Cookies 'n' Landmines

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

SOPA/PIPA bullshit

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Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Justification of Your Fuckbuddy II

Part II/Conclusion. Sorry for delay.

------------------

Certainly, the impact of promiscuous sex and backstabbing relationships are not positives by any means. They’re more probably negative, as after some time, they’ll develop a sense of distrust and the feeling of being unfulfilled.

The caption is inherent.

However, trauma is a necessary evil. Without trauma, we do not develop an understanding of how to better resolve situations, because we do not know any of its consequences. Like a child who touches a flame before ever understanding that it is, in fact, hot as shit.

n00b.

Emotionally, flames have to be played with in order to be properly handled and used for future, more positive uses. If this holds true, then essentially promiscuous sex is that child playing with fire. It is the active trial and error to discover what sex is, what your emotions are about it, how the dots connect, and what it all means to you.

Problem solved.

This means promiscuous sex and all sex out of the normal “I love you/you love me” context breaks the established truth of sex being a sanctimonious ritual of love, loyalty, and longevity, and is thus more progressive than a standard relationship.

It is, in fact, “deeper” than your best friends or your nicest, more withstanding relationships. Your “fuckbuddy” is better for your psyche than the love of your life.

Buy the vowels, get it done.

But here is the disclaimer: This significance is temporary. Like the analogy of a child playing with fire, at some point, the child will have to understand that he/she’s beyond playing with matches. Eventually, the more significant actions of grilling, cooking, or boiling will have to grow from sliding a match against the box. And if it does not, he/she is not developing.

Development.

So at some point, promiscuous sex begins to wain in significance and positivity, level with the established monogamy of relationships, and inevitably become less developmental and more detrimental.

Like this, except with your emotions.

For the moment, I’m in the age group where promiscuous sex still holds some positive footing over a monogamous relationship or a decent friendship. But this will stop. It will get old, and it will stunt your psychological growth.

This is what you really look like.

And it will always have to be done with some careful emotional footing; damage of some nature always occurs when sex is had this way, and while I’ve argued this as a positive, you do not want to set the damn house on fire when you only meant to burn your finger.

brb burning nations.

Justification of Your Fuckbuddy Pt. I

This is by no means a persuasive effort to ask people to fuck one another randomly (Or fuck me, which would be preferred).

Does this make you wet?

This is more or less an insight into an argument that, seemingly, is never openly made. I’m interested purely in the objective truth of all things, and if this argument does unveil that truth, then I am invested in it.

Like an arsonist's invested in fire insurance.

There is a part II, and it will be posted tomorrow.

-------------------------------------

It is essential to the idea of decency that friendship, love, and other relationships of platonic nature (Or simply, relationships which do not immediately imply TONS OF SEX) are tethered to the belief that they are emotionally “deeper” than those of an outwardly sexual nature.

Looks pretty deep to me.

In the general definition of “deeper” (General being the collective inferences gleaned from conversations throughout my life), this means that they have stronger emotional ties, and thus are more progressive, and positive, to the human experience.

But why?

Because you touch yourself.

We do not immediately question the idea that friendships are of a more significant nature because conventional thinking deems it so, and our innate moral compasses would prefer it to be the case.

But what if that fuckbuddy has a far greater emotional implication than your best friend ever has?

But this is my best friend.

In truth, sex in humans has deep psychological bounds. Generally, the type of sex had, who it is you have sex with, how it is you have sex with them, what it is you enjoy about it, is all entirely dependent upon what occurred to you psychologically.

For example, it’s a nearly subconscious fact that a person who was raised without their father has a wildly different approach to sex than a person with a father (I would say “without one parent/with both”, but I don’t have an observational experiences involving this).

Thanks Newark!

Of course, being without a dad will affect your entire approach to life, let alone sex.

wat is college

But this does legitimize sex’s deeply-rooted nature in our psychology, which empowers my next point.

Trauma of any kind, physical or emotional, is a massively dominant force in the way we perceive our reality. A victim of rape is less likely to enjoy sex as opposed to a non-victim, a driver who took part in a menacing car accident will be less comfortable driving, etc.

'Cause you don't want a car accident photo from Google Images.

The irony is, the same does not hold true for events of perceived “normalcy”, or how they’re expected to go. When something goes as established, it passes through your psyche meaninglessly. When both parents love you, you do appreciate it, but you will be unlikely to highlight or express this in your behavior as someone who’s parents did not.

Bet I know what daddy was like. Or wasn't.

When you drive your car without any car accidents, you will not be affected in anyway near as significantly as you would’ve been if that one drive went horribly awry. So an established truth going as established does not make an impact. Only when the establishment is broken does the brain learn some shit.

FUCK THE (moral) SYSTEM!

Placing this context onto friendships and sexual relationships, a deep friendship or successful relationship does not have the same profundity in the mind as the one person who cheated on you, or the friend who stabbed your back.

You are in fact more likely to react to these situations in anyway than you are to the established ideal of friendships working cooperatively and relationships blossoming beautifully.

Or tits being perfect.

So if a sexual relationship of an adverse nature to the participant is more likely to have a bigger impact psychologically than a healthy one, is it not, according to the general meaning, “deeper”? Is it as shallow as we perceive if its affects are far more prolific than the established truth?

Essentially, when you fuck promiscuously for funsies, is it not more impacting to your psyche than when you fuck someone happily for a long time? And if so, doesn’t it make it “deeper”?

A fistful of deep.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Hey, we have an FB page! And an atonement.

More like I have an FB page.

Thanks, Cunt.

Like the page, it'll get better as we go along. I promise.

------------------------

There was a disturbing lack of Christina Hendricks in the previous blog. As a result, here.

Ignoring my audience all day everyday.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

A Letter of Sincere Gratitude

Dear Don Omar,

I want to be just like you when I grow up.

If you don't get your excalibur wielding ass.

There is nothing more I want to emulate in my life than wielding a sword with a mic on it.

No seriously look at it.

yo dawg i herd u lik swordplay and rap.

That is so fucking badass and logically sound considering I'm sure I can talk into the mic while swinging the sword.

yo nigga back off my kingdom

Waiting for awkwardness after saying "nigga" to dissipate...
...
...
...

And we're back.

And it's every young Dominican-kid-who's-been-alienated-by-every-community-he's-ever-been-apart-of-including-the-shitty-ass-Puerto-Rican-community.........

Take a pause.

... boy's dream to be a minority and pretend like they would've accepted me in the medieval era in which they totally wouldn't have quartered me on sight.

Diversity.

I mean like wow how'd you even think of that? That is such a fucking cool and terrific and awesome concept to relate to all the braided Hispanic kids.

YO u herd about Arthur and shit DAT NIGGA WILDIN'

You are my hero of heroes. Maybe, perhaps, my king of kings.

Yours Truly,
MrIndieDay.

P.S. Okay fuck off though there's a mic on the sword I mean what the fuck seriously?

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

An Announcement.

So having written 2 blogs in the past 5 days (The 2nd coming soon), I am very quickly realizing something.

I am the opposite of Tupac.

Christina Hendricks is immensely attractive.

Annnnddd....

...deserves being posted in every blog.

Fucking yes.

I know, I'm saying some revolutionary shit man.

Indie Guevara.

But I'm going to work Christina Hendricks into every blog, and that is final.

Case closed.

Feminist Disclaimer: Hey, listen, at least this isn't Etsy-knitting shit, alright?

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Kinda like Tupac.

In the recent couple months, I've delved extensively into the Occupy movement. I've learned lots of things, met tons of people, and did what I've always loved.

Circle jerk?

Expressing myself, and being appreciated for it.

This has led to a remarkable boost of confidence, and a feeling that, frankly, I'm beginning to actualize the meaning of my existence.

It is within this beautiful little sentiment that an underlying concern nags at the ends of my consciousness, like a child tugging at the calf.

That you don't circle jerk enough?

I'm pretty sure I'm gonna die.

Oh.

I mean, inevitably, yeah. But like within the next 5 years.

Of course, I have no viable evidence. The only thing I can successfully point to is that I have never been able to envision myself beyond the age of thirty. I have never been able to fathom the career I would have, the family I would be maintaining, or the adulterous slut I'd invariably ruin my marriage with.

But she'll be worth it.

Future slut aside, for all 21 years and 12 days of my life, I have not been able to crystallize my future, and though I hold no spiritual beliefs of any kind, I feel like whatever ether I trust in granting me foresight should have the vision if the vision was there.

But it isn't.

The psychological quirk that takes fetish about death is my intense discomfort with social success. As a kid, having been the victim of bullying, racial/social discrimination, and all-around dorkiness, I'd always felt like I would not achieve success. And that if I did, it would be sharply equalized by an ugly consequence.

'Cause for every time I thought I was a good writer, been a good person, or, goddamnit, thought I looked good that day, there was something waiting to destroy all of it.

A man with a van and two fingers.

This is probably a plausible, and perhaps more accurate, reason for the increased paranoia over my own mortality.

But I admit to innately preferring a young death.

Fag.

I'll preface it with this:

The success of one's impression is directly affected by the age of that person. For example, a 5-year old reading material years beyond his age is more impressive than a 25 year old reading that same material. In some unwritten truth, there is a list of things you should already be capable of, and list of things you should not be capable of. To do the former is expected. But to do the latter is impressive.

And as you get older, your expected capabilities grow more vast, and you are less likely to impress anyone. After all, if you're 45 years old, shouldn't you be good at something? And if you're 10 years old, shouldn't you suck at everything?

Get better, twat.

Having established that, if my self-imposed purpose in life is to make an impact and be impressive, wouldn't it be in my vested interests to die early? Lest my ability to impress stagnates, and my impact becomes less notable?

Also, in truth, if I died right now, the potential I leave behind is left to one's imagination, which can far exceed any potential I can bring into fruition. i.e. Dead, I could've been a President. Alive? A blogging twat who worked at a hipster hotspot.

That's either way, really.

And it goes without saying everything I'd ever done will be hindsighted the fuck out of. I don't mean to pretentiously predict my friends will just feverishly read/hear everything I've ever done, but that it happens every time someone dies. Look at Amy Winehouse; I'm pretty sure someone would be flinging crackhead jokes right now if she weren't in an underground box.

It's okay Amy; I never liked you.

Too soon? Exactly.

Will I die in 5 years? I think so. Do I want to? Vaguely. Ultimately, I'm pretty scared of death. I think any sane Atheist should be.

omg i can't wait to see this forever!!!!111

Ideologically though, I'm prepared, most especially if it's because of my beliefs or principles. At the very least, my death could be absorbed into an idea. And ideas cannot be murdered. No this was not V for Vendetta-inspired.

Fuck off with the masks.

But that at least there will have been a purpose, and that my eternal nonexistence will be paralleled by a similarly eternal idealism. Perhaps one that's actualized in my wake.

I wouldn't prefer it, I suppose. I guess I just wouldn't be surprised. No matter how much logic I use to anchor the generic scarification of bullying, occasionally poor parenting, discrimination, and alienation, I'll always be inundated by it's ever looming presence.

I don't really expect you, the reader, to have any particular reaction. Please, don't let this sway your normal response. 'Cause like everything else, I just want you to know what I was thinking, and why I thought it. And I want unadulterated opinions, not coerced sympathies.

I will release 5 blogs post-mortem.