Where is the 2nd Guitar???

(The answer is: There's no 2nd guitar!)

Once upon a long LONG long time ago, when I was 16-18 years old, I was learning acoustic (classical) guitar. I really enjoyed my lessons, which lasted for about 18 months, and I think the acoustic guitar is a beautiful instrument (I also like the electric guitar but I think acoustic - nylon or steel string - is more pretty). I may have played a little better had I practiced more - as gently suggested by my lovely guitar teacher - and, perhaps, I could've been more proactive in my guitar learning. Still, I had fun and I'm glad I had guitar lessons. I did, however, develop a wee crush on Mr Guitar Teacher, despite his being somewhat older than me and married - which leads me to the next, slightly difficult, paragraph.

Mr G T and I would chat during and after my lesson, mostly about music but other things as well. I can't really remember too much of what we actually talked about, I just know that I was beginning to enjoy his company in a way that even my addled teenage brain realized was becoming problematic and inappropriate and wildly unrealistic. I eventually stopped going to guitar lessons; partly this was because other things were distracting me and maybe I wasn't really going anywhere with my guitar playing, but I also stopped because I knew nothing was ever going to come of my feelings for Mr G T and I was too vulnerable and I felt it was better to be away.

 

Obviously, OBVIOUSLY, obviously, there is a textbook analysis/argument to be made here about a teenager falling for an older person and why it happens; blah blah seeking security, when you're young and insecure, from someone who seems to know stuff, blah blah feeling protected from the big scary world, blah blah he was nice and didn't treat me like the idiot child that I was, so of course I was going to like him. Blah, I don't care, my love was real! Blah!

But what the hell has this got to do with the missing 2nd guitar (as per the title of this blog post)? Let me explain, the title refers to three things:

Firstly, it is a metaphor for a long ago, but occasionally remembered, sadness at not being able to see my guitar teacher anymore (he was the 2nd guitar). 

Secondly, it is a comment about the most incredible Lindsay Buckingham acoustic guitar version of Fleetwood Mac's Big Love, to which I've listened for many years believing there was a 2nd guitar, until I watched the video clip (which I have conveniently placed below).

And Thirdly (if I can keep going a little longer with this kooky 2nd guitar metaphor - which I'm going to do), much like Lindsay Buckingham not requiring a 2nd guitar to play this song, I've become someone who doesn't require a "2nd guitar" (partner) to "play my song" (live my life) - not that my life is as good as acoustic Big Love, but it's pretty good nevertheless.

 

Thank you, Lindsay, that was freakin' awesome!

"I'm Not Your Mary"

[This post was going to be some photos of Pyramid Head, James and Maria but it seems to have morphed into a (highly intellectual) dissertation of Silent Hill 2]

In the 2001 psychological horror video game, Silent Hill 2, gamers were introduced to the enigmatic creature named Pyramid Head. His name is somewhat self explanatory:

Pyramid Head has become something of an icon among horror gamers of Earth. Much wordage has been devoted to the deconstruction of "that red triangle thing" and especially to exploring his connection to the tormented psyche of the protagonist of the game, James Sunderland. Here is James, displaying his tormented psyche:

Many analyzes see Pyramid Head (as well as most of the monsters, certainly the 'bubble-head' nurses and 'legs' mannequins) as representing James' unsatisfied sexual desires and the resulting frustration he feels. The reason for his sexual unfulfillment being that he hasn't been getting any lovin' as his wife had been very sick and he wouldn't be unfaithful to her, and even after she died - apparently 3 years earlier - he hasn't been able to move on. Pyramid Head's seminal (albeit without any semen or, indeed, a penis) first cutscene appearance has certainly influenced this theory:

This scene is often referred to as the "Pyramid Head Rape Scene", though I question if 'rape' is the correct descriptor. If this scene does depict rape (or a representation of rape), does this imply that James has raped? Or contemplated or fantasized about rape? Given that the received wisdom - and specifically, James' statement before his final battle with Pyramid Head - is that Pyramid Head exists to punish James (for his weakness and transgressions), then it would be reasonable to link Pyramid Head's actions in this scene directly to James. But it may not be explicitly about rape.

The "rape" that's being witnessed in the cutscene may be more akin to a weird, and unsettling, sex dream. Are Pyramid Head's motions/gyrations during the scene actually violent or are they somewhat rough or 'violently' passionate or overtly dominating???? The distorted moaning noises heard during the scene evoke a sexual context, with a suggestion of pain - maybe James associates sex or sexual intimacy with pain (physical and/or emotional). But if this scene is sexual, it's not clear to me if the mannequins are consenting or not; Pyramid Head grabs their legs, which are flailing around, but that doesn't inherently mean that the mannequin's legs are pushing him away; maybe they're just kicking around with reckless abandon, without a specific purpose. When the scene ends, the mannequins are motionless on the ground; seemingly they are now dead. Did Pyramid Head rape them to death or (consensually) shag them to death? Either conclusion is pretty messed up. But are the mannequins even dead? The mannequins don't attack James once Pyramid Head is finished with them but I don't know if this is proof that they are dead, maybe they just lie on the floor once James/Pyramid Head has finished his crazy sex dream.

A subsequent cutscene involving Pyramid Head and another monster (officially known as a Lying Figure, though I call it a Puker) is further amped up, with the moaning noises sounding extremely orgasm and pain but with more ambiguity - to me at least - as to what the hell Pyramid Head is doing:

I think that a definitive interpretation of Pyramid Head in these scenes is not entirely possible and any analysis is greatly reliant on the subjectivity of the analyzer. But in terms of James' response - in both cutscenes, upon witnessing Pyramid Head's actions, James is visibly distressed and attempts to flee the situation - it is clear that the part of James' psyche from which these scenes have been extracted and distorted is very frightening to James and he would prefer to run away, or hide in a closet:

Then there is The Maroon Menace, or as she is actually named, Maria. James keeps mistaking Maria for his dead wife (named Mary). It happens, we've all been there. Maria looks like Mary, sounds like Mary, but in James' mind, she couldn't possibly be Mary because Mary behaved and dressed like a nun, whereas Maria is a total skank. And, for good measure, Maria is a dancer (though not a reggae skank dancer) at Heaven's Night, Silent Hill's very own nudie bar. Here is Maria, explaining to James that she's not his Mary:

The whole Mary/Maria thing is a bit too virgin/whore, in my opinion. I would prefer that a doppelganger of my dead spouse (if I had one, either dead or alive) be more nuanced (though I wouldn't mind him being sexually available to me whenever I wanted! as Maria seems to be implying she is to James). Maria is another manifestation of James' (somewhat sex-obsessed) psyche but she also exists to punish him. [Spoiler Alert: It is eventually revealed that James actually smothered his Mary with a pillow after years of watching her deteriorate, both physically and mentally, and being subjected to verbal vitriol from her]. Many releases of Silent Hill 2 contain a sub-game titled Born From a Wish, where the protagonist is Maria. Maria has been created purely for James to interact with, and her manifesto is to be totally for James. Here she is, following James around with total devotion (and possibly checking out his butt):

Of course, such single minded devotion to another is not healthy and it takes a toll on both James and Maria. James (and when I say 'James', I mean me when I'm playing as James) starts to get a little creeped out by Maria's over familiarity with him and unnerved by her constant hovering. Maria, meanwhile, is doing what James' psyche created her to do, ie clinging to him, yet he keeps pushing her away and mistaking her for Mary. Fuck you, James! What a cunt. Don't you realize Maria is the embodiment of "Be careful what you wish for"? Maria, quite understandably, starts to lose her shit at this impossible and unfair situation and lashes out at James:

And lashing out at James is exactly what Mary used to do, though presumably only when she was dying and she was angry about dying and maybe the disease physically affected her brain (I'm not completely clear on this last point). James became torn between loving Mary and resenting, even hating, her. As James' journey through Silent Hill draws to an end, and after dodging or killing or maiming many manic monster manifestations (!), James eventually finds a video tape which reveals to him that he killed Mary (up until this point in the game he had been in a disassociated state believing Mary had died from her illness, three years earlier). It is also worth noting that at various points during the game, Pyramid Head 'kills' Maria (Maria keeps reappearing, though, 'cos Fuck You, James!), hinting to James the ultimate shocking truth. James, quite understandably, freaks out after finding out how Mary really died:

James finally has a conversation/confrontation/battle with a Silent Hill version of either Maria or Mary (depending on the player's actions during the game), which is then followed by one of three possible endings (on a first play through): Leave, Maria, In Water.

Leave sees James accepting what happened and moving on with his life and away from Silent Hill.

In the Maria ending, James decides he wants to be with Maria (I take this to mean he'll be continuing to live in some kind of delusional state of mind) and the two of them appear to be walking away from Silent Hill when Maria starts coughing, just as Mary had at the beginning of her illness. I had initially felt this to be a creepy ending, but upon reflection, I decided it could act as a form of therapy for James, still in a very fractured state, whereby he explores his demons with Maria, maybe eventually overcoming them and moving on. It could form the beginning of a healing process, though it could also send him insane.

For the In Water ending, James takes a wild, and presumably suicidal, ride, driving his car into Toluca Lake to 'be with Mary' (a commonly held belief among Silent Hill 2 enthusiasts is that Mary's body is in the back seat of James' car - so, by driving the car into the lake, with Mary's body in the car, he can be with her both on earth and in the afterlife...unless they're not going to the same place...).

Silent Hill 2 is a very narrative driven game (maybe 'game' isn't quite the right word...perhaps 'experience' is more apt). It poses some tough moral questions and has provoked much discussion and theorizing about James' actions, the imagery and noise of the monsters and of the environment, and the themes the game explores. Its underlying story is very real and very human. James' real world ordeal and trauma is not outlandish fiction. Near the end of the game the player is shown a note from Mary which states that despite James' apparent surly demeanour, he is actually very sweet. I suspect this is true. I imagine that James, being a man, especially a young man, would have been subject to notions of tough guy masculinity, and so could likely have believed that he was expected to cope with whatever the world threw at him and not admit his distress or pain or seek help or counsel. And even if he did admit that he wasn't coping and tried to seek help, where would he go for help? I wonder if James had been older, with a bit more life wisdom, he might have found the reserves to endure his "long three years" (it is revealed, in the 'Maria' ending, that Mary was actually sick for three years), but if he had endured, then we wouldn't have this beautifully disturbing image:

🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻


Special End Note: For a maximum high level psychological horror experience, Silent Hill 2 should be played on a pink PlayStation 2 console (with bonus pink memory card):

Internal Structure

Would it be wiser to remain with this solitude status quo? Or does it need to change? Would I be a better person if I were 'involved' with someone? Do I need to be a better person? Maybe I'm already the right amount of better? Perhaps there is no way that a human being could possibly be more better than I am right now! Would I be happier? Would non-solitude fill my internal empty places? Doesn't everyone have varying degrees of internal empty places, solitude or non? My internal empty places seem to be getting smaller, less porous, more manageable, as I get older (though my bones and cartilage are getting more porous and less manageable - external structure is letting me down, as I get older).

What drives the impetus to pursue 'involved' interaction with another person? Is it

• desire for connection
• to alleviate loneliness (existential or everyday)
• to follow social convention/expectation
• to make babies
• lust
• intrigue
• a manifestation of narcissism
• security
• solace
• madness

Do we really need these things? Aren't food/water/shelter/oxygen/dvds enough for us?? (Or should that be: isn't food/water/shelter/oxygen/dvds enough for us??).

But what if it's just one another person, in particular, challenging the solitude status quo; someone who seems to emanate solace, seduces with their intrigue, inspires lust. What if it's someone who was encountered unexpectedly, via ordinary daily happenings; not someone found through semi-random, though deliberate, driftnet fishing, but someone who appeared, unbidden, and now you keep thinking about them and want to know all about them and want to interact with them but can't find an appropriate means to do this and are worried that they won't want to interact with you anyway! (And they're probably married, even though they don't wear a wedding ring). And then it gets so bad that you have to write a semi-stream-of-consciousness blog post about it to stop yourself from getting into a desperate state of mind and doing something, well, desperate, and just making everything worse. (And it's been going on for awhile; exhibit A).

It might be time for another Buffy-a-thon, even though I just finished a Buffy-a-thon.

Fragments of Conversations as Spoken by 2 Obnoxious People in a Bad Relationship

[Sub-Heading: Listening to the couple next door yelling at each other - extended edition]

Sometimes their conversations are mundane. Sometimes their conversations are abusive. Sometimes their conversations betray painful truths about the fragile vulnerability of human interactions. Frequently their conversations are loud (such that I can often hear them through the shared wall). Occasionally their conversations take place in our shared driveway (making it even easier for me to eavesdrop on them). One time it sounded like things were escalating to a dangerous place and I considered ringing the police. They are both in their early 30s and there are some difficult decisions ahead for them. In the meantime, they continue shouting at each other:

(NB: the order of fragments is mostly random; some fragments are from the same conversation; some fragments are direct quotes, some fragments are paraphrased; I've grouped fragments into sections of five, with each section being either her or him only; I've tried to balance more toxic fragments with less toxic ones; capital letters indicate screaming rather than yelling)

her: you're acting like a 5 year old
her: it's never going to happen!
her: watch yourself!
her: I'M NOT ACTING LIKE A BABY!!!
her: what about the future?

him: you're fucking nuts!
him: I don't know what I want
him: you say you have revealing dreams about me
him: FUCK OFF!!!
him: I love you

her: unfuckingbelievable!
her: this is as good as it gets!
her: when are we having a baby???
her: I'm your chauffeur
her: GET AWAY FROM ME!!!

him: you keep talking about your biological clock
him: I would never cheat on a woman
him: YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!
him: I want to have a baby
him: how many cigarettes have you had?

her: I love you
her: this isn't 5 years ago
her: I wouldn't not want you to be happy
her: you're following 900 women on instagram
her: FUCK OFF!!!

him: I'm happy in this job
him: SHUT UP!!!
him: I want the mother of my baby to be healthy
him: how many steps have you done today?
him: it was just for fun, it doesn't mean anything

her: why are we still fighting about this?
her: there better not be any teenagers
her: stop touching me!
her: I'm just trying to make suggestions to help you
her: I'm going to talk about this

him: today, I'm not your boyfriend
him: I know how to wash dishes!
him: I will kill your cat
him: what about my happiness?
him: I don't want to talk about this

Things I Can Tell Just By Looking at Him

As it turns out, there aren't that many things I can tell just by looking at him. In fact, I can only really observe and then attempt to make conclusions based on my observations (duh!).

Things I have observed and things I know:

• I know for sure that he works at my local library as I have seen him standing behind the library desk, and I've seen him using the behind-the-library-desk computers, and he checked out a branch transfer for me (and while he did this, I 'checked' him out!...see what I did there)
•  I know his first name, which I was able to ascertain by reading his name tag while he was checking out my branch transfer
• I'm guessing his age is somewhere between over 35 and under 50
• He wears brown shirts at work (I don't know if he's wearing the same brown shirt or if he owns many brown shirts)  [EDIT UPDATE: Since posting this blog post, I have observed him wearing a grey-blue shirt]
• I've observed him smiling and being polite and helpful when he is approached by library customers - this could be an indication that he is a polite and helpful person, or it could be an indication that, given that Librarians are meant to be polite and helpful at work, he doesn't want to get fired
• I think I once saw him wearing a cardigan, though this isn't very surprising, given that cardigans are part of a Librarian's armour (but I do like cardigans - in fact, I think the corporate world would be a better world if business people wore cardigans instead of suit jackets)
• He doesn't appear to wear a wedding ring, at least not at work
• I have a suspicion he smoked a bit of marijuana in his younger days, and occasionally still imbibes (I have virtually no basis for this suspicion, other than his longish sideburns, which, in my mind, suggests probable weed smoker, or maybe that he's part Wookie)

But these things do not an insight into a person give. These things don't tell me, for example, whether or not he's a psychopath - maybe he's a psychopath with a heart of gold. Where does he sit on the political spectrum (further to the left would be better)? Is he sexist or racist or homophobic (qualities possessed by some of my ex-boyfriends)? Is he thoughtful or compassionate or tolerant (qualities not overly possessed by some of my ex-boyfriends)? Does he know who The Chosen One is (hint: "into every generation is born") (extra hint: It's Buffy The Vampire Slayer!)?

He has an 'aura' that suggests some degree of weird loner, which speaks to me (I think I'm more likely to connect with another weird loner, even if that sounds contradictory - are weird loners at all able to make 'proper' human connections with normal people, let alone with each other?!?). Though, my 'observation' of his apparent weird lonerism might be more about my projecting qualities onto him that I desire. Maybe, at the very least, he's sympathetic to (and attracted to!) weird loners, whilst not necessarily being one himself.

So, what if he is someone for me (and I'm someone for him). Is it really a good idea to start something which could go horribly wrong? (That last sentence just seethes with optimism). And if things do go wrong, I'll probably have to go to a different library. I enjoy being a weird loner; do I really want to give up my solitude? Maybe it's possible to be a weird loner AND have a thing with someone - I'd still have to work on my interacting with other people skills, though.

And how would things get started in the first place? If something is going to be done, it's likely going to have to be me that does it. I'll have to 'make the first move', because I would assume that a library staffer isn't allowed to hit on a library customer - workplace sexual harassment protocols would frown upon such behaviour. I'd have to approach him; I could go up to him when he's behind the library desk and ask him some library based questions (and bat my eyelashes and give him my phone number!). But flirting isn't my one of my strengths. I'm not very positive about this strategy. I think I need to sleep on it. I think I will need many sleeps.

The Unknown Unknown Unknowns

[Special Note: Whilst the title of this post was likely inspired by the 'logic' of Donald Rumsfeld, the post itself is not about him or his tautologies]

It is unknown to me what I was thinking, 2 weeks ago, when I wrote the title of this blog post. I know I had something in mind, but then I failed to actually write the blog post, and now I haven't got a frickin' clue what it was going to be about. I'm not making this up! It really is unknown to me what great substance was forming in my brain when I audaciously titled my unwritten blog post the unknown unknown unknowns. If Hermione Granger were here she would say, "What an idiot!". If Donald Rumsfeld were here his brain would melt and leak out of his ears.

Still, I'm feeling a hankering to write a blog post. And I have an intriguing title already in existence; a title that could mean virtually anything. And it's wildly random. A virtually random wild title. A wild title of virtually random unknowns. Okay, that last sentence doesn't entirely make any sense. Nevertheless...

random...

I suspect the average human being requires closer to 9 hours sleep per night, rather than 8 hours. That there are 24 hours in a day isn't scientific justification for dividing up the day into 3 lots of 8 hours, it's just convenient maths.

I also have suspicions about the 8 hour work day.

The longer I'm single, the more I enjoy it. I do have the occasional 'relationship', though. For example, I have an on/off thing going with the 12th doctor, so I always set aside time on the Saturday/Sunday nights when Dr Who is screening so I can spend this time with him. But when Dr Who isn't screening, I forget all about him.

(And following on from the joys of being single...the pitfalls of lurv...)
The shouty, volatile, obnoxious couple living in the flat next door need to break up (and definitely not procreate - which she is keen to do, he maybe not so much). Their semi-regular and very loud fights seem to be intensifying; last week's fight culminated in a shattered window and broken glass all over the driveway. It started with a disagreement about driving the car and to whom the car belongs:
she said, "you never drive"
he said, "it's your car"
she said, "it's our car"
and repeat. Add hysterical yelling. And feet stomping. And door slamming. And window breaking.
(Incidentally, the car is actually hers, and he catches the train to/from work, he also rides his bike and walks).
My keen observational and psychoanalytic skills lead me to conclude that the conflict about driving and ownership of the car (a Holden Astra - a notoriously divisive car) is symbolic of incompatibility in their desired levels of relationship commitment: He wants to remain a passenger (just along for the ride), she wants him to 'drive her around when she's 8 months pregnant' (presumably pregnant with their baby). I foresee more and escalating tumultuous times ahead.

Last night Alexander Skarsgård appeared in my dream. It would be okay with me if this were to happen more often.

I should try to write something meaningful about unknown unknown unknowns.

An unknown may not always be unknown, and an unknown unknown may eventually become a known that is known, but the unknown unknowns which are unknown will always remain as unknown unknown unknowns...

Manizer (fictional)

Manizer is, of course, the accepted term for the female version of womanizer. Yes? No. Obviously, having 'manizer' as part of everyday vocabulary would give too much moral elevation to the concept. Instead, the accepted iniquity and malignancy of a woman slutting from man to man is encapsulated in terms such as harlot, floozy, strumpet - all of which are kinda cute words, despite the massive double standard they embody (emwordy?).

But I digress.

I think I may be a manizer. At least of imaginary men. A fictional manizer. I just can't settle on one (made up) man. I usually last a few months in love (lust) with one of my figments of my imagination, but then another one forms in my mind and I forget all about the previous one. It's like I have ADHD of the invented love (lust).

I worry about the trail of imaginary broken hearts left in my wake. I struggle with the notion that I've transformed into some kind of Dr Frankenstein of the mind, creating thought-lovers to satisfy my own nefarious desires, then tossing them aside when I've finished with them, leaving them to roam - alone and untethered, innocent and childlike - in the brain fiction realm. It's terribly immoral, but as I'm evil - being a woman and all - it's inherent in my nature to do naughty things. So don't ask me to stop, because I can't (won't).

Unfortunately though, brain creating is potentially quite dangerous, given that, under the right circumstances, brain creations have been known to take corporeal form. It's possible one of my creations may become flesh, hunt me down and seek vengeance upon me for my transgressions. Though, it's also possible one of my creations may become flesh, hunt me down and seek to explore new transgressions with me. Or previous transgressions. Or both previous and new transgressions. Or no transgressions, and instead we'll have a cup of tea and a chat. Maybe some cake. (All my brain creations like cake).

Psychoanalysis of my Lust

[Warning: The word "subtext" will be used]

My lust, wanton and untamed as it is, takes many forms and is inspired by myriad sources. One such (frequent) source is that of a character from a fiction story, either a novel or film or TV series. And, if such lust is inspired by a screen-character, this lust usually extends to the actor playing the role. So, as a result of recently watching season 1 of political medieval fantasy Game of Thrones - a show replete with sources of lust - I am currently experiencing pants for actor Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, and for his Game of Thrones alter-ego, Jaime Lannister (a seemingly morally bereft bad guy whose apparent badness is informed (as should be the case with any self-respecting bad guy) by his deeply conflicted and complex character - at least that's what I'm telling myself).

As a consequence of this newfound lust, I have been compelled to search for, and gaze upon, images of Nikolaj and Jaime. And my gaze has become besotted by these two pictures (photo 1 is of Nikolaj modelling, photo 2 is Nikolaj as Jaime Lannister):

Why these two images, I asked myself. Why, why, WHY??

I suspect that there is subtext going on in these photos and that it is the same subtext in both photos. And that it is this subversive subtext to which I am attracted.

The first photo* hints at nudity, which can often be more interesting and erotic than explicit nudity, and the gentle way Nikolaj's body and face are posed is suggestive of emotional reflection, and possibly some body shyness. Mysterious nudity and broody emotion and, uh, modesty(?) are qualities attractive to my lust. But what the hell with the second photo; I'm lusting after the image of a man beaten bloody and chained? Does this make me a perverted monster? Perhaps - though this would not be the sole reason for such an accusation - but maybe my lust isn't specifically about the blood and chains. I think what appeals to me about this image is that Jaime Lannister is not only restrained, but calmly restrained - both physically and emotionally. He almost seems to exude a zen-like composure, despite the iron neck-shackle. (Or is he serene because of the neck-shackle - is it the case that Jaime Lannister requires nothing less than an iron neck-shackle in order to attain nirvana; ordinary meditation just won't quell his internal raging beast!).

So, what then exactly is the subtext contained in these photos?

Both photos display an image of a physically strong man who appears to be either unwilling, or unable, or unwilling and unable, to use his physical advantage - an advantage that could be used against a 'weaker' person to manipulate or intimidate or coerce. (I certainly wouldn't be going anywhere near the handsome evilness of Jaime Lannister unless he were securely immobilized and wielding zen-calm).

What these photos show, or suggest, is a kind of male passivity. Or, at least, a male non-aggression or a male non-assertiveness (which is not to imply that I am attracted to, or advocate, fragile submission in men - or, indeed, in anyone). In a world which often encourages and glorifies male violence - to much destructive ends - a passivity which manifests as an inaction to violence can be an obvious attraction (to me, at least). But 'passivity' isn't just about not being physically (or verbally) violent. I think it is also about not trying to dominate people and situations, and being empathic, and striving for equality. And peace, love and mung beans!

Okay, maybe it all got a bit too hippy there at the end of the previous paragraph. To bring things back into balance, here is a picture of mung beans:

*Note about One Soul - bottom left-hand of photo 1: after lusting upon this photo for awhile I eventually looked up One Soul and discovered it is a charity which helps premature babies and their families, and raises funds through selling bracelets made from Tibetan prayer beads - as featured on Nikolaj's wrist; clearly, he is a HIPPY. Weirdo.

The Loved Ones

Whom are these magical ‘loved’ people, the ones that have earned the right to be adored - and therefore, if they so choose, are rarely or never without romantic companionship? Perhaps they have been gifted with special powers of attraction. Or maybe their existence is more valid than the non-adored. Or the non-adored have committed karmic, adoration-based, transgressions – possibly in a previous life. Or, possibly, the non-adored are so rampantly adept at self-comfort and independence that they don't require adoration.

Long term couples are often celebrated if they stay together for lengthy milestone numbers of years; couplehood time-frames that society has seemingly deemed as worthy achievements. But societies don’t celebrate milestone time-frames for being uncoupled. How rude! In a couple (no pun intended) of years, I’ll be reaching my 15 year anniversary of being uncoupled – not counting the very early years, though I did have some (torrid) primary school romances – and assuming that, in this time, Eric Northman doesn’t transform from fictional vampire to actual living vampire and hunt me down (for romantic purposes…or whatever). I think someone should throw me a 15 year uncoupled anniversary party! (Not really).

I like to think that the reason I’m ‘unloved’, is that I’m an aberrant freak of nature (as opposed to an acceptable freak of nature). I realise this makes me sound a little egotistical (obviously, most people aspire to being aberrant freaks of nature), but I’m okay with this, for I take great pride in my ego and all its attendant self-glorifications.

Oh, Yeah...Another Year...

2011 mostly sucked. May 2012 suck less.


Meanwhile, Ms Willow Pussycat is VERY ADORABLE:

The Perils of Womb Ownership

[Warning: Blog post mentions Menstruation, Masturbation and Twilight (the Stephanie Meyer vampire series). Also, blog post is long.]

Don’t get me wrong, there are also joys of womb ownership – though, really, apart from the making of the (wanted) babies and the being a conduit for supernatural powers (re: Buffy), the having of a womb is a mostly fraught experience. It can be especially fraught for the younger owners, and even more so for those aged around 11 to 15 – the age when their wombs are ‘activated’ (ie the onset of puberty, and its partner in crime, menstruation). What this activation means is that the (very) young woman is now in possession of a human-making body. As my mother said to me, on the day I first began to menstruate, “You can become a mother, now”. Obviously, I ran screaming from the room, but I knew what she meant. She wasn’t telling me to go out and get pregnant (I must have grandchildren!). She was making sure I understood that my body had transformed into something very powerful, and, as the wisdom of Spiderman teaches, “With great power comes great responsibility”. Which is a whole lotta scary for a nearly 13 year old. (There is similar scary for boy-teenagers – “You can become a father, now” – but, since human-making doesn’t occur inside men’s bodies, I think the level of jeopardy is greater for women than for men).

Of course, some parents are loathe to scare the crap out of their children, and some want to protect their children from the realities of the adult world. But their children are on an inexorable trajectory into a precarious and hormonal adulthood. A candid (and caring) conversation/s between parent and child goes a long way towards arming a teenager against the negative external (and internal) forces which they will encounter.

So, what does any of this have to do with the Twilight phenomenon? Well, I’m glad you asked. While there are many criticisms levelled at Twilight – its insipid female lead, its insipid prose, its insipid (conservative) gender politics, the ludicrousness of vampires that sparkle in the sunlight – the books and movies are very popular. And the main demographic for this popularity is young women, especially women teenagers. Why, why, why? Of course, the main character, Bella, is also a teenager (17 years old), but there are other stories with young female protagonists. Why are so many drawn to Twilight? What is the nature of this attractive energy, which seethes between the pages/celluloid of Twilight, and lures the unsuspecting girl/woman into its lair? (Hint: the perils of womb ownership).

Here are my (probably overreaching) theories:

Theory 1: Fear of sexual desire.
[Not that sexual desire is a bad thing, or inherently frightening.]
What I mean is that sexual desire can be a powerful and consuming experience. And, for newly hormonal teenagers, sexual desire is a new (and possibly scary) experience. It can take time to acclimatize to the new sensations, and to acquire some authority over them – to feel in control. For women - who, in many cultures and societies, are indoctrinated to believe that sexual desire in women is evil or that it isn’t real - the onset of lust can be incredibly confusing, if not terrifying. In the Twilight series, vampire Edward won’t have sex with human Bella, lest his passion gets out of control and he accidentally kills her. I wonder if Edward’s fear of uncontrollable, and possibly violent, passion mirrors a fear that women (especially younger women, who are newer to lust) may have about the power of their own sexual desire - what terror may ensue if the beast is unleashed (mwahahaha). Which leads to my next theory…

Theory 2: Vampire Edward as ‘safe’ boyfriend.
Whilst it’s all very thrilling being stalked, with fierce broodiness, by a tall-pale-undead-100-year-old man, such seemingly innocent blood pumping excitement can lead a person (eg Bella) to barely restrained lust. And if the person isn’t completely sure about getting wild with their lust, but still enjoys experiencing lust, having a partner who doesn’t ‘push’ for sexual contact can be a practical and unthreatening solution. Which leads to…masturbation! Masturbation – which is often considered normal for men but an aberration for women (bite me!) - is another way in which a person can experience blood pumping lust (and bonus orgasm) without having to negotiate with a partner. So, really, vampire Edward is a metaphor for (female) masturbation…

Theory 3: SEX can lead to PREGNANCY which can lead to DEATH.
[Twilight Spoiler: In the 4th instalment of the series, titled Breaking Dawn – although it should have been titled Breaking Bella – Bella and Edward do have sex, which leads to Bella’s pregnancy, which leads to Bella’s ‘death’ (she nearly dies giving birth to a human/vampire but Edward saves her by turning her into a vampire). Lordy!]
This theory follows on from the first paragraph of this blog post – the fear of unwanted pregnancy. Sure, people can use contraception, but it’s not always 100% effective, and contraceptive choices can be limited – eg some women will develop (potentially life-threatening) blood clots if they take the contraceptive pill. Contraception isn’t always made readily available (unhelpful!). Or, sometimes, contraception is ignored in the heat of passion. So, a young woman may find herself with an unwanted pregnancy, and suddenly faced with having to make a massive and inescapable decision. None of the choices are easy: termination, adoption, young (possibly single) motherhood, or, in some circumstances, suicide. There is also the possibility of things going wrong (even fatally – for the mother or baby) during pregnancy or childbirth. It can be pretty fucking dire! Once a girl hits puberty, the possibility of pregnancy is ever present (at least until menopause), and in the early years of womanhood this can be a little overwhelming. So, I wonder if the heightened intensity of Bella and Edward’s relationship - enhanced by his vampiric thrall and the looming fear that he may get crazy and cause Bella’s death - provides an oddly comforting emotional catharsis to over-burdened (and a little freaked-out) young shoulders.


In conclusion (to this somewhat unwieldy blog post), if societies and cultures over this blue and green planet could just stop being so anally retentive and judgemental about women’s sexuality, and instead be open and nurturing, then the story of Bella and Edward wouldn’t need to be so damn popular. Or something like that.

Teenage Boys and Sex: WTF?

I have just started reading a completely ludicrous book titled "Why Gender Matters" by Leonard Sax. I have read one chapter only and have based my assessment of the book on this one chapter (chapter 6: Sex), indeed on one passage:

"The motivation for sex is fundamentally different for most teenage boys compared with teenage girls. Teenage boys want to have sex to satisfy sexual desire. It's a gut-level, base-of-the-brain impulse, not far removed from the need to have a bowel movement when you feel the urge." (Page 125)

Ah, sex and poo, quite the erotic combination - thankfully (especially for teenage boys, or so it would seem), there's a whole subsection of porn devoted to fecal lust. (OK, I'm done now).

Also, on behalf of my teenage sisters, I would like to point out that the having of sexual desire - and the wanting to satisfy sexual desire as a motivation for sex - is very much a part of we XX humans. It is completely healthy and normal to be interested in sex while being female. AND, as proof of the link between being imbued with lust and (mostly) imbued with estrogen, astute readers will notice that I, a womb-bearing member of humanity, opened the ludicrous book at the chapter on Sex. Baby!

Too Much Dream-Psychoanalysis?

[NEVER!!!]

So, last night I had series of involved and rollicking dreams - yee-hah! I was a little worn out upon awakening. I won't go into lurid detail of the dreams, for there may be children watching, and, quite frankly, the lurid detail of a person's dreams is mostly only interesting to that person. Nevertheless, there are 2 details from my dreams on which I feel I must comment:

1. the crumbling doorway of the house I lived in (with my family) from age 8 to 18 - this house often appears in my dreams (interestingly - to no one but me - the house I lived in before I was 8 never appears in my dreams).

2. the meandering presence of the person I like (sometimes with his girlfriend, and what appeared to be her entourage) - but there was a specific detail that struck me; he poured himself a drink of frothy pink bubblegum (it's okay to drink bubblegum in a dream), then poured some of it into a second glass and offered this to me. I refused the liquid bubblegum as I was already drinking a beer but he insisted (in a friendly way) that I take it, so I did, which seemed to make him happy.


The psychoanalytic interpretation of detail 1 is quite clear - obviously myself and my family need to stop letting evil into our lives, and we need to check that our front doors have sturdy locks (and, possibly, call in a termite inspector).

Detail 2 is a little more free-form. Clearly, the frothy pink bubblegum drink holds great meaning - but what is that meaning? Most likely it's sexual - Freud would see much phallic symbolism in the offering of a frothy pink bubblegum drink by a man I find attractive - but I see this explanation as being too easy (or, duh!). No, I'd like to believe there's something quite esoteric hidden in the pink bubblegum: Do I need more decorative polymer in my life? And, by extension, do I need to find a man who will understand and accept my need for decorative polymer? Ponderous...

Blah...Heart Stuff...Blah...

Still, I think about him, and want to be with him. I don’t know a whole lot about him; only what he allows to people in general, but there is enough in this to attract me to him, so that I want to know more. But he is with someone else, and it is she who he allows in. The time he spends with her is the loneliest time for me. I theorize ways in which they are incompatible, such that they will eventually breakup. And maybe they will breakup, with or without my theories, but when? In 2 weeks, 2 months, 2 years? And even if they were to break-up, there’s nothing to indicate that he would want to spend time with me. But – and, yes, I’m being less than gracious – being able to know that he is also alone would bring me some solace.

A solution to my predicament - at least one that doesn’t involve alchemist love potions - is to fall for someone else. Which, of course, is easier said than done. But I’m reasonably confident that this can happen (my history of lurv concurs), though it may not happen for a while. It usually takes sometime for me to let go of, and replace, my infatuations. And finding someone else is problematic. I’m not overly sociable, so I don’t generally meet lots of new people in the course of my days – plus, when I do meet new people, I need time to see how I feel about them. There is also the issue that there aren’t so many available people my age. And finally, and perhaps most importantly, it’s possible that my ways (endearingly eccentric!) are a little out of the range of normal – at least for the society of which I am a part – and so your more normal people aren’t so inclined towards the lovely me.

But, whatever, ‘cos I still really like him.

Sage advice given to me by a friend in the guise of a random comment

Prior to my first encounter with 'the wild thing' (ie sex!), one of my friends, who had already partaken of the wild thing, made a comment to me about the wild thing (and I'm paraphrasing, for the comment was made quite some time ago):

"It's not like in the movies, it's more down to earth, and things can go wrong."

She was mainly referring to the first time, or at the beginning (not that things can't go wrong after the beginning!), but I think she was also commenting on the romanticizing and airbrushing of sex - in films and novels (at least, mainstream films/novels), and in society in general.

I was very grateful for the comment/advice, which ensured that my first time wild thing expectations were drastically lowered - but in a good way - so that I wasn't anticipating fireworks, and thus was not disappointed whenst fireworks did not ensue.

Hollow Distortion

I've been waving my arms around, lighting fires, and sending up flares, but I'm not on his radar. I haven't been on "his" radar for more than a decade. My true love remains elusive.

I am weary from this endeavour. This endeavour seems to have a grudge against me. I've tried different paths, time after time and full of hope, but these paths always end. Something always barricades the way - thick scrub and fallen branches, mostly, occasionally snakes. Hope hasn't ended, though, not quite. But it also grows weary.

Each year without a companion is getting harder. The clichés amass; empty spaces, absent embraces, soundless conversation, untouched flesh. The aching loneliness is paralysing and inescapable. I feel as though I am being slowly dissolved by a caustic substance, one which I can neither neutralize nor remove. I'm beginning to die.

I've sometimes thought, if I had magic powers, would I use them to influence a situation. And I've always thought 'no' - don't mess with nature. But, as the years grow longer, I'm edging closer and closer to 'yes' - let nature be damned.

I know that finding a partner is not a panacea. All my sufferings will not miraculously disappear with a kiss. There are other things complicit in creating the caustic substance, including ex-partners. I don't know if existence without caustic substance is possible. My belief (hope) is that there are ways of containing, even diminishing, the substance, and lessening its damage, and that one of these ways is companionship.

Younger Love

Attractions of a younger partner:

• Less lines and blemishes, both externally and internally
• a conduit for a younger you
• heightened adoration
• power differential
• reduced complications
• easier to hide flaws

Things I've Observed Whilst Engaging in Casual Sex

• pretend intimacy
• a fine line between caressing and groping
• amplified grunts
• silence
• short term memory

(Actually, upon reflection, this list wouldn't be out of place in Things I've Observed Whilst Engaging in Sex With Partners.)

Embraced by Heartbreak and (Some) Joy

I make my way through the clamouring night. My eyes are misshapen and they hurt when I try to focus. I enter the building and find that I am safe. There is no need for vigilance, I am not under attack.

He is here. He is my crush, but only from a distance. She is here, too. She walks to him and fills his vision. He caresses her hip and kisses her mouth. I remain remarkably calm while my heart breaks.

They laugh and banter, and see only each other. I walk past them. I am mist. Outside affords me some space, and the cool night is gentle. I decide not to leave.

I pass them again on my way to my seat. They are as I left them.

She is in her twenties. He and I are in our forties. I don't like this maths. I'm reasonably sure they've not been a couple for very long. If I could steal him away from her, I would. I have no ethical quandary here.

He is alone. I walk to him and fill his vision. His face exudes a multitude of expressions, mostly confusion. He doesn't seem to want to run away, though, like my crushes usually do (!) - maybe I'm getting less freaky with age. I don't want this moment to end, it may never happen again. But I don't want my presence to become oppressive, and I want to be gone before she returns. So we talk only briefly, then I leave.

I make my way home, through the open night. My vision is clear and my eyes are alive. Pieces of me, seemingly irreversibly melted, are reforming and rejoining. My structure is becoming less amorphous. There is some joy to be had from this.

It's Lust Unbound, here at Effulgent13

I've just discovered that blogger has a 'Stats' function (on my dashboard - only I can see it), which shows the traffic to this site (eg how many pageviews for a blog entry, which countries the traffic is coming from). So I had a bit of a look and was not at all surprised to discover that the blog post, Whose Body is it??? - which features semi-naked pictures of Swedish actor, Alexander Skarsgård (though, technically, one of the photos is a fake) - had the most number of pageviews (by quite a margin). It's comforting to know that I'm not alone in my lasciviousness.