1
Sources inspiring and guiding this chapter on: sex; libido and magnetism
connections; (2)
Dan Winter, all about the difference between heat and light x
x x (2) Gabriel Cousens: Muktananda
kundalini experiences x x x (2)
Reid; loads of tricks to cherish and cultivate charge
x x x (1) George Gilder, defender of
very conservative family values offensive to feminists in Sexual Suicide
and others (see p. 23 and poly-strata-fidelity)
x x x (1) J D Unwin+, utopian, sexual
mores and intercultural repercussions x x
x (1) Lyotard, see especially his Taoistic
'mining' of women in his "Libidinal Economy" and the curious book "Pacific
wall" x x x
(1)
Robert Lawlor, a most highly recommendable man, quit an artistic career
when poisoned in a photolab
(the pollutants from artistic industries
are a good match for those of war really,realizing this made me renounce
camerawork) x x x J
H Noyes+, founder of the Oneida community in NY, (pro)posed amative vs
procreative love.. x x x Peter
Duisberg, virologist of world class prominence untill he started debunking
the HIV - AIDS hype and toll tit lie kit is:
another socalled humanitarian public moneyextracting scam to distract from
lifestyles and (in(i-
and))equities resulting
in a little happy experimentation with ways to scare people out of intimacy
and a little slow poisoning on the side.
x x x Oscar Kiss Maerth: "The beginning
was the end", on cannibalism (fruit of knowledge)
as key to a monkey"s hairloss (nakedness,
need to rip off trees) and sexual obsessions,
I read this one at 16 and it set the tone of my thinking for a decadex
x x Robert Wrangham: 'Demonic males', a good
Maerth follow up which was published around 30 years later x
x x
Camille Paglia x
x x Alphonso Lingis (see
a review of his book: "Foreign bodies" in my priority issue file)
x x x
WARMLY
DISEXTED
AND GRACIOUSLY
(S)EXTENDED
TEMPTATION
TO STAND
AT ATTENTION
TEMPERATELY
sex solitarily stalked yet socially steadied
and sense of identity expanding, that is: ample foodchainlinking and exemplary
sex, gene rations, matching fuses, handling vitality and steeling mettle
vs AIDS, fiery versus fruitful flair
I shift emphasis of and extend sexual innuendo
to life just below our feet and that growing well above our heads bycause
it is before and after all an intergene rationing thing.
Don't
break love's mounting inner tension till you pry and screw a longing term
loan out of a shyer and hardier, yet more pregnant femininannyhood than
flesh and blood will bear out in generations without it: rock.
Come delve into layers of its hidden meaning
to provide surges of growth and flushes of pleasure. Call all that soilbanked
credit a prepayment toward great grandkids.
According to my definition of the marriage
boat, it is the skinwinning heartrendering, rockcrushing and grovetending
focal point of balance and lineage that provides an ample haven for kids
and voluntarily rule abiding visitors or eager apprentices, kinda like
an arch, alive and well, left to live in the shapes and shades of trees
dotting a microclime (see Noah, page 20).
Choice mate meat attracting strut, spectacle
and circus is the orgiastic bonding mechanisms that males crave yet pervert
with exclusive hunting and warlike mechanisms, fighting competition rather
than providing for it. Us in, them out is OK as long as them is rocks and
we go in to help them come out and up organically.
Youthful fervor: I know where the kids are
at, I feel for single celled organisms, tit for tat and that is that, break
deadly gridlocked rock but don't cut our gene rations, don't splice 'm,
feed and love 'm but do not dice 'm. How long can one take to live up to
the thoughtful feeling of making one self comfortable and welcome with
these here now and then those there too, grown up kids, how well can you
handyman plan and lay away credits for your own next childhood?
Youth has a sense of being a small island
without souvenirs, in dire need of permission to touch, owning a paradoxical
feeling of having nothing to hide in a secret world blocked by mere appearances,
a self looking to mimic, meet and mirror itself, an onion hiding sweet
nothings behind layers and peals of mirth ready to burst, wanting to send
out missives, soak up replies, perpetually charged to seek the matching
fuse, fond of finding foreignness to make itself welcome and at home.
When a kid roughhouses and ignores commands
to desist, it is usually bycause the commanders ignore the more primary
and vital need of kinetic skillsharpening exertion at play with joust and
parry in favor of a skill they importunely and prematurely try to instill,
what is the point of having kids if you don't let 'm help you remember
the anarchy of animal origin?
Many
a kid grows up to become a macho nitwit but it's never too late to
teach the next ones how to start pulling their weight, let's nevertheless
also tell all soul diers that presently sow death to hold their horses
and split rock into fine growsome grit and feed every tiny titbit
to the bottom and beleavable borders of organc life, this quintessential
frontline is where these bare bones stick up and extrude from earth's body
in wait for us to truely defend and extend 'm. Too much and too little
mother's milk make for sore throats and distorted identity/immunity, it
causes congestion and crying in the early stages, later jerk offs
and rockstars attest their attachments to such youthful yet old white
out habits.
Gene ratio's are a kind of soul
pretraction archives, from sex rated programs and memory ministering mammary
membranes to hazardous and traumatic turns and returns.
Youthful vitality of preposterous testos-terr(a)neous
speed, jitter, nerve, strenght, force and balls comes and goes with calling
for a deeply rooting place in our tall yet mostly subconscious hierarchy;
namely to explore tensility and tolerance; raise inertia anchors of biomass
setting sail in or milling the wind around giant, highly tensilated greenhouse
bubbles, eggs, icosas and other organic shapes.
In the beginning
the world is whole and one, trust is boundless and frustration is absolute,
as we slowly start differentiating between breaths, draughts, piss, food,
bowel and other movements, life can be a hassle sometimes, but a real breeze
compared to puberty when the family fire kicks in, there is no limit to
the lenghts, widths, depths and strenghts of the eye's fire one can earn
or burn, depending on the di- and erections one chooses, we are not animals
cause we are trained to postpone and reflect on the merits of every satisfaction
imaginable, desired and necessary.
Deep waters still great balls of fire:
Practice sexual restraint to fuel the fire of vision through time and build
up a sense of selfless identity expanding evaporatio so that the (p)repro
train for sex at the bottom of our life support pyramid shall not lack
or miss the top's ourobourosian cycle and carry capacity connection strain.
F-words, the flatly fateful version:
The first and foremost forms of fire fill the family files with fickle
fun. Fearfully frigid females follow from and forever invite the
fiercest of forceful fires.
Earth, water, air, and fire turds,
milk, breath, and spermenses.
Flames reduce growth to ashes, sunshine reduces
rock and water reduces oxides to growth, so help water travel through rocks
or pour rocks in water to help life turn its oldest trick.
Fullblown photosynthesis through rapturous
cause voluntary ecofirepower is inversely proportionate to the rupture,
patch, plaster and proliferation of bullet, money and sperm.
The per- and transmutative fire that reigns
the earths inner energy store is contained and restrained by massive consistency
control resembling our collective mentality, reflecting a social inertia
that budges only when running, pushing and crossing critically viscous
voltage thresholds, often with a jolt.
a question of humility (humble humus): If
playing with fire (womanaging heat, air and light) is widely held to be
a most excitingly dangerous (malerule) or workcrowning (femalerule) thing,
then for the bottom end of that ladder, where first forms of life still
catch fireball-beams in wetted fresh ashlike starsatelite crustdust like
they did and do in the very and every beginning, in principle, we may safely
come up with the most sustainably Godfearing repeat,-pent,-deemable and
dancelike jubilateous physical currency that any fine mourning with ashes
could ever hope to put in gear.
As early as ever since Aphra Behn, money
and sex are shown to have become alienated, in- and perversely proportionate
like the very parallel politics and theater, please bridge this doubly
schizoid gap with prime protoplasmic sap.
Narcissism all too soon escalates into white out and the white wash away
of jaded consumption, exhaustive noncomposting expediency. May it expand
organically and mellow like well composted, ripened and chewed food, twisted,
squooze, dried and mobilized into tough massaging tickle turds, may you
know your limits voluntarily and squeeze your lower diaphragm even at those
critical times near the edge of involuntary or chasmic abandon to
aid seed retention and fuel vital compos-t-ure.
Noyes,
the founder of Oneida Community highlighted the mental mechanics of natural
crossgenerational foibles, differentiating between amative and procreative
love; seedsaving and eugenics, then deciding in his own alpha favor remarkably
often. In order for young men to learn the seedsaving business so that
their inner fire could retain its vigor, force and focus needed for genecleansing
and memory digestion before breeding with young women at a later age, they
were advised to go serv(ic)e older women first, making it easier not to
blow the fuse. Puritan morals
and seedsaving put pressure on the kettle to serve expansive imperialist
border-bend-busting purposes (see J D Unwin for elaboration), I wish those
economies will be more vertical, feminine and implosive some day...once
up on time... finest studs will sweat for these freshest muds, they pick
and pluck the mighty stuck up off the ground to prick, prime and crack
them into nitty gritty specks, next they soak and sop to fit 'm for fotosintettic
time which leaves 'm rooted.
Seed savers are not poor comers: Welcome
the poor seed savers for they don't come poorly but with heirloom variety.
Refugees, artists, craftsmen, soldiers, dropouts, farmers, streetmusicians,
politicians and prisoners may all become muse missians on a ball and chain,
hard core bang 'n link chore gang sailing in the never flagging purse suit
of worm worship. We take any poor comers with gritty dignity to roll away
the gravy stones and inspire 'm like any good grove stud should.
All hobo's who want to can finally leave their
rut and groove till they marble their muddy shack, hovel and hut, spread
some fresh dust, see it grow and clean their garbled glut, quit treating
life like just an occultable slut.
You
try to be a man, you try to go and get straight up on what there is to
know how and what you can give up to get down and into sweet nothing nobody
to care right about now-here.
Touch and go, stop
and show, stem the glow to feed the flow so credit creating crystal crunch
needs never slow, that is the least we will ever need to know prevent
the leak, that makes your inner tension weak and small don't just
come to make a peak fall into an uninformed de(e)p( )endent peep hole without
a justification, preferably prior to your celebration: match the patience
of rock to turn it into a living clock which may keep you and your time
too. Are we focussed even just barely enough quite yet though? So
what are we waiting for, let us get on with the show!! Horny,
charged, looking for sparkly twinkle with cleavage and magnetic juicyness?
Good! Keep it that way, be on your toes like a woman without scaffolds,
braces, simulation or overstimulation, learn to use childlike sublime perversity
to leave the malicious variety undone, sex is a group gumption.
Mint all mental will full swell, married to a sexual continence with no
risk assumption but spill preventive policy till your match comes along
(I am learning the hard way myself to be honest).
Size up gene ratio and you 'll spell time out as you would the heavens,
cause they are key to scale and range.
Vert-I-call: Get
and set the jolt volt age old fuse gage level at love's longest possible
length and strongest strength to use it's scalehopping depth as vertically
far as you can. The male should leave his fingers from politics and money
and dabble with the vertical variety of the latter all the more forcefully,
he needs all the time can get to invent and build toys that turn the more
inanimate female mysterious yet measurable mechanisms on through fullfillment
of minting conditions and mint conditionings.
Further the fun our
fires form: Fire
forms are many, from fierce to gentle; those of the sun and tectonics have
ours being male: (vision and provision or flaring flames fucking with fossil
fuels and forests) or female: (fine, fun and fruitful or fearfully fickle
and rockily reactionary) in between them as traffic controllers.
Mankind has foolhardily
substituted external fire and exothermic combustion for intimately inner
and gentler forms.
Quick fixers flaunt ashes the easy way
to replace squandered inner warmth not only bemoaning prone and lost, but
losing loaned priming time as well.
Fossil
fuels for people to idle, rev and rave, to groan, drone, stink and smell
are robbing and wasting away our oxygen and prevents our future heritage
to come of age: a diamond light concentered and refractometered time of
merit, peopled by raw 'n rough, supply jointed, not just subtly wristed,
and more thorough than fast, more treeclimbing than cross toting or motocrossing
(dirty bi kings and queens), less racing than human, they will rectify
these mishaps. Fire of coherent karmic viscosity often gets indecisively
pointed hither and tither or burnt up in a blaze, rupturing and exploding
the kettle without lasting bond, no watertight and constantly callibrated
fire proof drip irrigation
"Fuck
you" says energy, "be nice" whispers inertia, "let there be focus, lets
have a spark, come up with some greenery between bright light and solid
dark."
Thought may constitute the
search for fertilizing, creative cocoonweaving pentvent-valve to tabulate
and end torture of knotted feelings (fears and unloving acts like
playing with flair and inflammation prone fire banished to and on hold
in the subconscious) which in their turn are surrogates that poison the
humours in absence of decisive medi(t)ation.
When we truely
understand the subconscious, we will see through fire manipulation and
pollution with equal ease, conversely the Jesus mythology and the cabbalistic
connections to the sun will someday teach us the jump from vision to provision
and the acknowledgments of "super- or obconsciousness". Personifying the
inert as well as inner fires has given rise to many a myth, fact is that
we are not all equally pro- and efficient, apt and adept at or inclined
to providing and processing fuel; that goes for loving, fruit growing and
campfirestarting, as well as for rocketlaunching (see chapter 3L for more
fiery stories).
Be gentle, do not force
your hand; stimulate and fan but contain the inner fire, you need it to
transmute and steel your mettle to grow; do not masturbate in a no importa
if I aborta mode. Inner fire works are meant to help bark
the hard and stark up into a pretty park; you can see everything grow all
at once when you use your spark to make the mark of the dark
recesses of unutterably feminine substance (preprocreative creatures) cloaked
and cornered in the tightest of old, preactionary and ancient habits.
Don't let the fires from hot to trot broads or inflammatory impatience
melt your mettle before tickling the oxygen from them solidly swing sway
loon toon attractive feminininannyhoods, help the shining sun, reduce fresh
air from, as much as rock to ashes, don't break these hardest hearts without
soaking and shining em up to show off their polish and fertility from,
with and for love. Sustained vigilance is a true noncome bust fire, internally
contained in contented continence of sextention to free the externally
constrained for a second to none coming clean.
And
now for a quick recap: Fire can be seen in many but three main forms, as
are water and the other elements, human fire resides between solar and
tectonic kinds; ours falls apart in three forms again: male (flames or
provision), female, (fetish or fruit) and both at once: herm(es)aphroditic
harmonising, the grey area that p(l)ays so (s)well these days (see also:
rehash on fire, ch 3L)
NOBODY;Newly Organized Beleaf Orders Diversest
Yearningz, bycause nobody cares and nobody is perfect as well.(Wavy Gravy's
solar powered concert/campaingn/tour slogan).
Sexual education should include showing us how to keep our subjects happy;
the worms and other little fuckers that feed their and our descendants,
we really should serve them for a humbling yet glorious change. How is
that for an end to navel or crutch staring abuse and wearout to begin the
way to win vital cycle spin?
Come to the mystical mist sprayed
and bedabbled fairyland between the armies of bullet and sperm shooters
where playful disciplinarians mint fresh dust or raindance on it to send
it on its way and once moist make the clouds go bust.
Orgasm
and disinterested boredom may form a vicious circle. The animistic and
magic sensuality of a fresh mud bath is threatened by boom and bust rush
hours of op- and depression, consuming vitality and innocence. Intracutaneous
current is extra cute, dowse for it. Cleavage stands to attract: Feminine
weaves, curves, twists and twirls as evident in ropes, hammocks and strainers
must claim the masculine defense budgets before it deserves that name,
so shiny, high tensility and truely protective tools and toys ensue to
reflect, mime, be consistent and reconciled with the former at a more concentrated
and fundamental level, reaching deep into time, not far into space.
Life peeps, winks, seeps, stinks or
thinks from cleavage and showing some as fresh and appetizing as possible
in a strangely superficial, top of the physical existence pyramid kind
a way is capturing the most attention ever, yet only 1 in a 1000.000.000
is inviting and creative enough in the all encompassing, circular cycling
heartfelt way. It is sorta like a woodchopper studying the grain so he
gets max cleavage with least effort, but he may not stop and wonder to
understand how a tree came to be in all the ramifications that wholesome
knowledge would imply for his outlook on and sustainable demeanor in life.
Spiral
vortex pathways into the too tightly spun substance turns, grinds, mixes,
sweeps, polishes and sprays it into sustaining swirly super-supperstance-versions
of cosmo-cleavage. We are not unlike simpler soilorganisms subject to circumstance,
we also cannot seem to providently amend but overgraze our budget. Just
as recklessly frustrated appetite can brew up some rude potion to infect
the affects with commotion, so does a focus on too few varieties of cleavage
split our world in over- and underdone.
Help the girls come out(to)date arms,
metered energy, jails, poisons, and lie pushing de(e)p(p)ending. The ultimate
centerfold, blatantly background ignoring, offering only literally white-
and thus hogwashed ones to signify private secrets and ice age evoking
hard feelings, hard as a diamond. Such are the tactics of Esquire
Magazine for example; no dew on greenery she calls her own and without
which she should not only feel naked but skinned, instead there are diamonds,
a jews jewels, hardest hat and slavish work symbolizing riches. A girls
best friend?
The choice is simply between dew or diamonds;
miles around and years to come or quick fix on the run. This bedding and
finery focus at best, must become a wishlist and ultimatum for queendom
cleavage community oriented values and an expanded sense of identity and
chaos incorporating continuity, making males delve through solid time to
cur favor and let their babes live for the moment.
In the land of diamond
fuses all the little pebbly girls become heir to heavenly body aspect timing,
evaluating, choosing and triggering after sucking a tit in the succulent
shade and roaming at home, preventing the nowadays rampant stinkbrink chaindrainstrain
traffic.
Mutual desire recrosses paths, sends and
receives dreams, which come to meaning through hygenic sensuality: providing
raw and fresh food and its feed.
Dreams spun in our
larky dark, lacey lays; sperm spiralling within shifting skin needs continence
of content to contain and fuel creative as well as procreative fire upon
fuse tempering prudent use, slaking will a way from (s)lacking want, building
up steam to encompass the world before pouring it into a pretty curvacious
fragment.
I would like to breach a lance for subjects
subjected to a population sexplosability objective, for sweet nothings,
strategic cases, juicy snatches, real tinker cans that cannot cantanker
caressees which tumble through time sublimbidonally like truely undaunted
cleft flaunterers: earths organisms founding and feeding crystaline just
lust dust containing crusts.
Begin the enforcement of gravity's biomassive levitation; it's the law.
Stay alert to see to the where, why, with
which, who with and what all for feminine principles no less than princesses
bed down.
Rejoice in the voice of your choice, can
you light my way if I fuel your lamp?
Modern self perpetual compound interest underlies
the same threat as inbreeding: initial strength and eventual retarding
convulsions.
Linkling's
squirmy concept: If such could be your slot, wouldn't
you just save the lot of your king's men right royally, to help the groves
grow up from the light, well fed with the turned on tides of a life-unleashing
fight with the uppermost tight, their bottom end beginnings are humblingly
rough and tough wringings ("Are
the marines helping yet"? John D Hamaker)
To riddle, flake, peel and slough, moisten to slake, shine and grow the
dry, crusty and crumblable rocks. Only then can the lustily rousaled sly
lover proceed in good conscience to crown creation with his wriggle giggle
bounce to ounce spring off partner as follows: a brief rush, then a long
relaxed over and out right after, sends the race on course to soon meet
the humptily dumptily tumbling Queens egg and try complete the bumptily
rumptily trigger figger Quest, at that point with any frenzied sexspeedy
end, cause life is short for tiny lives but the transformer primed and
new beginnings immanent. So they stroke the flow like comradely candid
dates, yet the specieman of her choice gets to know more than the
others can tell from the broken shell in the spasmic swell. I foot the
bill for stopping the spill only just until mentioned conditions fullfill.
Anything done with the intent to mobilize,
evolve and upscale, i.o.w. help photosynthesis to add spin, store memory
and DNA braids to the cycling of life is eventually more, and more lastingly
gratifying than the shortcutting, parasitic, predatory versions of spectacularity
which take the proverbial wind out of sails.
We
may feed the brain or feed the womb, but there is more life in the balance;
so fuck with the brain to duel with the tomb and fuel the womb and vica
versa, don't forget to come into the gloom of the tomb with the tools
that make some more room for rain and shine in season. May our familytrees
grow to cover us, then light will fill up these branchbanks with
full bloom.
Being in love leaves blind spots from reciprocal,
searching light focus that complements all around darkness and obscurity.
Bein' lovin' has all the angles covered nonexclusively in a cushioning
radiance when given time.
"You won't get my head in heat until you heed
a deeper need, it requires a more difficult deed than merely spilling
seed, I must remain cool under the beat you need and before walking it
have to see to some feed", said a no longer rash man while preventing
a scrape with a prerush woman once up on speeding time along. !!!!!
Genesis:
Is it a story about evolution, seasonability, edible evil, how living shade
becomes a cover for shame and how the snake can shake the law? Graves calls
it a misinterpretation of ancient icons, seasonal waxing and waning, dramatized
and personified in rivals, the sacrificially killing knife came to be interpreted
as adams rib when blood sacrifices became taboo.
Sitchin or religious people say it was alien
intervention or divine creation respectively. It may 'just' have been the
daoist-tantric sexual mysteries related to all other glands, who knows?
Why would not man accept fruit of the wombman?
Maerth's interpretation: the tree of life
is woman and the other tree is man, eating fruit of the knowledge, segregation
or duality tree is cannibalizing male brain, knowledge hard to wallow
or is it?
Tenen puts the emphasis on its encoded natural
law, likening trees and fruit to magnetic envelopes, torus doughnuts, spinning
and spiralling symmetries.
According to Mckenna, Wasson and others the
neolithic revolution was the ripening of reasoning and the consolidation
of egostrategies after the supression of the expanded selfconsciousness
which was a psychedelics consumption side effect.
Lyons maintains that that juncture of time
saw the birth of the subconscious, a place to banish and attempt to stop
fears from interfering with our approach to and rapport with fire.
The true rejuvenant will lovingly crack pow(d)er
pack(age)s which rise vertically on into the sun's soft suasion the more
you get down on into the hard of their dank deep dower darkness with ride
offering water that needs and feeds a flavor. Stop fearing blue balls,
prevent them, just choose to avoid them.
Monomaniac men undermine, -stimulate, misunderstand
and disrespect women, they in turn overmine, -estimate, -whelm, -rule men
(in politics please, not in bed, though the first and final choice be theirs).
Slipping her on or him in is (besides immediate
bonds) best aimed at careful pineal gland activation and perfectionist
preparation for progeny.
Orgasm is the small
death that conceives small life, it produces exuberance and/or exhaustion,
evokes past, present and future feelings at once. When not taken to extremes
but to help go far, this crutch spasm slime is a crucial station along
the glandladder (perhaps puzzled out nor planned, just muddled through
to and stumbled upon. Some of the funniest in its kind is called: Unconscious
comics (the Santa Cruz Comic News) it features all kinds of organisms within
others personified) to charge the clocks of sublime bio- and dreamtime.
Confashion
(see ch 3 for more): So far some of the where with what all
I have hauled into my head; poisonous amalgam causing timidity and inhibition
countered and poised by mercurial mindfulness for flow better go getter
filamental growing tips. I was just too easily giving my drive away instead
of a way to, for and with my drive, or maybe I just picked up girls who
were a bit too young, eager and juicy for me to keep my cool. I often came
to take an unjustifiably lifeleaking peak at death.
I grew up to become a muted mime, immersed and emerging from a land of
bovine mammary gland manipulation. I came (and came) to look away from
and yet indulge the soothing submost of subversion and though I traded
eye- for oversight, now fanciful foresight and outlook might yet provide
a benevolent gene ration.
I am an in-flam-ma-boyant-ory, rash, and impatiently barging bodger and
want to crash into them extended extre-n-mitys to come, crack and ash them
thoroughly well. Yes I will lay into 'm barely bearing resistances that
hold life down, throwing and pulling my weights to and fro 'm a round,
invest my impulsive jitters into 'm, strap 'm in woman age ability gear.
Only then can I enjoin my groin to meet a constellation or so in childlike
simplicity and uninhibited respiration where the only time is present and
of absorbing essence.
I don't walk out on people after I run into them before I remember some
of their density back up for bounce to the ounce, be it with wink, word,
gesture or grip.
My at core open ended
poles make me spread myself too thin until me works out some fuse thickening
squeasy wet sweating routine to keep the inner charge from draining so
it helps strain the painfully exterior stumbling blocks into paragons of
nurturance. I been too easy come and go and what I mean to grow has to
sprout in the dark like the related raw food issue, which took a seven
year dormancy lag time. But the enigmatic snifsnuf fixation on prodable
flesh to bury secret treasure in was fully ored and exploited during the
infamous life (Sade) oozing with slipsliding that started on the siblink
self same date 218 years earlier. Now the juvenile time of indulging, celebrating
and squandering must make room for cultivating and preserving our inner
fire, between that of the sun and tectonics we have our crust to mine,
preconstitute and grow our own with.
De Sade was an animate flower sampler and
trampler, Rotsstof will be an inanimate flour stampler and ampler, there
will surely be some overlaps, nothing better than screwing a freshly fashioned
mud golem on a mudbank in the river, any sizes and consistencies you like
or just an amorph bomb of a slippered rock babe.
During the 14 years of travelling made possible
by the financial support that followed the mental and physical neglect
of the first 14 I had a sort of a cheeky perspectactorivulvacious air of
passe partout about me, Keyserling saw that I was abusing and perfecting
adaptability, the state of being promising to the bitter end, flaming swords
notwithstanding, but my lazy mind was off to a slow start, did not at first
aspire to make a difference, on the contrary, I avoided people and commitments,
occasionally slipping into Casanovahood and Don Juanisms with a keen eye
for the next nearest lonely girl in town, who was never too low for me
to stoop and pick her spirits up a while until my fuse blew and charge
drained as a cue for the return of the momentarily forgotten urge to let
space as well as time slip by; a relaxed and casual get a way.
Except for naively getting myself raped
by drunken Lybian sailors in the middle of the desert after one half of
the crew beat up the equally drunk other half for the rights to my blond
and naive virgin ass (the footfetishist that seduced me at 16 tickled the
hell out of me, but not there, doesn't count), I went after my own heterosexual
conquests without violence, but with plenty a catch up sprint, eyewink,
guile, ruse and wile.
A single and brief homosexual relationship apart from returns for transport
and lodging favors started as much out of curiosity, ever my biggest drive
as due to momentary lack of alternatives and/or ability to deal with them.
The first girl I had been well and truely in love with for ages (years)
but hardly dared approach in the timid and inhibited state I had manouvered
myself into concerning affairs of the heart, got married about the same
time, a quarter the world's width away, ironically enough, almost literally
back home; a snapshot next to her tall and stooping husband on the metal
bridge my dad commisioned after acquiring the island adjoining his property
was part of her wedding ceremony. Her folks are living next to mine now.
I was unaware of all this during my own crisis
after the first 7 days in a jail ever, on the charge of seeking employment
and even being denied the validity of my tourist visa, just bycause the
officer in question didn't like long hair or anybody visiting the neighbour
he had a violent feud with, while other farmers succesfully bribed immigration
officers to stay away from their illegal worker filled fields and orchards.
I tried to fall in love for keeps to remedy my all of the sudden stress-,
strain-, stain- and painfullplay and stray routine on the double and spot:
Seattle, 'green' city, hitec, highly gay (most of the policeforce, is that
better than the fanatic or fat corrupt types so prevalent in the States?).
Me and my Linda were together 5 months, still a standing record for me,
and I looked for that territory I would not hesitate to finance with my
dad's help, but alas my demands were not (ever) modest enough to settle
(for) any place though we saw some choice morsels.
Wasn't one of my
earliest wishes to snake sneak some whirling caresses around all opposition
and win them over with my smooth torquey squeezes? A hint of my hopes for
provisioning mud whirling basins, a glint of snake tribe and scribe memories?
Oedipushy
pal: Orgasm may also vent
and discharge life in disgust, killing energy directed at the father lurking
in your little penis and you may make it bleed any time you like and scold
it for being up to no long run good, lecherous or disappointing, thus making
it a vicious short circuit of hopelessness which clashes and jousts, flashes
and ousts. Such a fixation feels sillyer as you go along to find out that
contrast is a good word to describe the dynamic of generations and becoming
specially pronounced when your papa is helping to pioneer the polarizing
mechanisms of a fast globalizing life only to lose all sight and sense
of its position in a larger scheme of things, while you are growing up.
(see malicious male issues, ch 3B).
I learned early to tap the urge and blunt
the edge to avoid friction with my claimant engenderer, who was trying
to give direction to what he saw as a rudderless ship or worse, though
now I promise everybody no less than myself to affect and infect with mindfulness.
Firey sire seed and almost biblically paternal
credit; I squandered the first to be rid of the threatening succesion of
what I felt and suspected was a bad example lurking therein, on the other
hand I did not want to touch the second more than minimally, overrating
and ex- to the point of distending a look before leaping strategy. Not
in the last place perhaps do I forfeit both my real and symbolic heritage
out of some hypocritical sense of decency (don't complain until you are
crucified), which dictated to not seperate my dad from his money involuntarily,
although he and his volition had had to temporarily suffer a paternally
parting wedge from when he was a kid until mature without let up also,
no wonder it (and the war of course) coloured his understanding.
Now I make do with a trickle
on both scores while banking on a pressure buildup for a belated metamorphosis
or rite of passage that transcends the almalgamate garble conglomeratings
of known history: family and fame, clan and company, people and party,
god and money, resulting in exemplarily differing effects, specially vertical
ones. I hope it's not too little too late.
Made up mind to make up: Driving
space into some chunks of choked and bound uptight time brings room
into the gloom, sung a groove into the grave, so it can rain and
shine into the stuck I struck, soon thereafter to become some tensile pluck
which grows from such marblous muck. Yes my cauldron cloutercombi grinds
like a glacier (see ch. 4) and the longer this remained wishful thinking,
the more I saw bloodlines clog, flesh soften and flab, soil harden and
air used faster than it's being mined and made afresh, it takes uhmpfh
for sweet nothings to rise and ripen anew under our sun, which, by way
of oxide reduction, furnishes foliation ever so faith fully.
What kinds a winds be blowin' over here, what
kinds a rocks be stowin under there? How do I rig the sails on my gap bridging
and by no means cliffhangin' kite to prove and power my crush on crocky
grails? I'm set to strike and strum those dry tight cords with all my might
to break 'm loose like their wet when unfrozen kin, then I snug 'm to make
a way and stay for fresh civilization nourishing silt, helping high organic
culture take flight. I want to sleep around
to wake some softened square to curve the cubed and lay the angles so they
can smoothly bring to bear.
..I don 't like being stuck in any old
time sake love, but I choose to be just loving.
T aint tits that count, tis arms, I am
a patriotic gemini; I slow my meatconsumption and spermsquirting, iow:
bodycount down to try ripen my mind, hatch another eye and send its visionary
fire dancing through mental time as much as I help the sun inspire and
releave its reducible residue, store house and reservoir for bio-physical
forms and stretches of it.
If by now you wonder where I am coming
from, I will tell you:
between my mothers legs.
Go ahead abuse me if you must, just do it
somewhere else. I don't want to lead my life into a condominium, I want
someone to come with me who lets me see to her growth of our life.
Forward to specify, divert, respect and
discern flux to harmonize with.
Powers: "chance is necessity by another
name thrown over the complexity barrier. Why does chance make us? To know
love, serve it in this life and go with it into the next where it resumes
its maiden name".
Polystratafidelity: Gilder's
"Naked nomads", "Men and Marriage " and "Sexual suicide"raise spectres
of wrecked and stunted harlequins, he is a lobsided but very intelligent
extremist himself but who isn't and I enjoy his fibre optic rev for freedom
logistics tremendously cause I can visualize the complementing formation
decompaction and steadily incremental biolife timespanners (see the
inthrow and other bits on info elsewhere).
Blue strictures evolvalving vs vulvacious
red light leaching of love (see Dan Winter on blue fire): Orgasm
or seedsaving, expedient rupture or enduring rapture.
Jetplanes, theatre and church seats, motocross
starting gates, throttles and penis primed sperm, arms and mobs lined up
are just a few ways agility stakes its lateral space claims, but what about
vertical ones in time?
Industry calls for and orphaned dust
reminds us how many generations fed on white watery waves, were raised,
drilled and sent to fight equally yet somehow other braves.
Orgasm relinquishes potential in favor of progeny or it blows a leak to
escape tension during puberty, prime lure for the world's largest addiction
in free countries, less or at least covertly so for out of touch high tension
traditions of expansive desertifying.
Stimulation as an end in itself, for its
own sake contrary to a means for an end, is just as derationated and hype
hallucinogeneric as is uncritical art: simulation of trailblazing cross
references.
Aids in the west is mainly orgasm addiction
till the battery is dead, aids in the south is mostly caused by hunger
and malnutrition (see P Duisberg on the fashion of renaming and subsuming
old diseases under the new grantpregnant appelation of a fresh vital scorch:
AIDS)
Dowse for a vein, dig for a strain of
pure priceless coinables, help it divide and be fruitful to attract some
precious groinables.
Vital vibrancy; is it fertile or forceful;
sexy, slippery, luscious, ripe and nutritious or strong, smart and superior
fire power, is it to-get-her?
Don't blow off steam, spray fresh mud,
cute coin; don't come, precome!; it's all to do and done with mirrors and
a disarming focus past that most fierce of mindb(l)ending reflexes, failing
to harness same preempts the priming and toning of the entire food and
love chain from first organized lifeforms on, back up to the sublimated
gland ladder resultant rev for life and more efficient solar harvest
this
next and final section is continued from my /commendablinklist.htm:
....restrained as women do to leave us men run around making fools of ourselves;anticipating
the best balls and breasts match is an energizing long term affair and
plenty lead time for it comes natural in stable conditions, much to be
preferred over the dissipative lassitude after devil may care issue forcings.....
but hey I like winter too and not everybody can postpone the pacification
of spirit rebelling against all odd and massively unconscious outnumberment
(where God lives most
intensely like Bartsch says in his 1919 novel called heathenism, or it
would be if it were translated which I am not sure about; a good overview
of the love versus lechery problem is offered therein by the way)
though first shot should be best and better, even bettest when/if man ages
and ripens enough to look the world square in the face with the same compassion
as it will a prospective partner. Me? my first shot came from too much
privacy, too little involvement in mom's garden (not
enough responsibility given, at least to my taste; I hate weedfree barren
ground) the be subordinate game taught instead
and me left with an obliging dog who seemed to know what ailed me before
I did. But I hope you all may be spared the inflammations and eruptions
from impatience, red meat, greed and you name them. I think the 'bestial'
event occured before I even found that soiled porno in regular installments,
the sort of truckroute-transit-road-side-mulch spread around the
incredibly few little clumps of trees left in the heart of bio-industrious
but as such an unwisely tone setting land. One of these ((in)famous
off and on rampages for disease harbingering worlds of hurry. No women
allowed aboard this ship, we are man-hunters)
runs right by where I grew up (1.5 km away). Russell's cosmogony idealizes
the noble gases and calls 'em hermaphroditic somewhere. Judging from the
latter sexual orientation's rising popularity we'll soon be rid of population
problems but extremer polarities make for bigger bangs.
A last word to leave
you with: "L' amplesso sessuale e la festa del povero", translate this
and you have a title by Jane Schneider about (European) sexual moral.
(stat
installed) end of october 98
poetpiet@hotbot.com
Is this
the only disfunctionalcounter(ring)
culture
left?
Half
of this site was created/gestating during the 80ties (links
thereto are in the table of contents for instance) and
the rest since then (latest files at tops
of all content files). Last
corrections/updates and add ontos: late july 99;
last major corrections to this file: 1997; last additions: 98; last minor
corrections: july 99;
aim responses at: poetpiet@hotbot.com
A site
navigaid:
Switch
to soundbite sampled files of the newer works at this site from Blabsabs_Index.htm
Use the
links in the latter half to reach my older work
(via
appetizing one or two line characterizations of the aphorisms, essays and
segments, which vary in size from a few lines to a page or two)(those
with titles are listed in the table_of_contents.htm)
These
most mulled over bits are again briefly described (differently,
including proper name plus keyword source(l)inks) in
the abstracts
file.
One may
prefer to switch to my guest appearances and check my credentials first
(sometime anyway I hope): /intro_to_currency_issues.htm.
Then there
is the off the cuff stuff: my several (11
files) list picks and interactions via:
table
of contents for all list post files.
And finally
my (another 11 file): correspondence
collection.