Posts Tagged ‘rules’

Instincts Serving As Software For Snotty Experiments With Dirty Minds


19 Jul

chaos

Order Out Of Chaos

samplex

Date: Fri Jul 19, 1996 5:00:12 PM

"...Cos suddenly there was a flood of instant messages, and I discovered that I was almost the only woman left." —Jennifer

Quite the norm, Jennifer. Men are such worms. Dirt is our life, say I. Eight hours a day, five days a week, years of clawing, spent in the dirt, clay, and mud rubs off on ya, and its cough gets sucked into the bloodstream where it pollutes the whole body, including the eyes, the nostrils, the mind. In the ever controversial Book of Genesis, it is written somewhere that God cursed the ground. Having spent more than a gentleman's share wallowing, hiking, muscling through the dirt and the mud, pounding nails, hubs, stakes, whacking brush, thorns, poisonous vines, yellow jacket hives, wading stiff rivers, armpit-high flood zones flooded, half-frozen creek beds, and the shitty bowels of sewage trunk systems, I came to believe it, too. Blue collar men who have remained holy are my heroes. The same for their women.

"So today I did some reading and went to a park, waded in a creek, and hiked to Taughnannock Falls. I felt restored enough to leap back online. Read your missives (by the way may I also say that i'm also amused by your notes and often sit here chuckling and grinning...LOL—I'm learning the lingo)"

Cool with an asterisk. Re-read preceding paragraph of mine. But still wish I were there sharing the exhileration. Chicklet in wading boots, vroom. And perhaps I shall soon, if you really want me to be, there, with you, me, old ugly bulging me. Psychological exploitation is such a two-way street. Jen, you make such a big deal about bodily architecture sometimes it's like you are nailing a mouthful of piranha spikes into my brain.

About the comment I made in nyc about cybersex and communications....What did I say?....You know me, mind like a sieve...help me plug the holes and refresh my faulty memory."—

That was it. It was a oneliner tossback. You bubbled forth with that typical edge in your voice indicating that, well, your exact words were: "Hey, you and I could go into the cybersex business together" after I was telling you what some folk were doing already with the newest Internet tools. Your software. My hardware. That—sweetbones was a double entendre. Your body and sexual instincts serving as the software, i.e. the program matter. Tools and expertise to operate the technology of course would be mine (and Sue's, together with her bookkeeping talents no piss in the wind either). I didn't really respond beyond a hopeful facial expression because I hear so much throwaway promises out of the mouths of friends and would-be friends that I have grown cold to the hearing. Enter the Steve Taylor arguments. I am still a PowerMac away from exploring the teleconferencing protocols, but Sue promises one any month now, and then I will be eager to test that warm, metallic dream of George & Judy Jetson emerging. How justified am I in considering your words worth the air they rode in on...

These last few thoughts may help you, although I know you already do understand my insistence in finally shaking off that "go with the flow" attitude, and finally doing things MY way, THY way...and why Jack last February, and now Steve Taylor have been early inheritors of my refusal to suffer leisure idiots their pleasure as they invade what many have perceived as my good nature and fair household...
"Sorry that I can't make it down this summer...poss. in the fall (depending on school) or at least at winter break when I shall again be financially sound thanks to the great American pastime of accumulating debts which can't be repaid."

I will count on it. But then the years roll by, and still no Jennifer. You know Sue and I both love you with everything we have. Now baby don't take this the wrong way (is there a right way?), but we, okay, moi more than she, have long fantasized that you would eventually end up cohabiting with us, here, there, anywhere, the three of us, a sustainable family unit, the final solution to each of our unique problems, doing something, doing everything. Both general and specific prophecies encourage it, but nothing can or will happen until the situation, or any situation for that matter is ripe. This is the curse of my way of life. I am always seeking signs, knowing nothing myself except that which is given to my understanding through an intricate matrix of synchronicities and undismissable, unmistakeable directives. Meanwhile we all individually, and collectively go about our lives, sorting out ourselves from our enemies, our lusts from our loves, and our intelligences from our stupidities. I am probably overstepping the laws of fate by mentioning this to you even at this juncture, but you came through with such flying colors on that last note I can't help myself. Frankly I don't feel I have much more than a decade left. Whether this is a psychotic form of dementia or hypochondria on my part is uncertain. What is certain I am inner directed with an urgency I have never had before except in late childhood and teens. The mobius strip of life continues to echo with incidents I recall charging up those hills of time, and the dimming flush I feel in my ever-aching head inclines me to believe my assessments are correct. Now I am not relating all this to you out of some sort of feeble attempt for sympathy, for I know the opposite effect of sheer repugnancy would more likely be the case. I am simply saying things to you I have said to Sue, and I tremble as I presume God (whatever) has placed these thoughts into my being. These last few thoughts may help you, although I know you already do understand my insistence in finally shaking off that go with the flow attitude, and finally doing things MY way, THY way...and why Jack last February, and now Steve Taylor have been early victims of my refusal to suffer leisure idiots their pleasure as they invade what many have perceived as my good nature and fair household...

BECAUSE I SEE MYSELF IN UNIVERSAL TERMS. But I am here. Polaris is there. Neither slave nor executioner (Camus). American society forces most of us male and female into both roles in a wishy washy fashion without benefit of accreditation, and so most of us muddle through unaware of the implications as we dogpaddle through this soul-fracturing sea of emblematic garbage government, and frankly, its frisky twin sister, popular culture, have invested in us.
"As to a trip northward on your part and the needed promise on my part...let me come over all coy and noncommittal, voicing my uncertainties, my fears as to what such a promise would entail. Love. Jennifer."

The creation process is all I know, anymore. So much has been put behind me. I am incapable of well-rehearsed thrusts into the unknowable future. Could never memorize a poem or rock lyric or bible scripture as a matter of principle, but I do know I am fair and sensitive, good to the last drop even should the confusion of others brings pain and despair either to me or them, or both. I expect nothing from others, but I put much aspiration out there in the ether to be considered. By seeking to bring order out of chaos and sustain order on the social plane (and in this set I include home & hearth) does not necessarily infer that I endorse rigid thought processes when artistic inspiration is given to free us from the stasis of dry patterns and unbearable party lines. I seek to understand and harness cause and effect, purpose and freedom in all things for all concerned. All else is slavery of the mind, body, and spirit. Games have rules. I like games. I like rules. Rules are to be broken, only when those rules no longer enforce the better or best case scenario. I am not an asslicker of unbridled chaos or random rulebreaking for its own sake. I seek peace. Peace is different things to different people. Understanding the equivalence of eternity and its demands among the personality orders and disorders is the function of the artist who seeks to destroy the slavery in which both society and the individual mind conspire to shackle us. To become a willing slave in a fate-endorsed situation of inequality (name the game) is to loosen its bonds, elevating the slave to a level perhaps even superior to that of the taskmaster. Jesus the Hammer taught this. To be a belligerent slave runs the risk of failing on all counts that the slave has been inspired to corrupt in following his false hopes of freedom, and his condition is worsened by rebellion, not eased. Geez, where is all this going? I suppose I am attempting an analysis of why the S&M, B&D culture has adherents on both sides of the equation, and why I feel capable of playing both roles. BECAUSE I SEE MYSELF IN UNIVERSAL TERMS. But I am here. Polaris is there. Neither slave nor executioner (Camus). American society forces most of us male and female into both roles in a wishy washy fashion without benefit of accreditation, and so most of us muddle through unaware of the implications as we dogpaddle through this soul-fracturing sea of emblematic garbage government, and frankly, its frisky twin sister, popular culture, have invested in us.

Lastly, I do not apologize for going on too long. I dig writing to you, and still can't get over the fact how prolific and witty you have proven to be. Thanks for coming to my rescue now that Steve has lost his account through negligence. He could have saved his old AOL accounts if he would have tried. A source of great pleasure to him, and archival purpose, he simply junked it by not showing up to his post-resignation interview with his boss. That interview is an AOL concoction lending them the sense that they really care why people quit the company. However, if AOL boots you, it is certain you should leave them to their own devices, and seek instead a regular Internet account, although yes, AOL is quite nice for beginners such as yourself. Internet chat is slow & tedious. The AOL versions are still amazing with speed and easy accessibility. AOL have contracted to upgrade to better third-party Web browsers. But first you need a 28.8 modem. Maybe I can help accelerate that day for you...

You mentioned mum & aunt this weekend. I thought the NYC fiasco and subsequent family feud had splintered that auntie thing, or is this a different aunt? Anywaze, have you learned to flashsession yet? This way you can check mail without being led astray by manually signing on. Nevertheless, I won't get worried if I don't hear from you in a few days, but if I am coming up during Sue's hiatus, it's next week, OR NOT...

GT

Homo Sapiens Is A Conquering Species


10 Feb

straitjacket

Affection VI

samplex

Date: Sat Feb 10, 1996 8:48:34 AM America/New_York

Space, well although I've started composing some of the graphics for our sports page, nothing is up on the web quite yet. All I've done to date is reserved our space, and this time I've got a password to prove it. And as for your party, I'll try to book a flight out this afternoon. Just kidding, although I'd dog being there.

I am interested in reading your take on co-dependence. What I know I guess I've gathered from the popshrinks on the boob tube talk show circuit, and they are usually referring to women who depend too much financially on the continued good graces of their men, a BAD thing, mouth the popoffs paid to mutter inanities to the glee of women striking a blow for independence everywhere. Women, the line goes, never know when a man will dump them or begin to exploit and control them with powerplays of one sort or another, and unless the woman can support herself financially she is usually stuck in these souring relationships, begrudgingly called co-dependent. I have never heard the word used in a favorable light outside my own periodic rants. Some psycho-hipsters stretch their definition to include overly strong or needy emotional attachments to their significant other, and again, 99.9% of the time, no let's tell the truth here, a full one hundred percent of the time, it's the women who are counseled to put some distance between themselves and the man, to feel secure in themselves without the need to define themselves through a man's eyes or bank account.

Now in the Thy household, our roles are somewhat reversed, although I still remain the strong, in my case, artistic opinionated male to Sue's deferring weaker female worker bee cast. It works for us because that is who we are as persons. Where the system breaks down is when we are so completely merged in ourselves that we don't like and can barely suffer being apart, even when we are having fun away from the other, which is rare since we seldom depart from each other except when executing routine chores, the major example being when Sue trots off to work. But we chat on the phone usually several times a day, and always just before she leaves the office. In other words, I always (except a few troubled times in the past when indeed our tight regime showed holes) know where she is, and she me. We LIKE it that way. In this sense we run contrary to the nifty modern co-dependency rule. She has the POWER of fiscal control. I bring my own control to the table with my wit and intelligence. WE BECAME ONE, as was once upon a time the ideal held up to us.

Most of this thing called love works its manipulations at the subconscious level, but nevertheless is easily understood in the proper lighting. Homo sapiens is a conquering species. Those too weak to conquer become adept at compromising and more subtle ways of manipulation, always cloaking its weakness in self-qualifying shifts of meaning and social collusion.
Yet, these same popheads counseling women to seek their own financial independence would tell Sue to dump me because I am merely USING her. I suppose that makes sense in their book which charges that a person is nothing more than a bank account, not a complex algorithm of flesh, bones and idea. There is no "grand union" worth its grain of salt for these attackers of the co-dependent family unit. None of the "old" ways produced perfection for all parties, therefore let's trash the old, and bring in the new, bark the modern dogs of marriage advocacy. While admitting the possibility that this scenario works in some, maybe an arbitrary half of all marital situations, simply the inspiration of separate banks accounts does not a strong relationship make. Marriage is a creative process. And while all the negative, or should we say, agitating, aspects of the two versus one calculus of happiness you have outlined are worth noting as real and absolutely required considerations when opting to expand one's fiscal and emotional domain, agitation is the very nature of the blood, and the impetus of the game called love. Love is an overused, thus bogus concept in today's language. There is lust, and there is surreal attachment to another.

The first, while scientists dig deeper to understand its exact mechanisms and evolutionary purposes, is simpler for the average homo sapien to comprehend, if not in its head, at least in its loins. Whereas the latter is simply the sum of all random choices and intelligence nursed by the individual seeking to exploit ALL the worldly and other worldly for lack of a better term materials currently within one's moxy or reach. I don't know who will accept that last statement as a very sufficient definition of love, but it works for me. Anything more superficial than this is exactly that—bogus as a politician's promises. Most love is lust. Some love is simply obedience to presumed or assumed responsibility. Other love is simply a meek acceptance of one's own limitations and a futile desire for companionship, because man still qualifies as a social creature despite his long history of antisocial behavior. Most of this thing called love works its manipulations at the subconscious level, but nevertheless is easily understood in the proper lighting. Homo sapiens is a conquering species. Those too weak to conquer become adept at compromising and more subtle ways of manipulation, always cloaking its weakness in self-qualifying shifts of meaning and social collusion.

To conclude my speech sir (LOL), let me say that despite the raw truth that marriage is damned risky business, when elevated back to the level of a game in which the participants are the only wild cards entitled to write the rules, I'd say it's a wager worth risking—once two people in this topsy turvy culture we call home—shakes enough courage out of their feeble composures to give it a shot.

And never tell a lie.

Fats

P.S. The Capitol Hill site will be focussed on local politics. Don't know if I ever told you or not but I was an elected official here once, elected to a two year term in November of 1990. I resigned prematurely in April, 1992 after getting elected chair of the12-member Advisory Neighborhood Commission 6B in Capitol Hill (330 ANCs, citywide) in a fierce fight, and after indicating some equally fierce good housekeeping changes were at hand, I had my own pseudosupporters boycotting the meetings so no quorum could be reached, thus no official vote, no action. I vacated. My successor, who by the way had been trying to get elected chair for ten years, moved up from vice-chair and cleaned up the place somewhat, including firing the executive secretary who a thousand ways deserved the boot. This story is deep in details, but I'll leave you with that for now.

S A M P L E X

"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""


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