When you show up, bible in hand, teeth sparkling, deodorant hiding your incel flop-sweat and your rampant rash of anxiety hives you'll sit across quietly judging the gargantuan object of your future devotion and eternal love (marriage IS a sacrament, after all) you'll need a wide swath of subjects to debate over and concur upon in the name of da load—hopefully, our suggestions below will help you hone in and hit a bullseye — you lil love monkeys!
Ambivalence Disconnected From Erotic Adventures
About the Afterlife
As I roll through more and more “friends” who are no longer friends and as I have dreams about people I once loved who killed themselves, I become more and more ambivalent about death and dying and about life.
I am pretty sure that when one dies, the lights go off and you aren’t even there to notice. Pretty sure, but ambivalent — Do I want this to be the way it is, or do I wish it could be the way deeply comforted Christians are convinced it is?
It’s okay to be unsure of what it is that you want.
In my dream, last night, Stephanie (who killed herself a half-decade ago) and I, seemed happy to see one another again. But then she hurried away and didn’t even bring the drinks my friends and I had ordered (she was our server — only she really wasn’t and couldn’t be because she was dead).
I’d ordered a Moscow Mule and was disappointed that I didn’t get it. On the other hand, I felt pretty confused about seeing Stephanie again — ambivalent I suppose.
I dunno. Life is tricky.
Maybe being ambivalent is the best we can do. I dunno.
It was nice, however, to see “Steffi” again even if she did kill herself without saying goodbye.
Knowing Myself Approaching More Intimacy with a Sexy New “Friend”
Knowing one’s self can be daunting knowledge to possess
There is a beast in me that I feel exists in all men or at least in enough others to lend me some kind of forgiveness for my many beastly acts. Trying to fully grasp the Self that makes us up can be a daunting task but as part of Ego Integrity it’s a vital and necessary step.
I have apologized at various levels of sincerity, hypocrisy, and thinly masked disdain for some of my more beastly acts. Sometimes I have felt truly guilty, ashamed and bad about my Self for such acts.
But other times, to be honest, often while delivering these apologies, I’ve been thinking silently in such moments of my faux humility and contrition, “What did you think would happen when you chose to be with a beast?” Never mind that I had always kept my beast as well-hidden as my conventional, middle-class upbringing had taught me to manage.
For most of my life I have neglected to accept or admit that my beast was here: Violent, sexual, selfish, crazed, and ravenous. The beast is rarely good company and frequently far more dangerous to you than you can imagine.
The beast in myself and the beast I have glimpsed in others, is sometimes well-hidden and full of stealth. We needn’t be standing in a dark corner on a foggy night, not so much thinking about your demise as simply waiting for the right moment to help it along.
The beast in us is a predator.
The beast in us is a seducer.
The beast in us is a shadow.
The beast in us may or may not know the difference between right and wrong, or truth and lies, but to the beast these distinctions are irrelevant, all that matters is feeding our beasts.
The beast in us has many hungers and a constant need to eat souls or flesh and usually both.
There is a beast in me that I suspect lives in all men and all women. Or at least in a great many of us; I see it often, in the eyes and words and actions of my fellow beasts.
It is still here.
It will always be here.
Approach me at your own risk. Indeed, approach anyone with a sense of risk because odds are that their beast of Self is approaching you as well.
This is the last warning you’ll get from me.
The Beast casts a dark shadow. Once you have encountered him, you won’t forget it.
The Psychopathic Checklist
Accepting and understanding the dark, beastly side of ourselves is a necessary step to changing, or at least controlling our worst impulses
So, rather nervously I admit, I recently gave myself the Psychopathic Checklist.
The way it works is, if you score 20 or more you’re a psychopath.
Naturally, I gave myself the benefit of the doubt on a few of the items. But in the end, I scored only a 6.
Plenty of room for additional markers if some picky ass-hat wants to try.
Therefore if you call me a psychopath I’ll kill you and your whole family, and I won’t feel a bit bad about it.
I think that’s only fair, don’t you agree?
Ridiculous As Our Species Is, Sexy Solutions Are The Worst
Seriously.
No, I mean it.
All I wanted was to find an image that could capture the essence of what a ridiculous species we are.
Mayo? Frosting? Putty? Butter? What?
What? WHAT?
But those red lips and those black nails, make me not give a shit what it is, while certainly doing the image job I am asking it to do.
Ridiculous.
Un-Christian Love
Define “Love” please
I’ve been asked more than a few times: How can I be so cruel and uncaring? I don’t agree with your starting assumption. I’m not cruel and uncaring, Not much anyway. No more than most of you. I’m honest, which sounds the same sometimes. I’m kind and I care deeply If you define love as “the will to nurture spiritual growth in one’s self and others.” A care a fuckin’ LOT! It’s life and the world that’s all fucked-up, and our unwillingness to see this, in no small part thanks to the mad rants of you Christian idiots.
The Greater Length of Time After a Bad Relationship has Ended, the Greater the Relief That It’s OVER
Beating My Dog
My girlfriend and I were fighting When More or less Out of the blue She said “If you want to fuck my sister It’s okay So long as you wait Awhile After we break-up.” “I don’t want to break-up,” I said, “and even if we did, I wouldn’t fuck your sister.” She didn’t believe me. So I said, “No, I’ve not stopped not Beating my dog.” But she didn’t laugh. Right then is when I shoulda known.
Reassurance
“I love you,” she said “and I need you to know How hard it is for me That John is attracted to me, And I’ve told him That you’re my lover And that I love you VERY MUCH. “He just needs a place to be ‘cause he’s only got a few friends And I’ve told him that Even though it makes him Uncomfortable When he feels that you Don’t want him around all the time That I’m not gonna take care of him, That he’ll just have to talk to you About it himself. “And really, I love you too much to end my Relationship with John ‘cause that’d be SOOOOOO Unhealthy for me to do that And if you and I can’t be healthier Than THAT, We’re never going to make it Right? “And so that’s why I phoned John Earlier tonight And asked him to come over. So that We could talk about all of this— And that’s why we were sitting there On the couch together When you happened to show up. “I feel a lot better, I mean cleaner and all,” she said, “I just hope you Know how much I LOVE you!” I think I may have nodded but I know I didn’t punch her in her fuckin’ mouth.
John
I think that was his name? This young guy who was quite handsome and played guitar, mostly soulful sad songs. I wrote about him before, years ago, about how he had a crush on my girlfriend of that time and how she kept encouraging his affections, enjoying his innocent, sweet, affectionate and gentle approaches. The punch line to that older poem and this new one is that “John” later killed himself a few years after all this ridiculous drama. I never knew why and never knew him very well. But I can tell him now, “Listen bro, I shoulda let you have her, but I promise you she wasn’t worth the trouble.” Come to think of it, though, he might’a hung it up even earlier if he’d taken me up on that offer.
Regarding Homosexuality and Self-Actualization
The things we’re most afraid of, offer the deepest, fastest path to full-life adulthood
In America (USA), where and with whom we put our tongues, genitals, lips, words, breathing/panting relative to our reproductive impulses and biological sex drives is a critical part of who we are and how far we move into happy and content acceptance of ourselves and the world. Our sexual selves are not heterosexual or homosexual or by-sexual or any other unified sexual identity, just by our wishing and telling ourselves this is the case — we have sexual preferences, and, as a course of daily life, we indulge and resist indulging these preferences and our sex drive by responding to controls and boundaries, both internal and external, based in societal and legal rules of conduct and our breadth and narrowness of self-acceptance of our desires and desired desires. So here’s the deal, much like the idea that one and only one view of God is “right,” and that only one way of looking at the world and ourselves is the “right and true way” (“Ford Trucks are NUMBER ONE!!!!!” “The Super Bowl is the most important cultural and sporting event in the history of the UNIVERSE!!!!!”) So, too, our understanding of our sexual selves is, for most of us, no clearer than our grasp of how our gallbladder is doing, its purpose, function, operational maximization vs suboptimal or dysfunctional performance — At least with our gallbladders we don’t walk around acting like we know what’s going on, whereas with our sexuality that’s exactly what we do. We move through the world trying to convince ourselves and anyone else who’ll listen that we’ve got this whole hetero/homo/trans/what’ev/thing hard-wired and clear. The truth is you don’t. I don’t. I’m not sure; in fact, I’m fairly certain nobody fuckin’ knows. Of course, I may be wrong, but if I were you, I’d get your gallbladder checked out sooner rather than later, just in case, because, let’s be real, none of us know shit about ourselves, much less about anyone else.
Sex and Love Etc.
This may all be bullshit or it may be that my seven decades of trying to figure this stuff out is finally paying-off. You be the judge.
Bukowski taught us That The simplest phrasings Can be used To express the most complex Thoughts and feelings. Seems obvious doesn’t it? But after millennia of Great artistes using Elevated language to describe Relatively Simple shit, and The opposite Being so rarely employed Now it merits being said aloud And considered. Let’s look for example at Sex and love. These are NOT the same thing; They are both Almost always Better for the presence of One another But Sometimes sex is about power and biology And often love is about Vulnerability and trust. The man wants to feel powerful The woman wants to feel protected When he can find his power Through his protections This Demands She give him something (preferably everything) He wants in return. And when she can feel protected While making herself Ever more responsive To his will; This is when Things usually work the best. The Viagra/Cialis Pharmaceutical ads For boner pills Show commercials Meant to obscure The most basic reality of Sex and love — From old grey-temple guys With classic cars Or macho jobs Or both, Or playing in a geriatric rock band; To an image of a New Age white collar Senior Sitting next to women 15 years younger In matching claw-foot bathtubs Almost like friendly strangers No lust No power No give and take, Simply Holding hands, A glass of wine On a nearby table, As the sun sets in yellow and pink Not even looking at one another. This is all upside down If a man wants To get hard He has to feel Powerful — If a woman wants to feel loved She must feel Desired for herself, Boobs, ass, pussy, face, Lips, shaved legs and clean hair And attitude Absolute attitude That screams or whispers “If you take care of me I’ll take care of you.” Of course, I could be wrong About all of this; Maybe most women just want a guy Who’ll leave them alone — And maybe most guys want a woman Who’ll just nag And order them around, In bed and out But I doubt it.
