policy. Not overtly lying, but very frequently not telling my whole truths either.

I used to attribute much of it to astrology. There is an actual link in my view. A lot of water in your chart just seems to make truth a fluid substance. Try living with a lot of un-evolved Pisces if you don’t believe that. Try a quintuple Pisces if you want a most blatant example.

Now we add the idea that it is frequently attributable to “authoritarian” parents. If draconian punishments were administered the children lie instead of taking personal responsibility. This is something I’m going to be watching for in my lying studies in future. I think there is potentially a good deal of validity to this theorem.
For an example, I offer my observation of 2 brothers I know who lie in the same ways (casually, frequently and often easily detected and/or disproved) about the same kinds of things ( usually attempting to make themselves look better, cooler, smarter than they are and avoiding taking personal responsibility for their fuckups whether minute or large). Since I know their parents and have had the opportunity to hear many stories about their childhoods I feel that there certainly could be a correlation. The father is a bit of a raging ass.

Another factor I believe I detect a link with, is substance abuse. The most apparently upright citizen will easily lie if this issue is present. That one becomes a chicken and egg conundrum though. Did the self esteem problem that needs to be bolstered by lying occur before or after the substance issue?

And here’s one I really hate. I have been outright instructed to and expected to lie, by various bosses. This idea that lying is being built into business models really, really, bugs me. Force me to lie and eventually I’ll find a way to quit.

If I catch someone in one or two minor lies I can possibly, probably, mostly, overlook it . The circumstances, how comfortable or glib they seem to feel about it is a real tell. I try to accept people for the face that they want me to see. But I watch and frankly I’m judgmental. If the public face varies too much from the real face I stop trusting altogether.

Those are generally white and grey lies. My true horror is the black lie. Buddhism says this is pretending to have spiritual accomplishments you don’t. This can screw up peoples karma for millennia. Probably just not a good idea. I have seen many painful examples of this. My friend who committed suicide after the Rajneesh scandal destroyed what he believed in. Another who now hates Buddhism after following a false guru destroyed his family. Those are just a couple examples, I’ve seen a lot more. Obsessed as I am with cults and false prophets this is a big issue for me. The idea of one person throwing a huge monkey wrench into another’s spiritual growth for fun, profit and power is very alien and abhorrent.

I also think that lying for fun, profit and power about things like WMD’s or Jews, the Rom, and homosexuals being a problem or whether your industry is destroying the environment and your workers lives and health, which results in the death of anywhere from one to millions of human beings is pretty much the black lie as well. If I believed in Satan I would think it was downright Satanic. As it is I have to try to accept that those are just extreme examples of complete ignorance of the nature of reality and that the people committing such atrocities actually, truly, believe that this will somehow bring them happiness. It’s a hard pill to swallow but it is one of the only ways to try to retain compassion for them in their stupid, ignorant, destructive, negative, foolish, shortsighted, wickedness.

Which brings me to my question. By accepting all the little lies are we totally laying the foundation for the really big ones?

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Thursday, April 19, 2007

2 Roads diverged in a wood & I took the one to the gallus tree

I suddenly realized that I regularly read the blogs of, and read blogs where the commentaries are comprised of, dozens of people that annoy me. What is up with that?

Fer'instance: one is an unabashed drunk. Whenever any question of alcohol abuse or issues crops up, that one has some post or comment rabidly defending the alcoholic lifestyle. I’m not prissing about the occasional beverage, this is a person who appears to have a barstool surgically attached to their ass. Because I am pretty familiar with how not well the brain works when it’s under constant fuzz effect I take no stock in almost any opinion they opine. Yet I keep reading.
Another is a pathological liar. I know this for a fact. Yet I check in to pass judgment about every day.
Yet another is basically a star fucker, clique melder. Probably an ok person but, possibly without even realizing it, an annoying hipster art snob.
And then there’s Craiglist, what a lot of straight up assholes, rage-aholics and freak show contestants.
Then again I am definitely an unabashed Springer watcher as well.
I tried to explain it once to the beloved english teacher who was, possibly justly, appalled by that revelation.

I want to intimately know the full spectrum of human endeavor. I need to understand the depths of ignorance and depravity as well as get the mechanics of, and the achievement of, the highest human aspirations. This will probably completely offend some (read most) people but to me Mother Theresa and Ed Gein are inherently the same person on some level and I need to know why they diverged.
I used to sit mesmerized for hours by Stiles project. At the time it seemed like the pinnacle of Buddhist thought. Juxtaposing horrific suicides, medical anomalies and sadomasochists against the worship of babe-alicousness and hot bods. I must admit the snuff stuff and poo eating finally got to me and I just couldn’t stand up under it anymore. I haven’t been back for a couple years. I am really uncomfortable with snuff, so much for a lot of Lydia Lunch’s work then. I just can’t bear it. But the odd part is the theatrical stuff doesn’t interest me at all. I can’t stand Tarantino, The Sopranos, slasher or war movies or things of that ilk.

I can’t help but think of what Arwulf used to say, years ago at Commie High, about The Trashy Fiction Club , “how can you tell what’s good if you don’t know what’s really bad?” as well as Portia in “Gone Away Lake” when she realizes that one needs “comparers”.

BTW my tongue is just shredded. Apparently another symptom of this same issue is the person who just can’t stop exploring the sore tooth.

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