|03-29-2021, 02:47 AM||#1|
Minion of Satan
Location: Where the frog spoils the leaf
10 june 2013
10 June 2013
822p. Monday. You can keep smoking, keep doing this job, keep doing a different band here and there. None of the bands are going to go anywhere. And even if they do, the best you can hope to come of it is some regular shows. Which is great but involves being tired all the time at work and being in bars and tempted to drink and to smoke and to date pretty girls that will cheat on me the instant they're able to find somebody younger or richer.
I wonder if my problem with girls stems from my problem with pornography. I've been looking at pictures of boobies since first I could get my hands on them. And objectifying and glorifying a particular female form with that. Then at some point the images weren't enough, i needed to shave my legs and pull on some stockings to chase any sort of squirt toward a shock resembling joy.
To the extent if I were injured or killed my friends and family would discover something harrowing to behold.
Not just disgusting but harrowing: talking not just mer pornography (softcore of course but so much of it and so minutely curated), but omg the props: all manner of skanky girl clothes, and all covered in yellow crust. Plus a fake couple of lube-slick rubber vagina hole things. Strokers. A probably pretty clean fake penis. Some different breast replicas for putting in the bras. Cut up in such a way to the lay person that they think: omg did he fantasize cutting girls chest. But really was just how can we get this to fit in bras without flopping out and ruining the effect.
Hey! This is a way to not need sex with females, I guess my ghost would respond to distraught survivors picking through the effects of the personal estate of my dead body. But without zak bagans they will never know i am screaming that with my ghost lips.
And even if I am freeing myself from the need to have a female around, am I actively harming my ability to someday coexist with females? Am I burning forever in my mind an impossible standard of female physical form?
Worse, am I not actually freeing myself from anything, but instead making my sexual compulsion more entrenched and more difficult to ultimately overcome? When I decide to “Get good once and for all.” How would I feel in my mind if I didn't go around with all that porno and all that secrecy in my head all the time? How would I feel in my mind if I stopped the THC and porno altogether?
What would I have to face? What's waiting for me to face that I can't face it?
Or do I just like to have fun.
All I know is that almost whenever I get lucky with girls, almost always I wonder: but why wasn't it the hot one? in a part of me I hate to acknowledge but I know is there. There is someone in me who doesn't see the humanity in fat girls. There is also someone in me who cries for them, cries that they have to endure a world populated with people like me. When they are people inside. When I look at the porno pictures, and the movies, I am not seeing or asking whether there are people inside the forms. I am just responding to what the forms do to my pecker.
Responding often and to a degree that I've so desensitized myself that I need all this to get excited anymore. And I have to think I am messing up my ability to be around live women. Sometimes when I am out in public and I see a lot of females I get sort of panicky like my perviness is visible to all. And I have to go out of my way to hide it. But by going out of my way to hide it I am attracting more attention to the perviness I can't actually hide. I was by the river and there was a big beefy dad watching some daughters swimming. Every time I looked at the girls, I looked up and, yep, he was looking right at me. I guess because I was a solitary man in mirrored glasses writing on a folded up piece of legal pad on a bench half submerged in the mud the floods brought up the weekend before the weekend before last.
John the new chairman has an irritatingly brisk manner. It seems like it's the fact that I'm talking that pisses him off. Even though I'm agreeing with him. He is from St. Louis, though. He's probably decent at heart, he just needs to be civilized. I wish I could smile more and not have my smile feel fake on my face. I need to think about things that make me smile and smile naturally when I'm around people. Maybe I could be full of the love of Christ and smile at people that way.
But it seems that John and I are not going to be fast friends, probably. So now we just have to wait and discover if he will see past our personality differences and see the reliable way I read cases. The new attorney next door Jessica [redacted] seems like she could be okay. Although moments after saying hi she told me how I was going to have to help her move the furniture in her office around.
If the job starts to be a drag, there's nothing to stay here for. The Conductor band will be okay without me. But I don't know where I will go or what I will do when I get there. I know that I'm spoiled now. Having done what I want under an exceedingly forgiving boss in the employ of the government for almost four years? Wow it's going to be painful going back to selling my time for a dollar.
I don't want to be Joshua Homme or Billy Corgan. I don't want to be king kong solicitor of the city either. I guess at one time I wanted to be a preacher. But a preacher, especially one without a church, needs a job of some kind. I feel ready to be generous enough to live in the Kingdom. To give up all property rights in favor of an interdependent oneness. But the Kingdom isn't here yet, so there's property rights, and you have to fucking live somehow.
838p. So you can keep smoking. Working for the government. Doing bands. Jacking. Maybe if I fell in love with someone? That seems to be the thing everybody does.
Katie played me some piano at her house while we waited for Jay. I wonder if she could tell how my voice changed when he got there. I could. I didn't will it, but I did it. It's more that I realized, when he got there, how soft my voice had gotten while hanging with her. We listened to Thin Lizzy the Boys Are Back In Town because I was telling her how great it would be to do guitar harmonies. I wonder if we could blend our styles together. Maybe if she taught me her songs and she learned mine.
There's so much going on in music. There's so many people that are so much better at it than me. Like Chris, the jazz-schooled guitar player for the Georgia Guidestoners. Both him and Hugo are great. I played bass in the hot practice space at Sheri and Tom's house until I got bored and had to leave. Before that we rehearsed Conductor a bit. Jay and Katie were playing way faster and louder than we usually rehearse. Chris came in and watched us a bit. I think I've seen Chris at the Mission before. Tom gave me a hi-five when I said I liked 90s guitar rock and big riffs and Queens of the Stone Age. Then he says, “So you're a blues player!” Which I don't know how to answer, because obviously everything rock was the blues. That's like saying to a bird, “So you're a dinosaur!” So I just said, “Yeah, basically,” prompting a look from Katie like wtf. Because Katie is a self-professed hater of the blues. She means she hates straight blues, which is okay with me, I don't plan on ever wanting to play that, much less listen to other people play it. Unless, okay, Stevie Ray Vaughn I can watch.
915p. I've got to keep praying and looking for the next thing. Music is not good enough as a religion. Or I am not good enough at it to make it my religion. Nor am I passionate about the law, money, or working too hard. What can I give to this planet to justify all I take from it? More phone calls home. Or sobriety. But if it's sobriety, then this band, these friends, this life I've built up that revolves around weed, will have to go. Because I can't be around it and not do it.
I've hit a brick wall on the lyrics to the solo record. Plus I don't know if I can even record the thing on the Gateway because it's acting funny.
Last edited by Run To Me : 03-29-2021 at 03:00 AM. Reason: [redacted] to protect the innocent
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