edmond takes a walk

well, clearly, the reason you are so critical is because you have forgotten how to love. but prescribed love like he used to believe in was obviously just a set up for betrayal, and in it being prescribed, disingenuous. sure, extending unconditional love to all will open you up to pain, that is the burden you bear in exchange for the inner peace, but ask yourself, which is better? now you seek to qualify good or bad, which is a losing argument. negation is not such a powerful tool as you would like it to be. you can negate anything in your mind, but i defy you to negate the fact that you think. it’s true that i cannot negate my own consciousness, but i can still conceive of its impermanence and counter any assertion without being false. Indeed, not false, but invalid. you put in a false premise and arrive at a true conclusion, that much you learned in your first year of logic. well, would you have me just start going to church and abiding religiously by principals that i do not truly believe in? I would have you take the progress you have made throughout the years and reflect well upon it, and, I would also have you recognize that the ideas behind this progress are no longer causing progress. you and i both know that i am too proud to drop all of the identity i have assumed and live selflessly among those who would never appreciate it. you are not truthfully concerned with no person appreciating your true self, you want everyone to like you and cannot accept that others also have strengths. you are not special any more than you are unique, so to betray your spirit in this matter would be to succumb to vanity. but i am not vain. no, not outwardly, but what you say carries less weight than the evidence, which is ample now, that you are driven nearly mad by the idea that someone you love might appreciate a characteristic that another posses, and furthermore, that the person in question may indeed have a strength that would kill you to admit was a weakness of yours. so you mean to suggest that i demand that everytone think i am the best at everything? ludicrous. i do not demand to be the best welder, senator, fisherman, painter, orator… there are millions of things that i do not care to hold a title to. all things that bear no meaning to you. you are not interested in welding, and therefore you could really care less if there is such a welder on the planet that could have created an art form from the beauty and perfection of their welding. that is easy enough for you to praise for you have no stake in it. however, consider the things you really want to be appreciated for: genius, adaptability, quickness of analysis and product; with your lover it’s your body and how they perceive your attitude, sense of humor, anything that might attract them to another heterosexual male. yes, but it is reasonable that one would operate under such exclusive terms when the relationship is meant to be taken to one’s death. i do not pay intimate attentions to other women and for good reason. as much as i could nit-pick that statement, i do know what you are getting at here, but that’s not the point. even these minor offenses you speak of are no grounds for the amazing panic and disdain that rises up within you so that you heart races and you want to get away from everything. but if i am just waiting to find out that i let myself relax and trust only to one day find out otherwise… well, in this situation it would be disastrous. ok, fine. continue on your current course and see if you don’t lose what you thought you were protecting anyway. don’t be sarcastic. very well, i love you edmond, you are dear to me like none other, but you have to let the others have their share. you cannot keep this control you were never meant to have over him. even he has told me that he wants things to change, and that while everyone appreciates you for your true value, he wants to center and he wants to do it peacefully, with your cooperation. let go of your pride and let yourself love again.

i need some time with this.

sure thing.

i will knock a motherfucker out

A. is a goddess walking amongst mere mortals.  As so, she leaves drooling, smitten idiots panting in her heat waves wherever she goes.   Now, I understand that i am quite lucky to have her love and devotion bestowed upon me, and do not question it, but seriously, I like to punch things.  Lately I find myself relishing the idea of a nice fist fight.  I remember the days in jr. High when assholes twice my size were rescued from me by their friends.  It’s all in your head you arrogant sack of entrails.

So, what I’m saying is:

I’m lucky.  A.’s a beautiful (in all respects) person.  Some people behave disrespectfully about it.  I like to punch.

You call it territorial, I call it knocking out annoying motherfuckers.

sex hair

I like my sex hair, but unlike A. I cannot wear mine to the office (let alone shoulder-bearing-bra-strap-displaying-falling-apart-tshirts… pbtpbtpbtpbt).  It’s too bad really, because my sex hair isn’t sexy, that’s not the point.  I don’t want to go to my job looking all hot or anything, that would be weird, cuz, it’s my job.  I just happened to have had really cute sex hair this morning that I wish I could have let be.  That’s all.  Besides, sex hair is superior to manually styled hair.  It can look anywhere from disheveled hotness to full on tentacled madness and it’s still good looking for some reason.  A. has really great sex hair.  I mean, in general, but yes, today as well.  It will look way different by the time I see her later though because I left way before her today, which brings me to my next post…

you’re an idiot and here’s the proof

Penis.

that is all I have to say, but more people will read this than the brilliant zoo trilogy I finished yesterday.

Penis.

Still reading? Because, that is really all I am going to divulge here and now. Not a sentence, thought, concept, puzzle or dilemma…. just a word.

Penis.

You’re so hungry for the next time I say it. It’s so naughty!

Penis.

OOOOHHH You didn’t!! Don’t say that word.

Penis.

OH my fucking god are you still reading this??

Penis.

Yes, yes you are, and for the simple fact that the word may be written again:

Penis.

Well, you knew it would, and this is the proof that you are a fucking idiot.

Penis.

Ok, maybe you just find this entertaining, but if you’re that smart, you should also know that I am just going to say it again.

Penis.

Dumbass!

Penis.

And somehow people want to deny that we live in a phallocentric society.

Penis.

I’m not even done writing it and it’s my most viewed post!!

Penis.

I can already taste the fame.

Penis.

his blog was so brilliant.

Penis.

He was willing to go right to the edge and step over it.

Penis.

YOU WOULD HAVE NEVER READ IT IF I HAD BEEN SAYING:

Vagina.

Right, like anyone cares about vaginas in any context not relating to a

Penis.

pbtpbtpbtpbtpbtpbtpbtpbtpbtpbtpbtpbtpbtpbtptbpbt

master of the zoo

they think i scowl

do not be so self important as to assume to me your trifles

tall or short

great or meekest of all, i see none of it

and this bothers you, for you are cursed by emotion when I know boundless freedom that your history books have named power, yet again, assume to me none of your trifles

there are monkeys “in there” yes, but this is not a zoo and assume to me none of your trifles

as you are overjoyed and awestruck, i am master

as you are pained and rejected, i am still only master

i am neither benevolent nor evil, sinister or compassionate, i only am –  and this troubles you

you are subject to me for i am all that is and on less than a whim, much less really, i will admit you to your zoo or confound you

assume to me none of your trifles

i do not decide, think, react

i am fluid

gas

an impossible vacuum of energy and anti matter

go from me now young one, this is no zoo for art thou not, and hast thou not been

and hadst thou been thou wouldst know me for mine eyes had you possessed

and it has not been

assume to me none of your trifles

you are the zoo

Freshly groomed and fed we sat in the midday sun watching them watch us. None could pass us without looking and we could never understand why. We thought it was because they found something curious about us, but as chimpanzees we rather found them to be curious. They barked their human nonsense at us, apparently expecting that we would somehow acknowledge this in a way that would be meaningful to them, but we could never figure out how to bark like that. No matter how many gestures and various combinations of screams and flips we did, they just barked back and it was frustrating to the point where anyone who had been with us here in this aggravatingly cramped jungle impostor for long just sat at the far end near the feeding door waiting for the next disappointing meal.

And anyhow, didn’t they understand that we preferred to graze as we please?

Yet, one day a small human came to see us, and a few of us have danced about it since, who had such wonder in his eyes you would think he had seen Oeneth herself. The young ones were pleased by this and flipped, screamed and executed their most impressive stunts to acknowledge their sway held over this young observer. He stayed longer than most, and Garmesh was right to feel bad for him. They never let the awestruck ones back in. The ones who really care for our grace and appreciate our uniqueness attempt to take us , or make a scene about the little mock jungle we play on.  This boy seemed to communicate with a couple of us with his eyes.  Surely, he would be banned.

As he walked away I remember screaming that it was wrong. Wrong for us to be here in this punishing miniature of our real home, and wrong that he would be punished for truly understanding that we are not the zoo, you are the zoo. All of you with your weird looking foods and portable water vessels (though by the smell of it that is tainted water). You bark and beep and make stupid looking faces when you see us. You come to gawk at us in our permanent abduction. Barking, beeping. Your sounds are weak and dispassionate when not hostile.

That poor boy. I do hope his wonder goes unseen.  He is one zoo animal we would not mind seeing again.

you are not at the zoo

He walked up to the ticket counter and bought one regular admission. His first visit. He thought the primates would be the most fun and had been dreaming about them for two months. He went to see the gorillas, orangutans, “wizard monkeys”, baboons and chimps, among other’s whose names always slip his young, mind. It was just as fun as he had hoped.

Nothing else at the zoo concerned him so he left. Overjoyed, the next day he went back, if for no other reason than to have proof that he had really seen them. He approached the same old man at the same ticket counter, holding up six dollars he said “I’d like to see the monkeys.”

We have monkeys, yes, but you cannot see them. This is not a zoo.

But yesterday it was…

I’m sorry but we do not run a zoo here. You must be mistaken.

Are you playing a trick on me? Only yesterday I was allowed in and I’m sure it was a zoo.

The old man shook his head, irritated, and suggested that he had only wanted to be at the zoo but had never really gone.

He knew the old man was wrong, but his young mind was easily confused and the old man had such disdain in his voice, that he cowered and walked away. Indeed, never to be let into the zoo again so that he finally accepted that he had never been. The monkeys he could swear looked right at him. He could swear he had smelled them, and remember his heart soaring as they played with each other leaping ably from limbs and ropes…

He wondered if the zoo ever did allow him back in if he’d even care to go anymore. What if the next day they insisted he’d never been. It would be a confusion he couldn’t survive twice.

ah, the pain of being wrong

It’s like taking a nice long bath in your own bile.

A: yeah, it’s a little messed up how opposite your stories are

Because one of you would have to be fabricating something

me: I’m not staunch on my version

it’s like I said

A: That’s that part that bugs me

me: flashes that got put together

A: Cuz it sure sounded like you were, when we talked about it

10:55 AM me: well that’s what I believed

truly

A: Yeah, I know all that. Either way you should just talk to her

it’ll be all good

me: I feel like it needs to be in person

over the phone I can’t tell if I’m being manipulated

A: well then so be it

call her and set something up

10:56 AM get it over with

everyone will be happy

me: we don’t have an open relationship btw

10:57 AM A: uh, I know that

thanks for… reminding me?

assface

me: I thought you were trying to get back at me last night because I was making it known out loud to you that I did not commission you to molest the hell out of my friend and that if I thought it would be hot I’d let you know

you totally ignored me

A: I don’t even know how to explain that away, because I was tanked.

me: well….

A: which isn’t an excuse, I know

10:58 AM me: right

we’re on the same page then?

A: I won’t even try to deny that I probably was feeling like I needed to “get back at you.” It wouldn’t have happened otherwise, or even crossed my mind

yes, we’re on the same page

me: k

10:59 AM I’m sorry for getting drunk and having sex with your friend. this is a new apology and I mean it. It was unacceptable.

A: Thank you.

I need a nap before I go to work. I’ll be back later.

11:00 AM And, I’m sorry for molesting your friend.

me: thank you

have a good nap baby

You see, it turns out my memory of the indiscretion was not only fallible but possibly not at all correct. I had blacked out drunk at least two hours before it happened, however, and honestly trusted the few ‘flashes’ of memory I had and my interpretation of them to be correct. Also, knowing myself and the other girl involved, it seemed entirely plausible, possibly expected, that she would initiate such activity. Well, her memory contradicts mine, which leaves me helpless but to plead the drunkth. As was discussed in the above chat.

come to think of it

The last thing the world needs is one more “there are two kinds of people in the world” sentiments.  However, there really are, and I am generally apt to provide the last thing someone needs on any given day.  Often these sentiments are offered as a comic device, sometimes they are insights into a oft repeated stupidity, and others yet simply serve to criticize.  My sentiment, is none of these.

There really are two, precisely, two kinds of people: those who think before they act, and those who act.

This sounds rather ‘der’, no?  As a generalized concept it is.  Specificity lends a new light, however, and yields a much funnier stupidity/normalcy to it.  Now, consider a new-hire at some company, any company.  Let’s say you work in one area and the new-hire is in another.  You will never have any reason to interact with this person but you hear that they are gorgeous so you go introduce yourself anyway.  You are in the latter category.  Someone who thinks first will at least know they’re being a tool before walking over to shake hands, or abort the mission entirely.

That example explains the worthless side of inconsiderate action.  Yet, as is the case with any point I would make, there is another side that is quite good.  People who act make things happen.  People who think first do not.  Some times it is better to think, but sometimes things just need to be done.

Recognizing the difference can be, to each type independently, impossible.

“The revolution is upon us!  Take up your arms and join the fight!”

-well… are we right?  If we are would we win?  Is this really the best solution?

See what I am getting at?  We need both.  I just have an easier time criticizing people who do not think.

what they must think of us

Postal workers, that is. They know more about us than we give them credit for. The discreet packing on that box of embarrassment you ordered. They know. Do they chuckle as they deliver that obvious overdraft notice, or feel pity? Or do they filter their response to account for the residence? Maybe they only chuckle when it’s a yuppie’s house. I’d like to give them the benefit of the doubt in that regard.

Sure there are some virtuous postal delivery folks who probably find ease in keeping a personal credo of just putting it all out of their minds. Everyone’s got dirt, no need to judge. Others still who simply don’t care. It’s a job, and they aren’t interested in your small chunk of humanity as much as the cancer diagnosis delivered to their brother or sister that week. And as they deliver they might worry about what kind of terrible news they themselves are delivering. This letter from an attorney… divorce papers? A frivolant lawsuit?

But then they also see your nude magazine subscriptions, membership letters and newsletters to cults and subculture organizations…

Rain, sleet, or snow, they will see what it is you don’t generally want anyone one else to.