Friday, July 23, 2010

iv

The trick is to keep breathing.* Concentrate on your breaths, in, out, deep breaths. Clear your mind of all thoughts and just be. Maybe that's what yoga's all about. I wouldn't know. I can't just keep still, not even for a second. I don't have the willpower to barrage my thoughts. But if you tell yourself to just keep breathing, you live another day with the hope that tomorrow will be better.

I am milk, I am red hot kitchen. And I am cool, cool as the deep blue ocean. I am weak, yet I am strong. I can use my tears to bring you home. I'm waiting for you.* Day in, day out, I sit at the windowsill, wondering if you'll notice me. Hello. My name is &. And yours? I'm doing quite well actually, how 'bout you? A conversation between old friends, escept with the wisps of shy love surrounding our words. Or maybe a chance meeting between two strangers, a 'My goodness, I've never seen eyes like yours before. You're beautiful.' But these things never happen, not even in the movies. In commercials that sell Lady Speedstick deodorant. Complete with shining hair (made possible by Dove shampoo with natural extracts of cucumber and hazelnut oil) and a disgusting little pooch you'd just love to grill over an open fire and eat with barbecue sauce. Yum. Only I could go from poetic to romantic to cliche naive to biting sarcasm in the space of several minutes. Maybe I should take a daylit walk for once. I would see things differently. More colour, brightness. Milk, pure, creamy, cool. Kitchen, love, passion, sweat. Ocean, deep, refeshing, senseless. Your tears will bring me home.

Sometimes, sex is just sex and sometimes, sex is more. Passion and lust are in both instances. A relationship does not make the act of sex sacred or more sacred than it already is. Sex is as sacred as you can get. The difference between a hook-up and a relationship is that in the latter, the act also comes with emotion. the trust, the affection are absent from the former situation. Does that mean that the latter is better? That sex without emotion is on a lower level of holiness, worth, or whatever have you than just pure sex? Of course not. Raincheck.



Everybody has a secret world inside of them. All of the people in the whole world. I mean everybody. No matter how boring and dull they are on the outside. Inside them they've all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds. Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands, maybe.* If that's not a self-esteem boost, I don't know what is. I go to school and I see all these beautiful, really truly incredible people. And they're all just denying how truly amazing they are. It's so sad. Possibly the saddest thing I've ever seen. And all these people are beautiful even with all the faults they have and the mistakes they've made. Each one of us, every one of us. I have a friend. I think she's schizophrenic but I'm not too sure. She's the most incredible artist I've ever seen. She paints these surrealistic drawings that she's either hallucinated, dreamt or just dome up with. Those kinds of people just astound me. I've always been fascinated by mental illnesses, the way they can shape a person. I read a book once, Veronika Decides to Die by Paulo Coelho, where insanity is really not that much of a disease as an annoyance to the so-called normal people who call themselves society. I'm nt talking about psychopaths who murder, I'm talkign about those who are ostracized by society because of different perceptions of things, of life. Maybe if we accepted them instead of trying to cure them...I don't know. I don't know.

*title of Garbage song
*lyrics from "Milk" by Garbage
*quote by Neil Gaiman (Sandman)

Sunday, July 18, 2010

iii

I know you fight it hard but breathe. The shame that comes with it will disappear once you realize why you feel this way. Truth is, no one ever told you how beautiful you really are. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but sometimes, that beholder can't be your mother, or your father, or your boyfriend. That beholder has to be you. It's all fine if everyone else keeps trying to pound in your head how full of magic you truly are. The trick is for you to believe it. I know it's hard sometimes sugar, I know it's hard to look in the mirror and not see a monster, to control the impulse to scream and smash your hand against the ugliness facing you. I know it's hard to stop the obsession that now has become your only reason to survive. Ironically, that obsession is tearing you down, day by day, until finally, when you're not expecting it, the sky will turn black and you will think "Well hell". You start out in a room that's big, luxurious, everything you ever dreamed of. And the, every morning you wake up, the room is smaller. You don't notice it at first, not until you open your eyes one day and the walls are pushing, in, down, at you. You can't breathe, your lungs are crushed. So, please, while you still have time to take breath into your body, breathe. Cry if you must. fall in love, take a risk. Dare to live.

Sometimes you like going down. Sometimes you cherish the fall, even the splush on the cement. I've always wondered what falling from such a height is like. It must feel like parachuting, your mouth distorted by the speed. All kinds of thoughts going through your head. What if she finds out what I've been doing? What if she won't be sorry? Oh God, did I forget the stove on? Or maybe nothing. Maybe the speed is so great, the thoughts rush out of your head and leisurely float down after you, like feathers, or snow, on your crumpled body. I wonder what Sylvia Plath thought when she killed herself. Did she think of her children asleep in the next room? Her husband? Whether her work would be published? It must have been quite peaceful inside her head.

My heart has more room than a whore-house.* My body is more holy than a temple. My love is more encompassing than the stars that surround the earth. With all of this, I can make your heart sweat, your body sing, and your love stretch. What I can give you is most of myself. Not all, because I will still need my independence. Love does not obligate anyone to completely lose oneself. I do not mean that in love, you must not risk, become vulnerable, let down your protective walls. Without this, you cannot love. However, there is no reason why one must topple head over heels and rush the life out. All love leaves, either in a heartbreak, an argument, or death, for the lucky ones. And after it does, all that is left is you. Not your past lovers, your future ones, or the fact that he just slammed the front door behind him. All that is left is you.
If I do not give you all of myself, what do I give you? I give you my ability to make a conversation between our two bodies. I give you my trust and my crumbled bricks which my walls have now transformed into. I give you my arms, my romance, my fears and weaknesses. But I will not give you my sense of self, the only part of me that will be left after you are gone.

*quote from Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Friday, July 16, 2010

ii

Are we human or are we dancers?* She asked me as I was sitting on the grass today. What's the difference? I asked in return, squinting at her through my slit eyes. I'm not sure. I think that dancers are crazy and humans aren't. That's just ridiculous. We're all crazy, not just dancers. No, think about it. Not just dancers, but artists in general. They're all crazy, at least the good ones are. They're all tortured even if they pretend they aren't. How could you not be, trying to satisfy not only yourself but everyone else through uncertain means?

i trace the word beautiful across your chest
with my heavy breathes
i want nothing more
than to hold you to my lips,
breathe you in, feel you burning in my blood.*

I have seen the enemy and he is us. He will destroy us, burn our fields, rape our women, kill our men. He will not come all of a sudden, he will creep up like ink across a page. The poison will begin at our feet and infiltrate our skin. Our blood will turn black and when we finally realize what is happening to us, we will already be dead. Not physically, but spiritually, emotionally. We won't have enough strength to awaken our minds from their stupours. We will be dead inside.



Memento mori. *How man times has this subject been breached? To be, or not to be. That is the question. *The most famous soliloquy of all time was recited by a lazy immature man who couldn't get up without destroying something. Is it better to wate time by turning over phrases in your head, agonizing about what sounds good and poetic and what doesn't or is it better to stop the so-called creative process and actually do something? Either way, you're still wasting time. It's better to do what makes you happy. You only live once, so why waste it wondering about the things you only think you can't do? Why waste it by regretting what you did? Why not just suck it up and live with it? You made a mistake. It's okay. Really. We all make mistakes. We're human dancers.

Come to me, children of the night.* I will make you sing. I will make you feel, bleed. I will show you, by death, what life truly means. I think I'm close to being a vampire. I have become nocturnal. I go to sleep when the sun rises, at about six a.m. I wake up at eight in the evening. I go walking at night when everyone should be asleep. Should be, but isn't. You'd be amazed by the things you learn about people at night. They step out of their shells like a Bond girl stepping out of her dress. You can literally see their thought floating out of their heads like wisps of smoke from a cigarette. In the daytime, people are always on their guards, as though the sun would melt them if they said what they actually believed. I've been thinking lately about how the stars have shaped us. I don't know much about science but what I do know i if there's a God, Heaven will be among the stars.

Mama, take your love outside. We can't use it anymore. There comes a time when we must say "That's it. No more. I will not subject myself to this anymore." I don't know when we will think of these words or when we will have the courage to stand up and say them, but I hope the time will come soon. Sometimes, we have to know when to scream from the rooftops FUCK YOU and sometime, we have to know how to handle the cards as they have been dealt. We gotta know when enough is enough and when to deal with it. Rock 'n' roll, baby. Rock 'n' roll.

*lyrics from the song "Human" by The Killers
*poem written by the user bethlehem is burning from GaiaOnline, found in the Original Poetry/Lyrics subforum in the Writer's forum.
*Memento mori (latin): Be mindful of death
*'To be or not to be. That is the question.' from the play Hamlet by William Shakespeare
*'Come to me, children of the night' is a spin-off from 'Listen to them, children of the night' from the movie "Dracula"

i

Quod me nutrit me destruit.* The love washes over me, through me, and I cannot stop it. I'm a masochist, I suppose, letting myself loe sleep over whispers filled with the warmth of burning cider. I cannot help letting the alt-strewn waves of disappointment infiltrate my every pore. As I lie down in the moist, wet sand, I let myself fear the sting of jellyfishes. I've always had a love-hate relationship with the ocean, with the snow, the rain and the sunsets. I try to pretend I abhor them like any sensible person would, but I cannot top dreaming. The worst part is that I'm not even hoping for anyone to come and save me. I don't want a boy in shining armour or a Joan of Arc to come sweep me off my feet and lead me off on their white horses. All that is a bunch of useless dreaming. Well, I guess what I do every day is useless too. And I guess you could call me one of those hopeless teenagers who doesn't know up from down. In a way, it's true. I have everything I need and from the outsider's view, I have everything I want too. But in reality, I really don't. No one really does. In all honesty, I'm in love. And this love of mine is not towards a person or an object, it's towards an event. It's towar5ds something that all of us thinks we're doing, but only the ones who truly know what it's all about do. The rest are only kidding themselves, sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously. The unconscious pretending is worse because you have no idea how to escape and fix the situation. You have no way of knowing that you're living in a nightmare. On the other hand, when you know and refuse to wake up, now that's the tragedy. It can either be because you're too worn down by it all to try to get back up again. Either way, it's a pity. Everyone deserves to be aware of what, I think, is this incredible phenomenon. Personally, I cannot boast that I'm one of those enlightened ones. But I'm trying, every single day, to reach that point where I can honestly say "I love life. I love every single second of it, even the bad seconds because those also shape me as a person. I love life and I am living it." My love, masochistic and nourishing, frustrating and fulfilling, not understandable and destroying, is my will to truly live.

Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix.* My lungs open to your breath, letting the sweetness that is your essence to flow through me as though it were blood. I don't need food or water to sustain myself. All I need is a few whispers in my direction, at most a touch on my skin, and I can live for a week. My fingers curl into waves and my palms start to swim. I cannot keep still and if I do, I'm afraid I will faint. I don't need air, I don't need...I am not human. I am some poor soul trying to forget pain and disappointment. I only want to drift away, bodyless, looking down at everyone dying each day. I do not want to live anymore. I want to be free. I know you will never love me. I know I sound stupid and I know I shouldn't do this but I cannot live if you will not sustain me.

We are pure fucking diamonds. Why can't we see this? Every day, I see how we treat ourselves. We lie, steal, hurt, murder. Not others, at least not directly. We lie that we are unhappy. We lie that this is not what we want. After all, we are comfortable and we should be grateful for what we have. We lie that we do not deserve to have more or that we should search for it. We steal from each other. Not physical possessions, but emotional ones. We steal feelings of worth, of love, of some kind of feeling to pretend that we are still alive. We hurt because after the stealing ha been done, after the drugs have worn off, we still need to feel something. we resort to pain, to blood, oh how beautiful it is, not too deep because we still need to lie. And then, we finally kill ourselves. Some of us fall down and can't get up anymore and some do it by accident. Some do it on purpose and some just wait for it. Why can't we stop this? We're scared of something. Scared that we will fall out of favour with our co-workers, scared that our husbands will leave us, scared that our children won't love us, scared that mommy won't accept us. Why do we do this? We are hopeless.

*Quod me nutrit, me destruit (latin): What nourishes me, destroys me
*title of a Muse song "Mon Coeur S'Ouvre a Ta Voix (I Belong to You)" (french): My heart opens at your voice

Sunday, July 11, 2010

My Issues and Agreements with Aldous Huxley's Brave New World

The novel Brave New World by Aldous Huxley is a story about a utopia (or dystopia) in which people are decanted instead of born, where there are five different castes in which people are predestined to enter and stay their entire lives in. This world is one of efficiency, of stability, and most importantly of the inability to think for one's self and to decide. It is one of (in my opinion) three "utopian" novels, the other two being 1984 by George Orwell and Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. It deals with a vision in which society will be completely desensitized because of the onslaught of technology.

I have several issues with some of the ideas that Huxley proposes in his novel. The first is how polyamory vs. monogamy is viewed in the said society. For happiness' sake, the painful wait that one had to go through to know whether his love wanted him or not was abolished. If one wanted another, one could have him by knowing that nobody was nobody's, or rather that everyone belonged to everyone else. At one point, one of the main characters, Lenina has been dating a man for four months, when her friend, Fanny, exclaims that such a thing is a really unhealthy thing to do since it's not socially accepted. This situation puts a horrid twist on romantic relationships. By portraying a world in which you can choose to have sex with anyone you want, Huxley portrays a world of absolutely no choice-you must have sex with more than one person, and frequently, or you are considered a freak. My problem with this is how Huxley envisions polyamory. It's not about "everyone belonging to everyone else" at all. Everyone belongs to themselves. The only difference is that instead of having a relationship with one person at a time, it's more than one. Polyamory doesn't just mean "Oh, so if I want to fuck that chick and I want to fuck that other chick too, I can". You can, but that doesn't mean they want to. And that's called rape, and rape is bad.The basis of a relationship is not just having someone sexually. It's also having someone emotionally. The loophole in Huxley's theory is that even if you make everyone available sexually (somehow, magically, the concept of rape doesn't exist), it doesn't mean that they're available. Think about it. If your boyfriend cheats on you, and you are angry, why are you angry? Is it because he had a sexual affair with someone else? Is it because he literally put his penis in her vagina? Is that what's angering you so much? No. What's angering you is the fear that you have that he might actually have emotional feeling for that other woman because of his action towards her. You are angry and fearful because if he does feel something towards her, that might mean that he doesn't feel anything towards you anymore, so he will leave you. You may also be angry because he betrayed your trust. All of this is not sexual at all, it's emotional. It's not really about the sex at all. It's about what may come with it. In a romantic relationship, emotions are highly tied in with the act of sex. Huxley destroys the ability to have a meaningful relationship with anyone by eradicating emotion in order to make everyone happy so they don't have to suffer feeling the stress and pain of that emotion, which leaves only hook-ups and friends with benefits. What's left is the sexual desire. And sexual desire is usually not monogamous. So basically, if you have a relationship that is full with emotion and sex, that's a-okay. If you take away the emotion, you're left with sex. People usually want to have sex with more than one person if the emotional connection is taken away. There's not just one attractive person in the world. So there you go. You've got polyamory.

Wrong. Polyamory is not just about the sex. It's also about the emotion. It's not based on sex at all. It's based on the emotion, just like monogamy is. There is jealousy in poly relationships, just like there is in mono ones. They are not shallow and sex-filled, they are just as painful, stressful, and unstable as monogamous ones.

Which takes me to my next point: sex. In this "brave new world", children are precocious and frequently play erotic games. They are taught about sex from a young age, which would be a good and great thing in this present world. However, in Huxley's vision of the future, sex is only a game. After Lenina decides to start dating another man, the one she picks is disappointed that they had sex on the first date. He insists that they "went to bed together...like infants-instead of being adults and waiting." She asks him if it wasn't fun though, and he replies "Oh, the greatest fun." My question is, if children are taught about sex and are allowed to explore their own bodies and know the risks and dangers of it, does that mean that the act is childish? If teenagers nowadays are having sex with condoms and on birth control, does that mean that it's bad? (Of course, this is in Huxley's world, not in ours.) Of course it does! We should wait for...what? Marriage? No, because one can't marry in that world, monogamy isn't really allowed. So what should they wait for? The sky to fall? That sounds like a good idea. I would understand why it would be infantile to engage in the act of sex if children didn't understand what sex was, got pregnant, and then had to get abortions behind their parents' back for fear of angering not only the wrath of God, but the wrath of the whip also. Also, they should only save their virginity until marriage because...because...um....Oh wait, that only happens today? Sorry. Because you know, in a society where children are taught about the consequences and know how to protect themselves, that would actually be a healthy society. Not in Huxley's mind, though. Another thing. Why can't sex be fun? What is it supposed to actually be like? Oh. Right. Full of emotion. And since emotion doesn't exist, that's just not possible.

I have a motto about sex: Sometimes sex is just sex, and sometimes it's something more. Hook-ups and friends with benefits are perfectly fine. Having relationships where sex is tied in with emotion is also fine. Guess what. Both are perfect and having the choice to choose which one you want would actually be the utopia. There is nothing wrong with only having sex for the fun of it. The world will not turn into Huxley's nightmare because people are being a little less conservative and having a bit more fun than usual. However, with that fun and with the increasing amount of sex comes a knowledge and a protection that his nightmare actually had. (One point to the author). The one thing about sex that society must be careful about is informing and protecting. That is all. There will always be those who want to have deep relationships and there will always be those who won't. With the choice to choose, there will always be a balance. I also don't believe that engaging in casual sex decreases the value of the act of sex itself. However, that is for another long-due post. Raincheck.

However, I do agree with the conversation that the Savage has with Mustapha Mond about religion. Mond says that "God isn't compatible with machinery and scientific medicine and universal happiness. You must make your choice. Our civilization has chosen machinery and medicine and happiness." The irony is that there was no choice made. There was no decision to get rid of God. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with making that choice...as long as you actually make it. The Savage asks "But isn't it natural to feel there's a God?" "You might as well ask if it's natural to do up one's trousers with zippers...People believe in God because they've been conditioned to believe in God." To me, it doesn't matter what's natural and what's not. It's what's right and what's truth and what's not. What's natural is not necessarily what is true. And personally, I don't believe that there would be a better world without belief in a god. I just believe that it would be one if people weren't so sure that this god of theirs condones homophobia, misogyny, war in the name and/or because of religion, and various other concepts that are truly immoral. I think this world could use a little shaking up of ideals and values. And I honestly think that if you did that, the world wouldn't become devoid of emotion, it wouldn't become immoral, and it wouldn't become one without choice. It would just become one with less issues.

The major idea I do agree with Huxley on is that lack of choice makes for a horrible society. You have to have the ability to choose where your life goes, not be predestined in a caste or looked down upon because you believe in something else. There must be a bit more tolerance and acceptance in this world for opposing beliefs and the ability to choose between them. Monogamy nor polyamory is bad, they're just different ways of conducting a relationship. Having fun in sex is not bad, nor is viewing it as a highly emotional concept. Just know what could come of it and use precautions. And religion isn't really all that bad. Just calm down a little. The world won't blow up if you let gays marry or adopt. And the world won't blow up if you let your women have equal rights. It'll just become a bit better.



Friday, July 9, 2010

choose (there are no reasons)

like he said you can choose life
job career family fucking big television
but i don't wanna do that
not now


as you exhale and smoke spurts in jets
all over my skin like water from a hose

all i wanna do now is have some fun
get wasted fucked trashed it's so easy
to let all this bullshit go away
just forget


as you puke up your twelve shots of tequila
and i nod understandingly as blood trickles down your nose

oh god
ain't life fun

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