It's been a long time since I last had (earned) scratches that could just as well be called bruises.
Hmm.
I think that the one of the most telling parts of a person's personality is only really demonstrated in the moment when you discover exactly how much they are able to achieve release sexually.
Because that's the point where someone's level of repression is most apparent.
People with a normal (short-term, self-destructive) mindsets tend to rebel against their body when it asserts control; illness, nausea, orgasm, tickling. They panic when their animal desires (physical response to stimuli) overcome their will. Insecure, sad, or angry people fear release, and fucking them leaves the ugly aftertaste of blood and stolen goods.
I recently read a book, "The Denial of Death", by Earnest Becker which had a nifty new take on sexual repression, and how it is that repression has become a social convention and been used as means of societal control.
The author's theory was that sexual repression is primarily an existential issue:
We all know on some level that while our inner beauty and individuality are what define us to ourselves, a great deal of our attractiveness to others is only skin deep. We are haunted by the knowlege that even though each of us is as unique as a snowflake emotionally, post 'A' will always fit into slot 'B'
(or slot 'C', for all you pretty gay boys out there).
I mean seriously, Let's take a poll:
who hasn't been cheated on?
And honestly:
Who has never cheated?
I'm sure there will be some exceptions. Good for you. Here's your pat on the back, now fuck off right back to your happy, perfect life.
For the rest of us, I want to analyze the motivations for sexual repression, how it relates to jealousy and insecurity, and why some people seem to see their status as born-again virgin* to be so eminently wonderful.
*Definition: Born-Again Virginity (a mental state of strong puritannical virtue that occurs primarily in the brief periods between a series of short-term monogamous relationships)
When we realize that someone else's desire for us may not be entirely based on the beauty of our deepest, most secret heart, and might just be based on our hips, our tits, and lips, then our ego rebels. Finding itself threatened by the realization of our own sexual interchangeability with others, our insecurities begin to demand that sex must become an emotional issue. This inevitably causes conflict, because in essence, romance is (at its core) a mating ritual; through seduction we attempt to find (or create) a partner who will provide us with both physical and emotional security and comfort. We know that in a blizzard of six billion individual snowflakes our chances of finding a partner whose personality complements ours are slim at best; so when we find someone whom we can bury our fears inside, we insist that we are the only person they should, could, or would desire. When we find our partner, our ego tells us that we have found them because we have earned them; earned them by being ourselves. In essence, we have been good, so we have gotten a cookie.
And this is all true.
The first problem is that this dumps a whole metric ass-ton of issues on anyone you ever consider as relationship material. They have to be absolutely willing to accept you immediately, and blindly.
In the South that called "buying a pig in a poke". It means having to buy something sight unseen. It also means being foolish, or taking a needless risk.
The other problem is that the mind/body interface is a two-sided coin.
If the mind is god, the body is an animal, and our body exerts as much influence over our mind as our mind exerts over our body.
Post 'A' will always fit into slot 'B'
(or slot 'C', for all you pretty gay boys out there).
That means when you see (eyes/body) another healthy human animal who falls within the spectrum of your desire (subconscious analysis of genetic/emotional desirability), you will want to fuck them.
And you can try to preserve your moral sanctity in several ways: You can cloud the issue by insisting that you really only want to take them to dinner (which is just a part of the mating ritual) and learn more about them as a person (Even more of a part of the mating ritual; you're just evaluating their social/financial/emotional desirability as a sexual/life partner). But after all is said and done, you're just defending your self-image as an individual, a unique delicate snowflake, irreplacable both emotionally and sexually by any other person rather than accepting that while on the one hand sex is emotional, but is is also a physical act. And while the two aspects are equally important for a long term relationship, each develops independently of the other.
I just think that anyone who demands a promise of commitment at the start of a relationship is a wee bit mad. And anyone who uses their sex and sensuality as a bribe to extort that kind of promise is both deranged, and not having nearly enough good sex. We can try to paint ourselves as saints, born-again virgins, our pure and noble believers in love; but we're still human. We may be extremely complicated, and we may try to distance ourselves from the animal within us with all the desperation that our frail egos can muster, but deep beneath the layers of complication and civilization, we have mating rituals as old as time, and controlling those urges, especially using a puritanical mindset proven time and time again to fail, is silly. The animal will, in the end rebel.
The mind is no stronger than the animal; Even Robert Oppenheimer had a mistress. He named himself Shiva, Destroyer of Worlds, and he couldn't even keep his dick is his pants.
Even the best of us is still the mind of a god in the body of an animal.
You shit, you eat, and you sleep.
You do these things every day, and they scream in your face that you are not a god, an angel, or a saint.
Yet you still insist that restraining your passion will earn you an eternal undying love, eventually.
You're just as reasonable as a Christian, but you've replaced "heaven" with a husband, or a wife.
You insist you only want to be loved.
But love comes from within, not without.
You can't find love in another person's heart; the love others give you is only a half-truth; it's their own self-love projected unto you, they love you because in you they see reflections of themselves.
Love comes from within, not without.
The broken and afraid, the serial monogamists who go through lovers like single-serving snacks, three, six, nine months at a time; they do it because they have to. They simply can't bring themselves to love themselves, so they seek acceptance from others.
Desperately.
But love comes from within, not without.
Just walk out of your cave, into the sun. It's warm here, and we have sex in the grass and eat berries. Flirt, laugh, live. Sleep with no one, two lovers, a dozen. Do whatever you enjoy, as long as you enjoy it.
Love comes from within, not without.
Let your sensuality shine like white teeth flashing in darkened rooms. Taste the pleasure you give and receive. Laugh for the sheer pleasure of it while your partner is inside you. Makeke your lover need release so badly they cry for it, and then give it to tham as you take it in turn. How long has it been since you saw a partner as a partner, rather than as a god, a thief, or a stranger?
It's no harder than learning to enjoy what four hundred centuries have thoughtfully designed you to enjoy.
Your sensuality should never feel like a sin, or like you're stealing your neighbors chickens. No one should ever be called a slut.
By fighting forty thousand years of evolution, and constraining your sensuality in the cage of old, dead Puritanical values, you're resisting your own biological programming, and that conflict shows in the set of your shoulders, and the fatigue in your eyes.
Your protests are all sound and fury, signifying nothing.
And I adore you (and despise you) for destroying something as beautiful, unique and rare as yourself.
Normality is nihilism.
You've only got one life.
Hmm.
I think that the one of the most telling parts of a person's personality is only really demonstrated in the moment when you discover exactly how much they are able to achieve release sexually.
Because that's the point where someone's level of repression is most apparent.
People with a normal (short-term, self-destructive) mindsets tend to rebel against their body when it asserts control; illness, nausea, orgasm, tickling. They panic when their animal desires (physical response to stimuli) overcome their will. Insecure, sad, or angry people fear release, and fucking them leaves the ugly aftertaste of blood and stolen goods.
I recently read a book, "The Denial of Death", by Earnest Becker which had a nifty new take on sexual repression, and how it is that repression has become a social convention and been used as means of societal control.
The author's theory was that sexual repression is primarily an existential issue:
We all know on some level that while our inner beauty and individuality are what define us to ourselves, a great deal of our attractiveness to others is only skin deep. We are haunted by the knowlege that even though each of us is as unique as a snowflake emotionally, post 'A' will always fit into slot 'B'
(or slot 'C', for all you pretty gay boys out there).
I mean seriously, Let's take a poll:
who hasn't been cheated on?
And honestly:
Who has never cheated?
I'm sure there will be some exceptions. Good for you. Here's your pat on the back, now fuck off right back to your happy, perfect life.
For the rest of us, I want to analyze the motivations for sexual repression, how it relates to jealousy and insecurity, and why some people seem to see their status as born-again virgin* to be so eminently wonderful.
*Definition: Born-Again Virginity (a mental state of strong puritannical virtue that occurs primarily in the brief periods between a series of short-term monogamous relationships)
When we realize that someone else's desire for us may not be entirely based on the beauty of our deepest, most secret heart, and might just be based on our hips, our tits, and lips, then our ego rebels. Finding itself threatened by the realization of our own sexual interchangeability with others, our insecurities begin to demand that sex must become an emotional issue. This inevitably causes conflict, because in essence, romance is (at its core) a mating ritual; through seduction we attempt to find (or create) a partner who will provide us with both physical and emotional security and comfort. We know that in a blizzard of six billion individual snowflakes our chances of finding a partner whose personality complements ours are slim at best; so when we find someone whom we can bury our fears inside, we insist that we are the only person they should, could, or would desire. When we find our partner, our ego tells us that we have found them because we have earned them; earned them by being ourselves. In essence, we have been good, so we have gotten a cookie.
And this is all true.
The first problem is that this dumps a whole metric ass-ton of issues on anyone you ever consider as relationship material. They have to be absolutely willing to accept you immediately, and blindly.
In the South that called "buying a pig in a poke". It means having to buy something sight unseen. It also means being foolish, or taking a needless risk.
The other problem is that the mind/body interface is a two-sided coin.
If the mind is god, the body is an animal, and our body exerts as much influence over our mind as our mind exerts over our body.
Post 'A' will always fit into slot 'B'
(or slot 'C', for all you pretty gay boys out there).
That means when you see (eyes/body) another healthy human animal who falls within the spectrum of your desire (subconscious analysis of genetic/emotional desirability), you will want to fuck them.
And you can try to preserve your moral sanctity in several ways: You can cloud the issue by insisting that you really only want to take them to dinner (which is just a part of the mating ritual) and learn more about them as a person (Even more of a part of the mating ritual; you're just evaluating their social/financial/emotional desirability as a sexual/life partner). But after all is said and done, you're just defending your self-image as an individual, a unique delicate snowflake, irreplacable both emotionally and sexually by any other person rather than accepting that while on the one hand sex is emotional, but is is also a physical act. And while the two aspects are equally important for a long term relationship, each develops independently of the other.
I just think that anyone who demands a promise of commitment at the start of a relationship is a wee bit mad. And anyone who uses their sex and sensuality as a bribe to extort that kind of promise is both deranged, and not having nearly enough good sex. We can try to paint ourselves as saints, born-again virgins, our pure and noble believers in love; but we're still human. We may be extremely complicated, and we may try to distance ourselves from the animal within us with all the desperation that our frail egos can muster, but deep beneath the layers of complication and civilization, we have mating rituals as old as time, and controlling those urges, especially using a puritanical mindset proven time and time again to fail, is silly. The animal will, in the end rebel.
The mind is no stronger than the animal; Even Robert Oppenheimer had a mistress. He named himself Shiva, Destroyer of Worlds, and he couldn't even keep his dick is his pants.
Even the best of us is still the mind of a god in the body of an animal.
You shit, you eat, and you sleep.
You do these things every day, and they scream in your face that you are not a god, an angel, or a saint.
Yet you still insist that restraining your passion will earn you an eternal undying love, eventually.
You're just as reasonable as a Christian, but you've replaced "heaven" with a husband, or a wife.
You insist you only want to be loved.
But love comes from within, not without.
You can't find love in another person's heart; the love others give you is only a half-truth; it's their own self-love projected unto you, they love you because in you they see reflections of themselves.
Love comes from within, not without.
The broken and afraid, the serial monogamists who go through lovers like single-serving snacks, three, six, nine months at a time; they do it because they have to. They simply can't bring themselves to love themselves, so they seek acceptance from others.
Desperately.
But love comes from within, not without.
Just walk out of your cave, into the sun. It's warm here, and we have sex in the grass and eat berries. Flirt, laugh, live. Sleep with no one, two lovers, a dozen. Do whatever you enjoy, as long as you enjoy it.
Love comes from within, not without.
Let your sensuality shine like white teeth flashing in darkened rooms. Taste the pleasure you give and receive. Laugh for the sheer pleasure of it while your partner is inside you. Makeke your lover need release so badly they cry for it, and then give it to tham as you take it in turn. How long has it been since you saw a partner as a partner, rather than as a god, a thief, or a stranger?
It's no harder than learning to enjoy what four hundred centuries have thoughtfully designed you to enjoy.
Your sensuality should never feel like a sin, or like you're stealing your neighbors chickens. No one should ever be called a slut.
By fighting forty thousand years of evolution, and constraining your sensuality in the cage of old, dead Puritanical values, you're resisting your own biological programming, and that conflict shows in the set of your shoulders, and the fatigue in your eyes.
Your protests are all sound and fury, signifying nothing.
And I adore you (and despise you) for destroying something as beautiful, unique and rare as yourself.
Normality is nihilism.
You've only got one life.
No, but seriously, I agree with a lot that you've pointed out here. However, I don't like being told that there is only one way to properly live my life and that I'm doing it wrong. I can only assume that you have lumped all readers of this journal into one catergory, that being the catergory that isn't you, when you say you're .
PS: you know the only reason I said that is to be a brat and challenge you. You're wrong damn it! You're wrong.