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31st Dec, 2015

A Friendly Note About Anonymous Commenting...

You'll want to read this. Trust me...Collapse )

Got that? Goooood. ;-)

De Profundis, Changeling-Style

Sometimes I almost--almost, but not quite--miss the days when I was so unaware of how easily I can hurt people's feelings, when I blissfully did my own thing, damaging friendships left and right and being so casual in my relations with women, believing that nothing was wrong simply because so few people ever actually told me anything was wrong. Everything seemed so much simpler, and although I still felt the melancholy, it was so much easier to believe that what made me different from others made me special in a good way. I found people so much easier to deal with, and people liked me that way.

But no. I could never go back to that way of thinking now. It's just too late to re-embrace ignorance. What I see as the best years of my life were actually filled with so much carelessness, self-deception, womanising, and failing people...Gods! How shallow I was, what was I thinking? I was horribly immature, and I fooled so many people into believing I was someone worth looking up to. I even started to believe it myself.

Call me weak, call me insecure, call it self-pity, tell me it's unattractive to be openly self-conscious like this, but it doesn't change anything. I could hide behind the excuse of, "I just didn't know!" but it doesn't undo the damage I've done. This grey twilight existence I now live in, I live in because I put myself here. I have no RIGHT to complain about it. All I can do is strive to redeem myself. I shine optimism and point out love and goodness and shake my pom-poms as acts of contrition, and also because I DO believe in the importance of these things. But I can't escape karma. I have no right to complain or cry when things in my life go wrong. I promise I'll try harder in the future not to be so damn whingey when they don't. I can try to rebuild, to move on from my past, but I'm not stupid. It may be too late for me, and as much as I wish I could change things from my past, the Erinyes will not be denied.

Ever onwards through the fog...

(cross-posted from my Facebook)

Melancholy is simply part of who I am. It is embedded in my soul as surely as a mountain is embedded in the earth. Sometimes it's hard to remember that it is not my enemy, but one of my strengths, for melancholy is the source which fuels the fire of my compassion. The wellspring which so often drowns me in this feeling of wistful sorrow and loneliness, is the same wellspring which washes society's carefully-crafted illusions from my vision, allowing me to see beauty where others see ugliness, and unity where others see separation.

It is a blade with twin edges, to be certain, but the deeper it cuts, the stronger my love for the world grows. I have been this way for 40 years. I cannot possibly imagine a life without it now...and I lie to myself if I say, "I wish it to be gone." This mountain is not an obstacle to be overcome. It is a foundation upon which to build my workshop. Blessed effin' be.

Writer's Block: Starstruck

Have you ever met anyone famous?

Well, der. Every time I look in the mirror or talk to myself.

But then again, are we not each one of us the stars of our own personal shows, more mundanely referred to as "lives"? If you say, "no," then you aren't giving yourself enough credit. Even when the script seems to totally suck and the set feels like it's built out of cardboard and bubble-gum...the show has YOUR name on it, know what I mean? We are all celebrities, center-stage stars of our own unique reality shows. It's only vanity when you start believing your show is actually the most entertaining one out there. It isn't bad to see yourself as a star. Just don't be an ass about hogging the stage.

But I suppose you want actual names, eh? Well...hmmm. By what standards are we defining "famous," anyway?
Note to self: Italian porn can be strange, even by your standards.

In a fit of curious whimsy, I went surfing on Redtube and stumbled across a clip with a "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves" theme. Seven midgets in red caps, dressed like priests, weeping over a woman pretending to be asleep (and dressed in a ridiculously tacky gold lamee "ball-gown"). In comes a jaunty fellow clad in faux Italian noblewear, leans over, gives her a peck on the cheek. There's this cheesy chiming-bell sound and then BAM--instantly cuts to...well, you know. Or maybe you don't, but don't worry, it's probably better that way.

It's rather curious to me, the subtle differences one can find in porn around the world. Different geographic areas seem to have different standards in terms of "plot," costumes, dialogue, even fetishes (a good example being tentacle porn, which I've yet to see avidly produced anywhere outside of Asia. Why Asia in particular? What sort of collective unconscious process drives the desire to produce weirdness like that? What's with the fetish for men wearing girl's underpants while watching hentai? Etc.)

Mind you, I'm not trying to imply I'm being puritanical towards gonzo porn, merely that my own preferences and kinks (and believe me, I have a few) seem almost vanilla in comparison with some of the material I've seen out there.

Of course, nothing beats the pure intimacy of actually experiencing good, loving sex in person, but since I'm currently not getting any of that, I content myself with watching others do it. Just show me two people in love (or at least, with good chemistry) making love without artifice, and I'm perfectly happy. I'm a shameless sensualist, but I think it runs along lines more appropriate to a D.H. Lawrence or Henry Miller novel, rather than Mapplethorpe.

To each their own, though. Takes all kinds to make a world, y'know? :-)
40th birthday is nigh, in less than six days, and my mind is a whirling cyclone of contemplation. The path behind me strewn with rubble and half-hearted achievements, the path before me winding through a shrouded valley illuminated by a moon of uncertainty, and the ground upon which I presently stand seems more like quicksand than castlework. And I cannot say with any surety how much of this comes from my own foolishness, and how much is from burdens thrust upon me by circumstances I truly did not ask for. And yes, the difference matters to me, a whole Hell of a lot.

I'm still here. Some days, seems like that's about all I can really ask for. I keep wanting to post more here...keep finding excuses to put it off.

I used to be a serious blogaholic. Where the Hell did that person go?

A rather appropriate glyph for an English geek to mark a new chapter in life, don't you think?

(As an aside, I've mentioned this before but I've been using Facebook more often as of late, but I'm trying to re-establish a presence here as well. If you have a Facebook profile and are interested in keeping up with me there as well, you can find my profile here:  www.facebook.com/gnosticelf. Send a friend request, please let me know your username here so I don't assume you're just a spambot or something, and I'll add you asap. :-) )

Mind-forged manacles...

It's a special kind of Hell, to be highly intelligent, empathically sensitive, yet dysfunctional. Because you simply can't stop thinking and over-analysing your situation, and you understand all too well how your mind works and you know all too damn well that your perception is sometimes very distorted, but you also know that sometimes what you're feeling IS genuine, and it can be so difficult to know the difference because sometimes, what you're perceiving is simply something that the average person CAN'T perceive, so simply hearing someone telling you, "that's bullshit," or "that's not really how things are" is never enough to comfort you. You see life as a dazzling, shining polyhedron of possibilities and perspectives, but it's so very very easy to become overwhelmed by it all because you can't shut your filters off. And yet you don't WANT to shut out the world, because that same awareness that lets in so much pain also can let in so much pleasure.

It's a doozy under here...Collapse )

1st Nov, 2010

You know kids...seasonal depression really really sucks.

Particularly when you're dealing with seasonal allergies on top of it.

Forward I slog.

Really now, this half-state of existence is getting damn silly.

9th Oct, 2010

Sometimes, I contemplate just saying "to Hell with it," and going completely gonzo.

Sometimes, I contemplate just saying "To Hell with it," and embracing the apparent fact that I am entering my forties a substantially quieter and less-social person than I was before, still possessed of an agile imagination and a lively spirit, but damn all, my actual drive to do anything with it is fading fast, and I don't really know why and it's hard to fight against a fatigue whose source one can't definitively pin down.

Maybe I just wear myself out from thinking too damn much all the time.

Maybe I've just grown so damn familiar with social withdrawal and reclusiveness that I've come to actually prefer it, and I'm not really as lonely as I tell people I am.

But I still love people. I still dream of being sociable. It just takes so much damn energy and strength and sometimes courage to simply leave the apartment, let alone go out and introduce myself to new situations.

If I were a lesser man, I could conceivably choose suicide over this sort of internal conflict. Fortunately, I'm not a lesser man. But I know I'm not actually happy, regardless. I just don't know anymore what I really want or need to MAKE me happy.

Maybe I should remember not to try composing entries right before bedtime. Who knows how much of this might just be plain old fatigue talking?

Small celebration time!

I suppose it's safe to call my 5-year streak of semi-involuntary celibacy....over.

Thank you for the privilege. You know who you are. :-)

That really helped clear my head something fierce. Just what I needed at a time like this. :-)

Writer's Block: Neat, sweet, groovy songs

What was your favorite childhood band or artist? Are you still a fan?

Peter Gabriel, hands down.

Sad to say, I haven't listened to any of his recent albums since Secret World, but I never tire of listening to his older material, particularly the Security album. As a child, I would find a quiet corner of the house somewhere, slip a cassette into my Walkman, and create long sprawling movies in my head that linked together all the songs from the particular album I'd be listening to at the time. In fact, for the longest time I assumed that all of Gabriel's albums, even from when he was the lead signer for Genesis, were designed as concept albums.

Interesting factoid: I've never actually been to a single one of his concerts, though. However, I remember when he came to town during my freshman year of high school, and KLBJ-FM was awarding free tickets to select callers, and I tried SO hard to win because I figured there was just no way I'd be able to afford them on my own. This was also back when I was simply terrified of calling people on the phone, so I have to wonder whether I'd actually have been able to stay on the line if someone had ended up answering. And suffice to say, I never tried with any other radio contest.

I've come a long way.


Y'know, I'm thinking it's high time I changed my profile page to be a tad more upbeat.

Oh, and Happy Ganesh Chaturthi!
You know, people...

It absolutely boggles my mind why some people walk around thinking that life sucks. Seriously. And I say that as someone who has experienced rather a lot of Bad Shit in this lifetime, and seen a whole lot more.

Don't project those transitory moments of misfortune in your life onto Life as a whole. Because the Wheel of Fortune spins for everyone. It always has. And it always will.

Life isn't good.
Life isn't bad.

Life simply IS.

And in my opinion, what it is is bloody enthralling, in all its multi-checkered, up-and-down glory.

What it is, is a carnival ride absolutely jam-packed with variety and wonder.

The Christ knew EXACTLY what he was talking about, when he said that the Kingdom of God is within all of us, but also that no one can enter the Kingdom of God unless they "be as a child." He wasn't speaking in metaphor. He was being as plain-spoken as he possibly could.

Children see the world through eyes of wonder, and they accept everything that comes to them, good and bad, on relatively equal terms. They live life from day-to-day. They embrace everything in Life as simply being part of what Life is all about, no matter what adults might have to say about it. They know that some things are "bad" and other things are "good," but they have this absolutely awe-inspiring trust that everything that happens is just...well, just there for a reason, even if they don't really think too much about what the reason is.

The key to opening up to the power of the Divine Love is simply to accept that Life will never always turn out as we want it to. We'll never be 100% happy, but by the same token we'll never be 100% sad, either. You have to either love the whole of it, or else close yourself off to loving ANY of it. And well, The Divine can't operate in an emotional vacuum like that.

Wheel of Fortune keeps on spinning. For Everyone. All the time. And the really neat thing about it is that even when we're on the very top of the Wheel, we'll still encounter moments of sadness and frustration, just as when we're at the bottom of the Wheel, Life will still hand us moments of happiness and joy and, Hell, maybe even Bliss. How on earth can one become bored with Life? It's such a huge grand gee-gaw MYSTERY. You can't bet the farm on anything.

Attitude is everything. Perspective is everything. You might think your life "sucks," but bet you dollars to doughnuts there's some aspect of your life that someone will look at and think, "man, that's pretty damn cool, I wish I had that."

It's okay to be unhappy. It's okay to not be satisfied. Just don't make the mistake of thinking that merely because YOUR life sucks, that this means ALL of Life sucks. And if you have to grasp at straws, at the smallest of things, in order to help keep your going, then DO it. Celebrate the little shit, as well as the big.

So many people are just too damn busy becoming, to actually BE.


In other exciting news!

I like cheesecake.

Particularly cheesecake served upon a freshly-showered woman's body.

Particularly when aforementioned woman is in my bed.

Film at 11!

Or not.

(Note: no, I am not referencing any sort of realspace occurrence, sorry to disappoint. However, if you should have any desire to possibly be the woman previously mentioned, by all means feel free to let me know.)

Have no fear...

I honestly don't even have a clue what the whole cross-posting business is about, nor do I really care all that much, and I certainly don't understand the value at all in cross-posting OTHER people's stuff to my Facebook or vice-versa. So I won't be.

Truth be told, I'm not entirely sure how to anyway. Granted--Sometimes I'll post a notification to my FB Wall that I've made a new journal entry here, but I was doing that long before this whole weird cross-posting feature was implemented, and it doesn't seem to be the same thing at all.

I'm having difficulty understanding why the cross-posting feature is being maligned, because even before its implementation a person could still just copy text from a protected entry and paste it anywhere they darn well wanted to, if the desire struck them to do so. Privacy concerns? Get real, people, this is the blooming Internet. There's ALWAYS been an element of risk involved when it comes to sharing things on any sort of online forum that can be potentially accessed by Joe Q. Public, particularly with regards to blogspace. Any time you post something to a blog that can be read by others, even if it's a hand-picked group, you are trusting that the people with whom you share your entries will keep that information confidential if you request it of them. It's ALWAYS been that way. :-)

So as far as I'm concerned, If you really feel some need, desire, or urge to repost what I write in this journal to some other part of the blogsphere, I can't stop you. I won't even pretend to be able to. I do request the simply courtesy of asking for permission first if the material is behind a friends-only filter of some sort, but honestly peeps, if I post something here that's readable by all to begin with, I know darn good and well it has the potential to wind up anywhere in Netspace whether I'm aware of it or not. And I'm okay with that.

But please be assured that when it comes to any content you choose to share with yours truly, I can't see why I would suddenly feel the need to repost any of it elsewhere just out of the blue, when I've never done it before. And reposting comments? That just seems..I dunno, mildly retarded, for some reason. You don't have to worry about that with me. All I can give you is my word on that, but seriously, I just don't get it. :-)


Thank you, have a nice day. Please drive through, don't forget your receipt!

1st Sep, 2010

I really don't know what drives this, but I've noticed that chatting with people from my past can make me feel like a cockroach trying to interface with an enlightened being from Alpha Centauri or some-such.

And it's frustrating not knowing whether I'm actually interpreting the signals properly, or simply distorting them as I so often do. 90% of the time, I get this sense that the person on the other end is feeling uncomfortable with me, the way one might in suddenly seeing a formerly successful friend drunk, homeless, and half-naked on a downtown street-corner, on an evening where you're dressed to the nines and in the company of fabulously happy people.

And for all I know, some of them truly DO see that my way now. And I suppose I can't blame them, but it still makes me sad.


BGL is now reading at 250. Still not ideal, certainly, but at least I know the corrective measures actually are working and my entire night won't be fucked as I'd feared it might be. Sometimes these things take longer to deal with than others.

So, yay for progress, and onward through the frogs!

In unrelated news...man, I'd like some new icons, but I fear I've actually somewhat forgotten how I made some of the ones I have in the first place. That makes me feel sad, for some reason.

Writer's Block: Love is timeless

What is your opinion of relationships where there is a significant age difference between partners?

My feelings on this are presently mixed.

Less than a year ago, I had my heart rather violently ripped apart and carelessly stomped upon by a 23-year old woman who was a lot less emotionally mature than I had given her credit for at the time, and she ended up betraying a very intimate trust in order to be with a 53-year old man instead. First time in my life I'd ever found myself losing a Game of Romance to an older man. And considering I was already 38 at the time, it felt like a serious kick in the balls, and I'm still processing through the full extent of the damage the narcissistic floozie did to my head and heart.

As a result, when I think of cross-generational relationships, I first think of her and that older fellow, and my heart seethes with bitter gall and scorn.


On a root level, I see nothing inherently wrong with them as long as both parties are able to sufficiently bridge the experience-gap that seems almost an inevitable part of cross-generational relationships. No matter how much the couple has in common, there's simply no way around the fact that the older person has been around longer and is much more likely to have a perspective on life that is more entrenched than the younger party, and they may find it more difficult to treat their lover as a true equal and resist the old psychological game of seeing the younger person's life through the "rear-view mirror" of their own experiences at a similar age.

And of course, it's almost a cliche that a sufficiently younger person will find it difficult to see things from the older person's perspective simply because they haven't had the same amount of time on earth. And more than anything else, it seems to be the passage of time that invests one with wisdom, understanding, and a certain perspective on things.

Granted, this presumes an age difference involving one partner at least in their mid-thirties and the other no older than their early twenties, if not younger. In relationships where both people are at LEAST past their early thirties, the problems of the experience-gap are likely to diminish somewhat.

Of course, it's difficult to issue blanket statements of any sort because a lot depends upon the actual psychological makeup and emotional maturity level of the people involved, as well as what each person is ultimately seeking from the relationship itself.

All in all, though, I myself might still have a willingness to sleep with some of my younger friends, but I'd be very very very very wary if an actual romance seemed to start developing.