Sun Always Sets When Your Bra Is Unhooked

[izeveryboyin]

I was barring myself from sleep, and complication, and I was hiding tentatively behind something in my mind I prayed to God was there, so that when it was time to go to bed, there’d be no monster’s a-popping hungry for my soul in the night. What of sacrilege and disappointment? What of war and passion, burning, dying, 100,000 or more in some graveyard in Iraq, surrounded by mounds of dirt and people crying and speaking Indian tongues in lament. I was drinking my liver to shit on the floor beside the window, where the cats meowed and the birds had a lot of cranky complaints to make. I was masturbating my hand wet and making little noises as I dripped onto the sheets and kept the door locked. I was hunched about the house in sorrow wanting more and eating less and cursing loud and speaking low and walking fast, but sometimes slow and then the rain fell. And the trees swayed. And something made sense to me. I was alone, I loved some dirty old man w/an Irish accent and a dirty mouth. He lay beside me on the bed, old and sorry. I looked at him—really looked at him. He had a great, big, whore-fucking body and a hooked nose rubbed red from his cold. His body took in and let out air like a stupid balloon, the dirty fuck, baring his angry teeth in bed and palming his cock. He was dreaming about the whores his body was born to penetrate. But I wasn’t a whore, was I? No, life never gave me much aside from pain. Masochist then, perhaps. There are people you can simply co-exist with being nothing forever and neither aware, nor minding if you were, this fact, you lose life. But not with this man. With him, you had to be something. Never normal, whatever that means. Never clear, whatever that means. Never right, whatever that means. But always something. Even if only a hoary old masochist who likes to fuck whores.

[abcrystcats]

"There are people you can simply co-exist with being nothing forever and neither aware, nor minding if you were, this fact, you lose life. But not with this man. With him, you had to be something. Never normal, whatever that means. Never clear, whatever that means. Never right, whatever that means. But always something."


always something.

Why is it so many people these days strive to be nothing? Just a blur, a pinstriped suit with all the other pinstriped suits walking down the hall, obligatory ponytail neatly tied behind the head?

Like you, I don't just need weird, I need someone who pushes me outside normal, just a little bit left of center ... or even almost all the way out.

I don't know how long I can stay there, but while I'm there it's the best thing ever.

Thanks for being truthful and lyrical at the same time. You have a funny way of writing about yourself that makes it universal.

[Doreen Peri]

yes, ms. cat!

read more of her here
http://www.studioeight.tv/writers/kayla ... scott.html

[Doreen Peri]

and if Kayla would do me the honor, I would love to record this piece....

http://www.studioeight.tv/writers/kayla ... aknow.html

[stilltrucking]

"Man would sooner have the void as his purpose than be void of purpose"

10. Giving Meaning to Suffering. Apart from the ascetic ideal, man, the human animal, had no meaning so far. His existence on earth contained no goal; "why man at all?" — was a question without an answer; the will for man and earth was lacking; behind every great human destiny there sounded as a refrain a yet greater "in vain." This is precisely what the ascetic ideal means: that something was lacking, that man was surrounded by a fearful void — he did not know how to justify, to account for, to affirm himself; he suffered from the problem of his meaning. He also suffered otherwise, he was in the main a sickly animal: but his problem was not suffering itself, but that there was no answer to the crying question, -why do I suffer?-
Man, the bravest of animals and the one most accustomed to suffering, does not repudiate suffering as such; he desires it, he even seeks it out, provided he is shown a meaning for it, a purpose of suffering. The meaninglessness of suffering, not suffering itself, was the curse that layover mankind so far — and the ascetic ideal offered man meaning! In it, suffering was interpreted; the tremendous void seemed to have been filled; the door was closed to any kind of suicidal nihilism. . But all this notwithstanding — man was saved thereby, he possessed a meaning, he was henceforth no longer like a leaf in the wind, a plaything of nonsense — the -senseless" — he could now will something; no matter at first to what end: the will itself was saved.
We can no longer conceal from ourselves what is expressed by all that willing which has taken its direction from the ascetic ideal: this hatred of the human, and even more of the animal, and more still of the material, this horror of the senses, of reason itself, this fear of happiness and beauty, this longing to get away from all appearance, change, becoming, death, wishing, from longing itself — all this means — let us dare to grasp it — a will to nothingness, an aversion to life, a rebellion against the most fundamental presuppositions of life; but it is and remains a will. . . And, to repeat in conclusion what I said at the beginning: man would rather will nothingness than not will. (Genealogy of Morals, III, 28)

http://www.msu.org/ethics/content_ethic ... _text8.htm

a primitive root; to lack; by implication, to fail, want, lessen:--be abated, bereave, decrease, (cause to) fail, (have) lack, make lower, want.
from 'chacer' (2637); lacking; hence, without:--destitute, fail, lack, have need, void, want.

For they are a nation void of counsel, neither is there any understanding in them

*************
masturbation is a more dangerous for men, I almost poked my eye out doing that.

[izeveryboyin]

If it so pleases Doreen... make it so!!! I am all for it, but I wanna hear it immediatly after it's recorded!!! (pretty please) I would say e-mail me the sound clip, but shit if I'm ever on a computer that'll be able to hear it. (damn college internet restrictions) at any rate, you have my blessing. E-mail me when it's done and then i'll give u my number and you can play it for me or something, shit, i dunno. speaking of e-mail... has it been working as of late? it should. (damned internet mailing addresses). To cat, thanks for the compliment, but I assure you, it was purely coincidental that this sotry was universally relatable becuase, well, I hate all of you and think you're terrible sods. lol. haha (I kid, of course) I'm glad you liked the piece, and while the universal thing was unintentional, it pleases me to shit to hear it is.
--K

[stilltrucking]

I could fuck up a wet dream.
lately have been obsessing on The Magician Of Lublin , years since I read that book, there was a lesson there for me. Once in blue moon I have an erotic dream.

Meanwhile I do my best to take care of myself, after 25 years jacking off. it just leaves me feeling cold. Celibacy means celibacy. Back in the early seventies when I was going all that crap with spider love, Ram Das came through my life. My girl friend the one who would lose so much because of my sexual immaturity was enthralled with him, he talked of being sexualy continent, I suppose she did not know it was not the same as celibate. Years later a woman in New York had him barking at the moon, he wrote about it in an article called "Egg on my beard" he is one of the most powerful people I have ever met. Sex is what it is all about for me, I have finally got a grip on it after all these years. Not sure what it means, maybe I am supposed to cash in on it, there must be a market for drug crazed sexual hallucinations.

dog gone it Doreen, sometimes I wish you did not write so well, you strip me down to my naked vanity.

I though doreen wrote this one I realized it was not her and cut this from my first reply, having sisters is like having all the benefits of living with a woman and none of the ridiculous

there is only two women that cross my mind, one a nurse in virginia, she told me she adored me, she leaned accross the examining table and complained of back pain, i would like to get back to The Valley and give her a back rub. The other is a neighbor, I call her Glynda because her little shack locks like Oz, she has flowers and plants everywhere, 30 pound turtle, and a black cat. she hints about it and I hint back, I don't feel much for her except for lust, she is very pretty and fit, a kid in her forties. I try to think about pillow talk with her, the sound of her voice does not resonate in my soul no presence

[izeveryboyin]

ST, I'm still trying to wrap my head around the idea of not having sex. This story-- or rather, anecdote was something I'd written months ago before he decided to move back to Ireland and care for his ailing mother, but even with him, I was celibate (not by conviction, but by... hmm... we'll just call it pickiness I guess). So for *mumbles* now, I've been without a lover in the wrold, safe for my left and right hand, both of whom are considering leaving me for a pair of gloves I bought on sale at Walgreen's.

[stilltrucking]

after twenty five years of being a hopeless romantic I just want to get on with my life, I read somewhere that a woman who was recieving testosterone for some medical condition said "it is driving me crazy, I can't stop thinking about sex."

you are funny
thanks for the smile

[izeveryboyin]

always always always glad to make with the funny!!! thanks for paying attention, hah!.
--K