|Blogs > The_Imp_and_koko > The Jabberwocky|
"I have something to show you." He said with a twinkle in his eye and a sly smile.
"I have something to show you." He said with a twinkle in his eye and a sly smile.
Let's flesh out yesturday's post out a bit shall we. I admit not my best effort. I wasn't all that focused in fact a bit scattered. When it gets down to it I feel like a programer that just wrote bad code. I didn't quite close up my loops. I guess it was a good start. I do know it wasn't a good finish.
I could just work on it change it like it never happened. But that just wouldn't have the same feel and flow to me. It's not quite as real. It's not life. Not that the online world really is but I do like to maintain a level of reality. In other words what's done is done. You won't catch me useing newspeak. Words can't just be burned and ingnored. You can live up and acknowledge what you've done in the past or you can try and do your best to hide from it. Just know this there's at least one person out there that knows who you really are. Next time you see a mirror stop and say hello to them. I'm sure your more than likely hit it off rather well and be good friends.
So why that guy in particular to make comment about? Well I'm a petty jealous little bastard really. I just saw him on the most popular list. I'd like to be on that list. No reason other than that just seems to be my real goal with this thing at the moment. So I was curious about what made this blog popular. Especially when it's coming from a 23 year old male. This is most curious because being a single male online is just not easy. So being the competitive sort that I am I decided to see what made him so good. In other words was his "penis" bigger than mine?
It should also be pointed out that I didn't read all of his posts. I read a number of the short posts and about 5 longer posts at random. So I'm not really being completely fair. I gave him only a small part of my attention in order to come up with my own view of him. Not really fair. I just don't care. Life isn't fair why the hell should I be? It's just my opinion. I really don't care what you think of me actually. Not fundamentally. It's not why I exist for you to like me. That's what I saw of him from what I read. How do you see me when you read my dribble? Am I the world's biggest twit? Or is "The Bob" your new found lord and saviour? I'm sure everybody fits in there somewhere.
But what I read just made my stomach feel all squirmy. Really really squirmy. Like little wormies. He was kind of like Ryan who was like Mr. Sensitive Ponytail Man. As a guy for my self personally it's hard to set there and stomach this sort of thing. Because what I start to see is a guy that's thinking. "If I act like I'm gay a bit more then maybe just maybe then..." That's how I see it at anyrate. You probably think I'm just being an ass and by all means feel free to. And feel free to comment on it as well. I like comments comments are good they make things more fun.
The short version
I'm petty and just think he's a twit. Because I say so and that he should be neutered.
The Long Version
He made a good example maybe not the best example. What can I say I like to indulge in a bit of pettyness. Not the best of sins but a nice one every now and again. Now if your really wanting a good sin to live by I sugest lust. Rolls off the tongue in a nice fun way. If you say it just right then the word itself seems to be wanting to do a bit more than it should with your tounge. Not much mind but a nice playfull tickle. Lust is a good one another of bob's pronounced "good" words. Lust is like fuck very versetile. It fits "EVERYTHING" nothing escapes lust. You can lust after things till your heart's desire. If I'm already born into sin then I'd like to play it up a little and deserve a good spanking. I'd enjoy it more.
I'm petty and decided to be very bias and use him as my poster boy for a certain type of person. There's women out there that do the same sort of shit in reverse order. It's just the women make money at it. There's this nice grocery store magazine market for the sort of thing. Women eat it up because they "feel" they're learning something. Men "learn" to spot B.S. and depending on the amount and type of B.S. it makes us a bit sick. These sort of people are like traitors to their genders. The time machine makes a good example. Moorlocks and Eloi? Anyway these people are the Moorlocks out looking for the Eloi within their kind. And just like our hero I feel this isn't human and that things need to change.
It's very much not human in my view. To promote an idea that women are goddesses and what have you. Is like saying one person should out right respect another person without that person demonstrating that they deserve such. Yeah your more than welcome to do that if it makes you happy then cool. But me that's just not my bag baby. Giving someone more respect than they deserve from you is just being a suck ass. People enjoy you yeah because you slurp pretty damn good. They'll be your friend because hey who wouldn't like to have a friend you could take advatage of? But respect? I find it hard to respect someone that's so willing to give but not care about themselves enough to expect anything in return. Sure they can be fun every now and then. Not something I would want a relationship with. It's not balanced, it's not the reason relationships are out there for. That's any relationship. Real relationships are very finely balanced things. They're touchy. It's always a series of trivial things that masquerade the real reason they end. They take work from both sides to keep that balance. Adding another person to the mix complicates things. Your starting yet another new relationship. There's going to be new adjustments new quirks to deal with new arguments to be had all the new hassels that make new relationships hard and ackward. This time instead of it being X2 it's X3. This suggests that things will be that much more intense in some way. The bad moments will probably not be all that much fun. No I'm sure once things smoothed out I'd rather not go back there. It also means that the good moments should be some pretty nice times you won't forget anytime soon. Now finding just one person you can tolerate allowing to sleep through the night to see another day is pretty tough and annoying itself. I remember that headache myself. I'm not that old and it wasn't all that long ago. It was a big pain in the ass. I had my moments of despair. I too wished I were queer so I could get chics. Somethings got to work damnit to get a woman to want me on long term loan. Yes on loan. Liz made for a pretty good loan herself. So yeah being single gets old fast. It's the only known thing to move faster than light. If we could harness that as an energy source then people would have something productive to do again. Mars would be cool to see. So if I said I truely was happy with Liz why would I like to go through this again. Because I'm looking forward to the good moments. I like a challenge. Especially if I feel that the challenge is worth the endevour. I feel it's worth the effort for as long as it lasts.
I don't think people really set down and consider that. I get the impression at times that people think that not everyone needs to be taken into consideration as a person. You can take that how you will. The point is inorder for it to work, to stay balanced so that it doesn't tilt and everybody falls off they all have to be in there somewhere and willing to work through things. So yeah I'm sure the nasty bits are pretty nasty. Someone could be hurt and if it's of any value a friendship lost. You need to be really sure of yourself. What are you willing to lose? What do you think you will gain? You can see what you'll lose because that's what's happened in the past. You don't know about the future. Is it going to be worth it in the end or is it just going to be a big show? Should Dorthy follow the yellow brick road?
Animals make great analogies. They've been exploited in this way since the begining of man. Oooh I should save that for the next time PETA gets bored and is running low on campaign ideas. PETA is another group of people that I've taken a very quick and shallow look at and don't like for very similar reasons as the people above. Maybe it's not such a idea I'm sure it's an aceptable compromise to exploit an animal in this fashion. No animals in particular are being abused or exploited for monetary gain. I'm a good guy maybe I can become PETA aproved. Chics will dig me then. PETA girls are easy in their own way. It would be fun to see what they say if I sent a copy of this asking for their endoresment that I'm a good animal guy. Sweet, sensitive and careing. I like the little fuzzy bunnies.
Dragonflys are pretty impressive creatures when you set down are really watch them a bit. Here's a creature that starts out it's life underwater. In it's world it has it's freedoms but it's still a fairly contained world from what you see above you and around you. The dragonfly starts out this way, contained restricted, perhaps it's really better that way. Maybe not for all of them but for the most part it seems to be working out. I didn't like living with my parents too much. You could say it was rather ackward and tense at times. I was a pain in the ass but so were they and besides they started it. The dragonfly does eventually escape from the confines of the water. Like I said they're impressive to watch. If you watch long enough some of the dragonflys that made it out of the water do some pretty cool things. I don't really know or not if I'm that sort. I just know I'm doing my thing. Dragonflys are pretty good with the flying thing. Being able to pull off the level of manuvering ability they have is prabably some military engineer's idea of a wet dream. They can fly well actually they can kick some pretty good ass at it. Then they can set on the most delicate of places and just set. Balanceing there in quiet contemplation for the moment. They seem to know when it is best to set and think. Then when to take flight and go out and kick ass.
The Dragonfly has it's freedom now all right. It can go where it wants. It can do what it wants. This also means it needs to be smart enough to survive on it's own. There's nowhere it can't go or do the sky really is the limit. This is a much bigger world. It has more options. Just one catch though there needs to be a pond of some sort. It might not be the same pond but the principal is the same. In order for the dragonfly to go on to grow and more importantly move forward it has to accept where it came from. It has to acknowledge the past for what it was worth and that's what got it where it is now.
This dragonfly needs to be smart. You see it's not the only one out there there's other creatures that are just as impressive. They're not the only ones with good character traits. Spiders have good character. Sort of icky and not my thing at all but still good character some of them anyway. So yeah the dragonfly needs to be smart.
Spiders are smart*
As I said some are. I'm thinking more of an orb weaver here. A spider that is a web spinner. Some spiders are not they're hunters. For those low on there intake of learning new things. All spiders can spin a web they are catagorized in one way by the methode in which they hunt insects. It's the web slingers we're interested in here. More specificly an Orb Weaver he's our man.
Orb Weaver's have good character. Here too is another animal that understands when to do it's thing and when to set still. But it's a bit more than that. The spider isn't always successful. It needs to know how to spin a good web. That's a pretty good start not the only thing but a start. It helps to know the best place to put the web. That's even better but that still doesn't mean the spider will catch anything. There just might not be any bugs about. Even if there are bugs that still doesn't mean the spider will be getting a snack. The spider might have a hard time setting still or moving about a bit. For some reason or other the spider is being obvious and the bugs know better and steer clear. No once the spider spins his web finds a likely spot to set up. The only thing going in his favor then is luck, patience, and a willingness to come back out the next night and spin the web again. The Orb Weaver is smart it knows at least what it's doing. It makes a damn good web at times. Most importantly it knows when to set still and when to move. It works at times to the spider's advantage to tweek things everynow and then. It helps to find out if there is something there or not.
Some spiders aren't all that smart. They're smart in the sense that they can survive and reproduce. They just put a lot of time and energy in order to do so. I'm sure they're happy and enjoy life. Not the way every spider goes about it but it's more interesting that way. Just that running around wasting a lot of energy on a pursuit isn't all that high on the list of good character traits. The spiders that do this are hunters. They have to be even smarter than the Orb Weaver. A wolf spider is a hunter. They too are good at what they do and get pretty big. These spiders have to be much more cunning. They need to get right up close to their prey. Close enogh to bite that is just once really good. To pull this off they need to know how to be really good at hideing. They lurk. They have increadably good eyesight. To better see you with my dear. The night time is the time they prefer to hunt. Anything that hides the fact they are about to pounce is preferred 10 to 1. I really don't like these spiders. When your an arachnaphopic and you wake up in the middle of the night laughing. It's not fun to set there and realize that the reason for this is because one crawled on you.
There's times when I see people like this. There's the Orb Weavers who are cool to watch and you know where they are and where you are. Then there's the wolf spider hopeing you stay feeling safe and secure just long enough.
When I first found my dragonfly and realized what it was saying to me it was an increadable moment in my life. Not the greatest moment as far as being what most consider good. It was good because it was a time I started realizeing somethings about myself. I started waking up to the world around me and what I want out of it. I started thinking about the sort of person I was and the sort of person I'd rather be. In order to change the veiw on the world you need to change the person. I was the only one who could do that. It seems that my dragonfly was smart but not smart enough. Which isn't such a bad thing. He played his part even in his end. One thing leads to the next. The spider is making himself known. I wander what he'll have to teach me and where this chapter in my life will lead to. I can hope and do what I can but sometimes you have to see what another night will bring.
* If it must be known the only truely smart spider is one in which stays out of my sight. It has been shown that if your a spider within my sight there is a good chance life won't hold much surprise anymore.
4/13/2005 12:10 pm
Hmm... clarity through bugs and other living things. Clarity comes all in a swoosh, visual sound bites of the mind. I figure all that's to be learned is in that first breakthrough moment, and the rest is just ruminations, chewing the cud, turning what was pristine and concise into indistinguishable sludge. Clarity is best touched lightly, seen from the corner of your eye, ghostly echoes of an indian dancing. |
When I was younger I was really into the Don Juan (Casteneda) books. There was a following surrounding those books in the beginning that morphed into a cult later on. Several of us ate them up as soon as they appeared. The best ones were the first ones. I got things practical out of them, like how to walk in the dark, and things not so practical or even understandable, but mysterious and glowing and to my mind totally possible. I dug them, they were all about clarity and how to use it. Seemed right to me, filled in that gap that was missing from my lack of religious indoctrination, gave me a sense of structure and drama that was fluid and mysterious and seemed to fit with my own experiences just fine.
The world was an absurd and amazing place then, half the culture frozen in lockstep and the other half (literally- there were millions of us boomers all at once) just opening our eyes to the beauty and the horror. America, ever on a warlike paranoid stance found the greatest enemy to its way of life, the status quo, was its own kids. When everything seemed like dogma and lies and lines started getting drawn, we started marching and they started busting heads.
It all seemed so absurd. We were young, things were different than before, and why couldn't they see it? Among people my age along the western coast the Don Juan books were a hit from the beginning. A new way to look at the world, a way full of majestic terror, hallucinogens and things understood but unknown, things out of necessity better left unknown, things that could kill you if you weren't prepared. A leap of faith, like religion, but not codified and fossilized into patterns of pageantry and whored out by charlatans on TV. All things spiritual and mystical seemed to get sucked into this country then as though we were the worlds drain for the stuff. They were practiced and splintered, plundered and exploited, and when the dust settled a lot of them were all used up.
Words like "mystical" and "goddess" are of that time, and to still hear them bantered about, to try to inject some kind of coinage into their corpses is next to impossible for me. They're like paper cups w/ the bottoms torn out. "Mystical" is such a thought stopper. It's a word that seems to flutter like a standard held up high. It's pretty to watch and its sound rolls lustfully off the tongue. But it's so broad and bland as a concept that it's nearly transparent. I know there are things happening that can only be called mystical, but for the life of me I can't say that word w/o feeling like I'm trying hard not to swallow my tongue.
And "goddess" to me is just downright irksome. Seems the domain of older women (you've got to be around for awhile to attain such status) and seems to suspend all other considerations. It's a justification in itself for adoration. To take on that crown seems more than a bit of wishful thinking. It harkens to all to come and learn from the alter of experience, to bow down in the presence of spiritual enlightenment, and while you're there do something w/ your tongue. Its choreography is so precise and strung w/ so many vague catchwords that it looks like a Christmas tree. It makes my teeth hurt. I should profile myself as God Guttertramp, or better yet Sir God Guttertramp, seer of the sewer, and listen as the guffaws ripple round the world. "Divas" and "goddesses" are best left for camp.
But that's not what I'm here to really talk about. Clarity w/ bugs and animals is really what's on my mind. Along w/ Don Juan came all things indian, clothes and jewelry and communes in the desert, peyote, rituals and myths and a deeper reverence for nature. And spirit-guides. I got one of these early on in my 20's, though for me w/ my way of treating any and all clarifications as punctuation marks in a natural progression of learning, just put it in your pocket and move on, got more of a spirit-sidekick. It wasn't a lesson that was learned for the first time, more a deeper understanding of lessons already known. A visual sound bite experienced, understood and noted in a moment, like a highlighted quote from Reader's Digest. It's deeper meanings, if any, are beyond me now. I'm left only w/ the memory and a special kinship w/ another species, a spider.
When I was a kid I'd spend my days in the nefarious pleasures particular to males. Swinging kittens round and round by the tail, taunting the dog w/ a shovel, picking apart the huge grasshoppers that swooped into the garden, swatting junebugs in mid-flight w/ a beat-up tennis racket, stalking and catching wily spiders in the most ingenious of ways. I could say it grew out of one of my jobs as a kid, which was to pick the caterpillars off the maple tree by the driveway and squash them in the street when my mother would return home. She'd honk the car horn and wait for me to finish scouring the bark before driving into the garage. She had a real thing about worms, related to a very sexual dream about snakes she had when she was a child. She'd simply loose it all at once, sobbing uncontrollably and throwing up. So it was my job to rid her world of all things wormy. But that's not the reason why I was such a terror to animals. Perhaps it was coming home at the age of 5 to find our boxer dog had hung himself at the end of his choker-chain while chasing a cat over the patio wall. No, it wasn't that either. I just had a mean streak, and still do, though it's tempered w/ time whereas then I was just discovering it and like all kids testing its boundaries and tasting its pleasures, power and such.
The backyard had a long fence that was covered in old ivy, the kind that grows into clumpy tree-like structures if given the time, and throughout the ivy the funnel-shaped webs of the wolf spider, as we called them, reigned king. During the springtime you could barely see the ivy for the soft gray dimples of webs that covered it, and during spring in California also would come the small butterflies that looked like jet fighters w/ their 4-wing assemblage and faces as cute as cuddly bunnies. They were so easy to catch they barely begged for it. I'd tie a sewing thread around their necks, catch them one after the other and hang them in a row from the chin-up bar until I had several, twitching and fluttering like a slew of desperadoes all hung in a row. Then I'd put them to work. I'd dangle them in the funnel webs and let them flutter away, watching as the wolf spider, a very cautious breed and not easily taken-in by ham-handed human attempts at tweaking their webbing w/ sticks or blades of grass. The butterfly was the real deal, and the wolf spider was definitely interested. You could see him in the recesses of his funnel and he was on high alert. Always wary, he'd dart a little closer, sensing all as his curiosity and bloodlust notched up, dart a little closer, then finally rush the poor butterfly and sink in his fangs while gripping it tight. It was an easy thing w/ the sucker so enraptured to lift both right out of the web and drop them in a jar. Then I'd take them to the street and step on them. Kid kicks, base and blunt. To round out this scene of tepid carnage in the backyard, when I grew tired of the hunt and still had a few butterflies dangling and fluttering from the chin-up bar, I'd simply pull on the end of the thread left hanging and decapitate them all, one after the other. Wretched wickedness.
When I was 7 or 8 we moved to a new house in a different suburb. It was a brick and tile spanish-style house, lots of room in the yard, a swimming pool (so. cal after all), a ragged badminton court and a garage off by itself. I'd learned my lesson about pain by then, that it's a reciprocal thing, that dishing it out eventually comes back knocking on your door. This was the dog and shovel experience, where my tormenting, jabbing the shovel into the ground closer and closer until the poor animal went into hysterics howling unceasingly until I crawled under the bush where it cowered and threw my arms around it promising to god that I'd never ever never do such stuff again if it'd only shut-up. I was trying to save my own ass from a spanking of course, but I was also horrified by the dogs howlings because it was obvious that some sort of mental breakdown was happening and I'd caused it. Anyway, it had the desired results. Tormention and pain of small unsuspecting critters simply was an impulse I was purged of, swept away by the the waves of fear and anguish in that dogs howls. I began seeing in bugs their particularness, the way the big black stink-beetle would scurry across the patio and sensing something big nearby would halt abruptly and stick its rump high in the air, or the sound that junebugs made when you cupped them lightly in your hand and shook them, that little squeal of distress that sounded so much like that line from the original movie The Fly where the human-headed fly's trapped in the spiders web and cries out "Help me! Help me! Ooooo...." before Vincent Price steps on it in horror. I was a gent, it was all good clean fun, and the junebug was soon given over to the care of the bushes, not much worse off than before. But it was here that I discovered the most magnificent breed of garden spider, the orb-maker you speak of, that I'd ever seen. The garden spiders I was aware of were pretty run-of-the-mill for me, small and tawny and sort of ho-hum. But running around the garage one day I dashed into the overgrown walk-area along its side and immediately drew up short before a huge yellow and black tiger-striped garden spider, sitting calmly in the center of his web. The web was pulsating back and forth inches from my nose. I thought for years that the movement of the web must have been due to a breeze I'd kicked up in drawing short, and don't remember ever seeing another of its kind until years later when I lived up in Oregon. A group of us went out picking wild blackberries for winter storage and in amongst the tangle of bushes were these same big yellow tiger-stripes in webs as large as baskets on guidelines that stretched for feet, sometimes yards. They were kings of their territory and showed no fear. And when you'd get close they'd pulsate the webs w/ their legs to warn you away. The mystery of the web memory was finally answered.
It was while I was living there that I met the most important to me of the genera, the jumping spider, the one you call wolf. I was sitting on the porch of my rented cabin stoned on smoke as I often was in those days, when I noticed a spider on the stunted sunflower growing next to the steps. It was something new to me, small and dark and compact, a head full of iridescent eyes, hairy as a Sicilian, two large pincers that he worked as deftly as chopsticks, and a serene kind of attitude as though we were two strangers waiting for a bus. We were aware of each other but so what. Never having seen his kind before I decided to test his fear factor and put out my finger close to his face. Nothing from the spider, no hunch down wariness or even acknowledgment. So I moved my finger closer 'till it was nearly touching him. W/o the slightest change in attitude the spider lifted its front leg and tapped my finger twice, as if to say hello. "Myy.." I thought, "now there's something new". But then the spider did something else that was absolutely singular. He traipsed to the edge of the leaf and hopped off trailing thread to the leaf below, then scurried up the stalk and took his position on leaf #1 again. I put my finger out and he tapped it twice once more, then did his hop down and scurry back up to his original spot again. I congratulated him laughing and he tapped my finger again in acknowledgment. We were like two boozy buddies amusing ourselves over beers by wiggling our ears and double-jointing our thumbs.
Since then the jumping spider has been my spirit-sidekick, spirit because there's a kinship in personality and he's obviously close to my heart, we've shared something special, some cross-species meld, and sidekick because I don't really know where else to put this experience. I don't converse with these spiders, they don't whisper to me in my dreams. But they're the naz as far as I'm concerned. I lay down in the grass and watch them on their prowl. They're the hill-people of the spider world, mysterious intelligent hunters, lone stalkers w/ a casual and fearless air. The valley folk whisper and mythologize them. I'll squash the house spider who lives in dusty corners if he scurries across my bed because I know he's out for a meal or bound to make me jump. But the jumping spider is a relative of mine, and if I find him on my bed I'll put down my hand, talk to him soothingly, let him make his inquiries until he climbs up on board, then take him to the side of the room where he won't get squashed or outside and watch as he pops off and sits alert and poised perusing the grass.
The other spider that claims a significant place in my personal lexicon, my structure of superstitions and meaningful relative experiences I won't name and shouldn't even think of. Such stuff gives power to it, so I won't.
Besides, you're probably squirming in your chair scratching up your legs already.
AdultFriendFinder is such a turkey of an operation sometimes. My 1st posting of this days ago seemed to go through then disappeared as though eaten by the machine. 2nd time that's happened, aggravating as hell.