Wednesday, September 28, 2011
The children in the forest again. The sun's rays defining them through the canopy and the forest moaning and creaking indifferently to the children. The meaning of the forest's music lost on them. They looked out from their world that was bound by their loyalty to the old man like a family of foreigners. Their child-fingers on the muddy low parts familiar and reverential. Their line creeping among the different instruments of the forest's will. Dawdling between tree trunks like a toddler among his mother's legs. The forest's sensuous organs secretly seeing them without seeing them like a blind kiss like a mother's peeping. The presence of a tree in a child's life. The nature of the Earth's organic endeavor unobservable from inside of its own clockwork. It keeps its own rhythm despite the ebb and flow of human enterprise like it did before this ambitious animal elevated itself to dominate the Earth and yet remain asleep to the aethereal presence of nature's multitudes.
Monday, September 5, 2011
I watch my child's things crash on the sidewalk.
They fall from the forth story window, their funny animal faces cracking like egg shells, their charm scattered but not lost on the concrete sidewalk.
I would now like to tell to you the difference between men and women, and don't ask me how I know, the whispering wind told me.
First why do women permit themselves to be the dogs of men, why do they submit. Why do they do things that would make a man ashamed, this is a question men fail to ask themselves because the answer looks obvious, because they're women. But why are women allowed to be cowards.
The answer requires me to admit something men and women have in common, they both have something to hide. Lets not pretend that outer appearance is anything but a deception, there is no pretending in this cafe, the cafe of truth. We all have things inside ourselves which are antithesis to our image, the priest's sexual appetite for children, the sweet and innocent girl's love for having her pussy licked by other girls, the doctor's all consuming power hunger.
What was my point.
Listen, this hidden space for men is not really hidden and not very secret, even from themselves. But in women there is a place hidden behind yellow tape then red tape then a led bunker with walls ten feet thick where there is a secret they don't even admit to themselves, the secret is that when a man submits he submits completely, but a woman never gives all of herself. She lives in this small space and plays with her secret fantasies and the knowledge that she is really the master, and only leaves this place to half heartedly to pretend to submit, which by the way she practices since she was little.
Keep this bit of golden knowledge to yourself, because to know a woman's true self is offend her unforgivably, if a woman insists to you that her lies are true and you look back at her with a knowing, she will hate you forever.