My apologies to Elizabeth Barret Browning...
To a Women's Studies Major
How do I love thee?
Let me count the politically correct, self-actualizing ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height of the phalocentric paradigm,
while encouraging you to shatter the oppressive patriarchal assumptions that created it.
I love thee with a deconstructed ardor
that resembles a non-threatening, passive acquaintance;
I love thee freely, but in a non-pejorative, sex-positive way;
I love thee purely, with a derridian abstraction that ignores our individual gender expressions.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
in the canon wars of the 80s, --- I love thee with all the gender
confusion, and devalued masculinity of all my life!
And, if God (or whatever deity suits your matriarchal cosmology) chooses,
I shall but love thee better after death
(not that I'm stalking you in any way…)
Prepping for Valentine's Day
Sunday Sermon
IT
At some point it touches (and usually damages) everyone,
regardless of race, faith, gender, orientation, age, culture, politics,
or any other label you might want to foist upon your fellow man.
We all know you can't make it happen, and you can't stop it from happening,
but still we dream about it, write about it, sing about it, make movies about it,
lie, cheat, steal, and kill for it,
create ceremonies to sanctify it,
buy shit to try and earn it,
wear shit to prove we have it,
feel sorry for those who can't get it,
and yet almost never willingly share it.
Some people describe it as endless, eternal, undying, selfless, patient, and kind.
Some old Jews once wrote that it doesn't envy or boast,
that it's not proud, or rude, or self-seeking, or easily angered, and it doesn't hold grudges.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres, and never fails.
More recently it's been called a drug, a monster, a battlefield, a religion, a fever, a fable, and nothing but a heartache;
they say it stinks, it's in the air, it's heaven sent, it's all you need, it's a crazy little thing, it's all around me,
it's like a heat wave, it's like a red red rose, it will find a way, it will conquer all, and it makes the world go 'round.
We all expect to have it, even though we agree that it's rare in its purest form.
We all think we're good at it, even though we all know people who aren't.
We covet it, even though there is an unlimited supply.
We market it, even though it's free.
We use it to incorrectly describe everything from Christ on the cross to pizza,
and we all want to think our own personal brand is the best shit around.
Another fantasy ruined...
I used to think that it would be cool to be Spiderman... but it's not that easy. Try it by clicking here.
Naturally, I insist that we turn even this destruction of one of my childhood dreams into some kind of sick-ass, testosterone-poisoned, shit-talking, dick-measuring contest. So please, post your scores, talk smack, call others out, hack into the code so you can cheat, and generally be an ass about how damn good you are at this game... which is essentially a test of your ability to point and click accurately. Kind of sad, really.
I'm back...
I’ve refrained from posting for quite a while now – a month in fact. At first, I was just refusing to let myself off with the sort of crap I normally put up at the first of the year, like “2006 in Review” and the “What are Your Resolutions?” post. I think I’m a better writer than that. Now, of course, I have to admit that it’s only partly artistic hubris that has kept me silent this long; I also had no idea what to say about last year, and no clue how to approach this one.
In 2006 I graduated from college - twice. Neither of my degrees (Religion and English, in that order) is the type of thing that will make a man wealthy, or even particularly secure. On one level, it feels like I have accumulated some knowledge, yet on another it seems that all I’ve learned is that I need more degrees.
My job at the university – another thing I acquired in 2006 – is not perfect, but it is nice to be able to live without the constant fear of starvation. I am now facing the prospect of going to Grad School at UW as well so I can possibly continue working. Not really excited about that, but I can’t face the idea of a couple more years of living hand to mouth, surviving from one Financial Aid check to the next. At least here I have the possibility of working for a decent wage during my masters.
As for 2007, I am exhausted just thinking about it. I have committed to a new workout regimen with Scott and Big Gay Jim, which happens every weekday at 6:00 am. I hate getting up early, I hate cardio, and I hate circuit training; but I hate looking in the mirror even more, so it must be done. I have only missed one day so far due to sloth, and one day due to minor injury.
I am also starting Arnis classes soon, to help further with the weight loss and to provide a vent for my very reasonable desire to kick the living shit out of someone, ANYone, on a regular basis. So far the results have been pleasant; I’m losing weight rapidly, and people are noticing. While getting hit on by tranny boys is odd (love you too, Katz) the attention is nice. It's also nice to see some hope of getting back into those pants that live way at the back of the closet. If the current trend continues, I will have to buy a new wardrobe in Spring.
The performance benefits are there as well. Yesterday for instance – I played three games of racquetball in the morning, and four games of handball cutthroat after work. Although I could certainly feel that I had worked out, I did not feel like I had been hit by a truck full of cement. A month ago, I would have crawled to my bed after a day like that and been asleep by 8:30. Instead, I was still lively at 11:00, and I was back in the gym at 6:00 this morning for circuit training. The really strange thing about it is that I have begun to wake up at the ungodly hour of 5:15 every morning without an alarm. I fear I may be becoming one of them - a morning person.
I guess the point of all this is that I am finally getting somewhere... and I didn't want to blog about it until I was sure it wasn't just a fluke. I feel better now - the silly-ass bloggery you have come to expect can now continue...
Travel Plans
BLACK VATICAN (VP) - The Black Pope will soon hit the road for the 3800 mile odyssey that is the annual pilgrimage to the unHoly Lands (Orange County, California). Reading from a prepared statement today, a Black Vatican spokesman said that His Sinfulness is excited to see Raksha and his relatives (especially the dark niece, who now has about 10 teeth), but he is less than thrilled with the snowfall of recent days. His Sinfulness insists that despite this latest weather attack by Rome he will depart on Saturday, regardless of the conditions, using all the might of the Ministry if necessary.
Vatican Staffers preparing the Papal Dog Sled
Sources close to the Sable Pontiff say that he is so irritated by the time lost to travel and weather, he has ordered a "temporary troop surge" in the R&D department to speed completion of his pet project, the Cybernetic Afterlife Vessel. When asked about the manpower reallocation at his daily press briefing, the Dark Primate spoke candidly about the decision. "This is not the first time those clowns in Rome have tried to use snow to impede the smooth functioning of the Black Vatican. This temporary troop surge may mean that some personnel will get less time to rest between deployments, but until that Star Trek-style transporter I ordered is completed, the jump packs on my CAV are the best hope for making these weather attacks obsolete. Of course, once the interstellar models are complete, I'll no longer have a need for any form of travel on this puny hu-man planet..."
At this point, the Black Pope began to stare off into the distance and mutter to himself. As he was led away by his specially chosen honor guard of 6 foot tall redheaded BCPs, he shook his fist and was heard to say, "Someday, Benedict... you think you're so damn special with your little bullet-proof car..."
Regularly scheduled Black Vatican missives will be suspended until HSBP can get to a secure internet connection - possibly until December 27th or even later. Until then, His Sinfulness wishes all of his Flock happy hollowdaze, and an infernal new year!
The Battle Within
Darth Furious speaks...
To bask in the warmth and order of light, or embrace the chill chaos of darkness; each must choose. Not once, but daily, in a million little decisions that all tally upon the soul. The path of least resistance - the path taken by most - is a smudged line that wavers where shadow and brilliance merge. A step into the light, two into darkness, a remorseful dash back into the light - a cycle of weak indecision that yields a dull, predictable sine wave of mediocrity. It is the rare few who stride unflinchingly into radiance, and even fewer who delve the deepest reaches of the blackness within. Most give in to that hazy grey, settling the internal combat with a sort of bland, ethical détente.
Some, however, fight the battle still...
There is no emotion;
there is peace.
There is no ignorance;
there is knowledge.
There is no passion;
there is serenity.
There is no death;
there is the Force.
Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Peace over anger.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.
Through victory, my chains are broken.
The Force shall free me.
Honor over hate.
Strength over fear.
Do not let your anger blind you.
Rather, let it consume you
and in the purity of your hatred
you will find the deaths of your enemies.
Adductor Longus
Eventually, everyone writes a check that their body just can't cash...
Do you know where your adductor longus is? Its origin is the anterior surface of the body of the pubis, just lateral to the pubic symphysis, and its insertion is on the middle third of the linea aspera, between the more medial adductor magnus and brevis insertions, and the more lateral origin of the vastus medialis.
In other words, it's in your inner thigh. I discovered mine only just recently, when it tried to tear itself free and leap from my body during a particularly spirited game of handball doubles. Most unpleasant, that.
Due to my usual hyper-competitiveness and the power of my boundless rage, I decided to continue playing despite the injury... for another 90 minutes. Though not as stupid as the time I went to the Estrella War with a torn calf muscle, it does rank in my top twenty-five list of personal asshattery. Maybe number seventeen - just ahead of the night I tried to drink Mezcal in Baja with the locals, and just behind the the time I went skateboarding on dirt without helmet, pads, or even a shirt (incidentally, we didn't have dirtboards back then...).
I am out of action for the nonce, but fear not - I am on a strict regimen of ibuprofen, amaretto sours, and whining - I will soon be back on the court. Until then, be on the look-out for a very angry, hobbling and cursing sable pontiff, and steer clear - I am particularly irritated by the able-bodied right now. If trapped in my path, it's best to affect a limp until I have passed...
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