the decimation of the divine

We live in jaded times. This modern-era has precipitated the advent of self-indulgence and reckless consumption.

These are not new words. They are in the back of everyone’s mind. They are entrenched deeply in our souls. They are the source of our ills.

To preach the virtue of self-reliance is to accept dissonance. It entails a severing of the connection that exists between ourselves and the world around us. It neuters the mystical and embraces a cold, almost psychopathic disregard towards those that exist outside of our immediate assessment as to their usefulness.

We take humanity for granted, and why not? We have our problems, “they” have theirs. It is always “us” and “they” never “our”.

Africa is proof of that. As is Pakistan. Afghanistan. Iraq. China. Anyplace situated outside of the immediate influence of the North American way of living; we simply cannot relate to lives so dissimilar to our own.

“They” have their own problems to deal with.

If we were to frog-march the usual suspects up to our collective scrutinty, there emerges a criminal so conviving, so implacable and so improbable that we do not notice it’s presence.

Polarization. The tendency to assess situations through only two sets of lenses. Good and bad. Cruel and compassionate. Hot and cold. Democrat and Republican. Rich and poor. Wrong and right. Living or dead.

Decades ago, pre-martial sex was considered largely to be a sin. We do not think such things nowadays. In fact -- given our capacity for selfishness, we have socially-conditioned promiscuity as acceptable and placed it reverently upon our altars of self worship.

Laws are also meant to be broken. Prohibition should have served as an effective a cautionary tale as any; yet we continue forth, enforcing rules and regulations that are often perceived as an inconvenience that we must accept without question. Our judgement is constrained by an arbitrary boundary dictated by bureaucracy largely steered about by corporations and it's lobbyists.

Polarization is a form of situational alchemy. We grab onto an unfamiliar concept and weigh it’s values against either extreme. If it cannot be categorized as easily as we wish, we can always count on the ego to tip the scales in favour of either direction without due consideration on our part.

This is how fundamentalists are born. There is no gray in a world that demands either black or white. It is what fuels the engine of activism. It perpetuates racial and gender discrimination. It produces "terrorists". An attack on the World Trade Center that caused the death of a few thousand pale in comparison to the floods of Indonesia or the earthquakes in Haiti that has resulted in far more causalities. Yet, our empathy does not extend nearly as well towards a group of inferior beings whose lives we aren't emotionally invested in.

Do you remember where you were on the day that 230,000 Haitians perished? How about 9/11?

My point is, we are fucked. Our sense of empathy needs a kick in the ass if we expect to progress as a speices, much less a "civilization".

We have nowhere else to go but down, if the world continue as it does. Feeding the gluttonous appetite of North Americans upon the backs of less fortunate third-world citizens. Affording more gravitas towards spectacle than reality. Embracing a collective delusion unique only to the Western hemisphere, in which we struggle to hold up the shaky foundation of the American Dream, enlisting and exploiting the aid of those who have little choice but to consent to piss-poor wages and a shocking amount of disrespect.

The value of life is relative to the polarized mind. If it does not shock or stun us -- we simply will not care.

Such is the life of the Ostrich burying it's nose in the sand.

Get your Christmas shopping done yet?

Poseidon's Revenge

Something I came up with on the fly. I hadn't bothered to spell-check or edit anything. Yeah, I know it's sloppy but I loved doing it. Enjoy.

===

He stood still. Hands bound in a metal forged from the flames of Mt. Vesuvius. Looking up, he could see the ripple of the sky, a shining sun danced above, it’s rays darting like jagged swords into his eyes inflicting a pain that appeared to mock and yet -- beckon him to arise from his watery hell.

Yet he could not. Both his wrists and ankles fixed him firmly to the ocean floor and all he could do was to stare ahead forlornly. Contemplating the insanity that pervaded his being, swirling inches from his skin as he stood albeit slightly hunched to endure the madness that he found himself corrupted by.

The ocean current swirled gently against his body, a hurried embrace for which he dearly enjoyed. He did not relish the days when his lover’s fingers swelled into a fist that relentlessly pounded him with unapologetic fury. There were times when his mouth opened wide in a noiseless scream, unable to force anything but angry bubbles that darted wildly to the surface.

For a God as he, such impotence of action was a daring blow to the monstrous ego he once harboured. He had felt over the centuries, the gradual explosion and contraction of his consciousness. Folding onto itself until he was left with nothing more than a speck intent on eventual redemption.

For that day shall surely come, he thought. Floating inches off the sand that grated the soles of his bare feet. He recalled the day of incarceration, summoning forth memories strengthened by countless amounts of recollection.

They called him The Lamb. It was he who ordered the enslavement of not just himself, but others like him. By who’s authority, he has yet to acknowledge and subject himself towards. The Lamb claimed jurisdiction of the sea, or more accurately -- conquered these waters using a form of magic that appeared incomprehensible -- almost impossible for one such as he to reckon and properly shore up defences against.

As he stood with his army of ocean dwellers to his rear -- the Christian God looked upon him with a measure of pity that infuriated him. How dare this interloper stand against him with such disrespect.

The memories threatened to engulf him, as they have many times before. Infecting each cell of his body with a terrible resentment and a futile desire to break free from the bonds that he reluctantly accepted.

Over the centuries, he had tested these chains. Hoping that with time, a sharp jerk would undo at least one link. Yet this did not happen. Would not happen. Until the day of reckoning emerged.

So he stood in his watery prison. Eyes towards the surface, feeling the hair on his head reach towards the sky, swaying with the current. All he could do was watch.

And squeeze out a salty tear that blended in with the surroundings.

Had he been utterly and completely alone, he may have given in to the occasional urge to communicate his servitude to the being that had conquered him. Yet, he was not alone. He still had his mind. His pride. His strength of will.

And his friends. Ancestors of a time long past who would sometimes swim by and share stories of surface dwellers, ships, migration patterns. Some have even paused to mock and deride the predicament that he was in. These worms were given a sneer and a narrowing of hateful eyes to which they fearfully absconded from.

He longed for the dolphins. They were good company and have passed down the knowledge of his reign to their pods. The whales also were a kind and respectful lot. Many creatures choose to avoid him altogether, yet these two did not.

About once every second full moon, he would be paid a visit by the Kraken. A monstrosity that remained as ageless as he. A proud and devoted servant to his cause.

The Kraken was about sixty feet long, with short stubby legs and a multitude of foot-tall tentacles that covered it’s entire underbelly. Thick, heavy scales covered it’s back terminating at the brow and revealing small green orbs which passed for eyes. Unblinking, and with a mouth twisted in perpetual malice; the Kraken made for quite the formidable adversity against the half-Gods he had once been to war against.

Yet the Christ was an opponent that the Kraken could not overcome. The scenario played out in his mind. Shards of light permeated the water and inflicted a kind of temporary paralysis that rendered the Kraken inert causing him to float helplessly towards the ocean surface whilst the bounds of Vesuvius were laid upon the master to which he remained loyal towards.

Today the Kraken would visit, as he peered up towards the reddish hue that coated the top of his briny stew. He felt the heavy pains of isolation melt away in zestful anticipation for his visitor.

As the dusk gave way to the thick and solemn darkness, he could sense the presence of something large approaching. It wasn’t quite intuition he thought, but rather an awareness of an abnormal shift in the current that surrounded him. He could feel more force being directed towards the left side of his torso, indicating a great mass that rapidly approached.

Moments later, he could hear or rather sense -- the war cry of the Kraken as it plowed it’s way forward. This was a defence mechanism designed to scare off unwanted company to ensure the forthcoming conversation would be a private one.

A school of fish promptly darted off into the distance as did a lone jellyfish who comically propelled itself diagonally away from the source of it’s terror.

Looking about, the emptiness cloaked itself around him with a welcome silence that lingered hesitantly. Bringing about a sanctity to the proceedings that would follow.

The current slowed, the presence neared and soon made itself known in the form of a black shadow that drifted his way. It appeared as a speck frozen in time, growing larger with each passing second until it stood before him.

The voice that emanated addressed him in a tone of reverence that never failed to swell his pride each time he heard it.

“Hail thee, sir master of the sea. As below, so shall be above. I trust you have been well as one befitting your stature is able to be.”

He had always enjoyed the poetic lyricism of the Kraken, it was such a strange contrast to the frightful appearance that often implied a simple-minded, brutish intelligence devoid of compassion.

“Hail thee, my friend. Come forth. What news have you brought me?”

The features of the Kraken came sharply into focus, the cruelty of it’s toothless maw opened up in what he had now taken to be a smile. The hard, penetrating gaze he accepted as a look of intense focus and an expression of sincerity. His heart swelled upon the recognizance of his one, true friend.

“My master. I bring you an unusual tale of fiery hail. Rocks of a wretched heat that have scattered upon the Earth spreading walls of flame that have marched upon the lands above.”

Touching the metal bracelet with the tips of his fingers, Poseidon stiffened. This was news indeed!

“Do regal me, my friend. To which purpose would one suppose such a demonstration should entail?”

Thin wispy bubbles heaved out of the Kraken’s nostrils as if in a sigh.

“Master, I do not know. The destruction of mankind or a show. The oceans remain unaffected as you have observed. Or perhaps have already heard.”

Furrowing his brow, he looked up. The Kraken’s face was bathed in the white ghostly glow of the full moon.

Poseidon glanced about warily, eyes wide open and sparkling with a great curiosity that has made the weight of his chains ever the more unbearable.

“My friend. Could this be the work of the Christian Lord? Are the days of reckoning upon us?”

The Kraken paused thoughtfully.

“Master. Perhaps that is so. I have swam as close as I could dare, to acknowledge a sight so rare. Bodies as far as the eye can see and nothing more than the burnt embers of trees.”

“Where upon have you seen such things? The East?”

“Everywhere my Master. The East, The North, The South, The West. I do not jest. Cities, dwellings, ports and all the rest.”

“It is upon us!” cracking a wry smile, he could hardly contain the jubilation that such tragedy had afforded him.

The Kraken stared at him with a forlornly.

“Master. There is something that you must know, before you celebrate such a tale of woe. A crevice had emerged, to which something has been submerged. A being you know well, sent to the great depths of hell.”

“No..” He felt the word escape his lips, swimming off into the darkness.

“I regret to inform, the crow has plucked the worm. The Christ that you await, has met an untimely fate. There could be heard a great roar, as he hath perished forever more.”

He could feel the tension in his muscles loosening. A smug expression crossed Poseidon’s face.

“Then this would mean a new God has taken up the mantle.”

“It would appear so.”

A terrible crackling shook his feet. He could feel heavy vibrations travel up his spine, rattling his head as it perched hesitantly upon his neck. Fissures opened in the ground and steam billowed forth. The heat was of a torturous sort, threatening to peel off the layers of his impenetrable skin and he could feel a boiling in his gut -- as if he was being cooked alive.

“Kraken! What is happening?” He screamed.

The Kraken remained unmoving, silently staring forward.

“My friend! Please tell me you know what this is!”

Looking down, he could see the cracks becoming larger and molten lava burbled in between his toes. While he was immortal, he certainly could -- and did -- experience pain. This was unlike anything he has ever felt.

Memories flooded his mind. His coronation. The family he once had. An Earth dwelling wife with whom he consorted and sired children by. The decimation of coastal cities that he instigated with malice towards citizens who dared not afford him the respect befitting a God of the ocean. The ships he capsized on a lark.

As the chains turned bright red, Poseidon could feel his flesh sloughing away. Blood escaped from his body to create vast plumes that hung about like an oily cloud. Obscuring his visibility which dimmed noticeably with each passing moment.

Until soon, there was darkness. And the heat was no more.

epiphanies r' us

Just had sex an hour ago. I'm laying stretched out on the couch with a cigarette dangling from my lips while wearing pyjamas and an un-buttoned shirt. For the ladies out there that love warm, descriptive prose; my penis is also hanging out of my pants.

I'm kidding of course.

But several things have been learned this evening, the source being Kim, the girl I thought I've "dumped" last week.

It's hard feigning a lack of interest in anything sexual.. waking up this morning, there was a sheen about me. A "Dave.. go get laid..." voice bounded about inside of my skull, tempting me to betray the "values" I claimed to have espoused about in my last entry.

Still though, something interesting perchance did transpire as I thought about introducing regular, casual sex into my routine regardless of how attracted I am to my partner.

One of those revelations is that I simply love having sex. There's nothing to apologize for in wanting to be with someone and making the two of you feel good on a purely physical level.

That's one.. the other being - A realization that I am more empowered and deserving of the "dream girl" that I've been searching all of my life for. Now - more than ever. This was arrived at by gauging my performance in bed.. I'm very aware of how people have sex and what measure of enjoyment that they get from it. For guys, it's as simple as a ten minute quickie done doggie-style while the lady has something lacy on. For women, it's a half hour of kissing, touching and then getting slammed by an oblong object mercilessly for a good five to ten minutes.

But I took it to an hour and a half.. again.. and from how it went tonight compared to the last time I slept with Kim - I'm pretty sure she would give this experience a 10/10.

I do take pride in knowing that. It's a bit of a relief that as far as sex goes, I won't have to hear anyone complain about how much I suck at it. And after tonight with Kim, I realized that I raised the bar in a way I haven't done before.

Part of that epiphany works like sealing a leaky faucet. I've always been an insecure person.. there was never any shortage of things for me to worry or feel ashamed about. I'm not perfect, as no one else is, but I do have shortcomings that can be difficult to overcome.

But the more I am appreciated for my ability in bed, the higher my self-esteem develops. And this, I think, would be an effective way for me to build confidence and bring myself closer to the woman that I have been searching for most of my life.

It definitely is not my ex-girlfriend that's for sure, as we've had a bit of a back and forth over the long weekend. After two-months of whining about her on my blog, I'm comfortable in saying that I've made a huge step in being able to excise her from my thoughts each day.

Of course, it took leaving a book at her place that prompted an email telling me to stop leaving shit around. I'm not happy exhibiting border-line stalker behaviour, but .. (shrugs)

After explaining my motivations (which included the pumpkins that she remained silent about) - I was able to dig a little deeper into her psyche and called her out on the parts of our relationship that I think reflected her obvious immaturity and selfishness.

There were some deep insults hurled at each other, and I'm glad that it came to this point because a lot of what I was obsessing about this girl started to fall by the wayside. Her negative qualities came out front and center and for the first time, I realized that personality / attraction-wise, she was without equal. Yet, her level of emotional maturity was in the range of severe to profound retardation.

Over the course of my sort-of-final emails, I summed up her negative qualities and she was unable to offer up a rebuttal to how poorly she conducted herself. There was a moment where I resigned myself from railing away at her, because I ran out of ammunition and she seemed to have trouble presenting any kind of reasonable justification for her actions. In short - she was in denial and attempted to re-write history. Quite unsuccessfully, I must add.

So, it's officially over. Did I love Lauren? Oh.. hell yes, I did. And I do. But, she is not there yet. She has a long way ahead of her before she is mature enough to enter into a long-term relationship with a (gasps) committed partner.

Despite the bad mouthing we both did during this exchange, she left it off with "Good luck in your future endeavours" and I replied with "Hope you get a clue. Look me up once that happens" =)

Some people just need time. For someone like her, I know I can wait.

But, I'm not going to stop dating.

Because whether or not the girl I'm meant for is Lauren or someone else..

I'll still be out there, with my head held high and my heart wide open.

I won't give up on my dreams.

It's the reason why I'm still here.

bulls on parade

I've been gorging myself lately on the concept of subjective reality (SR) which is a topic of endless fascination for me.

For one thing, wouldn't it make sense to perceive the world as being entirely subjective? Consider the idea that what we perceive is through our five senses, all unique onto each individual and subject to interpretation by our brains. As you know, each person perceives things in different ways, sometimes radically different ways as they arrange stimuli to structure a reality that complements their perspective. Perspective that is a creation you, yourself are responsible for creating.

A favourite quote of mine comes from no other than Buddha himself, when he pointed out:

"the mind is everything, what you think, you become."

This is such a beautiful and poignant truth that still sparkles in my head each time I am reminded of these words. It is all about inner perception and how you view yourself can heavily influence the events and persons that transpire in life.

There is a story I am reminded of, from the dusty vaults of Buddhism as well - That involved a student asking his master the question that every human being asks at one point or another in their lifetime.

"Master. Who am I?"

To this, the wise sage pointed towards the small cot that the student slept upon.

"Go to your room, think nothing of a bull and do not come out until I tell you to."

Confused, the student obliged and sat in his room for several weeks thinking of a bull.

Eventually, the master walked past and was asked by the student when he would be able to leave the room.

Smiling, the master inquired, "Why should you not leave your room? Come outside."

The student hesitated at this invitation, frowning heavily as he stood inches away from the door.

"What's wrong?" The master asked. "Why won't you come out?"

With a quizzical expression on his face, the student responded, almost with embarrassment.

"Master, I cannot! My horns are too big!"

What you think, you shall become. Perception is everything.

the fifty-eight day old virgin

An epiphany: there is nothing more disappointing than sex without love.

Kim came by tonight, eager to get down and go for "four hours" as she implied doing prior to her arrival. I gave her my mininum ten-minute guarantee and left it at that.

So from start to finish, it went for about an hour and a half. I can't say I really enjoyed what I was doing.. it just felt.. different in a wrong kind of way.

I thought about my ex several times throughout.. "this doesn't feel as good as she did" "she doesn't smell as nice as my ex does" "I don't feel anything for this girl at all" "what am I having for breakfast tomorrow morning?" and so on. All these repeated thoughts and musings lead to my being able to go at it straight for an hour and a half non-stop, earning the rating 9.6 out of 10 in the process. I felt like patting my back with a giant foam hand and popping the cork on a champagne bottle afterwards. It's a bit of an art to be able to distract yourself this effectively.

But a big part of the reason why I didn't orgasm early was simply because I didn't care. This was a pivotal moment for me to decide whether or not I wanted to keep on going with a no-strings sexual relationship and I'm leaning heavily towards "saving" myself until the right girl comes along.

Because it's bullshit. I may as well be fucking a can of beans given how emotionally detached I was at the time. She was having several orgasms, breathing hard, making all kinds of guttural sounds and "oh yeahs!" not unlike the Kool-Aid man; and there's me, laying back with a cool, collected calm channelling the spirit of James Dean - except without a cigarette dangling from the lips. My heart-rate barely went up during all of this and it's sex for fuck's sake. Sure, maybe I sweated a little, but I still felt like a catatonic zombie without a pulse muttering "braaainz" to himself.

She wanted to be blindfolded, tied-up and dominated but I couldn't go through with it. It's just not in my nature to approach any human being with an intent to degrade and control them. As a fantasy, sure, I would have accommodated her - but at this early stage in our "relationship"? Forget about it.

My first instinct after it was done, was to blame my naiveté for allowing this to happen. I, in a way, manipulated this girl to give me sex. I agreed to it and I have to take responsibility for compromising my values and putting sex above the things that matter most.

In short, I betrayed my honour and for that I must apologize to myself.

There was a moment post-coitus when she asked what I thought about the sex and I had to deftly avoid that question for fear of what would come out of my mouth had I been honest.

I would have said, "Kim, I didn't think it was anything special. I don't like you, I don't enjoy how you kiss or the way your body feels, I don't find your personality all that interesting, I don't feel attracted to you in the slightest and I'm a little ashamed that I went along with this."

But then, all hell would have broken loose.

So I kept my mouth shut about how I really felt. I think deep down, she already knows that I'm not going to be feeding her false hope and lying about my feelings. I think she is well aware by now that I'm not into her and this was more of a test rather than just some primal desire to get my dick wet - though, it initially was spurred by general feelings of lasciviousness and a desire to be appreciated for my ability in bed. A petty and sleazy form of ego gratification I suppose.

As she left, I gave her an ice-cream sandwich, lit up a cigarette and got to writing this blog entry.

My eyes are heavy, my heart is weary, my penis is sore and .. I feel a little sad for the both of us.

I think it's going to be a lot easier for me to put sex on the back burner from here on out. This experience opened my eyes and reaffirmed the priorities in my life.

It made me realize that I was only fooling myself. And that sex alone will never adequately satisfy my desire to love and be loved. It was a worthless and shameful expression of my ego.

Yet, I'm still in love with my ex.. And I noticed that the past seven entries have mentioned her in some shape or form to the point where I feel like slapping myself upside the head to stop from thinking about her. But I doubt there's much I can do at this point other than dropping off random gifts at her place, as reminders that I'm still here.

Still willing to love her as much as I can.

If only she would feel the same way.

madness? this... is... coffee!

Insane. That's a hundred cups of coffee right there. Cinnamon Pastry, Vanilla Nut Caramel, Jet Fuel, Kona Island Blend, German Chocolate Cake! I feel like such a sensory whore right now.

Speaking of which, I have recently begun "dating" a girl who has been suggesting I act out her fantasy of being tied to a bed and dominated.

Yeah, I don't know how I can segue from coffee to BDSM, but it's not sitting well with me. For one thing, I don't respect women who give BJs (and swallows) on the 2nd date. I mean, what kind of person does that? And then she wants to get into the kinky stuff on the 3rd date? Really? I mean, I'm tickled that she finds me attractive, intelligent, funny, whatever.. it's a good way to boost my self-esteem, but at the same time, I just don't find overly-submissive women very exciting to be around with.

This totally flies in the face of what I once thought my ideal girl would be. Subserviant and willing to please.. Well, maybe I'm completely wrong about that. I need a person with a good head on her shoulders and has some standard of decency that she abides by.

With Kim, even though I had confessed after our second date that I wasn't feeling any chemistry and that maybe it would be better to move on; she throws this at me. A text saying that all she wants is sex. Nothing else.

Should I go through with it? A co-worker laughed about it today when I mentioned it and all he could say was, "it'll be good experience". Then told me he has a couple of girls on the side who aren't interested in anything but a booty call.

Still, would this kind of relationship work for me? I don't know.. But after my ex, maybe it's my turn to be wearing the pants and start taking people for granted.

What troubles me is that I can only see this getting worse over time and I'm not sure I'll keep from becoming a deviant, misogynistic pervert should I allow this to escalate more than it has already.

I may never be able to look at a woman again without imagining her tied down and willing to be degraded. It's just not in my nature to do these things...

But hell.. you only live once.

Where did I put that ball-gag?