L'hommage: Nina Simone | Blog

"Whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die."

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Mon, 30 Jul 2007 16:40:00 +0000

Simply because you cannot come to terms with the meaning of life and the inevitable truth of death does not mean you should unapologetically fabricate an entire religion to in order to magically escape your own beautiful mortality.
It will not work.
Not matter what-th you believe-th...you will still die-th if you live-th.
There will be nothing after; you will be dead.
As is Jesus...

...or whoever the fuck that one guy was that they nailed up on all that wood.

If Paris Is Burning…So Is France

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Sun, 10 Jun 2007 04:29:00 +0000

Is it possible to be an advocate without being self righteous?
Ok, so this blog is also about Paris Hilton…but I didn't want to just come out and say it right off because I'm loathe to admit I'm actually writing, in part, about her.
There are many dimensions to the current Paris phenomena and this leaves so much room for us to learn and talk about ourselves.
I've never…ever ever…understood her mass appeal. I don't find her talented, intriguing, attractive, fascinating, captivating, stimulating. Hell, I could go on and on and on about the many ways Paris Hilton fails to entertain, amuse or demand respect. Same said for Britney, Ritchie, Lohan, Beyonce, etc. They are all dispensable, replaceable…worst of all - manufactured. Though, I imagine none more so manufactured through privilege than Paris herself.
That, obviously, would be reason one why we take pleasure in her demise. I myself smiled when I heard she was dragged from court crying and screaming. This heiress of disgusting opulence and advocate only for herself; it's hard to imagine a more satiating outcome than pictures of the princess handcuffed in a patrol car crying for her freedom, her comfortable life, her mother. However, my smile was fleeting because those pictures weren't truly satisfying as the princess was crying only for herself. And, why shouldn't she be?
No matter what kind of satisfaction any of us might get from the latest chapter of the Paris phenomenon because we think she received "justice" without garnering any "special treatment" the truth is none of this will likely cause her to do any soul searching introspection - - ironically, quite the opposite. Hell, she tipped her hand as she was escorted out of court and back to jail when she declared, "This isn't right!"
She doesn't believe it is right…her parents don't believe it is right. Likely, no one encompassing her believes it is right and everyone at her ear is a chorus bewailing the injustice of it all. The ego and identity of Paris will refuse, out of pure function alone, to admit her role in this ordeal. Just like she can everything else, she can afford denial. She will likely refuse to own up to her actions and the consequences of those actions. She, and everyone around her, will expectedly blame this outcome on the vindictiveness of the public who only wish to see her suffer for being such a fucking disgusting princess.
In part, they are right. They are right because we've created the possibility for them to be right. Many of us wish to see her suffer and I'm sure some of us even hope this suffering will, in some way, cause her to change. Maybe some of us don't give two shits if she changes or not. Maybe she's just the proverbial car crash we simply can't look away from. Whatever the reasons, we have fed her ego, given her a sense of self righteousness beyond the common one inherent in all humankind. We all take part in making her what she is simply by looking in her direction, even if out of pure disgust.
So, if Paris is burning so, too, are we. Not only is she a part of our culture and not only did our culture build her but she isn't reacting any differently than most of us would in her situation. She is acting out of the self preservation of ego. Granted, she probably has an ego more expansive than any of us could ever know but I imagine we all have the potential. We all have the potential to not own up to our actions and the consequences of those actions. We all have the potential to rally around our loved ones and tell them they are in the 'right' when all signs we are blind to point to the fact that they could not have been more in the 'wrong.'
Very, very little is mentioned about what landed Paris in this predicament in the first place: drunk driving. Not to be a hypocrite, as I've been behind the wheel in the past when I definitely should not have been, but that should be the real meat of the issue here. Driving under the influence is indefensible. Sure, she might kill herself…and I wouldn't have sympathy for that just like I didn't when I found out Josh Hancock was under the influence when he killed himself. Hell, many people watched the House of Wax remake just to see Paris die. But, what if she were to kill someone else? What if her actions had consequences for someone's life other than her own? Would that actually cause her to look at herself and reconsider her actions? Who fucking knows.
Who fucking knows what makes any of us take a long hard look at ourselves and own up to the shit we do that simply isn't right.
Even more disheartening…what about the times when we are absolutely convinced what we are doing is right and for the good of some or all? What about people like Bill O'Reilly, George Bush, Rush Limbaugh, Osama, etc. They all believe they are right as they advocate for what they believe. Further, they are fully self righteous in their beliefs, as are we all.
Is it possible to be an advocate without being self righteous?
Is it possible to not only look away from Paris Hilton but to not be Paris ourselves?
If Paris is burning, so is France. We can't afford denial. We can't reward the princess for acting like a princess and then celebrate when the princess suffers because we want to see her in pain for being a princess in the first place. If we can't look away from Paris, and all the people like her we've propped up, then we have to at least be able to see the parts of ourselves that are reflected in them.
Who of us would not want to scream and cry for our freedom, our comfortable lives, our mothers…even if our own actions took those things away from us?

My soul belongs to...

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Sat, 31 Mar 2007 19:31:00 +0000

Just added - a new bumper sticker design by yours truly in the L'hommage: Nina Simone Online Store:

Show the world how much you love and miss the irreplaceable Dr. Nina Simone!!

(click here to purchase the new bumper sticker design.)

Don't forget the check out the rest of the officialL'hommage: Nina Simone Online Store...and check out the rest of L'hommage: Nina Simone (www.high-priestess.com) as well. New materials (photos, news, videos, links, lyrics, archive goodies) are added all the time.

You can even join us in the Nina Simone Community Forum where we have over 1,000 articles and a ton of members. All Nina Simone, all the time - - everything you've ever wanted to know!!Keep on keepin' on!

(The new sticker comes at a perfect time considering I just got a new car. Convenient, don't you think?!?!)

Sort me out.

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Sun, 25 Mar 2007 15:43:00 +0000

I get everything just the way I want and then become preoccupied with tearing it all down since I can barely bear the thought I was so intent on things being just so in the first place. There's no justification of my efforts, there's only trivialization of my desires. My mom says I sabotage myself; my mom is a wise woman. I'd like to think I deconstruct myself but I am not a wise man. I follow the wrong paths and upon backtracking become so consumed with why and how I ended up in the wrong that I lose touch of the urgency of finding the right. It's hard to learn your lessons when you can't get over the fact that you've made mistakes. It's hard to grow when you've got this ego.

I have an affinity for this woman and she's seemingly rather well-adjusted. I am not well-adjusted. When I talk to someone who knows me and is familiar with my story they suggest I might be well-adjusted considering. That's what kills me, the considering part. I don't want to be well-adjusted considering everything that's happened to me - with me, because of me. I want to be well-adjusted without any qualifier. This woman might even herself be well-adjusted considering everything that's happened to her; hell, we might all be. Still, I want to just be well-adjusted sans any "considering." I don't feel there and I'm unconvinced what, if anything, will or can get me there. When I'm with her I feel more sorted. It's proving quite hard to take things slowly.

Little do I know I'm happier now than I've ever been. Even when my best friend tells me I'm becoming old and boring all I can think is…but I'm happy. Everything once evocative and fun seems more pretentious, destructive, affected, and pathological than it did when I "knew" what I was doing. Everyone whose opinion once mattered (even when they weren't or aren't participating in my life) has been properly relegated to the margins.

I've been in this race to accomplish a handful of these things before I turn thirty. I have an image in my head of what a thirty-year-old is meant to look like and it'll be non-stop for me until I've aligned myself as closely to that image as I can. I realize fully this is fruitless. Realization alone does not stop the compulsion. I rather like the race.

Just once, before I turn thirty, let me do the right thing more often than I do the wrong.

Everything must change...

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Wed, 21 Mar 2007 02:21:00 +0000

"Everything must change; nothing remains the same."

How possible is it for someone to profoundly change their mind about something, change an aspect of their personality or self, change their perspective? Is it possible for these types of changes to be made fully consciously, with a mixture of sapience and humility? (Not necessarily epistemologically speaking but, moreover, a simple change in one's attitude through deconstruction of ego or even increased willingness to become disillusioned with either oneself or the world.)
When was the last time you changed - - truly changed: identifiably, definitively, consciously? What precipitated the change?
It's disheartening to think we all might be lobbyists to kindred souls...only really speaking to those we already identify with...only truly touching those who remind us of ourselves, who we'd like to be, who we'd like to think we are...only actually preaching to the choir whilst the most important audience remains locked outside preaching to their own.
If everything must change when does it start? With whom does it start? How does it start? How is it nurtured? How is it accepted?
...and how willing are we to give each other the freedom to fundamentally, profoundly, humbly change?

Gross Desire

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Wed, 14 Mar 2007 14:03:00 +0000

When navigating through large groups of people I often reduce everyone in sight to their gross bodily functions; everyone appears an automaton intent on eating, shitting, fucking, producing mucus and disgustingly so on. Waves of people become a dance of gross bodily functions with the participants barely able to control their own movements apart from a biological drive to perform one of the aforementioned actions. Consciousness, spirituality, intelligence – all just an afterthought, if even that.
This could be some kind of defense mechanism on my part. If everyone is just the sum of and a slave to their physicality and any subsequent behavior is but a mere extension of some biological drive then individuals become less of a threat to me in that any harm one might reap upon myself would be logical using these biological drives as a frame of reference. That is, if I get in the way of someone's drive to eat, shit, fuck, etc. then it would make sense they would act out. This kind of thinking would likely stem from the kind of work I do. Working with people with severe mental illness can leave one grasping for logic behind human behavior when there simply is no logic to be found. It is generally our ego that acts out and, without appropriate insight from us, our ego tends to be wildly illogical - especially if an individual feels they do not have adequate control over a situation…even if we don't or can't acknowledge who is responsible for creating or perpetuating the situation. Though we may be the cause of our own suffering, we first need the capacity to identify suffering as suffering and not misidentify it as need or desire.
My reaction could also be an extension of my ego. I could reduce everyone so degradingly because I generally see other people (especially the masses) as little more than a series of stimulus/response mechanisms. I've encountered so few people who demonstrate any kind of capacity to go beyond what is expected of them, beyond what they've been taught they should or could be, beyond whatever indoctrination has been engrained into them, beyond their basic programming – that all I'm left with are malls filled with slack-jawed consumers bent on eating and fucking their way to death.
I think I'm severely suffering from a gross desire for a world filled with better people.

Not a mirror

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Tue, 14 Nov 2006 23:34:00 +0000

Clichés caught me when
My metabolism slowedTo the pace of these responsibilities
I was once too charming to fulfill

Now my boy
Only wants me to be proud
Not of my reflection
But of him

Who are you fucking?

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Sun, 12 Nov 2006 01:27:00 +0000

We have willingly reduced ourselves to a culture of pageantry. Our egos seldom make it past adolescence in any kind of significant way. The most we are seemingly capable of these days is bragging about the many ways in which we have become what we were taught we are supposed to be – then celebrating or promoting those who boast the loudest.
Those who were most popular during adolescence were those who most successfully played into the perceived gender roles. The most popular guys were the athletic, tough, aloof, arrogant, aggressive, cocky, "masculine" ones. The most popular girls were the pretty, bitchy, materialistic, sexy, fashionable, "feminine" ones. Anyone who fell outside these strict roles had to rely on other things to get by. While we may not be in high school any longer, these roles have followed us into adulthood, intensified and pervaded our egos in obvious and subtle ways.
In essence we have all allowed ourselves to believe we are nothing more than what we were taught we were supposed to be. We seldom strive for more. This has serious psychological consequences – consequences we experience everyday. Every time we open our mouths and complain about our lives we ignore the fact that our behavior utterly contradicts these complaints. We are the source of our own superficial suffering. It is our own fault we have bought into all of this bullshit and the only things keeping us from getting past it are our massive fucking egos.
The majority of us do not actually have sex. The majority of us simply use another human being as a means of masturbation. We merely rub up against each other and use one another to get off and unconsciously affirm we have successfully become what we think we're supposed to be, as "men" and "women". We reduce attraction to a series of behavioral signifiers and we think mastering these behaviors automatically entitles us to the object of our desires. We think if we attract someone it means something about us as a person, increases our worth and makes us successful…as if sex and sexuality were a commodity.
We experience profound loneliness because we align sex with carnality rather than intimacy and connection. We value the physical feeling of "horniness" more than the longing to be close to someone else. We use sex as a means to define our self rather than letting our self define what sex means to us.
In short, sex and sexuality have become an extension of our egos rather than our hearts and minds. We apply predetermined roles to ourselves and assume the sexual activity we engage in is based on what we are when in fact it is based on who we are. Every taste, every desire, every fantasy, every attraction is inextricably connected to what we perceive ourselves to be and if this perception is limited, distorted, denied, delusional or reticent then so, too, will be our ability to connect with another person.
Think about that the next time you are fucking somebody and ask yourself if you are fucking them because of what they are and because of what you are or if you are fucking them because of who they are and because of who you are.
Who are they? Who are you?
If you cannot answer those questions then why are you fucking anyone?

The son also wises...

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Sat, 11 Nov 2006 10:16:00 +0000

My son is so much like me that it is actually frightening – especially considering the fact that I did not raise him. Not only does he resemble me but he has somehow inherited many of my idiosyncrasies, many of my mannerisms, many of my gestures. He does some of the same annoying pestering I do…and I can tell he also knows how annoying it is but he still can't keep himself from doing it, either. He longs for the same attention and in the same ways. How the fuck can that be genetic?!?!
Because of all of this, looking into the face of my son has been the only thing in my life to actually let me feel okay being who I am. He is living proof there is nothing wrong with me, there never has been and I am just like everyone else. That saddest thing about this is the obviousness of those statement themselves – I think there is something wrong with me, I've always thought there was something wrong with me and I've thought I'm nothing like anyone else.
My childhood experience set me far apart from people at an early age. So much sick shit happened to me and my family in such a short amount of time and at such critical points I'm surprised we all made it out the other end as well off as we did – though each of us has our baggage...but then again who out there doesn't, right?
Still, these days I actually identify more with humans in general. I finally grasp the sentiments, the clichés, the normalcy. While I used to reject all of these things in other people as a sign of their smallness and unintelligence, I know most of that was just my ego getting the best of me and me trying to convince myself that being unknowable means you are unattainable and, therefore, somehow better than other people.
The past year or so I've begun learning the lessons most people my age learned long ago. The hardest one of these I've had to learn is how I'm not nearly as special as I would like to think I am.
All I am is a man with a son whom I already love very much; a son who is capable of teaching me more than I was ever able to teach myself – and he doesn't even have to try.

"Ask them this question: 'What's your plan?' The truth is the Democrats can't answer that."

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Mon, 06 Nov 2006 16:03:00 +0000

"Ask them this question: 'What's your plan?' The truth is the Democrats can't answer that." — President Bush
(To a crowd in Missouri, criticizing the Democrats' plan for Iraq.)

This, coming from the administration with no plans - no plans for anything. This, coming from the administration with a "justify as you go" and "learn as you fuck-up" strategy.

Most anti-war people allow themselves to fall into the obvious traps of Iraq war discourse... the biggest trap being - the war was wrong from the very beginning, so don't let anyone start an argument from any other position.

The war in Iraq, from all accounts and purposes, was a mistake if not an all-out lie. (Chances are, it was a big fucking lie.)

So, what do you say when posed with the question "what is your plan"?

You say:

- First of all, the absolute truth is we never should've been there in the first place.
- We wouldn't need to determine the right course of action if the wrong course of action hadn't already landed us in this quagmire.
- How can we expect the administration who dishonestly got us into this mess to be the ones to magically get us out?

Never, never, never lose sight of the fact that this is and was from the beginning a wrong and unjust war. Never let the opposition control the discourse by deflecting from this fact. Never let them pretend like there are some secondary, hidden, altruistic "justifications" for this war that we should just blindly accept simply because we are now in the midst of it.

That's what Bush is counting on - the fact that we're in the midst of war is going to detract from the fact that most people know the war itself is wrong. Him and his administration are going to twist any protest against the war for their own purposes: ie, acts of unpatriotic, troop abandoning treason. Every twist and turn they make should be met with equal twisting and turning back toward the truth.

What is our plan? To get the fuck out if it - in a way that's in the best interests for the most amount of people.

Because, you see, we want out...unlike the Republicans who want (and have wanted since the beginning) to be in the war. So, who do you honestly think is more likely to get us out of the war: the folks who know the invasion was wrong from the beginning or the folks who continue to blatantly lie just to fail at "justifying" the war?

"The truth is the Democrats can't answer that." - - - well then how about we start listing all the questions Bush can't answer?

Hell, how about we list all the sentences Bush can't form.

Ok, a little more realistically, perhaps Bush could explain exactly what the fuck his plan is (and has been) - instead of once again...as his administration is so adept at doing...deflecting from the real issue.

Apparently us whites will gentrify anything - even slavery.

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Sun, 05 Nov 2006 01:02:00 +0000

The first time I heard Britney Spears' "Slave 4 U" I couldn't help think to myself, "who does this vapid rich white bitch think she is...singing about being a slave of all things?" I expected much more of an uproar about the content of the song - hell, any uproar - but people generally seemed to accept it as pure pop...that is, absolute meaninglessness meant only to satiate our commodified eardrums.
Now Brit's male counterpart - ultimate imitator, never innovator - Justin Timberfake, has declared he's bringing the "sexy back." Nevermind the fact that we're meant to take lessons in eroticism from some bloke so blandly vanilla he'd probably cold-cock the first girl who tried going in for the great ass-dive to massage his prostate but, once again, here we have yet another white "icon" singing the praises of being a "slave": "I'm your slave. I'll let you whip me if I misbehave."
What the fuck do either of these two twits know about being a slave? And who the fuck do they think they are evoking that kind of powerful imagery for the sake of "entertainment"?
We as consumers buy it though, and that's the problem. We pretend like it's insignficant or means something else or doesn't matter because it's just music. We decide not to be offended because these days being offended by something means you're just taking things "too seriously."
All of us are vaguely familiar with the world of S&M and the terminology they use to depict dominance ("master") and submissivity ("slave") but that doesn't mean we are obligated to accept these misappropriations. That doesn't mean we have to accept that sickness into our consciousness and confuse sex/power dynamics with historic human atrocities. There is nothing sexual or erotic, ladies and gents, about slavery and there's absolutely nothing entertaining about it.
Jews are very protective of the word "holocaust" - for obvious and just reasons.
Could you imagine Brit or Timberfake gentrifying and exploiting the idea of the Holocaust for entertainment purposes and singing about how they desire someone so greatly that they'd be a "concentration camp prisoner" and that person could be their "Schutzstaffel"?
Why are we so willing, then, to allow people to misappropriate the true nature of slavery? When did we decide it was appropriate for people to depict something as inhumane as fucking slavery in an acceptable, erotic, glorified way?
Do we really not give a damn? Are we truly not willing to take something that seriously? Will we seriously pretend like there are different levels of slavery?
If so, then we deserve whatever we get. We deserve to be endlessly punished by shitty music à la thoughtless white "entertainers" - and...whaddya know...that's exactly what we are getting.

Point to kill.

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Thu, 07 Sep 2006 18:14:00 +0000

It never ceases to amaze me how limited and small most thinking can be and how obvious this is. Inevitably, we've been inundated with news story after news story about the evils of MySpace. A girl gets tricked and kidnapped by a predator because of MySpace. A teenage couple go on a killing spree because of MySpace. A school-wide fight breaks out because of MySpace.

Rather than face aspects of humanity existing no matter what means of manifestation are available, we choose to focus on the means themselves...in this case, damn evil MySpace. Give me a fucking break. Even without MySpace, there would still be predators, there would still be rampageous teens and there would still be school fights. MySpace has absofuckinglutely nothing to do with it. Still, we place blame on the means rather than where it belongs: on ourselves. Nothing like good ole abdication of responsibility, huh?

You know who really grinds my fucking gears? Bill O'Reilly.

He's a prime fucking example of someone who points to kill.

You know what really grinds Bill fucking O'Reilly's gears? Hollywoodites who just won't keep their mouths shut when it comes to things like the war in Iraq, the environment, gay marriage, etc. Bill thinks they have no right or reason to use their publicity (just as he does) in a way which promotes their individual causes, passions, opinions, etc. Mr. O'Reilly really thinks stars and musicians need to shut the fuck up.

Except

(yeah, except)

except when the fucking agree with him. When one of these so-called musicians or stars has ideals that are aligned with Mr. O'Reilly's, he's more than content with them, more than willing to extend his hand and talk show in order to give them a platform to continue propagating and espousing their own set of beliefs. When he runs into a star or (say, for instance) country singer who supports the war in Iraq or someone who vehemently defends the Bush administration's "war on terror" as he himself so frequently does then all of a sudden Bill O'Reilly doesn't think Hollywoodites need to shut the fuck up. All of a sudden, when the voice he hears echoes his own, Bill O'Reilly thinks everyone in the fucking world needs to hear what that person has to say.

So, in essence, what Mr. O'Reilly does and what all of those folks out there who blame MySpace for the perils of the world do is point to kill. That is, they place blame on someone or something in the hopes of getting rid of it or them with the foolish logic that getting rid of that someone or something is going to magically rid the world of anything and everything they don't believe in or agree with.

You see...if we get rid of MySpace, there won't be any more predators. Heck, there wouldn't have been any without MySpace in the first place, right? And if we make all those Hollywood folks we dont agree with shut the fuck up then their ideas wont be valid and they (along with everyone else) will change their minds, right? Heck, the only reason they think those things in the first place is because they're from Hollywood, right?

The degree to which someones thinking is limited becomes apparent by the ways in which they attempt to quash, invalidate and/or silence anything which contradicts or challenges them. Rather than taking up the task of actual thought, disciplined logic, or mature reasoning they simply seek to point at and kill anything or anyone standing in their way. It's much easier, you see, to place blame and abdicate responsibility rather than cope and deal with all aspects of humanity. It's much easier, you see, to silence those we disagree with while simultaneously promoting those we agree with rather than promoting the intellectual and expressive freedom of all individuals.

Next time you happen upon Mr. O'Reilly's show take notice of how often he points that disgusting wrinkled grey finger of his and ask yourself what he really hopes to accomplish by constantly placing blame and aggressively demanding acquiescence.

Oh, the duality of it all...

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Tue, 15 Aug 2006 05:56:00 +0000

One is for the many things you gave
Two is for the many things you took

Three is for the eternity it takes to mend
But one from three still equals two

The complete life lesson...

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Mon, 17 Jul 2006 11:05:00 +0000

Wanting it means you'll never have it. Having it means you can't feel it. Feeling it means you'll never know it. Knowing it means you can't be it. Being it means you'll never want it.

My turn at the crazy.

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Sun, 02 Jul 2006 06:06:00 +0000

I'm much better than I used to be but, still, I hadn't really been put to the test for quite a while and I must say this last one I came close to failing. It's the 'what ifs' that get me.

"Where are the what ifs, the what ifs and why?"

The uncertainty also gets me. My mind races, my stomach knots, my mind races some more. All the work I've done, all the studying, all the counseling and I still lose too much objectivity when the situation is a completely personal and deeply significant one. When I'm faced with a situation where I have no control mixed with considerable emotional and mental investment and I'm left feeling unsure or anxious, I start to lose it. I don't actually lose it...I just start to.

I do have a fair share of checks and balances in place so I don't ever quite lose it completely. If I've learned anything from my clients (and some friends) it's how not to completely lose it. The way not to lose it is by not becoming utterly self-involved. The way not to lose it is to look at the situation and see yourself in it without losing sight of the goal and your own role in obtaining the goal. Many times people will focus only on themselves or only on the goal. However, what's most influential in the equation is one's own role in obtaining the goal, whatever the goal might be. Most of my clients focus only on themselves - they are completely self-involved. Most seemingly sane people focus only on the goal - they completely lack personal insight or vision. Both methods are just as dysfunctional to me. It's our role that truly matters and makes the difference.

Still, in some situations when you're dealing with other people (especially important personal situations), starting to lose it is just as bad as losing it...because starting to lose it looks to someone else like you've already lost it and many times there's just no going back on that. There's no backtracking on losing it. There's no backpedaling on crazy.

There's just no talking yourself out of a situation in which you start to seem crazy...because trying to talk yourself out of it just makes you seem even crazier.

And that's the position I put myself in today...it was my turn at the crazy.

I even watched myself do it, as I was doing it. Things weren't going how they were "supposed" to, how they were "meant" to...how I'd had my heart set on. Things didn't quite make "perfect" sense. So I allowed myself to freak out a little bit.

What I should've done is taken a nap and had something to eat. That's what I ended up doing right after I freaked out a little and, well, it made all the difference in the world. If only I'd done it right before the freak out.

I guess from now on it's going to be nap time and snack time for any of my clients whenever they start to lose it. I suppose I need to follow the same order.

Here comes the sun...

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Sun, 25 Jun 2006 03:28:00 +0000

Those closest to me know what's going on in my life and it's not really at an appropriate stage to get into details yet but for those who don't know let me just say I've never been so full of hope, excitement, and anticipation or felt such potential for profound happiness.
I've never been the kind of person who believes "everything happens for a reason". Rather, the way I look at it is everything that happens is what needed to happen. Perhaps that's just a matter of semantics but we all must articulate the world in a manner that reflects what we truly feel or perceive.
Maybe what's going on is still part of that whole Saturn Return thing. Maybe it's just the natural order of things. Maybe it's what needs to happen and the time is right.
Whatever it is, I couldn't be happier with what everything in my life is now leading me up to. It truly is the best thing ever; this makes me feel complete and alive in a way I would've never expected. I will be able to (and will of course) go into it with greater depth later when it's more appropriate but I just had to say something because we all know how much I love to talk and the anticipation is just killing me.
It's something that has to be taken slowly, with care and caution, so the anticipation is certainly a necessary torture.
I'm just so fucking happy!

I'm sure Kevin was just another faggot...

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Mon, 12 Jun 2006 04:37:00 +0000

I'm sure Kevin was just another faggot...
Kevin Aviance was attacked in NY's East Village this weekend. I'm sure to his attackers he was just another faggot who doesn't deserve basic respect:
http://www.nydailynews.com/front/story/425696p-359070c.html
Gee, I wonder where they could possibly get the idea that gays don't deserve basic human respect and equality:

When will we as a people learn we cannot treat others based upon our mere opinions? When will we learn that, while we are free to hate whomever the fuck we want, our rights end at our own personal feelings. To treat people according to our hate, bigotry, intolerance or disapproval is to teach everyone around us to do the same to anyone they have a distaste for as well.
Defense of marriage?
When was the last time marriage was beaten in the streets while being called a "faggot" and subsequently had its jaw wired shut?
Marriage doesn't need defending; people do.
It must be nice to be born white, male, heterosexual, and wealthy. Apparently then you get to dictate how the rest of the world is to go about living their less-fortunate-than-you lives. Too bad you might also turn out to be about as intelligent as a box of burnt hair.

Making Time

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Thu, 01 Jun 2006 03:32:00 +0000

My time tries hard
To be onions
Chopped bits of irregularity
With enough discontinuous space
Burning between each fleshy portion
For such bittersweet sap
To seep salty stained tears
Into every single acidic second

So I struggle harder
To keep my time peanut butter
Smoothed creamy cohesion
Of singular textural relations
Sticking to the roof of my house
Death being the only tongue
Powerful enough to eventually scrape
Every single seamless shingled second away

The Ultimate Contingency: Being, nothingness and the relationship between being and nothingness

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Tue, 16 May 2006 05:04:00 +0000

Language is simply not grandiose enough to perfectly articulate the relationship between the one and the many, the harmony between being and nothingness, the symmetry of the beginning and the end.
Sometimes I'm as overwhelmed as Ricky Fitts in American Beauty as he shows Jane the video of the fitful plastic bag tossed by the wind. At these times I'm equally so overcome by the beauty of everything I don't think I'll be able to stand it; I think my chest might cave in. I fear if I start to cry I may never stop - and not out of "sadness." I fear if I start to cry I will purge all of the beauty out of myself; turn gray and cold. Worse yet, I fear if I start to cry no one will understand.
I often wonder what other people out there see when they look out of themselves. I wonder how they see the world and how they go about articulating these observations and experiences to themselves or someone else. I refuse to believe every single person is not capable of profound insight or vision. Rather, I believe many people (far too many) choose routine and acquiescence.
It is so simple to me; the beauty. The beauty of it all is rooted in the answer to it all - the articulation of it all to one's self. We are human, we are alive. We are life. But, that's not all we are...that's simply what most people would like to focus on.
There's a difference between life and existence. There's a difference between matter and being. Sure, life is beautiful and matter is what we are. However, there are no answers in either of those things. The beauty of those things are only temporary. There is a more permanent beauty. There is a more permanent answer.
Follow everything to its logical conclusion. Say, for example, the end of the earth...which at some point will happen perhaps by our own making, some rogue comet or simply the sun's collapse. A shame, a pity, a huge end. Whatever we do here on earth simply, considering this end, does not matter whatsoever. The annals of human history cannot extend past the end of the earth. Therefore, immortality is not to be found in action, memory, or purpose. In other words, we're all going to be as gone as fuck one day so to live our lives by the law of pure human reality or the belief solely in human spirituality is misguided and limited. There's more to existence than matter, there's more to life than humanity.
Well, what if we were to make it off the earth? Keep following things to their logical conclusion - follow things to the end of the universe. Even if we set up camp somewhere and become interplanetary refugees, nothing could survive the end of the universe. Poof...gone. Gone gone gone.
So, what does this mean and how is there beauty in this? Isn't there beauty only in life; only in trees, flowers, water, blue skies, furry animals, emotion and human accomplishment? Aren't all of these things and isn't reality itself beauty?
Yes...but no.
A sign of maturity, after all, is being able to accept seemingly contradictory yet simultaneous answers.
Sure, life is fucking beautiful...I won't argue with that. Music itself is proof enough of that to me. I could go on and on and on about what is beautiful about life but it's nothing new, it's nothing profound, it's nothing you haven't heard before. Within reason, we all know what is beautiful about life...we all know what we cherish.
Remember, though...the difference between life (as we are speaking about it) and existence itself. Remember the difference between matter and being itself.
What happens to your "beauty" when you follow things to their logical conclusion? I'll tell you what happens - it fucking goes *poof*, bye-bye as well. Like I said, it's only finite beauty...it's not really an answer to anything. It is beauty contingent upon so many factors. Relative beauty. Relative understanding. Relative reality. This doesn't mean it's not meaningful or important, it simply means it's not all there is and it's not the most meaningful or important thing.
Being, nothingness and the relationship between being and nothingness.
There's simply nothing more beautiful than these three things - when considered separately and together. All of the answers are within this beauty...this permanent, immortal, eternal, limitless, boundless, inclusive, whole, connected, harmonious, symmetrical, balanced, infinite, and awesome beauty.
That's why it is so overwhelming...because it is everything. To let this beauty into one's self is to let everything in - even the nothingness. That is what most people fear after all...the nothingness. They fear it like they fear the cold dark vacuum of space. If one cannot see the beauty of nothingness and only the beauty of being then one still cannot fully comprehend the last part of the equation - the beauty of the relationship between being and nothingness. You cannot have one without the other. It is the ultimate contingency. You could not have all of the beauty of life were it not for the (albeit perhaps more frightening and unknown) beauty of nothingness.
To me, there is nothing more beautiful than the relationship between being and nothingness because it is the only thing that transcends and includes this ultimate contingency between being and nothingness. In other words, the relationship between being and nothingness is what constitutes everything.
And, everything is everything. It always has been...it already is. The search for answers misses the point...the answer is already here. It always has been...it already is. Seeking enlightenment, seeking the answer means you are still not ready to see.
Everything is everything; always, already.
So, if you don't understand the tears then you don't understand the beauty. If that is the case, I would like to know what you do understand and how you came to your own understanding.

I can feel it coming...

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Mon, 15 May 2006 06:19:00 +0000

First of all, I know most of y'all are fucking pervs and thought this was gunna be good and juicy. Why do I know so many pervs?!? Oh, yeah, that's right...I forgot who I am for a second.
Anyway, so yeah, I can feel it coming. Since my computer turmoil from the past month or so I haven't felt like or really been able to write much. But that's about to change. Not only is the technology back but so is my mofuckingjo. I'd kinda run out of things to write about lately and didn't want to go repeating myself again and again about the same issues, topics or themes. So I just had to wait until a few more things got twisted and turned in my head until I came up with some shit that reflects the tension between my mind and what passes for reality.
A lot of times I write in my head. Actually I don't really write in my head so much as I come up with one-liners or titles to things I'm going to write. Usually once I get the title down everything else just falls into place. I think that's because I title everything at the end and if I've come up with a title for something in my head before I've even started writing it's because I'm pretty much at the end of the thought process for whatever theme the piece is about and all I need do at that point is sit my lazy, procrastinatin' ass down and flesh it all out into words. Sometimes (but rarely) the title will change but the thought process is always the same until the piece is completely expunged from my head. Then some revisions may take place or tangents may be taken but, still, the central theme stays intact. Perhaps one day I'll have written about all the themes possible for my little head and then I'll just start making shit up. Ah hell, who am I kidding...I make shit up already. Ask anyone.
If you ever see me out somewhere and I'm either writing something down on a napkin or making a note in my cell-phone I'm most likely writing down the title of my next piece - which also probably means I've been thinking about some ol' bullshit and I think I've got something interesting to say about something or other.
Hell, we all gotta kill time somehow, don't we?
How do you kill time? What do you do? What do you have to say?
Bring it...

How quickly we become dog people.

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Sun, 14 May 2006 23:31:00 +0000

While out gallivanting around town on Friday night I compared cell-phone baby pictures with no less than three people; pictures of the furry paw and wet nose variety. I have officially become a "dog person." My dog is my fucking baby.
I've always been an animal person. I've had cats before and will likely again. I lost both my cats in break-ups and I've made an oath that the next cat I get will be my fucking cat and no matter how and when me and my future ex split I'm going to keep my fucking cat. I do like the feline personality in general though I'm not fond of skittish cats or long haired ones determined only to cover the world with their shedding.
But I've liked most animals and no living creature really disgusts me or frightens me except spiders and small white children with blonde hair and light colored eyes. I don't know which I find more frightening. Probably spiders, though I do come across the occasional devil child that makes me rather eat a bowl of brown recluses.
Still, there's a difference between liking animals and being an "insert-animal-here person" and I suppose only one of those types of people can understand the difference.
I'd never much paid attention to those parents who show off pictures of their children and I always just kinda nodded my head and smiled politely whenever I was shoulder to shoulder with one of those people who was in midst of a display of little Ken's latest school picture or little Nancy's latest attempt at impersonating the fucking girl from Poltergeist. I have no strong interest in small people and the complexities of Play-Dough eating or Barbie hair brushing. Sorry folks but if I'm smiling and nodding at pictures of your kids, I'm feigning interest. Unless, that is, your kids have paws.
I suppose that's one of the measures of being a dog person - if you find yourself showing off pictures of your baby as would a parent of one of them little people. It's also more than that, though. I also notice dogs being walked down the street...even before I notice the owner. If I see a stray dog, I wonder who it belongs to, if it's lost, and if I can help it. I've walked up to a few people to ask their dog's name, it's breed and whatnot. I'll actually stop what I'm doing if I see a dog and that's just a fucking miracle because I'm a pretty goddamn self-involved individual.
When I first saw my boy, I knew he was going to be mine. I fell in love with him immediately and he's barely left my side since. He slept curled up in my armpit that night and my best friend told me she knew I was going to keep him when she heard me get up at six fucking am to take him outside to use the bathroom. The little punk certainly had me at woof and since then I've become nothing more than a "dog person."
I suppose there are worse things to be though. I could be a spider person. Or, worse still, I could be a kid person. Babies are fun and cute and all - don't get me wrong. But I'll pass on them until I find one that will piss and shit in the back yard rather than on itself, will gladly lick the floor up when I spill something and will immediately obey simple one word commands its entire life.

A decent corner proposal...

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Mon, 24 Apr 2006 22:36:00 +0000

The last thing he wanted to do was give the impression he was new at this sort of thing but that's precisely what he gave off as he pulled up to the curb of modern urban ostriches. She knew right away he was an amateur John the second he cut off his engine. A seasoned man would've just kept the car running during the upcoming negotiations. Still, money is money, so she approached the slowly descending window and stuck her head inside making herself yet another urban ostrich clad in an orange vinyl miniskirt, white boots, a white tank top and white fingernails.
"What'll it be, baby?" she asked before even taking a good look at his face. Before he spoke he was already reaching for his wallet. This is gunna be easy as fuck, she thought. She didn't even think to ask if he was the handcuff and badge carrying kind.
He started pulling out bills, asking questions without even giving himself time to consider her answers.
"What will fifty bucks get me?" he fumbled.
"A good blow."
He pulled two more bills out and stuttered, "One twenty?"
"Blow and a fuck. Another fifty and anal too."
"No, no, no," he stammered. "I'm just looking for ummmm...ummmmm."
"What do you want baby? You want some kink? You want all night? You want me to be your momma?" She knew his type. She figured he may be an amateur at going for what he wanted but he probably gave whatever nasty shit he was after more than a few thoughts everyday. This was just probably his first attempt at going out to actually get him some.
"No, no!" he blurted out. "Nothing like that, come on."
"Well?? Come on baby this ain't no waitin' line here."
"Ok, how much to eat your pussy?" he blurted out looking straight ahead at the intersection ahead of them looking like a boy asking for more allowance money.
She laughed before she even had a chance to think about it or even attempt to take him seriously. But after a few seconds of silence she thought perhaps this guy wasn't kidding.
"You just wanna eat me out?"
"Yeah."
"That's all?"
"Yes." His voice kept getting softer with every response, as if he were ashamed of his proclivity.
"You want to pay me to go down on me baby? And that's all you want? Is that what you're saying?"
"Yeah," he barely whispered as he looked down nervously thumbing through the bills in his hand. "Would this be enough?" he asked and quickly reached over to hand all the bills to her.
She snatched the bills out of his hand and tossed them back at him. Before his reaction was able to shift from shock to confusion she had already opened the door, climbed inside, shut the door and was reaching across him to grab the key still in the ignition.
As she started the car for them she looked directly at him and stated in a voice a few higher octaves than she had been speaking, "Marry me."
She sat back in the seat and suddenly had the composure of a complete lady, as if the two of them had just been discussing the latest knitting techniques.
Wow, he laughed at himself as he pulled away from the corner, that was much easier than I thought it was going to be.

Lonely skin...

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Mon, 03 Apr 2006 02:43:00 +0000

After spending the last seven or so years in two serious, consecutive relationships I find myself single for the longest stretch of time in a while. I've now learned not only do the mind and heart get lonely but the body gets lonely as well. Our fucking skin gets lonely.
I'm not talking about sex here, either...though I have had sex with people just to have someone to be close with. Most people will choose sex over affection. Not me, though. I'd choose affection over sex any fucking day.
Getting off just isn't that big of a deal. I can cum all on my own. Believe me, I've had years of practice.
Just having someone to lie next to is a big fucking deal. Just having someone to touch or hold. Just having skin to caress, a mouth to kiss, a head of hair to smell. Just having someone to fucking fall asleep with...and then wake up next to.
My body wants to cry simply from writing this. My whole body aches to be next to someone. Someone I can be comfortable with; someone who doesn't want anything more from me other than just to be with me as much as I want to be with them; someone who knows and can appreciate the importance of closeness and intimacy and silence.
As much as my mind aches for someone to identify with again and as much as my heart aches for someone to attach to again, that's how much my skin aches to again reach out and feel someone else nearby whenever I need them most or even whenever I'm just fucking bored. We take for granted the most casual moments of touching. We so take that for fucking granted. Those moments when you're just sitting there and you thoughtlessly reach over and casually grab another's hand, or put your hand casually on another's leg or reach up and casually stroke the back of another's neck. When we have that shit we often take the casual touching for granted but there's a reason we reach out without even thinking about it...
Our bodies need to touch. Our skin gets lonely.
It's been so long since I've been truly single that I've just never felt (or don't remember feeling) like this before. My skin has never ached like this. Perhaps back then I was just too young for things like this to matter to me or for me to take much notice. There was a time when I would casually throw my body up against whomever and see if I stuck. That's kind of how dating works most of the time - you just keep throwing yourself at people out there and eventually (hopefully) you stick to someone. Sometimes you just stick to someone longer than you stick to another person. Sometimes you stick to someone too long; sometimes not long enough. That's what some of us do though...throw ourselves and pray we'll stick.
Right now I'm in a unique situation. I'm not currently staying where I permanently reside. I haven't been in a place I'd call "home" for nearly six months now. This has kept me from doing anything in terms of trying to "meet" someone on what I'd consider any kind of real level. Sure, like I've said before, I've had my hand in a few buckets here and there but that's been purely surface satiation. That's been pure immediate need fulfillment.
It pales in comparison to the real thing, though. The mind, heart and skin all intersect each other and you can't just satiate one of them and hope that the rest will either go numb or allow you to ignore them. Sure, you can do this temporarily but the mind, heart and skin all intersect and communicate in such a way where, if one of them is lonely, they will all eventually feel it. If one of them is lonely, none of them will be happy. That means, in essence, you can't simply fuck your loneliness away.
You can't friend your loneliness away either, though. That is, you can only use your friends for your affectionate needs for so long before the loneliness of your heart pumps its way into your skin and reminds you that they are just a friend and they cannot completely provide you with that touch you're longing for. Sure, they could hug you all night. Sure, you could sleep in the same bed as them and wake up next to them. Hell, you could fucking spoon with them all night. It's still missing something though and your mind and your heart know it and after the novelty of it has worn off so too will your skin know.
After trying a few different ways to satisfy this loneliness and having each method fail, I'm left with no choice but to wait it out and bear it. I have no choice but to sit and feel what it's like for my mind, my heart and my body to be lonely and long for someone to connect with again. While this isn't a completely profound realization or anything it is still a new experience for me. My mind has been lonely before. My heart has been lonely before. Perhaps they are a little lonelier now than they have been. My skin, though...that's another story altogether. Never has my skin ached so badly. Never has my body needed closeness to this degree.
So, yeah, thats where I'm at right now. My body aches; my skin aches. The next person I fall in love with better watch the fuck out because for a long ass time I'm going to lose myself in their touch.
Fuck, I hope they have some soft skin. And I hope their hair smells good, too.

At what point do hate-words become socially acceptable digs?

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Mon, 27 Mar 2006 05:27:00 +0000

I really want your opinion on this and, for those of you who do this, maybe some justification on your own behalf.

The question is: at what point do words of hate and oppression become acceptable to use as pejorative jokes, derogatory jabs, insulting jests, or just funny little slur sayings?

That is, for example, when and why is it funny for a non-black person to jokingly use the word "n*gger" (or the equivalent 'n*gga')? When and why is it funny for a self-proclaimed straight person to ever jokingly call someone else "faggot" (or 'fag' or 'homo', etc)?

Now, I'm not referring to actual racists or homophobes…because it is clear why they find it acceptable to employ such hate speech. They do so because they embrace the hate of the speech itself.

No, I'm referring to people who think of themselves as "tolerant" or "open-minded." People who have "black friends" or "gay friends" yet continue to go around and use these hate words without any kind of thought or insight into their meanings or implications.

I see and hear this happening again and again and each time I ask myself how they could possibly be such a person…how those statements could come out of their minds or mouths and them not realize the anger, pain and harm they cause their (perhaps even unintended) audience. Isn't being compassionate to victims of such senseless hate more important than making a ridiculous, hate filled (even if lighthearted) "joke" every now and then? I would think so but this just doesn't seem to be the case and I'd really like to know why.

So, I'm asking what other people out there think about this.

Also, there are two more points to this issue I'd like to consider:

First, why is it that some hate words are more acceptable than others? For instance, it is much more acceptable to use the word "fag" than to use the word "n*gger." Again, of course, I'm not speaking about actual homophobes or racists who might use these words. If you are of the mindset that you do not discriminate, you are tolerant and you do not buy into the hate movement, then how can you possibly support using any of these words - not just picking and choosing which are acceptable and which are not or which are more acceptable in some contexts and which are never acceptable?

Second, what affect does the target group of the hate words themselves using those words against each other have on those outside of the groups? Does it make it more acceptable for those outside the group to themselves use the words in some way? That is, if black people use the word "n*gger" (or 'n*gga') easily, does that make it more acceptable somehow for non-blacks to do the same? If gays call each other "fag" (or 'homo', etc.), does that make it more acceptable somehow for self-proclaimed heteros to do so? If this is the case, should these groups stop using these words in order to signify how, in and of themselves, these words are absolutely unacceptable? Or, do they somehow empower themselves by stripping the word of hate when using it against each other so long as it is only a "group member" using it? That is, for example, should it just be accepted that only blacks are allowed to use the word "n*gger" and only gays are allowed to use the word "faggot"?

I'd really like to hear other people's opinions about this issue. I find it equally disturbing and fascinating any time I come across it. I've recently (and frequently) been appalled by hearing what I consider hate words come out of the mouths of people I previously considered tolerant. I'm having to seriously rethink my position about this issue and my opinions about these people.

So yeah, I really do wonder what the fuck you think about all of this…

(If you'd like to know why I do not spell the word "n*gger" while I do spell homophobic words it is because I am not black and am much less comfortable using that word, even in the context of intellectual discourse. However I am non-hetero so I feel no guilt using "faggot" or the like in this context - though I do wish those words did not exist.)

Us, fragile men.

noreply@blogger.com (a-Ron) — Sat, 25 Mar 2006 08:12:00 +0000

How fragile our masculinities
When we cannot tolerate
The slightest penetration
Into our deep fleshy
Male minds
Man souls
Manhood

Why did we ever rush
To call everyone else faggot
Before they could dare point
Our direction first
And declare faggotry
Upon ourselves

Do we not remember
Countless excruciating experiences
Of high school
Locker rooms
Scented with pungent
Sexually charged
Brutal competition
We once felt obligated
To participate in
Only to permanently scar
Our ability
To be vulnerable

Now the hardening
Scabs we call
Signs of being a
"Real man"
Scratch frantically
At the women
In our lives
Whenever they attempt
Getting close
Enough to penetrate
Our male minds
Man souls
Manhood

At what point
Did our flesh
Become so cocked
So loaded
As to shoot
Through her womb
Tearing away her breast
Creating her face
As unrecognizable to us
Purely because we'd rather
Fuck her
Than open up
And talk to her

We must come to recognize
The isolation we impose
On our women
By our simple
Yet powerful
Acts of silence
Meant to protect
Our fragile
Male minds
Man souls
Manhood