Monday, June 25, 2007

Spread Legs, Conceit, and the Power of Aesthetic Form in Space.

I used to have a girlfriend a ways back, when I lived in New Zealand. Ours was the most passionate, aggravating, beautiful, frustrating, heartbreaking, close and all at once distant relationship I have ever had. Oh, and hot. Did I mention hot?

Fast forward, and she's really succesful (she'll say different), and has become an incredible woman. She's all growed up. And I love her more with every passing year, only nowadays we actually get on with each other all the time. Not living together no doubt helps, but so does growing up some.

She came over this week, and last night she visited me. She closely inspected my cupboards, and chastised me for not eating well enough, took down the pictures of hot girls that my mechanic likes to spread around his work area, grilled me on who I've been fucking, and gave me her highly developed opinions on pretty much everything in the socio/geo/neopolitical cosmos. I loved every second of it.

I respect her take on life, I actually feel educated when she speaks. Her wisdom really puts me in my place, I'd take her advice on anything at all. Her social conscience reminds me of the time when I was idealistic, and less conservative, and freer.

But forget all that for now, because what I really want to talk about is how stunning she looks, and most importantly, how she wears that.

My life reads a bit like a Penthouse Forum letter in places. Strippers, High Class Call Girls, Flight Attendants, Models, Groupies, Porn Stars, MILFS, and Schoolteachers- yup, I've had them all. In abundance.

This is not a good thing.

I've been told many times that women are generally insecure creatures, and I have to take that on advisement, being male, etc. But it seems a terrible flipside to being human that the opposite of insecurity isn't security, but rather, conceit. Conceited people are insecure people who basically realise that because they look physically appealing, or have a crapload of money, or status, or whatever really, they have a hold over the rest of us who don't. And they kinda do. As long as the arousal industry continues to pump out all the irrelevant trash a good upbringing and a little self esteem could cure in a heartbeat, people will continue to be slaves to worthless ideals, what old people used to call 'devils promises', where the payoff always equates to more problems than the original state of affairs ever was.

I can know all of this, and believe it 100%, but if you show me a movie of a hot couple fucking, and I'll not only watch it, but I'll enjoy it greatly. I'm as fucked (or more, probably) than everyone else.

Point is, winning a genetic lottery as I call it, is no reason to treat people who didn't like they don't matter. It's no one's fault they were born less attractive than you, or less intelligent. It makes you an asshole, like teasing disabled people. It makes you a bully, emotionally. And it makes you wrong, because the Universe loves a good paradigm shift, and so what's hot this year might be considered played out or even quite embarrassing next year. Like fake tits or suntans, or being a size 6.

Maybe the new style will be girls next door, or distinguished old guys, or pot bellies. I doubt it, but who knows, right? Ugly could be big next season, if a comet hits Italy.

I have been in relationships with some horribly conceited people, I really have. People who are so involved with looking in the mirror at every opportunity, instead of looking at all the shit that populated the insides of their heads. People who's focus was to look better and better, buying more cosmetics, doing more exercise, not eating, plucking, shaving, waxing, tanning, irrigating their colons, whitening their teeth, and spending stupid amounts of money on jewellry and clothing and shoes that hurt, then having some breakfast, and repeating the process. Quick! Stop thinking! make yourself into a stereotype, when the sad fact was, when I met these girls (if I met them before they became that way), they were more beautiful.

And somehow they think they're on the money to look down their noses at you because you don't fit into their fucked up sense of priority. They don't understand what beauty is for any more, maybe they never did.

When I see something beautiful, the world stops. This is incredibly threatening to girls I have been in relationships with, but there's no need for it to be. It isn't a threat, because I don't need to 'own' beauty, just witnessing it is enough. Besides, there is always more just around the corner, that's the best thing about it. If I'm with someone, they're it. And while I'll adore all the beauty around me, I'm not looking to upgrade. I'm just happy to see it, like a great piece of street art, before it gets painted over by something new. Changing scenes of life. Attention as a car window at speed.

So the world stops, and my eyes and mind expand to accomodate the perfection of what I'm seeing. Girls, choppers, art, nature, it's all exactly the same.

These things freeze me, take my attention, and reward me with the feeling that life is beautiful. A pretty girl makes you forget every shitty thing about life for that moment you see them. That's what they do. They lift you up and away from all your problems, make you forget your pain or what you went to the store to buy, make your heart sing and your eyes smile, your whole self resonates within the Universe, sending out a strong bass note of pure peace and joy.

That's beauty.

So when beauty turns around and gives you a withering look like you're carved out of sputum, because you don't look like Brad Pitt, or Usher (pffft!), then something a bit wrong. In fact, something is so wrong that I know an entire generation of guys who are terrified of women as a result, who can't just walk up to someone pretty and have a conversation.

I can. That makes me quite dangerous to fragile egos at times.

So, my visit last night was so wonderful, because I got to talk freely about anything at all, and not be judged, and learn a thing or two, and at the same time just soak up the visage of one of the most beautiful women I have ever known, without withering stares, or conceit. In fact, with the knowledge that as wonderful and intoxicating as I found my attraction for her to be, hers also was to me.

Just natural, non-threatening to anybody, good time old fashioned boys and girls in the summertime feelings. Nothing sexual. Just "wow, it's really something to see you again".

She doesn't think she's that great, not because she doesn't own a mirror, but rather because she has better things to do than check it 5000 times an hour. Focussing instead on developing a personality, reaching goals, finding true meaning, living this life thing.

Learn from this, you heartless bitches. It's fucking ironic you need to learn how to be more human from an ex-con called "knifey".

It's sunshine time for the human race.



This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Friday, June 01, 2007

The virus.

There are more people alive today, than have EVER DIED.




This is knifey, from 'the internet'.