Wednesday, September 13, 2006


So I was talking with one of my lovers? My hot sexy lovers? One of them? I have so many. Scores -- heh heh, yeah, like scores git it? Well, not so much actually talking, as emailing. She’s not like an in-person lover -- more the internet kind. But hot! -- totally a stone fox, dude. That’s what she tells me -- I mean emails me. I believe her. That is, I think it’s a her. Well, no matter. Anyone who writes that hot has got to be a totally hot chick, right? Who would lie about a thing like that? I wouldn’t. So what if I say I’m 29? I’m virtually 29. That’s not really a lie. It’s a meta truth. Or I say I’m blond. Gray is like blond, right? Very light? -- and from a distance you can’t tell the difference. Anyway I used to be blond, before my hair fell out. So it’s not an actual lie. I wouldn’t do that. Or that thing about my extra toes, I just sort of skip over it. Heh heh. Git it? Skip? And the dripping fistula that drains my sinuses out just under my jaw? -- I describe it to my many hot female lovers as my love tunnel, and if they happen to get the impression that I’m describing my oh-so-kissable mouth, well that’s just not my lookout. I’m sure if I was ever with a real woman she’d find it attractive. The woman at the video store doesn’t even look at it, so it must not even be noticeable. She’s so hot. I find older women attractive. They look like my mother. Huh, never thought of that before. Maybe I’ll talk to one, one of these nights. I only go out at nights. Sunlight gives me blisters. I lost part of my nose to blisters, and man is that a pain. Heh heh, git it? Pain? But it really was. It got infected and the whole left side of my face got paralyzed. Hassle, dude. Well not so much paralyzed as gangrenous. But I got one of those cool Phantom masks? -- it’s bangin’! I loved that movie. That Gerard Butler is so hot, but in a totally not gay way of course. I’m not gay, at all. Totally, totally straight. I think all this obsession with gay and straight that people are always thinking about and pretending to be straight and like chicks, and all that, is just a waste of time. I mean what does it matter, right? So what if I happen to be into guys? Who the hell’s business is that, anyway. Everyone’s so freakin’ judgmental and crap. God it makes me sick. But I’m not, you know, that way. Nope. Totally into chicks. And not big burly hairy guys at all. No way. Yuck. Right? Yeah. Heh heh. Hmm. Well, uh, where was I? Yeah, my lover and what I was saying to her. Well she’d been just blathering on and on about how it wasn’t valid to score people, like on a scale of one to ten. On and on, blah blah blah. That's another thing I hate about chicks. Always talking. We were supposed to be talking about me -- like, remember, Fluffybutterfly666? Hello? So I went online and found some smart-sounding opinions and copied them out like they were my own. Well I agree with them, so that makes them my own, right? And here they are – oh just a minute, I’ve got to change my colostomy bag

Okay, so I’m back. Sheesh, what a nasty job. Just let me warn you, word to the wise, if you eat Mexican, be sure to change your bag OFTEN -- they DO NOT expand they explode. Uh, so anyway, these smart ideas about, oh, whatever. Cut and paste.


There's theory, and there's reality. Theory says we should be confident and not worry about external and arbitrary opinions slash standards. Reality acknowledges that we are emotional beings who require companionship and validation. We love to be admired. Not only that, but that also. On Maslow's hierarchy of needs, acceptance and belonging is right up there. We might prefer not needing anything -- being utterly self-sufficient. Que lastima. Such is not the case. We are driven out of the lair by forces too primitive for intellect to control.

We might for example love some sport, not because of the activity itself, or just because of the endorphin surge, but because of the fellowship. There are forces operating upon us that we do not suspect, and not entirely physical, not entirely hormonal. One of those forces, recognized or not, is the power of human companionship.

So for all that we may be pretty self-satisfied fellas, we must be honest enough to understand it’s not possible to be both healthy and always alone. The hardest punishment in a penal institution is solitary confinement.

Regardless of any academic awareness, we all must have a personal understanding of the power of emotion as motive. Everything we do, is that we might be comfortable and happy. The sacrifices we make are for a greater perceived good. Our self-destructive behaviours have a short term payoff that seems more important than the damage they cause. A phobia is not characterized by fear, but by anxiety. The point? Why, let me just see. Checking through my pockets. Yeah, here it is. We are a gregarious species. The irrational impulses that seem to buffet us about so violently? Not irrational at all. Even storms have a purpose -- to redistribute heat and moisture -- to reestablish equilibrium. Balance. When we are in harmony with our purpose, we are at peace. Peace is rational.


Well now that I look at it, it’s kind of pompous. Guy’s kind of full of himself. Blah blah blah. Don’t know why I thought it was so good. Bet he’s gay.


No comments: