love?

The other day I was questioning something. Is love a constant process of hurting? Is it in the nature of love to feel torment? A favorite song of mine ends "Love's an excuse to get hurt, And to hurt, Do you like to hurt? I do, I do Then hurt me". It isn't until now that I am realizing how true that seems to be. No, I am not in an emotionally or physically abusive relationship, yet love seems to be my great delight and torment.

Rilke wrote a poem titled "Love Song" that seems to capture the delight and torment I now relate to love.

Love Song
How shall I hold on to my soul, so that
it does not touch yours? How shall I lift
it gently up over you on to other things?
I would so very much like to tuck it away
among long lost objects in the dark
in some quiet unknown place, somewhere
which remains motionless when your depths resound.
And yet everything which touches us, you and me,
takes us together like a single bow,
drawing out from two strings but one voice.
On which instrument are we strung?
And which violinist holds us in the hand?
O sweetest of songs.
Rainer Maria Rilke
New Poems: c. 1907

Rilke starts this poem with the imagery of two souls - two infinite beings- each holding him/her self so that they do not rest on the other and move beyond - lift up - to higher individual "other" things.

This self inflicted demand, he then follows by saying is counter to desire: "I would so very much like to tuck it away among long lost objects in the dark in some quiet unknown place, somewhere which remains motionless when your depths resound". His soul does not want to move beyond, it does not want to lift up gently above this other soul, it wants to find a home where it is not conscious of the movement of this other being. This is the torment of love. This is where the demand of love, to be loving (in the most radical and rarely understood sense of the term) and move above is necessary to stop the desire to pull away or break off and feel the release of the dark alone. This is torment.

Continuing in his work Rilke captures the great delight of love, the oneness which is felt by the harmonization of two separate strings which form together a united being. The infinite space between two lovers, the god-like being which is formed between the love of two people this is the sound, the chord that is played/created when is aroused.

At the base of all of this delight in the deepest fear of love, is the question of its absurdity. People in love play the "what if" game* to understand and embrace the absurdity of love, yet the question still exists. Why is it that these feeling exists, what is it that makes two people feel this way? Or, as Rilke worded it, "On which instrument are we strung? And which violinist holds us in the hand?"

In another of his poems (Phallic Poem VI) he continues this question:

To what are we near? To death, or that display

Which is not yet? For what would be clay to clay

Had not the god feelingly formed the figure

Which grows between us.

To answer the question of the absurd is to turn to, what for many, is the most extreme absurdity - a belief in God. Rilke was not a religious man, yet to understand how love exists pushed him to God.So yes, love hurts yet if we hold to love as what is best in us and makes us more than clay we can succeed in love.

*as in "what if I had not gone to this school" or "what if I had not gotten on that train" etc

The end of Sunflower Sutra by Allen Ginsberg

We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread

bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all

beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we're blessed 

by our own seed & golden hairy naked

accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black

formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our

eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotice

riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening

sitdown vision.

Allen Ginsberg 

Berkeley, 1955

Masculinity

"Why my dear, he is not good looking at all, but extremely masculine." (The Fountainhead)

Masculinity is the most attractive characteristic that a man can have. This is extremely obvious yet society does not actually understand what true masculinity is.

Masculinity is not something I can outline for you. It is not external, it is not purely chivalry and importantly it is not disposable, thus it can not be material even just material expression of chivalry. It is not pretty language, it is not rough language, more than anything I believe masculinity is sincerity. Sincerity does not come from an acceptance of "who you are" by what you conform to. It is not an identity that just "goes with the flow", it is something that is cherished and searched out and chiseled and formed by an identity that knows not who he is but knows to discover who he is. Life is not in the being, it is in the becoming - in the projecting of who you are in every moment.

One of the most masculine men I know is a paraplegic over his healthy BMI yet someone who demanded respect with the atmosphere which his identity brought to every situation - an atmosphere of searching. He has humbly embraced his identity as a thinker, because living in the realm of the mind requires nothing more or less than humility. He did not appear to me for an instant as his body, his freedom was absolute because he was sincere in all that he said, and honest to all of his thoughts demanding them to be the highest quality. This man is, honestly, one of the most attractive men I have met.

"Why my dear, he is not good looking at all, but extremely masculine."

Letters to my classmates #4

Dear Blond Blond Girl,

You are very pretty and have fantastic style.  I loved your brown Dior purse in the fall and now, with the new cold winter season, the arrival of your new designer black leather bag fills me with envy.  I peer at it every day in class trying to figure out who makes it but alas, the angle is never quite right... So I sit in anticipation for the moment when you reveal the beautiful designer who sculpted your gorgeous purse.  I love the gold hardware and the soft muted leather finish.  I imagine if I am ever close enough to it then I would smell the cool musk of expertly worked leather that identifies it as a truly worthy bag.

Okay, now I hate to turn to more negative things after admiring such a beautiful bag, but yet I just have to ask... What possessed you to mutilate your hair like that!??

Darling, judging by your eyebrows either you are a natural blond, or you go all the way with your dye job and got your eyebrows done to complete the golden facade. So please, explain to me-- WHY have you bleached a platinum cap onto the top half of your beautiful banana blond head??  The yellowy waves which fall over your shoulders are expertly ironed, so clearly you have some skills in the grooming department.  So again, why is your skull area practically white?  Did your hairdresser go crazy when touching up your roots?  Or was this an intentional diversion from consistency?  I think I would understand better if you had various blond highlights, but this is almost a straight line dividing your two shades of blond.

Perhaps this is a new high class fashion that my lowly brunette head hasn't been privy too. Or maybe it is a blonds only style... I cant imagine a ginger dumping a cup of bleach on her skull, why would you?

well, until next time BBG-

-Plain Jane Brunette who stole your purse

small thought ... may not be right (still needs editing)

Right now I am working on a paper on the topic of sexual ethics and particularly the different periods of history (in the West) and how cultural/religious opinions have altered man's feelings towards this serious relation.

While doing this, and talking with others about this, I had an epiphany or something like that. On the topic of birth control the world seems to be divided into two camps, one sees birth control as woman's liberation from men, as finally equalizing the sexes and permitting sex to be a show of equality. The other camp sees birth control as a great evil that has loosened the responsibility of sex and made it an activity, something to be done destroying the seriousness of this relation.

I do not believe that either is fully right or fully wrong. On birth control permitting equality I would like to respond that sexual activity - with or without birth control - should always be done within the realm of equality, of seeking the "human being" (as Rilke demanded) within the person of the opposite gender. On the raw physicality of it though women who use birth control will not have as high a rate of pregnancy and that does irrefutable equalize the results of sex. As to the opinion that birth control as loosened the responsibility of sex I agree, it has, and in many ways it has done more to divide men and women than before. Now, pregnancy (especially for teens) does not result in marriage to the extent that it did in the past putting a greater responsibility upon the mother than the father. This I believe can be linked to birth control, especially the pill, which is predominantly seen as the woman's responsibility. Marriage was the most sure means of ensuring that the male take responsibility for the child, and now while we have the court system it does not have a 100% success rate for controlling the phenomenon of "dead beat dads".

Yet thinking about the spiritual side of man while birth control can have the effect of misusing and exploiting others in the search for sexual pleasure - ultimately squandering this spiritual connection between men and women, it also can have a positive effect on man.

Birth control now allows man to move his sexual relations and desires outside of realm of the purely physical. Now the decision to engage in sex, or not to engage in sex, is a topic purely and solely for man's inner struggle, pushing him to do more to relate himself to himself. To discover what it is that motivates him, and where it is exactly that his moral decisions dwell. It now allows him to seriously challenge his conclusions and to what extent he is influenced by custom, religion, culture, or fear of other's opinions about him.

This is not to say that within the masses this is the result. In fact, statistically, it is not, but now because of birth control mans decisions can be a purely moral one. If man is constantly in a state of self searching, a natural state without distractions, he would be using the spiritual debate behind sex to learn his value*. In doing this the decisions may vary, no two people are the same, yet without the concern of pregnancy his decisions would be him projecting who he is onto the external world, and not letting the external world project who he is into him. Birth control would be supporting the higher spiritual in man, forcing him to search himself. Birth control then would build man's internal spiritual strength and not the animal.

(please note that by man or he or himself I mean both men and women)

*this is not a comment making a claim that there are no objective values, in deed there may be, but for a person to know this they can not take it as an assumption or else the word value would more accurately be convention. To know even if there are objective values one must find them aligning with his inner spiritual self because if they are objective then this would be natural anyway and grant them a more fundamental strength.

Poem shmoem

I saw you awkwardly today,

didn't have anything to say,

so simply gave a little shrug,

kept sipping from my travel mug.

Fruit-roll-up boy stalking continued

Wow! Fruit Roll-up boy speaks! (and has a little chin beard going on) So- his voice is REALLY deep!  That was unexpected.  I think you just went a notch in my book. well... in my blog.  I'm not sure your voice matches your body... that happens sometimes.

OH! side note/update on my philosophy professor: today his deep purple sweater fit properly and he had a pink oxford sticking out of the collar.  Spiffy! He was looking pretty stylish, if I do say so. His classic dark jeans were not too faded or long

Oh... Fruit Roll-up boy (I think I'll call you FRUB)-- you just spoke again, but sorry this time I'm not that impressed.  Throwing in the awkward curse word during class discussion is not classy.  It just sounds out of place and uncomfortable.  This is Philosophy class! we are talking about deep, serious, meaning of life issues. Dropping the F-bomb is just weird.  There is no reasonable cause for anger, and we aren't on MTV.

To improve the world

If right now I could make one change to my community to improve my life (and the world) it would be a chocolate delivery system. I don't know if any of you have thought of this but it is by far the greatest idea I have had, so far.

How often are you in need of something delicious and chocolaty yet similateously too lazy (or in the midst of a huge storm that is shaking your windows) to a. go out and buy chocolate or b. spend the time baking something chocolate? Is it just me? Am I the only one suffering this deeply tormenting problem?

Think about which do you crave more often, chocolate or Chinese food (which is probably worse for you given the amount of MSG in the food)? Yes, that precisely what I thought. There is clearly a market for this so come on entrepreneurs catch up.

mid quarter crises

Many of you (as in the two people who read this blog because you are close friends of mine) are well aware of the state of things under my tiny studio sized non leaky roof. For the rest of you (my imaginary audience) I will explain it to you. I am going through a mid-quarter crises. Many of you may ask what casuses this? What is a mid-quarter crises? Does it happen quarterly? Should I expect to go through this phase?
Let me walk you through what this crises is and see if that helps answer your questions. I began to feel my mid quarter crises when I looked at the whether forecast for this week and saw that for the week we should be expecting rain, solid rain everyday. For many of you (imaginary people) who may be desert dwellers this might be exciting and cause to celebrate, yet because I live in St.Louis where, as Nelly said "we play the rain all day" this is neither new, exciting, or cause for celebration. The prospect of rain for an entire week brings out the inner depressant in me and catalyzes deep degrees of self reflection in which I look back over my (short) life and consider if I am mediocre because I gave up my childhood dreams, dreams of being a horseback rider or a model, and if should just drop everything to do______ (it has not been figured out).
My mid-quarter crises culminates in asking, what Camus considers the only question worth asking is life worth living. HOLD THE PHONE this is only a mid quarter-crises and not a life crises therefore I was not for a moment contemplating actual suicide just suicide/murder of the life I am living, an undoing of the direction my life is headed. So that is for me a mid-quarter crises, a period of time when I consider whether or not my parallel life where I am a horseback rider is better than this one. Will you hit this phase? Probably. Will you quit everything to do _____? Probably not. Should you though? I don't know, it is still raining outside.

I should have forseen this.

My philosophy professor would have a philosophy about grading.  Apparently standard grading techniques do not apply to "true thinkers."  It turns out the number that he puts on the test isn't actually the grade we receive, just the grade we deserve.  So the first 15 minutes of class, I'm staring at my hard earned 17/25, on the verge of tears.  I calculated my percent grade on my handy iphone at least 5 times to ensure that I wasn't hallucinating the 68% grade. My whole identity was suddenly only worth a D+.  I avoid catching my professor's eye as he sits there in his 30 year old jeans and sweater from a time when he must have been 50 pounds heavier.  (it occurs to me now that maybe he doesn't have a wife to get him new clothes... :( hmmm I AM in the market for a professor these days... something to consider.) Anyways, he is sitting there all normal and old looking and says "I'm very pleased with how the midterm went. The class did very well." [I cant bear to listen, I'll just wallow in self pity and indignation]
My brain is trying to process:
it goes a little like this: OMFG! I goto every class, take notes like my life depends on it, AND I thought I knew what I was talking about. How did I possibly get a D+?? There are kids who NEVER come to class, and some just sit there and sleep! WTF. I am going to meet him in his office and tears are going to flow.  You can sure as hell bet that I will milk it to get a better grade.

"...Infact the average was a 15." [brain freezes at this point, and my ears begin listening to him again] "I'm very pleased with the responses." 
Ok. hold the phone. What did he just say?
I ask him to clarify "Dude, how is a failing grade considered good?" (Ok maybe I didn't call him dude)
Well it turns out that he grades us on a scale of comparison against each other.  He lines up all the grades and the center one gets a B- then he scales up and down from the point. blah blah blah.

I've heard all I need to. He revealed that there is a list of our actual grades. I guess the grading gods were generous this round because on the list I have a nice shiny B.

Hallelujah!

Fruit Roll-up Boy follow up:

Dude.

Ewww. cutting your nails with that knife! Really? Are you sure that is what you want to do with your time during this lecture? I'm sitting here hypervenalating about my midterm grade and you are calmly slicing off the edges of your nails as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

gross.

-Girl trying not to stare at you

Letters to my classmates .3

Dear Fruit-roll-up boy: (Ok- they might be tasty but the 3 you just ate today are making the table all sticky)

You look kind of creative, probably a little nerdy as well... I imagine there is a Trogdor T-shirt in your wardrobe somewhere, and that is just fine and dandy.  The fancy erasers and drawing pencils might be fun to take notes with, but you are leaving eraser dust EVERYWHERE!  It goes to far when your neighbor is finding it in her hair an hour later, while chatting up a cute guy I met after class!

But you know what, I can get over this slight humiliation. What really creeps me out is your KNIFE!  Do you really need to have a knife on the desk during philosophy class? No matter how aggressive he is, I doubt Socrates is going to attack you (today).  I can see the knife holster on your belt and it makes me wonder... What possible scenario have you thought of that would require a safety switchblade at your elbow.  Do you really think  you will need a sharp weapon so suddenly that there wont be time to reach for your belt?  Oooooi you just pulled out a Zippo lighter. That's cool... but you look more like the flavored cigar type than a smokin rebel without a cause. Good luck figuring out who you are.

-Girl wearing a Kevlar vest and hairnet

 P.S. Put your Tevas back on. dork.

Letters to my Classmates part 2

Dear Silent Asian boy (yes I did call you boy. You must be over 100 pounds to be a man):

I've never heard you speak, but I'm not sure I want to after seeing that hello kitty key chain on your backpack. Every time I see you I have this urge to bake all kinds of deserts. And I don't even know how to bake!! I just want to feed you pie and cheesecake and brownies and pudding. You need some meat and potatoes. Mashed, baked, chopped, boiled, fried, anyway you want! Just eat something. please. Food is so delicious, how have you resisted it your whole life? Now I would be slightly more understanding, if you were to reveal that you really ARE 12, and all prepubescent boys are this size. But sadly I think I'll be waiting a long time for that answer.

-Girl with all the baked goods behind you

Letters to my Classmates Part 1

Dear Dirty Hippie boy: (no, your scarf and jewelry don't project an image of confidence, it screams masculinity crisis)

When you bob your head to the tune of the socialist feminist masquerading as teacher in our class it makes me want to scream. Your ugly ponytail and Birkenstocks don't disguise the empty space in your head where rationality and a sense of patriotism should reside. Next time you bring hemp milk or soy tea to class, I might just dump it on your organic recycled notebook. And since you limit yourself to only responding in a 100% politically correct manner, your comments in class are blatant evidence of your brainwashed and unoriginal identity. Learn to think for yourself and maybe you will find that something intelligent will come out of your mouth.

-The conservative girl sharpening a knife behind you

.

Coffee with Plato

Well I'm in a cafe again. I just cant resist coffee these days. I'm sitting here chuckling as I drink my Americano and read Plato. You see, Plato was actually pretty funny. I know he is an ancient dead white man and the people who determine political correctness these days claim we are supposed to abandon the DWMs, but I cant help it! (Plus why are all westerners considered white! Italians, Spaniards, and Greeks are European and they aren't white! Why should western history, by this most people mean European and United States, be despised simply because it was successful. Just because Europeans developed the technology and governing system to conquer and colonize the world doesn't mean that all European descendants should be guilty of harboring superiority complexes and a desire for world domination.)

Ok, back on track- Plato- funny guy. smart too. so let me just show you this hilarious part---

Ok Socrates and this dude Meno are chatting about virtue--

"Socrates: You are outrageous, Meno. You bother an old man to answer questions but you yourself are not willing to recall... Even someone who is blindfolded would know from your conversation that you are handsome and still have lovers

Meno: How so?

Socrates: Because you are forever giving orders in a discussion, as spoiled people do, who behave like tyrants as long as they are young. And perhaps you have recognized that I am at a disadvantage with handsome people so I will do you the favor of an answer."

HA! isnt that great? here they are going on about the nature of virtue and whether or not it can be taught and then S goes off on M about being better looking!

OMG

So. Funny.

Now that my strange sense of humor has scared you away, I'll just sit here quietly and order another pastry.

Stranger on the Street

Hey I had one of those! (pointing in my general direction as I put away my phone)
Really?
Yea I like your boots
Thanks
You know I'm a Scorpio Libra
Really
Yea I was trying to get a scorpion necklace from this guy in San Francisco. And you know what he sold me?
What
A fucking dragon with 3 claws!
Really?
Yea a DRAGON! You know what a scorpion is? You know, goes like this (hand motion wavy and snaping)
Yes I know what a scorpion is
So I asked this guy "who are you?" and he said "I'm a Druid" and I was like "WHAT?" I'm like Druids are only in fucking fairy tales right?
Yea that's right
So my girlfriend. We were in San Francisco. And she started smoking meth amphetamine! And I was like "Get out. Get out of my apartment!" it's crazy you know!
Yep
California man... You know I'm like a care giver. Yea my mother was too. She liked the church. A lot. She was a nun. My mother was a nun.
Oh really?
Yea..

This guy who started talking to me on the street. He had on a time-turner necklace from Harry Potter. He also had a cross with Jesus on it. And multiple bandannas hanging from his pocket. He had on reflective blue sunglasses and long curly black hair.

Donald Where's your Trousers?

I like this song. It's called Donald Where's your Trousers. It's a Scottish Folk song.

1. I've just come down from the Isle of Skye,
   I’m no very big and I'm awful shy,
   And the lassies shout when I go by,
   " Donald where’s your troosers."
   
   Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low,
   Through the streets in my kilt I'll go,
   And all the lassies shout hello
   Donald where'syour troosers.
2. A Lassie took me to a ball
   And it was slippery in the hall
   And I was feart that I would fall
   Fur I hadnae on ma' troosers
   Chorus
3. I went down to London Town
   And I had some fun in the underground
   The ladies turned their heads around
   Saying "Donald where's your troosers".
   Chorus
4. To wear the kilt is my delight
   It isna wrong, I know its right
   The islanders would get a fright
   If they saw me in the troosers
   Chorus
5. They'd like to wed me everywan
   Just let them catch me if they can
   You cannae tak’ the breeks aff a Hielan’ man
   And I don't wear the troosers
   Chorus

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kd_Zgla48g4

:)

Coffee for me

• At this very moment I am sitting in a new coffee shop on Newbury St. Like most of the commercial world in American cities, this shop has gone environmental. In fact it is called Natural Bean Organic Coffee! Personally I am not an excellent judge of coffee because I am a fairly new member of the coffee drinking population. Despite this limitation, my free cup of organic coffee seems mediocre. Perhaps my conscious distaste for the organic hippies taking over the streets is projecting onto the coffee, or maybe it really isn't that good. Either way, I am silently dissatisfied with my entire experience here.
• The small basement level cafe has potential to be great, however it is ruined by the bulletproof-glass surrounding old burlap coffee bags which decorate the walls combined with a strange ceiling... Art? I'm not even sure what to call the awkward oval of scattered environmentalist words over my head.
• I'm also not sure why I am staying here... There are two women sitting here in the small seating area, as well as a couple other students who are quietly working. The two women are talking extremely loudly and answering phone calls which provokes even louder erratic conversation. How rude. Did no one ever teach these women how to behave in public areas?
• Recently I have been trying to figure out why some people are so unaware of their surroundings. Or perhaps they are simply unwilling to behave with etiquette. As these women chatter on, I try to give a not so discrete glare to the one facing my direction. My multiple attempts fail. I'm glaring at a brick wall.
• Literally.
• One thing I have always loved about the architecture in Boston, is all the exposed brick. The jagged red blocks hold up the low ceiling and form the steps leading into the café. The yellow gravelly mortar adds a beautiful element to what could have been an ugly, plain plaster wall (if a modern architect had gotten to it).
• I have been pondering the thought of opening my own café recently. I was in the Mississippi Mud House in St. Louis when a friend brought up the idea. In this particular café, I saw a shelf with a bunch of books on it for sale. I found this rather uncommon feature of a café intriguing. Titles from Moby Dick to War and Peace were available in old hardback editions, all appearing straight out of grandfather’s classic library or the back shelf in a used bookstore.
• When I was in The Mud House in New York City, I had the pleasure of drinking my orange juice out of a jam jar. How creative! As I have been traveling around and seeing numerous coffee shops I have been mentally designing a list of memorable features and notes... As I sit listening to Eartha Kitt, I think I can see this happening someday.