Twice The Fool

I've made a fool of myself. Unwittingly. Therein lies the sting. I have absolutely no qualms about making a fool of myself when it's all in jest & more importantly a deliberate act on my account. It's a different story when I unwittingly make a fool of myself; you become a tragic fool instead of a comedic fool; it's even more troubling when it dawns on you, while you're still in the act of making a fool of yourself, that you are actually making a HUMONGOUS fool of yourself. I accidentally made a tragic fool of myself. The scope of my acting like a tragic fool ensconced itself snugly in my mind when my eyes met the glassy and full-of-pity stares of my audience. I could have kicked myself if I weren't in a hurry to leave the scene of the crime. In the discomfiting process of making a quick exit, I suspect, I left my dignity and pride behind. I don't think they will be of any use any time soon anyhow.

I'm not going to pen down how I made a fool of myself. Why? There's no humour in it. You'll just have to be contented with the projections of your own fancy...

I've made a little mix of lovely music to dull the pain.

Glimmer

My heart beats faster than the wings of a dragon fly
There are things that, probably, beat faster
But I, a child of my mother, could not care less
About those faster things & what they signify
For all I know they could all spell 'DISASTER'!
Or, be a prelude to some compressed mess.

You know, sometimes I'm just a tad too emotional. Emotionality is not always a bad thing; it helps the artist find his/her tortured aspect or temperament. But, in view of my post yesterday - when I was riding the crest of a wave of emotionality - it seems a bit crass. Eloquent. But crass. Its crassness forced into a corset of words. Its bitterness forced down the rictus of reason. In short, I feel a bit foolish. Of course, things were said. Feelings were hurt. But I should be the better man. I hate having to deal with insecurities since they, in a perverted way, affect me, too. I morph into an oscillating sujet. And in this state of alternating between extremes my emotions swell and I spill grandiosities that, if they didn't carry the weight of pathos, could be construed as contemptibly silly.

I think I drifted into the waters of silliness and got my feet wet.

Oblivion

My mind is full of matter. My BF and I are going through one of those platitudinous rough patches. At some point during our relational stroll through couples' forest we wandered off the beaten track and ended up somewhere strikingly new to us. I do not know when it happened; I have an inkling how. The how is often much easier to ascertain than the when. To pinpoint a moment in time which instigated the atrophy of certain aspects of the relationship is nearly impossible. When? When he neglected my hurt feelings? Or the moment that came thereafter; when the sting of the hurt he had caused me finally materialized in my mind, and sprouted a myriad of hyphae, that corrupted every emotion they touched, that ultimately have ensnared me in this state of impasse?
I do not know when. How can I? I've mulled our situation over. I have debated whether to end it or to soldier on despite the realisation that hangs like a wraith in my mind. To be honest, I do not know. This state of not-knowing is killing me. I pride myself on being so very much in touch with my thoughts & feelings that this lack, this oblivion, sinks me deeper into a nothingness. Not knowing cuts like a dagger through my heart.

There's one thing, though. One simple truth that pierces, at intervals, through this mist. That I care deeply for my BF and that I do not want for it to end like this. In a state of oblivion.

Love is worse than a drug. Love is being reincarnated when you are still alive. I wish. I wish my lips could touch the waters of Lethe, and forget. Forget. Forget the things that have been said in carelessness.

Seclusion

Yesterday I spent an utterly lazy day at home; I dawdled like it was nobody's business. Like a languid cat I lay in bed stretching myself, looking at the ceiling, and turning sensually in the velvety, oleaginous warmth of my duvet. It was pure bliss. After a while though I felt restless and made up my mind to go out. I went for a walk in the temperate summer air. A slight panic gripped my heart; I felt overwhelmed by all the faces I encountered, the urban noises. I hurried back home. I snuggled safely in bed with a book; I put the book down after having read several pages. My mind flittered. I could not absorb what I read. I put on a film instead: Equus.
I fell asleep just a bit after I spoke to my boyfriend. I wished he was there to hold me. Solitude can be so cruel sometimes.

Not Waving, But Drowning

Sandy beaches with a million of crystalline pieces of exploded dreams. My feet leave imprints, indentations in the loose surface. I walk along these long stretches of a dreamscape and wonder where the shards of my dreams burst and settled down. The ocean laps languidly. The wind drags itself across the rounded masses that make up the people, the birds, the dunes, the wavy fields of grass. I sit down. My lover sits beside me. He grabs hold of my hand and together we stare into the distance; we watch the sun drown in a crimson coloured ocean of quietude. And we smile. We smile because what we prayed for came to be.

The sunshine won't ever come back. The earth will be dressed in the silky blackness of night for ever.

Dissociative Coolness

Underneath the blanket of shame
We desperately tried to tame
That which cannot be named
Without soliciting from circumstance
A destination to allocate blame.

I've grown tired of going out. It's not a sudden change, but a gradual one. The realisation reiterated itself yesterday night when I went to see a friend of mine DJ at a local club. The mood was happy enough. The people - as far as I could tell - were pleasant enough. My spirits, however, were dampened by whatever emotive wind that was blowing. I don't know. I could not connect with those around me, and I felt positively disheartened. On top of that, I was exhausted. Perhaps, that had something to do with it.

I'm in the process of writing a story. I have the outline ready; I need to find the time (and energy) to actually develop the outline into something readable and enchanting. Wish me monsters.

Rules Of Attraction

Desire. The ruin of humans. In philosophy, desire is identified as a philosophical problem; personal desires must be postponed in the name of the higher ideal. Rarely, if ever does this come about. People pursue their desires unchecked, unedited, unbridled, and mostly unconscious of the fact that they are being driven by their vague, inexpressed wishes.
A friend is expecting an ex from the US on Monday; his current boyfriend does not want anything to do with the whole affair. He does not want to meet the ex of my friend. I understand his decision, though I find it a tad over the top. It's all in the past. There's a reason why they broke up. Period. Not a comma. Not a semicolon. A firm and decisive dot, which does not, however, disallow the bond to continue in a different fashion, shade, form, hue. An affair can metamorphose into a friendship, and a friendship can metamorphose into an affair. The laws of physics that govern the bonds between people are not a collection of generalizations based on empirical observations of physical behaviour; they can not be tested or measured. They are susceptible to the minute forces that govern us. Why do we do the things we do? If only we knew...

I find it strange that he's so insecure, since my friend loves him dearly - and this his current boyfriend knows. That's it. Insecurity. Yet another ruin of us humans. If you let your insecurities run unchecked they can destroy much more than your self-esteem. A lot of people do not realize that being insecure is a state of being; it is not a permanent state. If you experience it as such it means you yourself are keeping your persona stuck in that precarious state. I have little sympathy for those people. I may sound harsh. But, I find it brutal that so many people are unaware of their own thought process.

A Brand New Life

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. Leo Tolstoy

Despite my dislike of Tolstoy I very much agree with this statement. I have recently witnessed the endemic unhappiness of a family. I had been invited to the wedding of two friends of my boyfriend, which took place yesterday. During the dinner with elaborate dishes the divorced mother & father of the bride held equally elaborate speeches, albeit at othersides of the spectrum. The strained speech of the father of the bride was heartbreaking. It communicated so much more than what the string of words he uttered signify. It communicated his inadequacies as a parent. I felt sad. The mother of the bride's speech was full of zest and wit and an unhealthy dose of bitterness; in it she snubbed the father of the bride. Of course, not obviously. The slight was in the little things she did not say. She did not say she asked him for suggestions on the little film of her daugther's & son-in-law's life they (the in-laws & the bride's sister & brother-in-law & her) made. And to add insult to injury his name was not in the credits.
I spoke to the father of the bride (dating a nice woman, heavily philsophical about the status of his girlfriend); I found him a nice man. People are not perfect, though we often demand perfection in the execution of feelings & wording. We are dismayed when our expectations are not met and some of us repay the 'guilty' party with scorn. Of course, I do not know what happened between these two people, but to make the wedding of her daughter the stage of unresolved issues is not only tacky but also insulting & hurtful to her daughter.

The wedding was nice, very romantic. It is strange that the remote happiness of others always intensifies your own happiness. I fell in love with my boyfriend even more. I guess, that is what Tolstoy meant.

Hot Ice

Even though I had to wake up at 05:00 AM this morning I'm in a very good mood. Does this mean I've metamorphosed from an evening person into - deary God - a dreaded morning person? Will I now start humming in the morning when I jump out of bed at dawn's crack? Will I turn into one of those eerily cheerful persons whom you always want to smack over the head, and whose deaths you're secretly plotting?

Nah. I'm too bitter for that. I have to scrape the sulphur allotropy from the bottom of my soul before I succumb to that macabre display of blistering blitheness.

Our Nursery Beds

Yesterday I went to my brother's home to pick up some things I had left there; during the last three years I have moved three times. Moving is an irksome undertaking. Multiply it by three and it becomes nearly unbearable. Due to several circumstances I stayed with my brother for several months (a bad break-up and my parents moving back to Curaçao led to my living briefly with an ex which led to my moving out, because there were some unresolved issues between us - insert a "Duh" here - and staying with my brother; in a very cramped nutshell)

I've never had a sense of rootedness; when I was four I was transplanted from the warm earth of Curaçao to the wintry soil of The Netherlands. I kept moving ever since. I've always had the feeling I left something behind after each move; perhaps, something important, or nothing of any importance, but still some thing. Like a blundering thief I left a trail of DNA - as it were - in all the places in which I have lived. Fingerprints. Flakes of skin. Fingernail clippings. Hair. Traces of semen. Arguments; heated or loving words that echo dispirited in their evanescent form; the people who uttered them long gone, replaced by strangers who do not ackowledge the spectres that still haunt their abode. I think this process of casting off bits of yourself is a natural process. Our homes become a reservoir for all the things we shed.

Now I have a place of my own. It is empty still. It's the first time I have lived by myself. Alone. Up till now there's only been the buildup of material things. DNA. It still has to be filled with words, memories, embraces, warmth.

These last few days I have been thinking of asking my boyfriend to come live with me; we have discussed this before. I had thought it a bit too soon to actualise it then. Lately however I feel the increasing desire to be with him 24/7; not out of some sense of envisioned loneliness, but because I want him to be a bigger part of my life. But how can I ask him to uproot himself? At any rate, he's coming over tonight; I can't wait.

Shocking

I've been cajoled by a sweet girl into updating this blog. I didn't know I was susceptible to the flattery of brown-haired girls... but I'm a gull who's easily swayed by the winds of adulation. So.

I've been watching The L Word. I'm a recent passenger on the bandwagon. I like it. I had thought that the daily dross of glam lezzies would not appeal to me, but I must confess that it not only appeals to me... I am actually moved by all the drama. Yes, I'm in essence a woman.

I'm at work right now; this environment is not conducive to my writing and I find that I'm struggle for things about which to write. I do not want to fall into the obvious subject (my work, colleagues, etc. etc.). But circumvention is tiresome.

I guess, this is the first of many defibrillating shocks to depolarize the heart cells that govern my flow of writing and allow a normal rhythm to return.

Peek-a-boo.

It's been a while since I wrote an entry; I could say I have been terribly busy - which I was - or I could say that I just didn't feel like writing - which is somewhat true. I have been very much distracted by a certain guy I met. He's been keeping my mind duly occupied; on top of that I have been very much a slave to the wage - working overtime raking in the cold hard cash. Yes. Not because I am suddenly metamorphosed into a greedy lil' bastard, but because my supervisor, or rather the planner, thought it wise to let me work more hours. At any rate, I'll write something soon.

Je veux te voir

This is a very funny, very vulgar song by Yelle. She's some or other girl who has it in for some or other ginger-haired guy named Cuizinier (I believe he's a rapper of some kind). I laughed heartily since this is belly-shakingly hilarious. Enjoy.

Cuizinier avec ton petit sexe entoure de poils roux
Je n’arrive pas a croire que tu puisses croire qu’on veuille de toi
Je n’y crois pas meme dans le noir, meme si tu gardes ton pyjama
Meme si tu gardes ton peignoir, en forme de tee-shirt ringard
Garde ta chemise ca limitera les degats batard

Je veux te voir
Dans un film pornographique
En action avec ta bite
Forme patatoes ou bien frites
Pour tout savoir
Sur ton anatomie
Sur ton cousin Teki
Et vos accessoires fetiches

Cuizi c’est quoi
Ta position favorite
Tes performances olympiques
Mais tu n’as rien d’orgasmique
Tu es tout nu
Sous ton tablier
Pret a degainer
Mais je t’avoue rien n’y fait

Tu reves d’un Hummer fluo
Dessinee par Akroe
Mais tu n’as pas le permis
Tu prends toujours le metro

Superstar d’un soir ta vie redevient normale apres
Pas besoin de lunettes noires pour te cacher personne te reconnait
Ta carte verte t’attend mec
C’est pas des paroles en l’air
J’ai reussi à t’en faire
Une avec mon scanner
L’entree est gratuite ce soir
C’est le seul moyen pour qu’on vienne
Alors les filles on se promene
Ouais on va aux chippendales
On avait pas prevu de passer la soirée avec des rigolos
On voulait voir des pectoraux, des mecs montés comme des taureaux

Tes posters de Lil’Jon recouvrent ceux de Magic Jonhson
Ton corps est trop crunk pour assurer les dunks

Cuiziner c’est toi que je veux voir
Que je veux voir ce soir
Te faire ridiculiser par une fille qui rappe mieux que toi
J’ai pas assez de mes 10 doigts pour les compter dans la salle
Toutes ces filles coiffees comme moi qui savent ce que tu vaux a poil

Silly Broken Hearts Poetry

Oh, silly boy
Foolish lover
Defending your
Man's honour
Can't you see
He loves you not?
His heart belongs
To another.
And on your heart
Will be inscribed:
"I fell in love,
He just lied."

Random Thoughts: TV, Trust, and a new beau on the horizon

I do not watch TV. This is not some hip rebellious statement; I actually do not watch TV. I watch TV series - I must confess - albeit on DVD. Nowadays I find it strange that people spend hours on end in front of the Telly. I used to be a TV addict back in the 80s. TV was my drug of choice; I had very little else to numb the pain of my pre-teen hardcore lifestyle of kindergarten & sticks-and-stones harassment at school interchanged with the emotionally crippled parents' TLC at home. Besides the hard drug TV I experimented with the soft drug Books. I alternated between the two. Shooting up TV in the morning, and inhaling some powerful words in the afternoon before heading to bed. I solely watched cartoons. I believe I watched *all* the cartoons that aired during the 80s & early 90s. It was my first encounter with the English language; no subtitles meant either quickly getting with the programme, or letting the programme be and use your imagination to fill in the vast blanks. Funnily enough during the 80s all villains spoke some sort of archaic English. Soit.

I was heading somewhere with this entry, but I forget. I tend to be forgetful a lot these days. Perhaps it's because there's so very little going on in my actual life. I've decided that I should dislike my colleagues simply because they are nitwits, and deserve my scorn. Moreover they gossip incessantly & indiscriminately about everyone who's working for our company. I've already let know that I do not want to participate in this game of Chinese whispers, but it seems that they do not take heed of words that do not come in the shade of scandal. Alas. At any rate, I've decided I should dislike the bulk of the lot (i.e. only the fatties... har har har)

Oh, trust. I have been thinking about trust. It's such a flimsy concept. Trust. "I trust you'll do such and such correctly." There is little else you can do but rely intently on the other person's integrity, and ability. However confident you are chances are still great that the person in question will let you down hard. Nevertheless without that flimsy concept 'trust' it's quite difficult to establish meaningful, and intimate relationships with people. It's a slippery slope.
Nowadays I don't have expectations concerning people - hence my liberal interpretation of trust: I have no confident expectation of their meeting the standard of behaviour that I esteem. People rarely do what you expect them to do (and by this I mean: what you want them to do - in the usual order of things you can predict someone's behaviour based on her/his modus operandi, but that's not what I mean in this scenario, or any other scenario in which humans who are emotionally tied together must interact). I just voice my wish, if they take heed: great. If not: ah well, better luck next time. Of course I experience some form of frustration when they do not grant me my wish, but it never sticks. I simply resolve to let it go; put them on ignore. When my words take I acknowledge their trustworthiness, which doesn't mean I trust them; it just means that I recognize the fact that they have shown in this particular instance empathy. They are in effect paving the road to that elusive shrine of Trust. (I feel I'm getting too wordy again...)

Whatever.

I think I like someone. My feelings for him go beyond mere friendly, which is vexing since they do not have a release. I also do not know whether this person likes me back, which is even more vexing. Every time I resolve to make my feelings known some sort of fated incident takes place that thwarts my noble intentions. One would think - based on this - that it is not meant to be. But seeing my relationship with the Fates has always been capricious & playful I fashion this their way of showing me that they care. In the meantime I'm grinding my passion into dust.

Cough, cough.

This Year's Man

This morning I had one of those strange dreams in which you know you're dreaming about something you were thinking about before you went to bed, or when you were walking home. It's one of those "Hey, I had just thought about that a while ago" moments. This morning I dreamt about having a child; not my having a child myself, as in actually giving birth, but about my being a dad. I had a clear picture of the child's mother, and her face is the only thing I can think of at the moment, which is very confusing. I know I have seen her before, but I do not remember where... Talk about vexing! It's not like I'm in desperate search for my 'baby momma'; I'm just curious to know: why her?

Humanity at Large

Whoever claimed that life gets easier once one has aged beyond one's teenage years, or has matured, was very misleading; it is one of the fraudulent statements that has entered our parlance, and made itself feel quite at home in the hall of fame of cliches. Well, life does not get easier instead life loses its originality, its ingenuity, and occurences that once stirred your emotions lose their impact by the tedium of repetition. Life gently herds us to tranquil pastures where we munch on old chestnuts with a blasé air, or something. I can understand how one can confuse tedium with a state of comfort; tedium is always conducive to ease, if only in a deluding way. At any rate, my life keeps getting more complicated as days pass. I simply have to wake up, and breathe. No other actions need be undertaken.

So, I'm reading on technology and how it affects humans / our conceptions of humanity. I have started - of course - by examining what makes us human - as distinctive to 'animals' - to begin with. Naturally my reading started with morality. Our desire for conformity to the rules of - what is generally quite arbitrary, and highly subject to change - right conduct is astonishing; we are willing to sacrifice a whole lot to just be accepted. Morality is a funny concept, especially when viewed in relation to our equally strong desire to be independent individuals. We spent most of our teenage years asserting our individuality whilst trying to brave the storm of peer pressure only to succumb to it in later years. I see it happening all around me at work. Most colleagues are enticed to join the whispering choir by the leading rumor-mongers, and then heartily partake in Chinese whispers about anything & everything. Is this right conduct? I do not know; judging by the standard I should think it is, however all this murmuring is not conducive to comfort, nor a genial work space. No matter how great the tedium it engenders.

My love life is troublesome; not in the least because of my laborious efforts to get a date, but because of my whimsical taste in men. I seem to fall for men who are the mirror image of me; this is the source of many a stormy relationship, but I'd rather a gentle breeze than a passionate storm. You can attribute it to age. As I get older, and consequently wiser, or I should say 'fitted', my desire for genial relationships grows ardent. It must be because of the slowing of my metabolism. At any rate, I should find a way to adjust my taste to suit my mood. I have always had a terrible time adjusting my palate to a change in diet... Ah well.

Beauty

My philosophy in life is to live as though there's no to-morrow. One can only imagine the disappointment I experience time and time again - at least, up till now - when I wake up to the fact that yet another dawn has, well er, dawned on us. I comfort myself with the thought that the recurring of dawn satisfies an innate human desire for structure & predictability, and that my disappointment in that light viewed should not weigh so heavily as to make me want to slit my wrists, or do something equally foolish. I have been accused of being suicidal in the not-so-distant past, perhaps it's sensible not to joke about such a serious matter lest that person should read this and put two and two together.

At any rate, life is like a fluffy cloud, and I'm like a hydrogen molecule floating upward toward the sun. I have actually never felt better. I suspect it's because I've gained a new appreciation for "the real world". I have spent a considerable time living, breathing, thinking in a virtual world. A world of books, and ether. A few weeks back my eyes suddenly opened themselves and I saw life smiling at me, and waving me hello enthusiastically. I could no longer neglect it.

So, I'm taking life out for dinner; to say thanks. I wish I knew what could allay its appetite.

Broken Glass

A few weeks back I took a metro home which had as its destination "Unknown". I thought it very apt since I absolutely had no clue where I was heading. How disappointed I was to find out that "Unknown" is close to where I live; just 2 KM South to my temporary abode. A rude awakening - so to speak.

Yes, a few weeks back I had a blind date, or to be exact: an appointment to go on a blind date. I did not go. I did not feel like it, at any rate. The thought of having to spend time with a person I do not know that well, and having to entertain him by being pleasant and amiable, and having to laugh at his mediocre jokes, and having to show interest in his personal life/hobbies/interests/etc. when in effect I could not give a horse's rear-end made me reconsider seriously. Besides these small drawbacks that showed themselves when I was heading to "Unknown" I was terribly tired, and not in the mood for company.

Yesterday I met a friend I hadn't seen since October 2006 (it was on his Birthday); he broke up with his girlfriend. They were together for five years and have a son. I was saddened when he told me; I had got into my mind that they would remain an item till the end of time, but unfortunately life got in the way. Life has a way of throwing its weight around like that thwarting our designs. At any rate, we talked about the past, and about the future, about friendships/relationships. I thought about my own fancies at the moment.

At this point in time I do not crave company. I find it taxing. On the one hand I'd love to have a relationship, and be square. On the other I simply don't. Conflicting desires.

Ah, well.

Multiply

Well, I have been persuaded to join a new online community called "Multiply" - a very suitable name. I'm a little bit shocked by all the gay porn & related items that seem to be popular tags on that site. Not that my sensibilities are so delicate, but I hate it when people spring porn, or their sexual preferences, on you. I never mix porn with light entertainment. Porn is a serious business, and like any other serious business it must be conducted, and executed with utmost planning & care.

"Hi, my name is Mike and I enjoy fisting & watersports."

"Oh, gee Mike. Nice to meet you, too."

That's not the way to go about porn, nor advocating your preference.

I believe to rebuff with a 'piss off' followed by an angelic smile on such an occasion is to add insult to injury... Though, I believe I would not hesitate to do so. I must yield to my irrational whims. But, I digress.

I think it's a lovely site, though. Lovely, but weird. It's porn in a dollhouse. Porn in an idyll niche on the Internet; a friends network of people you know IRL. I don't want to know the preferences of my friends. Heck, I do not want to know those of strangers. My idealism is a bit bruised, and to see preferences bruited about like that is not good for my faith in mankind. I will survive, at any rate.

At the very least, I will chuckle at the pictures that are supposed to turn me on... Har Har Har.