Saturday 27 September 2008
A-sexuality.
"I was a compulsive, serial masturbator. I utilised that organ and rode it for everything it was worth. It's no longer a motivating factor for me."
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"Sex is the refuge of the mindless.
I haven't got time for sex of any kind. That's a hang-up."
- - - -
Robert Downey JR and Valerie Solanas - speaking my mind in these seemingly endless days of inarticulacy.
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Interesting quotes...
Hope all has been well in your neck of the woods. In case you were wondering, I follow most of the bloggers from Emma's Mix-Tape.
*Eyes*
There you are. Not much to say? That’s wrong, sorry. You’ve said a lot here.
To share or not. Oh hell. Why not? The worst you could do is tell me to stay the fuck off your blog. And, I would if you did. The sadness I sense in you is so familiar. That’s why I come to read you. You're soothing and inspiring.
This is me. I’ve never told anyone this before.
I’ve got to dig myself out of this hole. I’ve stayed too long. The dirt is beginning to fall in and onto my head. When I try to pull myself out, I fall further in. I don’t breathe. I never have. I’m dying. I’ve swallowed my soul. It’s long dead. I swallow compulsively, when I’m afraid or stressed or nervous or not. I swallow. My tongue is soaked, heavy like a wet blanket in my mouth and it chokes me. I was never all right but he made me all wrong. A dozen therapists later and this new hack is selling some weird eye movement therapy. It can cause facial ticks and seizures. Right. I’ll be right over for some of that. She thinks I hurt myself because I had an absent father and a toxic mother. I hurt myself because I’m dead when I don‘t hurt. I held my breath when he put his hand over my mouth. I was 14. I haven’t taken a breath since. I choked when he raped my mouth. I’ve been choking since. He was a friend of my mother’s and a cop. He lived in the apartment downstairs. He went bowling a couple nights a week with his girlfriend, in a beat up green car. Two days after he raped me, he met me as I arrived home from school. He had a gift for me, a furry white sweater - soft on the outside, but the inside scratched my skin raw. He said he was sorry as he blamed me. I quit school. At 14, I quit. Gave up the ghost. Let myself die. I understand self-pity. I sleep with my own lack of desire every night and it feels like death.
I’ve got to dig myself out of this hole. I’ve stayed too long. The dirt is beginning to fall in and cover my head. I hear your ragged breathing. I want to tell you to keep digging out. Keep pulling yourself up. I want to breathe life and hope into your mouth as I want you to breathe life and hope into me.
Goodnight Sardine. xo
Anonymous, I'm so very sorry. There's nothing I could say because I have not been dealt the blow you have.
I noticed you said, "I’ve got to dig myself out of this hole. I’ve stayed too long." You realize you've stayed too long and to me that's paramount to recovering and hopefully a much brighter day. May it come soon for you...
Anon - you're breaking my heart. Your journey sounds not too dissimilar to mine. I want to hear more from you, you're a rare beacon of light in these times I feel disconnected to all around me.
Sorry my entries are so short. My motto is:
Keep it as short as you can,
so it appeals to that more many
nice, brief and bytesize
for the small spans of the 21st century.
Very 6th form eh? But also: I don't like to go on about myself too much. I'm not narcissistic enough to think people should care about my stories and opinions, and even on the subject of myself I'm full of uncertainty. Like I quoted before -being a borderline = pure hell, a thousand different thoughts, no one opinion just a sea of thousand contrasting thoughts and no true representation of self...
*Eyes* - Thank you for coming over, I shall check out your blog later. I had a quick gander and you have such pizzazz in your writing style, so full of life - I envy that truly.
Sardine, a broken heart is an open heart.
Here’s a taste of a poem I love by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes:
Abre la Puerta (Open the Door)
The lake in which you almost drowned, that is a door
The slap in the face that made you kiss the floor, that is a door
The betrayal that sent you straight to hell, that is a door
Abre la Puerta, open the door
Same old story, all strong souls first go to hell
Before they do the healing of the world they came here for
If we are lucky we return to help those still trapped below
Abre la Puerta, open the door
Hell is a door caused by pain
The scar drawn by razors, that is a door
The scars that are doors are opened, are opened
Abre la Puerta, open the door
I’m grateful you didn’t tell me to stay the fuck off your blog. I woke wondering - did I really confess my deepest, darkest secret on a stranger’s public blog? That’s what I get for mixing the ganja with Betty Crocker and a lot of wine.
Loved your poem. I had to look up 6th form. I quit school in the 9th grade - that‘s first year of high school here. Your intelligence and education intimidate me. I expect you to find me ridiculous. But, I sense something in common. I hope you’ll keep writing here what you want, when you will.
Eyes, thank you for the kind words. Don’t tell anyone, ok? It’s a secret. A big secret.
Kai xo
Kai,
You're right about us being similar, as I too left school at fourteen for various reasons. I am in no way educated or intelligent, just an expert in the art of elitist naval gazing...
Would you ever blog? I'd be an avid reader as it's all too rare I come across a soul who genuinely interests me. Selfish of me to ask I know...
xSx
Kai,
I would never...your words remain in my thoughts and won't ever cross my lips. The poem was gorgeous, by the way.
Sardine,
Your writing really is intimidating. Your eloquence is off the charts. I alo agree with you in having interest in Kai's writing.
*Eyes*
Sardine, navel gazing does a mind good. I thought for sure you had a couple of degrees stashed in a drawer somewhere. You often reference things I have to look up. Your encouragement means the world to me. I'll give some thought to what I might write on a blog.
Eyes, you're so sweet. That was my tired attempt at a joke. I put the whole mess out on a public blog, didn't I? But, thank you for keeping my secret.
Kai xo
I noticed that Kai. *smile*
*Eyes*
***I am in no way educated or intelligent***
Sardine, you wouldn't believe just HOW MANY limited, ignorant and dumb people have a Master's degree or a Phd...believe me! Intelligence has little to do with "school education". Education is something you have to strive for yourself...school can only 'offer' you some input...and education doesn't end with your A-levels.
Seriously, I have met SO MANY incredibly ignorant and limited people who - despite of a multitude of degrees - weren't able to even scratch the upper layer of things...
So, don't worry...honestly, a degree doesn't equate with anything...I have a degree and I taught at the uni, I know what I'm talking about :-)
You sound mighty fine to me!! Honestly! I really enjoy your stuff - only that I sometimes don't have enough time in order to read your blog on a regular basis.
Kai,
So sorry...
I talked with a colleague (recently-turned-into-friend) of mine yesterday...until 4 in the morning, after many-a-glass of their own wine (her bf is a wine maker)...that's the moment when you open up...it was quite amazing...quite amazing to see how many people have gone through so much shit in their lives...our respective eyes popped out of our respective sockets as we discovered just how much we had in common...stuff you never let show otherwise...
Hang in there...there is a myriad of people out there who have been through similar shit, you're not alone.
I wish you all the best in the world, from the bottom of my heart.
Yes, I understand what you're saying Stone.
“I am not stupid. I might come across as stupid. That’s nothing to do with academic qualifications. I think there’s a difference between intelligence and knowledge. There are plenty of people with letters after their names who only know figures and dates. It’s possible to know a lot of facts but not know anything at all.”
Richey James Edwards 1994.
I like what Richey James Edwards has to say...a lot. *smile*
***It’s possible to know a lot of facts but not know anything at all.***
Yup! That pretty much sums it up!!
There is an intelligence of heart that outweighs a purely rational intellect...without emotional intelligence, your intellect is practically worthless...there are many well-educated people in the world who don't have the slightest inspirational sparkle...
Yesterday I stayed at friends' - it was an amazing evening...wine makers, two Tasmanian (!) interns, a back-packer, a Polish Salsa/dance instructor, another Aussi wine maker and his pregnant wife.
The interns made music on a half broken guitar...we had lovely wine, we listened to the White Album by the Beatles...and we talked until 4 in the morning...this was a truly inspirational evening.
Was it inspirational, intersting and insightful and above all fun, because people had a university degree or an IQ of 150? Nope!
Some had a degree and some were maybe very intelligent...but most of all, all these peope were great craig, funny, entertaining, interesting, likeable and caring...at the same time - even in my profession - there are people (all with degrees) who are narrow-minded, limited, pathetic, boring, dull and uninspired.
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