Maybe writing is a sophisticated medium of self-deception. We are, after all, somehow deceiving us into thinking that there will be someone reading this; in fact, we don‘t even think in terms of potential readers, we actually are engaged in this conversation without the need of a recipient. In sports, there’s always a crowd. Maybe we build whole stadiums, pack them with people, and all in just a sentence. But at the moment, this is perhaps the most lonesome state of mind. Because we are not aware of this reality, we may rush to strangers’ eyes, who knows what lurks in the minds of all of this people; you ought to think, just by trying to make sense of your own life, you know is not an easy task. Your own evolution, that is. And no matter how well intended you are, you just can’t change others. Accept them the way they are, give them room to maneuver, don’t rush into things for the thrill of it. Then you find yourself doing just the opposite of what feels right to do.
How a course of action may appeal to you emotionally is of no concern. How the object of your affection reacts can make or break the deal. Shock her, don’t just take her drama nonstop. I mean, girls whine and whine and we just have to sit down and take it?
Just let it breath. Go out for a walk. Don’t read too much into it. And nowadays, I spend a lot of my time doing the most noble and not nearly as adrenaline-packed activities, like studying, parenting, writing, exercising. And things of this nature, though gratifying in and of their own accord, cultivate a finer taste and somewhat counter our wicked, selfish ways. Putting the work in. No parties, for now. No love life. No madness.
And, of course, this is not a moral stance, although a degree of morality plays its part in it. We are, after all, moral animals.
The thing is, I like mourning. Time for “mourning”, to just vegetate, sit back down and relax for a while. Reminisce the fun and let go without having to jump back into the scene just yet. Soon, yes, undoubtedly. Not just yet. First, we recover financially. Build the capital to go back places: college, Colombia, Mangos’. Now we focus for a while on the vital things put on hold. We shouldn’t idle in sadness. It should be punishable under the law having loved only to regret and resent.
Now we build. Now we meditate, fully immerse ourselves in the act. Now we work out consistently. Now we take the on-site exam, and get certified. No more spending, except on diet and clothing. Damian, don’t spend your time other than work, home and the gym. No more going out. No more bullshit. For now.
Few venture our writings, and, of course, we may sound egotistical. The reason is not based on ego; it’s just style. I work my writing mind as if I were purging myself, as if I was asking questions, as if I were having a conversation with myself. I don’t write for the masses; I write for myself and some may not appreciate that. Writing then, as a process, is rarely boring to me, it appears engaging, even appealing, to some. That’s good for vanity, I guess. We write, too, becomes we are vain, like those who would have my head swear, an egotistical being. Sort of an ass. Just not all the way, and never unnecessarily. Best to make it seem like it was your fault. If that’s the price of freedom, so be it. Now work harder than ever and in winter we will go back to Colombia, stop for a weekend in Miami, Florida. Go back to South Beach. Love life and wish well. Be well. Look well. Feel oh so good.
Just tell her to shut up. And have fun doing it. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up.” She’d hit back with something like: “Who do you think you’re talking to?” You may reply: “Well, I don’t see anyone else in this room!” Tease her to tears. I kind of like this new girl. I won’t ask her out just yet, I told her. It’s alright; we hang out at the same places. Who knows, maybe one night we’ll watch True Blood in my place with a bottle of champagne on ice. Make sure you don’t fuck her until she begs you to. Tease her, kiss her here, there, then nowhere and be receptive to her lips, lock them in a kiss. Touch her firmly, just not too rough or graphic. Keep eye contact and make sure your eyes spell serenity and control; she should feel safe with you. Lovers don’t talk too much. It’s not really that hard; don’t be too graphic. Tone it down to sensual. She’ll love you for it. Tell her you love the way her hair smells. If it smells good, of course. Lasciviously, whisper these things into her ear, like a lover, not a shy boy. She is your property now. Invest it well. Front it. Party all night long. Fuck her daily, and not just once! Here, there and everywhere; now and then, forever.
Monday, August 02, 2010
Stronger Than They Give Me Credit For
Men are superficial and physical; most of them, anyway. They prefer the aesthetic, athletic, youthful type. Women know this; they strive to keep a healthy weight, look their very best, wear the right outfit; most of them, anyway. Some men have money; some have charisma; some have personality; some, looks. Few have it all, and as such, they are very picky. If you have more, you demand more in every aspect of life.
On the other hand, women are more substantial and her interests go beyond looks. Her man may not be the most handsome fellow, but he should at the very least rely on more of the traits that will give him an edge in real life. He ought to be willing to take on the world, going places (so that he knows where to take her), if he is to be worth her time. These are traits women deem far more important, almost essential, in their men: character, impeccability, drive, aplomb, intelligence. Those are the psychological traits, among others, that will make more of a lasting impression in the most desirable females. You need not be the best; just be your very best, and she’ll know there is something special about you. She’ll know this from the get go, as it is not a characteristic front but a centered gravitational force that sucks her in. You don’t break the ice; you melt it. You give her plenty of space, and go in for the chase. Don’t give up at the first obstacle, and don’t focus your best energy on failed attempts. Do not give up, but do not give all either. Give yourself gradually; let the other person digest you. Don’t rush, and don’t settle: good things take diligent patience.
Even the most evolved kind, they need assurance, protection, comfort. And in their partners, they seek way more than a simple carnal avowal, a more tangible and accountable role. As men, we want to have as many as we possibly can. We may not say it. But it’s true. It’s like a curse. It’s not our fault. In fact, I don’t think it makes us any better or worse than women. Because if men are out there doing God knows what, with whom if not with other women. Sure, there are many bisexual men out there, but that is not what is in the mind of the average female whenever her man steps out on his own.
There are men who are solvent. Not rich, not close… just solvent. And if that man embodies other qualities, all the better. A shallow man may sacrifice looks for intelligence; now, I have to find my girl attractive in more than one way, and I don’t go for bimbos either.
I’m choosy, and I don’t think anyone should want any less. My main interest in women is not based solely on her looks. She has to play the part in this arena, but ultimately how clever and lively, how full of joy and femininity she is, how vibrant and alive, will have more of a say than just plain looks. I do not sacrifice substance. Beauty, it sometimes can spell boredom. You may notice how the best girls don’t always go for the good looks in boys. They want men; not toys. They want to be the beautiful one in the relationship. Tough look when you’re standing next to me in my A-game. I command attention; I am a force to be reckon. But I’m also loyal and exclusive. Character is the most seductive trait a man can cultivate in order to woo any potential mate into his dom. And not lightly do I say “cultivate”, because just like a body needs to be worked on in order to build stamina and strength, so does the mind need to be trained. We can train the mind with meditation. We can train the mind with a rigorous and dynamic routine, full of excitement, leisure and serenity. We can let go, only if we choose to. It’s not easy; it’s not impossible, either. That’s how character is built. You can feast, just as long as you know how to fast.
Beauty in women is of common property. It is easy to find a semi-gorgeous creature, you just have to stick your head out in any industrialized city. Workout, be neat, strike out, have fun and focus on a life all of your own. You cannot expect a woman to fill the void; existence demands more of you than simply living in pursue of the female enigma. She won’t thank you for it, if your life revolves around her. She should be a very important part of your life, and not the sole reason of your purpose. If that’s the case, she’ll come to resent you and move on to a more assertive lover. You don’t have to be bad; just be a good guy with balls. Assert your masculinity, you’re always in control and you can alternate between reward and punishment. We don’t reward bad behavior; we don’t process it either. Rejection is to be taken as lightly as reciprocity. And if taken with enough lightheartedness, it redirects the blow. If you act as if something big is at stake, which shows in your demeanor, your tone of voice, your rigid stance; we should relax in both body and mind, lay back emotionally, be more like your child: selfish, driven, physical, untamed. A man of few words.
If you’re not being rejected, you’re not daring enough. If you are rejected every time, then change your approach. Etc. We can sit here and debate for long how men and women differ, but truth be told: women of substance tend to be materialistic. Men are egotistical, primal, linear, impulsive. A shallow woman may demand of her man to have to pay for most, if not all, of the time. She may resent if ever she has to pick up the bill. Or God forbid, you light up a cigarette.
When you deal with women, you deal emotions. And the best thing to do is, do more of the things that annoy her until she cuts you loose. That is not a plan; that is my mental script. It’s not a choice; it’s destiny. Of course, pick up the bill, and next time be more generous. You can give a whole lot more; invest a small amount now into this effort. I won’t give is complain or pass judgment, these are the gifts I give to myself. I won’t focus on what’s wrong with my partner. I will see and encourage their light. In absence, we will be the more present; in darkness, I will shine on through the winter shadows.
I will guide the way home. Home is what we felt and feel, where we fell, where we got up. Home is patience and tolerance. Home is harmony. Home is peace of mind. Home is family. Home, too, is the wilderness and the unknown, the sudden tempest, and so we welcome goodbye, and we embrace our sorrow. It is true testament that something of worth was lost and will never be restored again. No one will give us back the moments; let’s take the cherished memories along for the ride, mend, leave behind and forget all that was. We will also, as of right now, invest time and effort into building new memories. Let’s travel; let’s mingle. Let’s be friends. Let’s love once again.
I’ve waited for this, patiently.
I will weather the storm.
Of course, I’ll love to be friends, just not right away. Bury the past and its seed will give fruit to more lucid horizons.
There are a thousand voices throughout the course of the day. Whichever I happen to listen to, agree with, is not always the one I follow. As of lately, whenever in doubt, I ask myself, “Am I being passive, or too aggressive about this? Am I being too neutral?” What I don’t do much is listen to my emotions; emotions are, nonetheless, unavoidable. I tone things down in my mind before I speak, and sometimes I retaliate. I don’t always catch myself firing away, as if carried away by a larger and more powerful beast. I will introduce a pause, no need to rush to the final line. Here and now, these are the most precious things life can give and we must reciprocate; we mustn’t wait. Am I being assertive or procrastinating again? Ask yourself, “What action will have the greater impact? Am I laying back, or am I pushing forward?” Deciding between going to the gym or not will have a different impact on your life. As I smoke my last cigarette, I know my resolve is a force to be reckon with. It falls, and then it gets up; it looks beaten, and then it knocks you out. It’s a bitch showing its teeth and wailing its tail. It’s a canine existence.
We’re stronger than they led us to believe.
On the other hand, women are more substantial and her interests go beyond looks. Her man may not be the most handsome fellow, but he should at the very least rely on more of the traits that will give him an edge in real life. He ought to be willing to take on the world, going places (so that he knows where to take her), if he is to be worth her time. These are traits women deem far more important, almost essential, in their men: character, impeccability, drive, aplomb, intelligence. Those are the psychological traits, among others, that will make more of a lasting impression in the most desirable females. You need not be the best; just be your very best, and she’ll know there is something special about you. She’ll know this from the get go, as it is not a characteristic front but a centered gravitational force that sucks her in. You don’t break the ice; you melt it. You give her plenty of space, and go in for the chase. Don’t give up at the first obstacle, and don’t focus your best energy on failed attempts. Do not give up, but do not give all either. Give yourself gradually; let the other person digest you. Don’t rush, and don’t settle: good things take diligent patience.
Even the most evolved kind, they need assurance, protection, comfort. And in their partners, they seek way more than a simple carnal avowal, a more tangible and accountable role. As men, we want to have as many as we possibly can. We may not say it. But it’s true. It’s like a curse. It’s not our fault. In fact, I don’t think it makes us any better or worse than women. Because if men are out there doing God knows what, with whom if not with other women. Sure, there are many bisexual men out there, but that is not what is in the mind of the average female whenever her man steps out on his own.
There are men who are solvent. Not rich, not close… just solvent. And if that man embodies other qualities, all the better. A shallow man may sacrifice looks for intelligence; now, I have to find my girl attractive in more than one way, and I don’t go for bimbos either.
I’m choosy, and I don’t think anyone should want any less. My main interest in women is not based solely on her looks. She has to play the part in this arena, but ultimately how clever and lively, how full of joy and femininity she is, how vibrant and alive, will have more of a say than just plain looks. I do not sacrifice substance. Beauty, it sometimes can spell boredom. You may notice how the best girls don’t always go for the good looks in boys. They want men; not toys. They want to be the beautiful one in the relationship. Tough look when you’re standing next to me in my A-game. I command attention; I am a force to be reckon. But I’m also loyal and exclusive. Character is the most seductive trait a man can cultivate in order to woo any potential mate into his dom. And not lightly do I say “cultivate”, because just like a body needs to be worked on in order to build stamina and strength, so does the mind need to be trained. We can train the mind with meditation. We can train the mind with a rigorous and dynamic routine, full of excitement, leisure and serenity. We can let go, only if we choose to. It’s not easy; it’s not impossible, either. That’s how character is built. You can feast, just as long as you know how to fast.
Beauty in women is of common property. It is easy to find a semi-gorgeous creature, you just have to stick your head out in any industrialized city. Workout, be neat, strike out, have fun and focus on a life all of your own. You cannot expect a woman to fill the void; existence demands more of you than simply living in pursue of the female enigma. She won’t thank you for it, if your life revolves around her. She should be a very important part of your life, and not the sole reason of your purpose. If that’s the case, she’ll come to resent you and move on to a more assertive lover. You don’t have to be bad; just be a good guy with balls. Assert your masculinity, you’re always in control and you can alternate between reward and punishment. We don’t reward bad behavior; we don’t process it either. Rejection is to be taken as lightly as reciprocity. And if taken with enough lightheartedness, it redirects the blow. If you act as if something big is at stake, which shows in your demeanor, your tone of voice, your rigid stance; we should relax in both body and mind, lay back emotionally, be more like your child: selfish, driven, physical, untamed. A man of few words.
If you’re not being rejected, you’re not daring enough. If you are rejected every time, then change your approach. Etc. We can sit here and debate for long how men and women differ, but truth be told: women of substance tend to be materialistic. Men are egotistical, primal, linear, impulsive. A shallow woman may demand of her man to have to pay for most, if not all, of the time. She may resent if ever she has to pick up the bill. Or God forbid, you light up a cigarette.
When you deal with women, you deal emotions. And the best thing to do is, do more of the things that annoy her until she cuts you loose. That is not a plan; that is my mental script. It’s not a choice; it’s destiny. Of course, pick up the bill, and next time be more generous. You can give a whole lot more; invest a small amount now into this effort. I won’t give is complain or pass judgment, these are the gifts I give to myself. I won’t focus on what’s wrong with my partner. I will see and encourage their light. In absence, we will be the more present; in darkness, I will shine on through the winter shadows.
I will guide the way home. Home is what we felt and feel, where we fell, where we got up. Home is patience and tolerance. Home is harmony. Home is peace of mind. Home is family. Home, too, is the wilderness and the unknown, the sudden tempest, and so we welcome goodbye, and we embrace our sorrow. It is true testament that something of worth was lost and will never be restored again. No one will give us back the moments; let’s take the cherished memories along for the ride, mend, leave behind and forget all that was. We will also, as of right now, invest time and effort into building new memories. Let’s travel; let’s mingle. Let’s be friends. Let’s love once again.
I’ve waited for this, patiently.
I will weather the storm.
Of course, I’ll love to be friends, just not right away. Bury the past and its seed will give fruit to more lucid horizons.
There are a thousand voices throughout the course of the day. Whichever I happen to listen to, agree with, is not always the one I follow. As of lately, whenever in doubt, I ask myself, “Am I being passive, or too aggressive about this? Am I being too neutral?” What I don’t do much is listen to my emotions; emotions are, nonetheless, unavoidable. I tone things down in my mind before I speak, and sometimes I retaliate. I don’t always catch myself firing away, as if carried away by a larger and more powerful beast. I will introduce a pause, no need to rush to the final line. Here and now, these are the most precious things life can give and we must reciprocate; we mustn’t wait. Am I being assertive or procrastinating again? Ask yourself, “What action will have the greater impact? Am I laying back, or am I pushing forward?” Deciding between going to the gym or not will have a different impact on your life. As I smoke my last cigarette, I know my resolve is a force to be reckon with. It falls, and then it gets up; it looks beaten, and then it knocks you out. It’s a bitch showing its teeth and wailing its tail. It’s a canine existence.
We’re stronger than they led us to believe.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Everybody Hurts
I took every verbal blow. I did not retaliate. I will go through a process, I like to call, quarantine. This is a period of no more and no less than forty days. And nights. No contact.
I thought to myself, "Yeah. I said music is a gift." It's true. But the most precious thing there is you can give, I gave, and that is time. We went on 17 dates; she met me one quarter of the time. She rightfully resented this.
Even though I have a four year old autistic son, am separated and thus have to provide for myself, I lost my Ipod Touch, and I didn't cry. Well, maybe a little. It kind of hurts still. But it gives me the perfect excuse to get the new Iphone.
I went back to the gym. Finally! I also made friends with a ton of girls at work, none of which I will ask out eventually. Unless, of course, they were to leave Pfizer, and even then I may not go through with it.
I have great friends at work; great people who fraternize and welcome me, engage in lively conversation and, well, sort of care for me. Maybe I'm delusional, but Pfizer is such a friendly-oriented atmosphere. Like a tiny universe inside the vast, empty universe we normally inhabit.
Your boy is strong. Your boy is healthy in every other way. How come she rarely asked for my son? She should have known he is a very important part of me. She did, of course, asked about his condition and she showed enthusiasm and was candid. I don't know what happened to that girl.
I hope she doesn't hurt. If she did, like I did, it only shows that we cared. That's all. Love can be silly. It can be anything you want it to be. I miss that girl.
I thought to myself, "Yeah. I said music is a gift." It's true. But the most precious thing there is you can give, I gave, and that is time. We went on 17 dates; she met me one quarter of the time. She rightfully resented this.
Even though I have a four year old autistic son, am separated and thus have to provide for myself, I lost my Ipod Touch, and I didn't cry. Well, maybe a little. It kind of hurts still. But it gives me the perfect excuse to get the new Iphone.
I went back to the gym. Finally! I also made friends with a ton of girls at work, none of which I will ask out eventually. Unless, of course, they were to leave Pfizer, and even then I may not go through with it.
I have great friends at work; great people who fraternize and welcome me, engage in lively conversation and, well, sort of care for me. Maybe I'm delusional, but Pfizer is such a friendly-oriented atmosphere. Like a tiny universe inside the vast, empty universe we normally inhabit.
Your boy is strong. Your boy is healthy in every other way. How come she rarely asked for my son? She should have known he is a very important part of me. She did, of course, asked about his condition and she showed enthusiasm and was candid. I don't know what happened to that girl.
I hope she doesn't hurt. If she did, like I did, it only shows that we cared. That's all. Love can be silly. It can be anything you want it to be. I miss that girl.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Come, Sweetest thing of all, Oblivion
When we are in love, we’re in a state of association; everything we do or say somehow is mirrored or mimicked by the object of your affection. The world is as if that other person were an extension of our very self. When we fall out of love, as thus it should eventually happen, we find ourselves in a state of alienation, of disassociation. It becomes suddenly noticeable whatever it was that in the early, romantic stages we somehow missed. Love is very much like a disease or –better yet –a process, and though we may deem circumstances as full of wonder and unpredictability, this frivolous nature of ours observes a very rigid and almost identical course time and again. Of course, it isn’t the same road; the path forged draws parallels to our own intimate journey. We may not know it consciously but we love the same way we have grown accustomed to.
When in love, our mutual selves are aligned and in sync. When the bond is ruptured, due mostly to the corrosive passage of time which inflicts the most savage passion with a great deal of boredom and monotony, freedom is in chains and whatever is left of a time are shattered memories, unfulfilled dreams, broken promises. We suddenly tend to demonize that which seemed to bear godlikeness.
Finding ourselves disowned, feelings of distrust, anger, frustration, anxiety, guilt, jealousy are commonplace. Rather than blaming or looking out for the culprit of our ailment, rather than wallowing in despair, a more dynamic and effective approach lies in a shift of direction. Instead of blaming, accept responsibility, it takes two to tango. Treat yourself with dignity and respect and understand without the slightest sense of regret that whatever happened was worthwhile; focus on the gorgeousness of the forest and not so much in your feet trapped in the mud. In finding yourself at odds with the severity of destiny, realize that that is perhaps the most honest existential state there is and that you can only be found if you first are lost. You can’t go back in time and change things around, and even if you could, the first law of thermodynamics dictates that in time all turns to shreds. So, enjoy taking a mental dump of all of your past, wipe yourself along with your tears, and move on with the pride and graze that have always characterized you. Don’t idle for long in solitude; venture out in time, mingle. This very moment is an opportunity, an invitation, an open to door to untold fortunes, a chance to reinvent and recreate yourself. Don’t waste the morning. Walk the earth. And welcome this ambivalence with the same cheerfulness with which you stood on safe ground. They are, like shadow and light, heads and tails of a same coin. You cannot have one without the other. If only it were possible to drink ourselves silly and not have to worry about a hangover, everyone would certainly be an alcoholic. Pay the price, suffer quietly, and in no time your withered wings will have new sprouts of feathers and you will soar magnificently through the golden crisp sky of dawn, drunken in the arms of a beautiful stranger, under the shelter of the most precious thing, the unsung truth… come, sweetest thing of all.. oblivion.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Legitimate Pain
It doesn’t matter if a girl lies to me. Even if the girl’s not even doing that verbally, not saying the contrary, is always good… now and then see each other, rarely any episode, no significant disagreement, not too much drama. What guy is not all for that? Except her silence and the mere fact that we never actually had a cell to cell conversation on record were not just odd, welcomed. I said I loved things just the way they were. I‘ve probably said too much... So when she was pissed that I sent her the wrong text, I countered with “Why don’t you call sometime, like normal people. Cut this text shit.”
She called and spoke for about a few syllables. Did I mind? Not at all. I know the game. And she’s playing.
Let’s be real. The rule goes, if the girl doesn’t put up, move on. You have to endure a little humiliation but in the end you will thank your resilience and courage to leave behind the high her sex gives you. God knows no great fortune comes out of chasing girls. What, marriage, kids, bills? I’ve had all of that; got rid of it all responsibly. Simply, move on. You’ll think that a little dining and wining and, maybe, if you’d put spend more time on her will make her come around and realize what a great guy you are. Look, if it happens to me, I learned from early on, then it can happen to anyone. Of course, pursue her lightly; just don’t waste your best energy on it. Invest that energy into facing your pain, in dealing with your own pain nobly you’ll feel a pull in the right direction. This pain is the price of evolving and being something better; this is the “legitimate pain” that some great psychoanalyst said not too long ago. Pain will come your own either way; the way you process it and how you respond to painful situations will dictate the course of your existence. A junky runs to get his fix; to my eyes, that’s not a far cry from chasing after a particular girl. Chase after them, and don’t be afraid to open and abandon yourself in the process; fall madly in love, but only if you have the skin for it. It will burn, and it will eventually get a long easier, even laughable. I guess that I’m a few steps up the evolutionary ladder. See, I no longer immerse and lose myself in the other person. I see their potential, and like a kind and intelligent lover do not verbalize what I may feel/think, just pay closer attention to other forms of stimuli. This is a parallel realm, detached from your needy and narcissistic self, the vacuum that wants to suck the illusion, the life out of it. Get that shit fixed, and don’t bitch about anything. Give plenty of space and little bit of time, and things will work out more favorably
That’s all it has been. And we all know, we men are sexual creatures.
Except I miss her. Nonchalantly, that is. I’m not dying to fuck her, just see her. Have the opportunity to be friends. We never had that. Take her places like I didn’t do. Be much nicer and more consistent and more sure of myself in the future. I don’t regret a single moment. I am just out to look for new thrills. I want to experience this world. I’m open to everything and attached to nothing. I will sacrifice love, from time to time, if it has a bit too much darkness. I just don’t have the energy. I want to be with those who want me around. Of course, space is always good. Patience falls just right in. Eventually, you’ll have to contact her but just not too soon. And, of course, only as punishment for not returning texts, and sure, one would do it. If she doesn’t answer a direct question, even evasively, an excuse or something. Plain and simple, no answer. Thing is, you don’t let that sort of behavior just slide. It’s time you let things cool down, just relax and watch the show. Write ten thousand words. Pain has always been of artistic use. The problem is, from time to time, we’re bound to be weak. Strength is not in never experiencing moments of weakness; the problem is thinking it we are weak. No, on the contrary, it makes us human. We spend time with someone and things are quasi-cool, and a bond is formed, chemicals are released. The brain is a primitive organ. No one is immune to love. Or whatever the fuck you want to call it. The thing is, you have to learn to withstand the withdrawal process of this most lethal of drugs. Strength is in overcoming the storm, and suffering patiently without the necessary to fall back on our most impulsive nature and adopt tired, old patterns. And it’s not just about pain but pleasure which I focus on, because I do think about goo things just as much if I find the time. I haven’t been in this position in a very long time. A pound of pleasure for an ounce of pain. It seems like a bargain.
We tend to demonize people that are no longer in our lives. Why? People who have been with us and are no longer with us go should be celebrated if they suddenly decide to show their face. Until then, I will be missing. Out of sight. Some guys choose to stay on the sidelines. I’m not going to sell myself cheap. I either get a decent deal or I say no deal. I go exploring and boy I probably have a couple of hundred pages more to go before I finally succumb to bed. I write from 12am to 4am on my scheduled four overnights. Then I go home and sleep for six hours. On my two three days off, I hit the gym. I work nine hour shifts, so I make less than forty hours a week. I write or venture out the rest of the time. I economize and live like a monk, just a very decent TV hooked to a decent sound system. A small fridge full of goodies. Friends and family can wait while I completely dedicate myself to writing.
Just sort of letting them know that they are there through a process I like to call Quarantine. Hey, look, we’re men. And we have to have higher standards. We don’t go running like a bitch at the first insult. We just dock and say, “Damn, girl!” Let a couple of them slide. Let her not let you in, let her have no scars from our intimate encounters. Let her not initiate; after all, that is quite a relief. Memorable moments come to mind when I think of those times, the whole night away at Kana two Fridays a month; a few hours at Calico’s either Thursday or Friday. Saturdays at Overlook, One Wednesday a month, Latin Quarters. Party with the good old friends. Guys have been so kind. Remember to buy them a round. Antagonize the girls. “What?” say to her, as if you didn’t hear something she said. Do it loudly and funny. Wait for her reply. “I didn’t say anything” she said, laughing. Yeah, the girl was laughing hysterically. It’s not just funny, it’s sexy too. It’s so in character. Almost like a cranky old man. “What?”
And then whatever she says, you reply by putting your hand out on the ear she’s close. Usually is best if she’s by your right ear. Sit to her right. And then say, “I can’t hear well with that ear.” Follow up the routine with “This is my analytical ear. And I’m out having fun.” Ah, the shit I get away with. You’re always pushing it. “That’s alright. I got an autistic child just like you” tell her.
Explain autism. Introduce a little bit of emotion. Not too much. It’s really not. Early intervention has proven miracles. All those positive lies. All that shit.
And do so convincingly, because what you believe can be different than what it is, and if hope isn’t taking me too far at least is moving me, after all I’m a pessimist at heart and an optimist in mind. I don’t think we should lead our lives emotional. I’m logical. Can’t help falling in love with reason. That’s my first love. That’s why I get a girl might want to remain open, just don’t make up shit. And not that I’m saying she is. Whatever she has done with time by her self, is her thing. We just talk about shit I’m into. I don’t demand too much and I don’t accept too little. I’m second to none, but I play third. With a couple of girls like this, I won’t ever have the need for a relationship. Sex three times a week, two girls, that’s’ all I’ll want from now on. Maybe three. Sure, in Venezuela I had four girlfriends at one time. Two of them lived on the same block. I met Beth when I was simultaneously seeing Gladys, Elaine and Crystal. Once I was at this party and the four of them were in the same room. The thing is, I never felt like I was with anyone of them in particular. I’ve always known who I was with. And loved the times without. Publish a book. Start a new one. Pass the FSD test. Take the kid out iced skiing. Go out Thursdays and Friday nights every two weeks. Work mad overtime. Buy a whole bunch of shit: ipod Touch, microwave, a new smaller comfier bedroom set,
I think we love sexually and emotionally. Not now, anyway. But I do care. In my own, unemotional sort of way. Emotions, no doubt, need their outlet. I find solace in the lips of a beautiful stranger. And I’ve a few mouths, had tons of meaningless sex, got dozens of numbers, worked out and down to five cigarettes a day. Cook all my food. Write daily, and feel just right. Life is good. And not believing in a higher deity doesn’t make me an immoral person, mom. Oh, yeah, my mother is around. Picked her up at the airport; brought her here to my room. Took her the next day to Beth. Sex with Beth is therapeutic. For both of us. I like to seduce her, take her places, spend time with her and the kids. Buy them some piece of clothing. Read Esteban a kid’s book. See him stare blankly. Hear him laugh. Live through his senses. See the childish and wonderful world he inhabits, and not pretend that he is making significant changes. I want a quantum leap. I do so in my life, deprive me of things I held so dear, like Ivy. And yes, I do have a great time practicing the alphabet and counting numbers till twenty in both languages. I thought him that. That much I gave him. The only recording of him saying Da da, are now forever lost since a night out with Angela very long ago, in the early stages. She followed me to the men’s bathroom. I had fallen asleep inside. We went home and resurrected a couple of hours later to fuck on top of wet sheets. I fucked her two hours straight. We stopped to take a quick shower, and went on fucking again for another hour or so. But it was too summer; an early summer day in late May, and no AC unit. We had open every window in the house; the fan wasn’t cutting it. In a cooler day, I would have fucked her ten times and sweat the same amount of energy. Quite the workout. Suddenly, it happened. She stumbled her way to the kitchen, almost lost the ability to walk from so much fucking, and opened the fridge door to get some ice. I approached her from behind and open both. And there, in the cool, I lifted her leg against the first compartment, and fucked her fast and then slowly, hard and quiet so that no one would hear us, left and right. We finished quickly, to avoid getting caught. I heard steps. It was probably our other roommate. She stopped clear the hallway and heard us before actually seeing us; she just took a peep, and we kind of felt it but since she didn’t say anything and just backed away, we felt the more elated. She walked back to my room, ours, dripping through her legs and spilling all over the floor my semen.
And to think that after that, we spent the whole afternoon fucking until it was time for her to go to work. Angela was a waitress. Ivy was a bartender, until the moment I lost contact. I ought to give each a call sometime.
Or not.L
She called and spoke for about a few syllables. Did I mind? Not at all. I know the game. And she’s playing.
Let’s be real. The rule goes, if the girl doesn’t put up, move on. You have to endure a little humiliation but in the end you will thank your resilience and courage to leave behind the high her sex gives you. God knows no great fortune comes out of chasing girls. What, marriage, kids, bills? I’ve had all of that; got rid of it all responsibly. Simply, move on. You’ll think that a little dining and wining and, maybe, if you’d put spend more time on her will make her come around and realize what a great guy you are. Look, if it happens to me, I learned from early on, then it can happen to anyone. Of course, pursue her lightly; just don’t waste your best energy on it. Invest that energy into facing your pain, in dealing with your own pain nobly you’ll feel a pull in the right direction. This pain is the price of evolving and being something better; this is the “legitimate pain” that some great psychoanalyst said not too long ago. Pain will come your own either way; the way you process it and how you respond to painful situations will dictate the course of your existence. A junky runs to get his fix; to my eyes, that’s not a far cry from chasing after a particular girl. Chase after them, and don’t be afraid to open and abandon yourself in the process; fall madly in love, but only if you have the skin for it. It will burn, and it will eventually get a long easier, even laughable. I guess that I’m a few steps up the evolutionary ladder. See, I no longer immerse and lose myself in the other person. I see their potential, and like a kind and intelligent lover do not verbalize what I may feel/think, just pay closer attention to other forms of stimuli. This is a parallel realm, detached from your needy and narcissistic self, the vacuum that wants to suck the illusion, the life out of it. Get that shit fixed, and don’t bitch about anything. Give plenty of space and little bit of time, and things will work out more favorably
That’s all it has been. And we all know, we men are sexual creatures.
Except I miss her. Nonchalantly, that is. I’m not dying to fuck her, just see her. Have the opportunity to be friends. We never had that. Take her places like I didn’t do. Be much nicer and more consistent and more sure of myself in the future. I don’t regret a single moment. I am just out to look for new thrills. I want to experience this world. I’m open to everything and attached to nothing. I will sacrifice love, from time to time, if it has a bit too much darkness. I just don’t have the energy. I want to be with those who want me around. Of course, space is always good. Patience falls just right in. Eventually, you’ll have to contact her but just not too soon. And, of course, only as punishment for not returning texts, and sure, one would do it. If she doesn’t answer a direct question, even evasively, an excuse or something. Plain and simple, no answer. Thing is, you don’t let that sort of behavior just slide. It’s time you let things cool down, just relax and watch the show. Write ten thousand words. Pain has always been of artistic use. The problem is, from time to time, we’re bound to be weak. Strength is not in never experiencing moments of weakness; the problem is thinking it we are weak. No, on the contrary, it makes us human. We spend time with someone and things are quasi-cool, and a bond is formed, chemicals are released. The brain is a primitive organ. No one is immune to love. Or whatever the fuck you want to call it. The thing is, you have to learn to withstand the withdrawal process of this most lethal of drugs. Strength is in overcoming the storm, and suffering patiently without the necessary to fall back on our most impulsive nature and adopt tired, old patterns. And it’s not just about pain but pleasure which I focus on, because I do think about goo things just as much if I find the time. I haven’t been in this position in a very long time. A pound of pleasure for an ounce of pain. It seems like a bargain.
We tend to demonize people that are no longer in our lives. Why? People who have been with us and are no longer with us go should be celebrated if they suddenly decide to show their face. Until then, I will be missing. Out of sight. Some guys choose to stay on the sidelines. I’m not going to sell myself cheap. I either get a decent deal or I say no deal. I go exploring and boy I probably have a couple of hundred pages more to go before I finally succumb to bed. I write from 12am to 4am on my scheduled four overnights. Then I go home and sleep for six hours. On my two three days off, I hit the gym. I work nine hour shifts, so I make less than forty hours a week. I write or venture out the rest of the time. I economize and live like a monk, just a very decent TV hooked to a decent sound system. A small fridge full of goodies. Friends and family can wait while I completely dedicate myself to writing.
Just sort of letting them know that they are there through a process I like to call Quarantine. Hey, look, we’re men. And we have to have higher standards. We don’t go running like a bitch at the first insult. We just dock and say, “Damn, girl!” Let a couple of them slide. Let her not let you in, let her have no scars from our intimate encounters. Let her not initiate; after all, that is quite a relief. Memorable moments come to mind when I think of those times, the whole night away at Kana two Fridays a month; a few hours at Calico’s either Thursday or Friday. Saturdays at Overlook, One Wednesday a month, Latin Quarters. Party with the good old friends. Guys have been so kind. Remember to buy them a round. Antagonize the girls. “What?” say to her, as if you didn’t hear something she said. Do it loudly and funny. Wait for her reply. “I didn’t say anything” she said, laughing. Yeah, the girl was laughing hysterically. It’s not just funny, it’s sexy too. It’s so in character. Almost like a cranky old man. “What?”
And then whatever she says, you reply by putting your hand out on the ear she’s close. Usually is best if she’s by your right ear. Sit to her right. And then say, “I can’t hear well with that ear.” Follow up the routine with “This is my analytical ear. And I’m out having fun.” Ah, the shit I get away with. You’re always pushing it. “That’s alright. I got an autistic child just like you” tell her.
Explain autism. Introduce a little bit of emotion. Not too much. It’s really not. Early intervention has proven miracles. All those positive lies. All that shit.
And do so convincingly, because what you believe can be different than what it is, and if hope isn’t taking me too far at least is moving me, after all I’m a pessimist at heart and an optimist in mind. I don’t think we should lead our lives emotional. I’m logical. Can’t help falling in love with reason. That’s my first love. That’s why I get a girl might want to remain open, just don’t make up shit. And not that I’m saying she is. Whatever she has done with time by her self, is her thing. We just talk about shit I’m into. I don’t demand too much and I don’t accept too little. I’m second to none, but I play third. With a couple of girls like this, I won’t ever have the need for a relationship. Sex three times a week, two girls, that’s’ all I’ll want from now on. Maybe three. Sure, in Venezuela I had four girlfriends at one time. Two of them lived on the same block. I met Beth when I was simultaneously seeing Gladys, Elaine and Crystal. Once I was at this party and the four of them were in the same room. The thing is, I never felt like I was with anyone of them in particular. I’ve always known who I was with. And loved the times without. Publish a book. Start a new one. Pass the FSD test. Take the kid out iced skiing. Go out Thursdays and Friday nights every two weeks. Work mad overtime. Buy a whole bunch of shit: ipod Touch, microwave, a new smaller comfier bedroom set,
I think we love sexually and emotionally. Not now, anyway. But I do care. In my own, unemotional sort of way. Emotions, no doubt, need their outlet. I find solace in the lips of a beautiful stranger. And I’ve a few mouths, had tons of meaningless sex, got dozens of numbers, worked out and down to five cigarettes a day. Cook all my food. Write daily, and feel just right. Life is good. And not believing in a higher deity doesn’t make me an immoral person, mom. Oh, yeah, my mother is around. Picked her up at the airport; brought her here to my room. Took her the next day to Beth. Sex with Beth is therapeutic. For both of us. I like to seduce her, take her places, spend time with her and the kids. Buy them some piece of clothing. Read Esteban a kid’s book. See him stare blankly. Hear him laugh. Live through his senses. See the childish and wonderful world he inhabits, and not pretend that he is making significant changes. I want a quantum leap. I do so in my life, deprive me of things I held so dear, like Ivy. And yes, I do have a great time practicing the alphabet and counting numbers till twenty in both languages. I thought him that. That much I gave him. The only recording of him saying Da da, are now forever lost since a night out with Angela very long ago, in the early stages. She followed me to the men’s bathroom. I had fallen asleep inside. We went home and resurrected a couple of hours later to fuck on top of wet sheets. I fucked her two hours straight. We stopped to take a quick shower, and went on fucking again for another hour or so. But it was too summer; an early summer day in late May, and no AC unit. We had open every window in the house; the fan wasn’t cutting it. In a cooler day, I would have fucked her ten times and sweat the same amount of energy. Quite the workout. Suddenly, it happened. She stumbled her way to the kitchen, almost lost the ability to walk from so much fucking, and opened the fridge door to get some ice. I approached her from behind and open both. And there, in the cool, I lifted her leg against the first compartment, and fucked her fast and then slowly, hard and quiet so that no one would hear us, left and right. We finished quickly, to avoid getting caught. I heard steps. It was probably our other roommate. She stopped clear the hallway and heard us before actually seeing us; she just took a peep, and we kind of felt it but since she didn’t say anything and just backed away, we felt the more elated. She walked back to my room, ours, dripping through her legs and spilling all over the floor my semen.
And to think that after that, we spent the whole afternoon fucking until it was time for her to go to work. Angela was a waitress. Ivy was a bartender, until the moment I lost contact. I ought to give each a call sometime.
Or not.L
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Chastity Rarely Lasts
So long as you keep your composure.
Leisure, relax, sip a few beers, listen to music, living the quiet life, except there is no desperation. I got two laptops, a 42-inch flat screen Samsung, a Playstation 3, a 32-gigabytes Ipod Touch packed with thousands of songs and dozens of videos. I got cable with a whole bunch of movies and paying twenty dollars a month for it (the girl who rented me the room said I only had to pay for the cable box which was like five dollars a month, and instead I offer her five weekly, still a bargain for me).We modern men no longer have to fear loneliness, just embrace the possibilities time alone can bring. Time alone doesn’t have to be time spent alone. Go out, mingle, chat with strangers on the web, go back to the gym, drink two beers on five different and new bars every Thursday (I believe they call it “bar-hopping”). I enjoy time listening to music and having a few beers. I only smoke when I drink nowadays. A cigarette every three drinks. I feel no guilt; I enjoy it like is meant to be. I don’t condone smoking; I just love it. And I do the things I love regardless of what they say. I never get sick. I do things for others every single day, and I don’t ever feel like I’ve done enough. But I got to keep on giving. And receive, I shall. It’s far more than that: giving puts you in a state of mind where the sense of a generous universe revolves around us all, and that there really isn’t an end to the well from which we draw. I have a taste for madness, I love playing the role model to my stepson and I love my stepson. I am very good to Isabel, my son’s mother.
I never fell in love with Isabel. But I did love her. I still do, just not in the same way. Nothing stays the same for long, and this separation has served us both, independently of each other, well. She hasn’t really changed. She still nags for the smallest things, never admits to her mistakes (us neurotics blame ourselves), has never really picked up the hint that thanking someone is a positive habit. With the exception of some noble moments, most were just a nightmare. I take the kid for a long walk. I buy him clothes and toys. I try to engage him. I talk to him. I observe him closely. Three to four times a week, more than an hour at a time. I work a lot of overtime, whatever comes my way. I’ve written and self-published three books. I am with one girl at a time nowadays, and I have been for quite sometime. I demand no less of the girl I’m with than being her number one. I don’t settle for less. I go long and nurture myself without a woman in my life. But there are just so many of them. Chastity never lasts.
Leisure, relax, sip a few beers, listen to music, living the quiet life, except there is no desperation. I got two laptops, a 42-inch flat screen Samsung, a Playstation 3, a 32-gigabytes Ipod Touch packed with thousands of songs and dozens of videos. I got cable with a whole bunch of movies and paying twenty dollars a month for it (the girl who rented me the room said I only had to pay for the cable box which was like five dollars a month, and instead I offer her five weekly, still a bargain for me).We modern men no longer have to fear loneliness, just embrace the possibilities time alone can bring. Time alone doesn’t have to be time spent alone. Go out, mingle, chat with strangers on the web, go back to the gym, drink two beers on five different and new bars every Thursday (I believe they call it “bar-hopping”). I enjoy time listening to music and having a few beers. I only smoke when I drink nowadays. A cigarette every three drinks. I feel no guilt; I enjoy it like is meant to be. I don’t condone smoking; I just love it. And I do the things I love regardless of what they say. I never get sick. I do things for others every single day, and I don’t ever feel like I’ve done enough. But I got to keep on giving. And receive, I shall. It’s far more than that: giving puts you in a state of mind where the sense of a generous universe revolves around us all, and that there really isn’t an end to the well from which we draw. I have a taste for madness, I love playing the role model to my stepson and I love my stepson. I am very good to Isabel, my son’s mother.
I never fell in love with Isabel. But I did love her. I still do, just not in the same way. Nothing stays the same for long, and this separation has served us both, independently of each other, well. She hasn’t really changed. She still nags for the smallest things, never admits to her mistakes (us neurotics blame ourselves), has never really picked up the hint that thanking someone is a positive habit. With the exception of some noble moments, most were just a nightmare. I take the kid for a long walk. I buy him clothes and toys. I try to engage him. I talk to him. I observe him closely. Three to four times a week, more than an hour at a time. I work a lot of overtime, whatever comes my way. I’ve written and self-published three books. I am with one girl at a time nowadays, and I have been for quite sometime. I demand no less of the girl I’m with than being her number one. I don’t settle for less. I go long and nurture myself without a woman in my life. But there are just so many of them. Chastity never lasts.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
XZ
Cheating... it's such a lousy word to describe the courage needed to defy the norm for sheer personal gain, the adrenaline rush it must be like, not to get caught, no strings attached. Every passing moment may very well be the last.
Infidelity is faithfulness to our own nature. We ought to see that affairs rarely threaten a relationship. More often that not, these go unnoticed, are downplayed or without proof. You
is always about personal gratification, regardless of how fulfilled they are in their present relationship. In this society, we tend to promote a rather rosy panorama. Everyone has either cheated or been cheated, and most likely both. Emotionally, we're monogamous. This is sex we're talking about.
Let's drop the act. We all crave it and the only reason
Infidelity is faithfulness to our own nature. We ought to see that affairs rarely threaten a relationship. More often that not, these go unnoticed, are downplayed or without proof. You
is always about personal gratification, regardless of how fulfilled they are in their present relationship. In this society, we tend to promote a rather rosy panorama. Everyone has either cheated or been cheated, and most likely both. Emotionally, we're monogamous. This is sex we're talking about.
Let's drop the act. We all crave it and the only reason
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Delusions and War
Ironically, when the Mexican government decides to "act" against drug lords, it creates power vacuums that are generally solved in a bloodshed aftermath. By getting the bad guy out, it only brings the next most vicious guy in line up. Those who succeed the ones who are caught will fight much dirtier, will campaign only to end the altercation. Mexican trafficking, sadly, brings financial benefits whenever the government has, as it has in the past, looked the way and put a blind eye. All great nations owe much of their economy to things that are not just as lethal, sometimes even more, as illegal drugs: alcohol-related deaths far surpasses incidences of Cancer or all the illegal-drug related casualties, and yet alcohol abounds. Cigarette smoking, well I guess I won't bore you with the statistics but the bottom line is, if you don't smoke, don't start, and if you do, it's time you quit.
After seven years as a nonsmoker, I picked up the habit in bad company. I used to be able to smoke a cigarette every three drinks, two per night; when surrounded by a crowd of smokers (usually, European friends), or just to chat with strangers... It's a social lubricant. I have loved and dated as many smokers as non smokers. And I even turned some girls on smoking. Nowadays, smoking is prohibited in every social gathering, and should even be made illegal to smoke in the parks, too.
After a few failed attempts, I am once again smoke-free. I haven't smoked since New Years, when I had a cigarette with cousins while all of us were drunk looking for more booze. I picked up the bill. Allan had bought me a few shots and drinks the other night, and so I invited them all this time around.
"The first two rounds are on me" I announced. "And one last round at last call" I said. "To those who remain", stumbling thoughts, most of these mother fuckers were there to the bitter end and had by then only increased in numbers. Who cares? I got this.
I am a six feet, built, confident alpha male that boasts comically, though what I say is mean, I say it without meaning it, my voice shouts, my eyes may follow, but my smile backtracks, confidently communicates this isn't to abuse you, it's role playing. You must be on top of your game. You're playfully assuming the dominant role, without the need for arrogance, and if your reception is cold, be even icier, no one knows indifference quite like you. Of course, don't give up because of pride or ego. Take everything lightly, like a game, or, better yet, a sport.
You don't always win but you keep practicing, improving, anticipating, and a fighting smart spirit, and most of your goals will be met. The whole idea is not like a show, as men, we are to adopt. It's more like focusing your energy on building up your confidence, being the best you can be will bring the best things in life. Improving ourselves is a personal investment, a process, and we should all enjoy the ride while we attain enlightenment or perfection. Whatever the chimera may be, we all have our delusions. Choose yours wisely.
Beliefs,
After seven years as a nonsmoker, I picked up the habit in bad company. I used to be able to smoke a cigarette every three drinks, two per night; when surrounded by a crowd of smokers (usually, European friends), or just to chat with strangers... It's a social lubricant. I have loved and dated as many smokers as non smokers. And I even turned some girls on smoking. Nowadays, smoking is prohibited in every social gathering, and should even be made illegal to smoke in the parks, too.
After a few failed attempts, I am once again smoke-free. I haven't smoked since New Years, when I had a cigarette with cousins while all of us were drunk looking for more booze. I picked up the bill. Allan had bought me a few shots and drinks the other night, and so I invited them all this time around.
"The first two rounds are on me" I announced. "And one last round at last call" I said. "To those who remain", stumbling thoughts, most of these mother fuckers were there to the bitter end and had by then only increased in numbers. Who cares? I got this.
I am a six feet, built, confident alpha male that boasts comically, though what I say is mean, I say it without meaning it, my voice shouts, my eyes may follow, but my smile backtracks, confidently communicates this isn't to abuse you, it's role playing. You must be on top of your game. You're playfully assuming the dominant role, without the need for arrogance, and if your reception is cold, be even icier, no one knows indifference quite like you. Of course, don't give up because of pride or ego. Take everything lightly, like a game, or, better yet, a sport.
You don't always win but you keep practicing, improving, anticipating, and a fighting smart spirit, and most of your goals will be met. The whole idea is not like a show, as men, we are to adopt. It's more like focusing your energy on building up your confidence, being the best you can be will bring the best things in life. Improving ourselves is a personal investment, a process, and we should all enjoy the ride while we attain enlightenment or perfection. Whatever the chimera may be, we all have our delusions. Choose yours wisely.
Beliefs,
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Chop, chop
Pick up workout sessions, now that I quit smoking... seven weeks and going steady. The other night I went out and drank myself silly, and yet, no cravings. This is to stay.
Now, let's pick ourselves up, we've been lazy and fat for too long. Concentrate: we're ten pounds from perfection. Ten pounds from putting another dent to the wall of former self destruction. Let's keep it up; chop, chop.
Run nights on way to work. Hit the gym (0nce membership is renewed) two times a week; exercise while working as a rover by taking the stairs all the way up to the thirty first floor. See how fit you are by how many times you stop on your way there. You should be fine with one brief stop every few floors.
Now, let's pick ourselves up, we've been lazy and fat for too long. Concentrate: we're ten pounds from perfection. Ten pounds from putting another dent to the wall of former self destruction. Let's keep it up; chop, chop.
Run nights on way to work. Hit the gym (0nce membership is renewed) two times a week; exercise while working as a rover by taking the stairs all the way up to the thirty first floor. See how fit you are by how many times you stop on your way there. You should be fine with one brief stop every few floors.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Answer
The body regenerates. We are actually getting younger for the most part of our lives. Our generation will gain a full decade of life compared to our immediate ancestors. Our sons and daughters will grow to be in a more unstable and chaotic world than ours. But they will be fitter and far brighter (not hoping, certain of) than us. Is it too far out to imagine a tomorrow where science and technology grow at the speed they have? Perhaps a quantum leap in science. The future Darwin, Galileo, Leonardo, Einstein… the thing nowadays is, there are just so many extraordinary people in all walks of life, that history lost track. Maybe we live in some sort of dark age, and we don’t realize it fully, just like people in medieval times did not know themselves as living any worse than any civilization before. Things were bad back then. Very, very bad.
To our standards, perhaps. Even though we still find plenty of places in the modern world living in the dark. Just as there are people having it bad, we now have a whole like of people doing good. Not necessarily in a financial sense, maybe their spiritual lives, their personal goals, their missions, are accomplished. A little triumph here, a medal there (flirt your ass off, tease, at ease… Meditate daily, exercise three to four times a week; keep an active lifestyle), it will really make your day a pleasant life to have lived. It’s immoral to feel bad for having loved. The little details is what I wake up for each morning. Brew my own coffee, always have a good book nearby, fitness magazines, Scientific American,
For the first time, the less crazy people run this world. We are sleeping warriors. Carry a mission, bring it to conclusion, dedicate time and effort to your passion, provide and live a quiet life. Or the social kind. Whatever your nature calls for, answer it.
To our standards, perhaps. Even though we still find plenty of places in the modern world living in the dark. Just as there are people having it bad, we now have a whole like of people doing good. Not necessarily in a financial sense, maybe their spiritual lives, their personal goals, their missions, are accomplished. A little triumph here, a medal there (flirt your ass off, tease, at ease… Meditate daily, exercise three to four times a week; keep an active lifestyle), it will really make your day a pleasant life to have lived. It’s immoral to feel bad for having loved. The little details is what I wake up for each morning. Brew my own coffee, always have a good book nearby, fitness magazines, Scientific American,
For the first time, the less crazy people run this world. We are sleeping warriors. Carry a mission, bring it to conclusion, dedicate time and effort to your passion, provide and live a quiet life. Or the social kind. Whatever your nature calls for, answer it.
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Oblivion Will Come (Let's make sure it doesn't happen too soon)
In following sports, I focus on moves made by players, I see only those players who are making progress and the most consistent athletes. I rid myself of the chauvinistic tendency to idolize a particular club. We should be following plays and moves, those athletes that are giving us results. Admiring only what is better we can really see how this translates into our own lives. Perhaps we don’t have to have such tunnel vision in respects to other realms of our character. Maybe we held on for far too long with a fruitless agenda, hiding away or simply shying from life. Life is a sport: we have to be aggressive, resilient, cunning; patient, strong, both physically and mentally. Meditation is for the mind as exercise is to the body; combined daily, they make a potent mixture. The purest and most exquisite of all natural highs in balance, as one. The body craves movement So, move.
Recently, I bought into the hype and got myself the latest version of a 16GB Nano Ipod. It features video, not the greatest quality but decent for domestic use. It records voice memos, and has FM stereo radio. Not necessarily the most striking feature, but to me has proven the most useful: a pedometer. I set a goal of walking 10,000 steps a day. And up until this point, I’ve exceeded my own expectations. I walk long blocks to take the train; I don’t bother with the elevator when doing my rounds from the 32nd floor down to the basement. I break a little sweat. I smoke no more than five cigarettes a day, and I go days without smoking. If there is a smoker around me, all bets are off. I smoke more regularly, but still no more than one, an hour even if I’m drinking. I make these rules to moderate myself. Don’t think for a moment I’m not tempted to go on a drinking binge, smoke half a pack a day (the most I ever did as a regular smoker), but I have to reign over my appetites. I do give in to pleasure, but in installments. The kind of pleasure I seek isn’t sexual. I have purpose-oriented. We all fall and then get up, and just keep moving. Aristotle said not too long ago that life is in movement. Let us drink to that. And while we’re at it, enjoy life like that Buddhist maxim depicted in the Midway, or like Seneca advices in the final lines of On the shortness of life, that sometimes is even necessary to temporarily embrace madness and get wasted. Borges had something really nice to say about affairs.
But long before any of them came about, the Egyptians reminded us of the futility of vanity in momento mori. Very soon, we will die. That might have applied more to their rude existences than our presently states. We’re no longer free, and the sooner you realize this, the faster and better you can recognize your master. The life you lead is completely yours to choose your chains. And choose them wisely, don’t let them talk you out of it. Rebel in youth, and always die young. Some don’t live but only suffer. If there is no pleasure in life, then create it and nurture it. Do often the things you enjoy doing. Don’t want longest life; just a quality Kodak moments and the certainty that my passage through this phenomenon called life, I caused less harm and more joy in the lives of those who came into contact with me. That there were many moments that mattered, enough to write a few books. Fortune is a capricious whore; it won’t want anything to do with you unless you pimp her. Be her man; own her; make her work for you; accept her; use her and don’t abuse her unless it’s in bed. It isn’t rape if it’s consented, I tease them like if I was serious. But they know I’m messing with them and just bluffing, and just having fun. No need to like me; in fact, I’d rather be somewhat hated. Then, and only then, we can lick our wounds. Piss them off, always playfully of course, and manly, and never ever back down from something you said. You wanna fight me, punk? Tell her. Oblivion will Come; Let's make sure it doesn't happen too soon
Recently, I bought into the hype and got myself the latest version of a 16GB Nano Ipod. It features video, not the greatest quality but decent for domestic use. It records voice memos, and has FM stereo radio. Not necessarily the most striking feature, but to me has proven the most useful: a pedometer. I set a goal of walking 10,000 steps a day. And up until this point, I’ve exceeded my own expectations. I walk long blocks to take the train; I don’t bother with the elevator when doing my rounds from the 32nd floor down to the basement. I break a little sweat. I smoke no more than five cigarettes a day, and I go days without smoking. If there is a smoker around me, all bets are off. I smoke more regularly, but still no more than one, an hour even if I’m drinking. I make these rules to moderate myself. Don’t think for a moment I’m not tempted to go on a drinking binge, smoke half a pack a day (the most I ever did as a regular smoker), but I have to reign over my appetites. I do give in to pleasure, but in installments. The kind of pleasure I seek isn’t sexual. I have purpose-oriented. We all fall and then get up, and just keep moving. Aristotle said not too long ago that life is in movement. Let us drink to that. And while we’re at it, enjoy life like that Buddhist maxim depicted in the Midway, or like Seneca advices in the final lines of On the shortness of life, that sometimes is even necessary to temporarily embrace madness and get wasted. Borges had something really nice to say about affairs.
But long before any of them came about, the Egyptians reminded us of the futility of vanity in momento mori. Very soon, we will die. That might have applied more to their rude existences than our presently states. We’re no longer free, and the sooner you realize this, the faster and better you can recognize your master. The life you lead is completely yours to choose your chains. And choose them wisely, don’t let them talk you out of it. Rebel in youth, and always die young. Some don’t live but only suffer. If there is no pleasure in life, then create it and nurture it. Do often the things you enjoy doing. Don’t want longest life; just a quality Kodak moments and the certainty that my passage through this phenomenon called life, I caused less harm and more joy in the lives of those who came into contact with me. That there were many moments that mattered, enough to write a few books. Fortune is a capricious whore; it won’t want anything to do with you unless you pimp her. Be her man; own her; make her work for you; accept her; use her and don’t abuse her unless it’s in bed. It isn’t rape if it’s consented, I tease them like if I was serious. But they know I’m messing with them and just bluffing, and just having fun. No need to like me; in fact, I’d rather be somewhat hated. Then, and only then, we can lick our wounds. Piss them off, always playfully of course, and manly, and never ever back down from something you said. You wanna fight me, punk? Tell her. Oblivion will Come; Let's make sure it doesn't happen too soon
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