I just read about this Argentine theatrical group called De La Guarda that boasts of suspended acrobats plucking audience members off the ground and into the air. The show doesn't have seats, has you stading for the approx. 70 minute performance where the show literally falls from the sky. You're even forewarned that you just might get kissed, danced with, undressed, and even taken up into the sky for a ride.
How's that for spontaniety? No. Wrong question.
How's that for unexpected, creative juice that redefines entertainment?
What would you do, if you were one of the lucky people to get snatched and whooped into the air? Chances are there would be quite a few 'bears with sore heads' who'd be insulted, miffed, violated, pissed off for the sheer interactivity, the disregard for the boundaries we've created within ourselves.
It's a kind of separation from our inner core, our need to deny ourselves the few true feelings we all have. We're so wrapped up in everything we see around us. IT's so limiting!
Speaking of which, i had this conversation with a friend (in spurts and bouts) over the telephone. Now he tells me that he has a deadline and needs to deliver some top secret creative copy for the client. So, i be a good friend and i hang up and tell him, "okay, finish the work, meet the deadline and i'll call ya back, half hour, ciao."
And true to my word, i DO call back. And well...it isn't finished. And of course i must ask why. Isn't the creativity working, isn't it spontaneously combusting, what gives? And he says something came up in the middle and i had to finish that before i could work on this.
Hmmm....my De La Guarda analogy does have its use, okay? So, like i said this show just might get you wet (metaphysically, i don't know...it's personal, y'see)- you might have bucket of water dunked on ya, you might be rudely grabbed and flung into the air, but the trick is to decide right away whether you're going to be flung, hung and then wrung dry and shake your head in amazement at the end of the show.
Unfortunately for us we all don't work in a world like De La Guarda, but it is the spirit it embodies that makes it such a canktankerous addiction, the need for speed, craziness, shock and thrill. So, the deadline...
IT's about meeting it. It's about being able to pound those keys with incessent gobbledegook, until a design begins to appear from behind the screen. We are limited nevertheless in our interactions, personal boundaries and other such wonderful installations.
As i sit here, wondering (for my poor friend) how best one could meet the deadline without having to agonise over why i'm on the phone too much lately, or why my colleagues seem to notice a lot more of me because of my clear sense of reason, hought and fun - i suddenly duck down from the sky and wham! it hits me, it's about letting go.
Unclench your butt, relax, stop chewing on your lower lip, look up and lift up your hands, you just might get snatched (away from prying eyes, redundancy, lack of fresh air, corporate bull-shit, timelines of the mind, boundaries of the self, boundaries of the office, boundaries of key messages and brand guidelines) into a technicolour whirlpool of mad drums, music, screams and passion.
And you just might meet the deadline. And shake hands with it.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
The Case of Rootless Blues
Dear Everyone,
I had a reasonably productive day at work today. I managed to write out a few documents for a couple of clients, update some records, clear my desk of ye-old year stuff and junk desk-garbage. It was a satisfying day, really. However, i feel so...blech!
Which means that all that good stuff doesn't count or begin to balance out the horrible sense of waste i feel. Sigh...
Dusk has fallen and a visit from a good friend helped the few moments along. However I still feel BLECH! I downed 3 doppios with two packs of brown sugar, and i still have the ZING as it were coursing through my bloodsteam! It hasn't helped, except scare my friend with my hysterical take on the day and giggles for things i didn't really need to giggle about. Sigh...I wouldn't be surprised if he thought a little extra hard about my reaction today...
A lot could do with the fact that i walked in feeling post-Xmas blues...I had a quiet one this year by the way. How was yours? I hope it was/is swell. :). Another could be that i sprouted this tiny but noticeable zit somewhere around the vicinity of my chin and everyone had something 'cheeky' to say about it.
Y'know the usual - you're not getting enough, it's time you found someone and used the energy 'constructively'....that sort of thing (i'm rolling my eyes now! The stunted imagination around the sexiness of everything life has to offer...Sheesh!) But what has to be said is that I've got a clear case of the rootless blues.
Speaking of blues, i had the good fortune and honour to meet friends from Chennai and in a wonderful surprise re-union or sorts learned that good Ronnie and Melvin are together (when i met them they were seeing each other - they still are technically, only they're in it for the long haul ;))
Well, Melvin's cut an album with his band Hunger - an out and out blues infested piece of wonderful work, that i'll be writing about on the blog soon. Melvin, send me that artwork ASAP!
Well, i could ramble on about the smaller details of how horrible my day was, but in reality i have nicer things to look forward to...
Like the hour and half drive home; the good dance music radio station, the impending New Year break, the Xmas lights that i switch on in the evening, the warm shower and hundreds of books i treated myself to over the hols...:)
Yup.
Nice...
I had a reasonably productive day at work today. I managed to write out a few documents for a couple of clients, update some records, clear my desk of ye-old year stuff and junk desk-garbage. It was a satisfying day, really. However, i feel so...blech!
Which means that all that good stuff doesn't count or begin to balance out the horrible sense of waste i feel. Sigh...
Dusk has fallen and a visit from a good friend helped the few moments along. However I still feel BLECH! I downed 3 doppios with two packs of brown sugar, and i still have the ZING as it were coursing through my bloodsteam! It hasn't helped, except scare my friend with my hysterical take on the day and giggles for things i didn't really need to giggle about. Sigh...I wouldn't be surprised if he thought a little extra hard about my reaction today...
A lot could do with the fact that i walked in feeling post-Xmas blues...I had a quiet one this year by the way. How was yours? I hope it was/is swell. :). Another could be that i sprouted this tiny but noticeable zit somewhere around the vicinity of my chin and everyone had something 'cheeky' to say about it.
Y'know the usual - you're not getting enough, it's time you found someone and used the energy 'constructively'....that sort of thing (i'm rolling my eyes now! The stunted imagination around the sexiness of everything life has to offer...Sheesh!) But what has to be said is that I've got a clear case of the rootless blues.
Speaking of blues, i had the good fortune and honour to meet friends from Chennai and in a wonderful surprise re-union or sorts learned that good Ronnie and Melvin are together (when i met them they were seeing each other - they still are technically, only they're in it for the long haul ;))
Well, Melvin's cut an album with his band Hunger - an out and out blues infested piece of wonderful work, that i'll be writing about on the blog soon. Melvin, send me that artwork ASAP!
Well, i could ramble on about the smaller details of how horrible my day was, but in reality i have nicer things to look forward to...
Like the hour and half drive home; the good dance music radio station, the impending New Year break, the Xmas lights that i switch on in the evening, the warm shower and hundreds of books i treated myself to over the hols...:)
Yup.
Nice...
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
To those with faith, to those with insight and to everyone with love
Before I post this, i'd like to apologise for my last post. I was out of sorts and well i just need a bone to pick on and wham! i got one. So Spew, if you ever pass by again, here's the thing - i meant the last few paragraphs of it, the other, well i dont' have an explanation. Honestly, there's a lot more to the man / woman spiel and i'll say it first, i don't know everything...but i'm enjoying the learning experience, yeah?
Anyway...what i got below is a e-mail i sent to a few people after an overload of 'forward this or you go to hell e-mails'...thought i migth share it.
____________________
I just got a slew of e-mails telling me how I don’t have time for the Lord. Well, and so it passes that we use myriad forwards about the Lord and think we've done our part of spreading a message, which I believe is just a way of satisfying our inner voices that we've done something, even if it meant sticking the letters J E S U S in the subject line and hitting send. The thickness of it continues to amaze me. How many of us have chosen the addresses we write to and actually managed to just type out something more personal that we have felt or experienced, including the trauma of being faithful and the bliss that comes for remaining the same - faithful.
I guess no one, including me have had the guts and then we say we aren't ashamed. We all are. Let's not deceive ourselves and think otherwise. Don't use a forward and please don't preach, it's easy to preach. It's harder to relate, personalise and practice. So the next time, you receive a forward using God as an engine to soothe our nagging consciences, do yourself a favour and write something that will help the other person open their eyes and not fall into the meaningless cycle of consequence ridden religious e-mails that may have the right heart behind it, but in no ways helps the person who opens it when they stuck for actual insight.
Do I believe anyone of you will forward this to anyone? I’m quite sure you won’t. It’s personal, and it’s a testimony of sorts. No earth shattering threats, no graphics, no tough consequences of death, no change in luck, no accidents. But it does have some of my time spent, some of my pride and faith and most importantly a promise to share God in a more effective way.
Let me take the first step:
I’ve been in Dubai for over a year now, and the irony is that I’ve learnt so much more than I would have if I were anywhere else. Before anyone decides that this desert has made the difference, I will only say that it was only that it happened to be this city. Circumstances choose the venue and the time; you’re there when you need to be. Some of the darkest of times have been waged and experienced in my mind and head here. I fought God, I fought my family, I fought everyone, including myself. And when I still couldn’t see what I was doing to myself, God decided to step in and stop the nonsense.
My pain was at its highest before I landed by job here; I had left a city and life I knew so well behind, I was in and out of interviews, made subject to racist remarks and also ‘barter deals’ for my salary. But with each experience, I said no and grew a little stronger inside. Part of it was because I was so sure I would go back to Bangalore and another was because my pride wouldn’t let me. Simple. When I had reached the end of my tether and began to fray at the ends, God decided to step in. There was no blinding lights, no flashes of lightening, no thunder. It was night, I was trying to fall asleep, but I couldn’t.
I tried hard to, but all I could think of was how life was suddenly so unfair, closed and desperate. I had never felt that way in my life. I began to sob angrily, completely cheesed off with the cards I had been dealt (and blind to the good ones I’ve had throughout my life), and I moaned into the dark of the room, “What the hell do you want from me?! What did I do, WHY?!!” I never got an answer that night.
A week later we were invited to dinner to a friend’s house, hours past and after what seemed an eternity dessert was served. As I helped the process along and cleared the table for the ice cream bowls, my eye caught on a sentence peeking up at me from under the newspaper on a book. It said, “The Purpose Driven Life: What God Wants from you”. You know the rest…I read the book, and the first sentence will always stick in my mind (just like the last one from Gone with the Wind – “Tomorrow is another day”) – “It’s not about you.”
I read that book cover to cover alone and with my family (we were able restart our family prayers and we haven’t stopped since - Dad and mom you better not have stopped!). The point I’d like to make is that sometimes God doesn’t use theatrics to get a point across to us. And I can assure you he doesn’t guilt us into it either. The last thing he needs is a guilt ridden believer. I don’t believe that God will send me to hell for being forthright, experiencing life, reading a book that challenges my thought processes, deleting a religious/spiritual forward, or not taking 36 copies of a novena and placing it somewhere or listening to another’s idea of faith and goodness. It only helps me believe in Him more. I guess that’s faith for me. I’m sure each of us have something wonderful to say about our own lives and faith that would hit anyone between the eye like ton of bricks and make a larger impact on their lives.
Y’see God took his time to reveal the larger purpose and plans he has for my life, he continues to take his time and I now know the timing is perfect, because I was in a position to be completely receptive and understand what was being revealed to me. Any time sooner or later, it would have bombed…badly. Timing is everything and let’s face it no one has timing like Him.
Before you think this a right royal tirade against forwards….let me assure you, it’s not just that J, it’s also about how we can make sharing the Word a more effective exercise that a futile one. Send someone a joke, they’ll be willing to take the time and even share it with the office. Send them a forward on how Jesus changes lives…quote a few verses from the Bible and boom you’re in limbo! If you scare easy, you forward it, if you don’t you delete it.
I took the time, I’m not ashamed and I hope that this in some way helps more of us to share.
I love you all.
Anyway...what i got below is a e-mail i sent to a few people after an overload of 'forward this or you go to hell e-mails'...thought i migth share it.
____________________
I just got a slew of e-mails telling me how I don’t have time for the Lord. Well, and so it passes that we use myriad forwards about the Lord and think we've done our part of spreading a message, which I believe is just a way of satisfying our inner voices that we've done something, even if it meant sticking the letters J E S U S in the subject line and hitting send. The thickness of it continues to amaze me. How many of us have chosen the addresses we write to and actually managed to just type out something more personal that we have felt or experienced, including the trauma of being faithful and the bliss that comes for remaining the same - faithful.
I guess no one, including me have had the guts and then we say we aren't ashamed. We all are. Let's not deceive ourselves and think otherwise. Don't use a forward and please don't preach, it's easy to preach. It's harder to relate, personalise and practice. So the next time, you receive a forward using God as an engine to soothe our nagging consciences, do yourself a favour and write something that will help the other person open their eyes and not fall into the meaningless cycle of consequence ridden religious e-mails that may have the right heart behind it, but in no ways helps the person who opens it when they stuck for actual insight.
Do I believe anyone of you will forward this to anyone? I’m quite sure you won’t. It’s personal, and it’s a testimony of sorts. No earth shattering threats, no graphics, no tough consequences of death, no change in luck, no accidents. But it does have some of my time spent, some of my pride and faith and most importantly a promise to share God in a more effective way.
Let me take the first step:
I’ve been in Dubai for over a year now, and the irony is that I’ve learnt so much more than I would have if I were anywhere else. Before anyone decides that this desert has made the difference, I will only say that it was only that it happened to be this city. Circumstances choose the venue and the time; you’re there when you need to be. Some of the darkest of times have been waged and experienced in my mind and head here. I fought God, I fought my family, I fought everyone, including myself. And when I still couldn’t see what I was doing to myself, God decided to step in and stop the nonsense.
My pain was at its highest before I landed by job here; I had left a city and life I knew so well behind, I was in and out of interviews, made subject to racist remarks and also ‘barter deals’ for my salary. But with each experience, I said no and grew a little stronger inside. Part of it was because I was so sure I would go back to Bangalore and another was because my pride wouldn’t let me. Simple. When I had reached the end of my tether and began to fray at the ends, God decided to step in. There was no blinding lights, no flashes of lightening, no thunder. It was night, I was trying to fall asleep, but I couldn’t.
I tried hard to, but all I could think of was how life was suddenly so unfair, closed and desperate. I had never felt that way in my life. I began to sob angrily, completely cheesed off with the cards I had been dealt (and blind to the good ones I’ve had throughout my life), and I moaned into the dark of the room, “What the hell do you want from me?! What did I do, WHY?!!” I never got an answer that night.
A week later we were invited to dinner to a friend’s house, hours past and after what seemed an eternity dessert was served. As I helped the process along and cleared the table for the ice cream bowls, my eye caught on a sentence peeking up at me from under the newspaper on a book. It said, “The Purpose Driven Life: What God Wants from you”. You know the rest…I read the book, and the first sentence will always stick in my mind (just like the last one from Gone with the Wind – “Tomorrow is another day”) – “It’s not about you.”
I read that book cover to cover alone and with my family (we were able restart our family prayers and we haven’t stopped since - Dad and mom you better not have stopped!). The point I’d like to make is that sometimes God doesn’t use theatrics to get a point across to us. And I can assure you he doesn’t guilt us into it either. The last thing he needs is a guilt ridden believer. I don’t believe that God will send me to hell for being forthright, experiencing life, reading a book that challenges my thought processes, deleting a religious/spiritual forward, or not taking 36 copies of a novena and placing it somewhere or listening to another’s idea of faith and goodness. It only helps me believe in Him more. I guess that’s faith for me. I’m sure each of us have something wonderful to say about our own lives and faith that would hit anyone between the eye like ton of bricks and make a larger impact on their lives.
Y’see God took his time to reveal the larger purpose and plans he has for my life, he continues to take his time and I now know the timing is perfect, because I was in a position to be completely receptive and understand what was being revealed to me. Any time sooner or later, it would have bombed…badly. Timing is everything and let’s face it no one has timing like Him.
Before you think this a right royal tirade against forwards….let me assure you, it’s not just that J, it’s also about how we can make sharing the Word a more effective exercise that a futile one. Send someone a joke, they’ll be willing to take the time and even share it with the office. Send them a forward on how Jesus changes lives…quote a few verses from the Bible and boom you’re in limbo! If you scare easy, you forward it, if you don’t you delete it.
I took the time, I’m not ashamed and I hope that this in some way helps more of us to share.
I love you all.
Monday, December 11, 2006
So Spew Spewed...and How!
Hokay...
So there's this guy...Spew. He's been B Schooled, writes well, engagingly so and enthralls with some wonderful anecdotes on life, lust, love, money, gender, a-day-in the-life-of and other such things that make all our posts that much more compelling.
So it isn't any surprise that i just HAD to pick up one of his posts and link it to this one here and well just take some time to add to it. Now, before you think i'm going to be nasty, i am only providing the other sides to the 'infinigon' that is the subject.
Shall i begin with a question?
Question: Isn't it just spiffy that ALL men have us women figured out?
It is isn't it? Because not ALL men have women figured out. I will grant the very few (who ultimately know it isn't something you crow about, thump chest and announce and so forth) The few who 'lay it out there' are the ones who've dipped their feet into the pool of unknown and come out triumphantly shaking and so 'cocksure' about that 'one' thing - Women are not easy, but i think i figured it out!
They come hard wired with a) b) c) d) and here are the sure shot ways to 'work' your way around it and a) get some b) get your laundry done c) feel warm and fuzzy d) get some more e) get them to shut up f) basically getting more out the buck and g) you can thank me and add to this later and h)...
You honestly think its that simple? And you want to know why guys nurse their beers after 7 years of being married and wonder what they hell they were doing with their lives, what that bootilicious squeeze they managed to bed in 1992 was doing and if she was still available, and what they needed to do to make sure that conference call at work could be rescheduled late...realllll late, for others they relocate to far off distant lands in search of money, peace, solitude - the neo-huntsman for their personal space.
For some guys, we're a statistic. Let's be honest. We're that 'unforgettable date/lay', 'person you want to take home (she's uncomplicated man - yeah, right!), 'easy', 'it just happened, it was time to settle down', 'my parents love her, that's all in know person' and it goes on.
The rule is there are no rules, Spew.
The rule is not to cloud your mind with - how do i deconstruct something that is unbelivably addictive, required and the clear case of the opposites and conquer her.
That's what the porno is about - minus the work your mind bit. Think about it. Women in 'easy cum easy go' story lines, with absolutly no reasons to debate the situation, place, peson or reason. She's pretty, she's buxom, she's got a hot ass. Wow! She doesn't say no, she's always ready for some more and she's a positively mind blowing cook.
You have the hot next door mom, the tight - peel my clothes of delivery girl, the leathered dominatrix, the naaive school girl (is it?!) the oh-my-goodness-gracious-heaven-help-me damsel in distress, the submissive....aww...for the love of...**&^$%$^&&&!
If that isn't an indication of how depraved the mind is when it comes to debunking myth, theory and plain common sense, i don't know what is. Bad enough so many of us have to 'adopt' these make believe stupid crappy personas to get men all hot and bothered.
I say this with absolute respect and deepest sympathies for the few men who actually don't think this way and have continued to face the wrath/force fields of quite a few women who are so bombarded with this stereotype that well...what can i say?...give the ones who have a fair chance a hard time. Hence the good fight...
So...
What are the other million things you ask, Spew? Well for one there's the want of not being typecast as a gender. No...No...i don't mean equality, i don't mean feminism, i don't mean any of that...that's all on a different level of thought and understanding.
Girl walks into room, Guy looks. He either likes what he sees or he doesn't. Fair enough. The same goes for us. Let's face it, we're all attracted to some form of male or female.
Past stage one. You move in...she's nice to talk to, she's reasonably you're type, you like more of what you see, you like what she wears, hey! you like her attitude, you gotta love the ass/bustline/face/eyes/lips (whatnot), and then it begins...you're moving her around in your mental 3D, sniffing at the
nuances of her, wondering what would it take to break into that egg shell. How do i do this with out shattering anything??? Hmmm....
Problemo Uno. We're homosapien. So the sniff, growl, arch and attack, present with game, sport plummage - won't work. DAMN! Oh, and we're not in Pleasantville. I mean bully for you, yeah?
There is no right way. There is you and her/him (whichever way you swing) and what you make out of it. It can either be something special, something that would actually help you put to use some of the intellect we all save up for our time alone with our thoughts. Like your blog for instance.
I don't believe - Heil the Henpeck or Cuddle the Cobra will work. You got lucky, cause for that particular 'her' that's the master key to getting her way. So she did your laundry, she's stupid, maybe... OR she finally got her principle and interest later without you so much as realsing there was ever an agenda - oh hell yeah!
For another woman, you'll meet - it could Bamboozle the Balls or Ass whip the Ass Wipe. Millions more from where that came from, for every woman or man there is an MO. And each one coes with a kick ass title.
Think about it.
Men are about the layers. That's what we are about too. Layers. The more you peel the more stronger it gets. Which is why the few who last out there with a simple understanding that what they're dealing with is another human being with the same wants and thought processes only better endowed and aesthetically made (i might as well slip that in, yeah? Cheapshot or not) makes it more simple and enjoyable.
Be who you are and enjoy your time with like-minded pepople. If it goes soemwhere, well, yeah, enjoy it. It's not getting some. If it is, i feel sorry for you. If that is your one mandate when it comes to women, then i'm sorry you'll get those kind of women, who really don't want to take the time (just like you) and actually make it a mind blowing experience.
Y'see, the one time you must have had that is when you were the least scheming. It would have either ripped you up, it would have been the best time of your life, it would have been one of the most amazing coversation you had...that's the one you'll never forget, that's the one you'll always want. Because for the first time you actually stopped thinking and started being.
The old news is that men and women come from different planets. The fact is we don't. The old news is that men think in black and white and women in shades of grey (who came up with that crap anyway?!). The fact is we pretty much can do both.
P.S - Devoid of any of other darker complications, preferences, psychosis and mental illness - this would be for the men and women who actually have normal disposition towards relationships, gender, love, sex, happiness and most importantly life.
We are all open to opine. Such is the current state of affairs in our world. Women now have an equal if not condecendingly allows right to voice their opinion and actually bristle when they read something that puts them into a bloody mould. When women say men are easy to figure out - men like that. Well, i'd like to tell those women men aren't easy either. You never really know what they want sometimes. Most often that not you do - that's a different matter. Maybe we are wired a little more comlicated, maybe we do give birth to children, we sustain the race (blah), but let's not forget in our self induced worlds of importance, we miss out on what we can get from each other.
Insight.
I'm tired now and this would be easier over wine and music and of course in person. This is just a piece of the feeling. A sliver of the depth. A sliver of a sliver. I now end to rest.
What's the use...? No really... It doesn't matter anyway, the battle of sexes differ from all identifiable demographics. It is a constantly evolving environement and what i say today is already commonplace.
But it had to be said. So i said it. It's 6:00 p.m. 7:30 p.m. where I come from.
Over and out.
So there's this guy...Spew. He's been B Schooled, writes well, engagingly so and enthralls with some wonderful anecdotes on life, lust, love, money, gender, a-day-in the-life-of and other such things that make all our posts that much more compelling.
So it isn't any surprise that i just HAD to pick up one of his posts and link it to this one here and well just take some time to add to it. Now, before you think i'm going to be nasty, i am only providing the other sides to the 'infinigon' that is the subject.
Shall i begin with a question?
Question: Isn't it just spiffy that ALL men have us women figured out?
It is isn't it? Because not ALL men have women figured out. I will grant the very few (who ultimately know it isn't something you crow about, thump chest and announce and so forth) The few who 'lay it out there' are the ones who've dipped their feet into the pool of unknown and come out triumphantly shaking and so 'cocksure' about that 'one' thing - Women are not easy, but i think i figured it out!
They come hard wired with a) b) c) d) and here are the sure shot ways to 'work' your way around it and a) get some b) get your laundry done c) feel warm and fuzzy d) get some more e) get them to shut up f) basically getting more out the buck and g) you can thank me and add to this later and h)...
You honestly think its that simple? And you want to know why guys nurse their beers after 7 years of being married and wonder what they hell they were doing with their lives, what that bootilicious squeeze they managed to bed in 1992 was doing and if she was still available, and what they needed to do to make sure that conference call at work could be rescheduled late...realllll late, for others they relocate to far off distant lands in search of money, peace, solitude - the neo-huntsman for their personal space.
For some guys, we're a statistic. Let's be honest. We're that 'unforgettable date/lay', 'person you want to take home (she's uncomplicated man - yeah, right!), 'easy', 'it just happened, it was time to settle down', 'my parents love her, that's all in know person' and it goes on.
The rule is there are no rules, Spew.
The rule is not to cloud your mind with - how do i deconstruct something that is unbelivably addictive, required and the clear case of the opposites and conquer her.
That's what the porno is about - minus the work your mind bit. Think about it. Women in 'easy cum easy go' story lines, with absolutly no reasons to debate the situation, place, peson or reason. She's pretty, she's buxom, she's got a hot ass. Wow! She doesn't say no, she's always ready for some more and she's a positively mind blowing cook.
You have the hot next door mom, the tight - peel my clothes of delivery girl, the leathered dominatrix, the naaive school girl (is it?!) the oh-my-goodness-gracious-heaven-help-me damsel in distress, the submissive....aww...for the love of...**&^$%$^&&&!
If that isn't an indication of how depraved the mind is when it comes to debunking myth, theory and plain common sense, i don't know what is. Bad enough so many of us have to 'adopt' these make believe stupid crappy personas to get men all hot and bothered.
I say this with absolute respect and deepest sympathies for the few men who actually don't think this way and have continued to face the wrath/force fields of quite a few women who are so bombarded with this stereotype that well...what can i say?...give the ones who have a fair chance a hard time. Hence the good fight...
So...
What are the other million things you ask, Spew? Well for one there's the want of not being typecast as a gender. No...No...i don't mean equality, i don't mean feminism, i don't mean any of that...that's all on a different level of thought and understanding.
Girl walks into room, Guy looks. He either likes what he sees or he doesn't. Fair enough. The same goes for us. Let's face it, we're all attracted to some form of male or female.
Past stage one. You move in...she's nice to talk to, she's reasonably you're type, you like more of what you see, you like what she wears, hey! you like her attitude, you gotta love the ass/bustline/face/eyes/lips (whatnot), and then it begins...you're moving her around in your mental 3D, sniffing at the
nuances of her, wondering what would it take to break into that egg shell. How do i do this with out shattering anything??? Hmmm....
Problemo Uno. We're homosapien. So the sniff, growl, arch and attack, present with game, sport plummage - won't work. DAMN! Oh, and we're not in Pleasantville. I mean bully for you, yeah?
There is no right way. There is you and her/him (whichever way you swing) and what you make out of it. It can either be something special, something that would actually help you put to use some of the intellect we all save up for our time alone with our thoughts. Like your blog for instance.
I don't believe - Heil the Henpeck or Cuddle the Cobra will work. You got lucky, cause for that particular 'her' that's the master key to getting her way. So she did your laundry, she's stupid, maybe... OR she finally got her principle and interest later without you so much as realsing there was ever an agenda - oh hell yeah!
For another woman, you'll meet - it could Bamboozle the Balls or Ass whip the Ass Wipe. Millions more from where that came from, for every woman or man there is an MO. And each one coes with a kick ass title.
Think about it.
Men are about the layers. That's what we are about too. Layers. The more you peel the more stronger it gets. Which is why the few who last out there with a simple understanding that what they're dealing with is another human being with the same wants and thought processes only better endowed and aesthetically made (i might as well slip that in, yeah? Cheapshot or not) makes it more simple and enjoyable.
Be who you are and enjoy your time with like-minded pepople. If it goes soemwhere, well, yeah, enjoy it. It's not getting some. If it is, i feel sorry for you. If that is your one mandate when it comes to women, then i'm sorry you'll get those kind of women, who really don't want to take the time (just like you) and actually make it a mind blowing experience.
Y'see, the one time you must have had that is when you were the least scheming. It would have either ripped you up, it would have been the best time of your life, it would have been one of the most amazing coversation you had...that's the one you'll never forget, that's the one you'll always want. Because for the first time you actually stopped thinking and started being.
The old news is that men and women come from different planets. The fact is we don't. The old news is that men think in black and white and women in shades of grey (who came up with that crap anyway?!). The fact is we pretty much can do both.
P.S - Devoid of any of other darker complications, preferences, psychosis and mental illness - this would be for the men and women who actually have normal disposition towards relationships, gender, love, sex, happiness and most importantly life.
We are all open to opine. Such is the current state of affairs in our world. Women now have an equal if not condecendingly allows right to voice their opinion and actually bristle when they read something that puts them into a bloody mould. When women say men are easy to figure out - men like that. Well, i'd like to tell those women men aren't easy either. You never really know what they want sometimes. Most often that not you do - that's a different matter. Maybe we are wired a little more comlicated, maybe we do give birth to children, we sustain the race (blah), but let's not forget in our self induced worlds of importance, we miss out on what we can get from each other.
Insight.
I'm tired now and this would be easier over wine and music and of course in person. This is just a piece of the feeling. A sliver of the depth. A sliver of a sliver. I now end to rest.
What's the use...? No really... It doesn't matter anyway, the battle of sexes differ from all identifiable demographics. It is a constantly evolving environement and what i say today is already commonplace.
But it had to be said. So i said it. It's 6:00 p.m. 7:30 p.m. where I come from.
Over and out.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Throb of Thought
It hurts.
I feel a horrible sense of pain. I have to admit the reasons pretty stupid, and if a certain someone were to know what this reason was - he or she would probably laugh indulgently, jab his or her finger at the screen as he or she read my ache and say, "serves you right".
This certain someone tends to feel vindictive even though he or she perfectly wonderful otherwise. Its a clear case of validating one's sense of lack, I can empathise with that. I respect an individual's way of proving they're right (even in a scenario that there is no right or wrong, just the way it is).
Now let's not get ahead of ourselves, by no means do I agree with the reaction. The perspective (mine) was and is clear. Logic and sense seldom prevail in human emotion. Private human emotion.
Right now, I feel this dull pulse of panic at the pit of my stomach. Like I'm extremely distraught. I feel it and yet I stand outside of myself rationalising it, trying to make it go away and yet...again...it doesn't.
The cacophony of telephone conversation, gossip and wasteful exercises of (again) validating our pay cheques continues in the background.
I blame myself and no one else for finding and passionately espousing such environments only to be let down a few moments in time later. I understand this flaw and yet it is embedded in me do deeply.
'The Thorn in my Flesh'
I have a promise from above to be made 'strong through my weakness' to be glorified someday through the very same abrasive that scours at the life I know I can have. I have a dark case of it today. It's a combination of fatalistic thought, deeply scarred mental tissue, patience, a penchant for the dark (by default), faith and the ability to laugh at myself.
What shall I call this malady? An irony? No, that's already taken.
Ever since the holiday a very different throb of thought has worked it's way into pockets of my mind where I had successfully managed to lock out all feeling and reason and be able to function like the drones (I'm surrounded by them). But you can't control the throb of thought.
If I were to meet this certain someone anywhere, they probability of him or her walking away, avoiding me or looking the other (worse case scenario: pretending to not know me) is way higher than any other positive experience. However, to put to rest my dull pulse of panic, I'd like to say that I wouldn't apologise, I would say hi with the same affection and pray that he or she did well. Cause truth be told he or she deserves it. Even more.
But I wouldn't apologise not for me, not for the world, not for him or her. There was nothing to apologise for. It was wonderful.
Ah well...such is life. Revisitation of an extremely personal nature among other things should be avoided at all costs.
The pulse of panic has dulled to a blip.
Blip.
I feel a horrible sense of pain. I have to admit the reasons pretty stupid, and if a certain someone were to know what this reason was - he or she would probably laugh indulgently, jab his or her finger at the screen as he or she read my ache and say, "serves you right".
This certain someone tends to feel vindictive even though he or she perfectly wonderful otherwise. Its a clear case of validating one's sense of lack, I can empathise with that. I respect an individual's way of proving they're right (even in a scenario that there is no right or wrong, just the way it is).
Now let's not get ahead of ourselves, by no means do I agree with the reaction. The perspective (mine) was and is clear. Logic and sense seldom prevail in human emotion. Private human emotion.
Right now, I feel this dull pulse of panic at the pit of my stomach. Like I'm extremely distraught. I feel it and yet I stand outside of myself rationalising it, trying to make it go away and yet...again...it doesn't.
The cacophony of telephone conversation, gossip and wasteful exercises of (again) validating our pay cheques continues in the background.
I blame myself and no one else for finding and passionately espousing such environments only to be let down a few moments in time later. I understand this flaw and yet it is embedded in me do deeply.
'The Thorn in my Flesh'
I have a promise from above to be made 'strong through my weakness' to be glorified someday through the very same abrasive that scours at the life I know I can have. I have a dark case of it today. It's a combination of fatalistic thought, deeply scarred mental tissue, patience, a penchant for the dark (by default), faith and the ability to laugh at myself.
What shall I call this malady? An irony? No, that's already taken.
Ever since the holiday a very different throb of thought has worked it's way into pockets of my mind where I had successfully managed to lock out all feeling and reason and be able to function like the drones (I'm surrounded by them). But you can't control the throb of thought.
If I were to meet this certain someone anywhere, they probability of him or her walking away, avoiding me or looking the other (worse case scenario: pretending to not know me) is way higher than any other positive experience. However, to put to rest my dull pulse of panic, I'd like to say that I wouldn't apologise, I would say hi with the same affection and pray that he or she did well. Cause truth be told he or she deserves it. Even more.
But I wouldn't apologise not for me, not for the world, not for him or her. There was nothing to apologise for. It was wonderful.
Ah well...such is life. Revisitation of an extremely personal nature among other things should be avoided at all costs.
The pulse of panic has dulled to a blip.
Blip.
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