froggy and l were in st. john de la luz...rum and coke is
such a beautiful thing...froggy had been informed that his
money supply was gone...i felt so badly for him that i gave
him the last sip of rum...he was to hop on the lily pad
of life back to the great white north...i slept with my
wallet in my underwear...just in case froggy was a thief...with
my luck he would be a homosexual thief...who likes to take
peoples underwear as well as their money.
someone once said that most people spend their lives living
in quiet desperation...hiding themselves from the world...afraid
of rejection at every corner...quite interesting , is it
not??? i mean , it is not until we are known for who we really are that we can actually experience acceptance...yet we
see our reputation as more important than the possibility
of love .
i assume that we dont see the possibility of real love as
very important...that status and money are what matters...funny
that...jesus said that some day all will be gone but faith
hope and love...yet we still dont see it as very significant.
first of all...who will succeed if they are known for who
they really are??? ! mean, what wife wants to hear from their
husband that they are a coward who would rather masturbate
than have sex with them??? that is , the brutality of honesty
doesnt seem to work.
to begin with... not too many people are smart enough to
realize that , if their husband was honest...it would mean
that they have one of the few alive...they would only compare
them with the status quo and conclude that they got fucked
on the deal...i! mean...an honest person looks like the worst
the lot...if you dont play the game...you lose .
i am indeed aware that the easy answer for building walls
around us is pride...god knows we are all full of it...yet
pride is too easy...and everyone knows that we all desire
to consider our selves better than the next person...fuck
it...life is more complicated than that , anyway...honesty
convicts us...and no one will say other wise...virtually
all have their wallet some where between their cock and
underwear...the only difference is...mine aint metaphoric...god
bless froggy...i am just paranoid...i know that the little
fucker wouldnt steal from me... he is too drunk to think of
it anyway .
chapter 18
maybe i am not as intelligent as i think i am...however...if
there are two courtesy packages of shampoo in the washroom
and one person has taken both of them...does not that mean
that he received more shampoo than the other person??? indeed
, froggy took my shampoo...the math suggests as much...thank
god i have my grade six education.
i wonder sometimes how we are seen from heaven...do the
honest look rich...even though they may be poor??? does your
hair still shine...even though the shampoo that you washed
with is stolen from a clergy man??? it is my considered opinion
that what we see with our eyes...what we smell with our
noses...has nothing to do with the real state of this cosmic
thing that we refer to as earth.
if , in fact , god is who he claims to be...and is spirit
, at least in essence...then we have to conclude that spirit
is more real than flesh...that we are living in the shadow
of something more real than...probably we could ever imagine...
maybe everything around us is a reflection of who we are
inside...maybe , at times , riches of this earth is no more
than a curse...seen through spiritual eyes as a trap that
one falls into to isolate one from the true meaning of
life...love and relationships with each other...at times
,maybe being poor is gods blessing...having mercy
upon us to such an extent that he doesnt allow things to
wedge themselves in between us and those who we are supposed
to be in love with.
i watch and confess even the slightest negativity that i
have towards my fellow humans...i believe that my energy
will take me on a path and lead me into a direction that
is congruent with who i am...not who i think i am...nor
who i convinced others that i am...my true self demands
to find a path that it is familiar with...and it doesnt
give a shit if my mind and intellect are aware of its reality
or not .
there are two courtesy packages of shampoo in the washroom
and one person has taken both of them...does not that mean
that he received more shampoo than the other person??? indeed
, froggy took my shampoo...the math suggests as much...thank
god i have my grade six education.
i wonder sometimes how we are seen from heaven...do the
honest look rich...even though they may be poor??? does your
hair still shine...even though the shampoo that you washed
with is stolen from a clergy man??? it is my considered opinion
that what we see with our eyes...what we smell with our
noses...has nothing to do with the real state of this cosmic
thing that we refer to as earth.
if , in fact , god is who he claims to be...and is spirit
, at least in essence...then we have to conclude that spirit
is more real than flesh...that we are living in the shadow
of something more real than...probably we could ever imagine...
maybe everything around us is a reflection of who we are
inside...maybe , at times , riches of this earth is no more
than a curse...seen through spiritual eyes as a trap that
one falls into to isolate one from the true meaning of
life...love and relationships with each other...at times
,maybe being poor is gods blessing...having mercy
upon us to such an extent that he doesnt allow things to
wedge themselves in between us and those who we are supposed
to be in love with.
i watch and confess even the slightest negativity that i
have towards my fellow humans...i believe that my energy
will take me on a path and lead me into a direction that
is congruent with who i am...not who i think i am...nor
who i convinced others that i am...my true self demands
to find a path that it is familiar with...and it doesnt
give a shit if my mind and intellect are aware of its reality
or not .
chapter 19
for whatever reason...i took the first train in the morning
back to nice...i wanted to escape home.
the train rolled down the tracks as the spanish wine rolled
down my throat...tickling my tongue , washing the strong
swiss cheese as i consumed it as the world consumes innocence...why
was i so scared??? and why does being scared scare me so
much???
the problem with being an abused child is that one believes
the abuse one suffered is , in fact , real in nature and
essence...it aint...only love is real...therefore , all
darkness that comes against us is a lie...and the rejection
that physical and emotional abuse represent...lies.
the beautiful truth about us all is that we are priceless
and loved by god...however , the normal human psychology
is consumed with untruths regarding its place in the universe...and
it is a response to these lies which usually wins out .
the result is that almost the entire world and its personalities
are based on lies...what people do , feel and say are not
founded upon any thing but anger , hurt and pain and such...meaning
, therefore , when the world comes to an end...and all that
is left is what is true and real...virtually nothing will
remain .
there is no hell in the traditional sense of the word...jesus
was referring to a place outside the city of jerusalem where
the garbage was burned...the concept that we are so familiar
with is simply instigated by religious authorities to control
the masses...the truth of the matter is that , come the
end , only what ls done in love will survive...all else
is gone forever...words , people , beliefs and incidents.
i did not overcome my fears...instead, concluded that they
werent me...they were lies to destroy a valuable part of
who i was and who l was meant to become...they were voices
from my childhood...lies told me by an insane person...i
accepted them as such...discerned them from my true self...and
bought myself a big fucking bottle of cheap french wine...time
to look at some more beautiful french tits.
back to nice...i wanted to escape home.
the train rolled down the tracks as the spanish wine rolled
down my throat...tickling my tongue , washing the strong
swiss cheese as i consumed it as the world consumes innocence...why
was i so scared??? and why does being scared scare me so
much???
the problem with being an abused child is that one believes
the abuse one suffered is , in fact , real in nature and
essence...it aint...only love is real...therefore , all
darkness that comes against us is a lie...and the rejection
that physical and emotional abuse represent...lies.
the beautiful truth about us all is that we are priceless
and loved by god...however , the normal human psychology
is consumed with untruths regarding its place in the universe...and
it is a response to these lies which usually wins out .
the result is that almost the entire world and its personalities
are based on lies...what people do , feel and say are not
founded upon any thing but anger , hurt and pain and such...meaning
, therefore , when the world comes to an end...and all that
is left is what is true and real...virtually nothing will
remain .
there is no hell in the traditional sense of the word...jesus
was referring to a place outside the city of jerusalem where
the garbage was burned...the concept that we are so familiar
with is simply instigated by religious authorities to control
the masses...the truth of the matter is that , come the
end , only what ls done in love will survive...all else
is gone forever...words , people , beliefs and incidents.
i did not overcome my fears...instead, concluded that they
werent me...they were lies to destroy a valuable part of
who i was and who l was meant to become...they were voices
from my childhood...lies told me by an insane person...i
accepted them as such...discerned them from my true self...and
bought myself a big fucking bottle of cheap french wine...time
to look at some more beautiful french tits.
chapter 20
tits are such an interesting thing...their absence suggests
innocence , purity and the desire for awakening...in the
context of a pornography movie they are an entity onto themselves...upon
the body of an old sagging lady...they are a joke...something
that is humorous...sickening even...anything...that helps
us from dealing with the reality of their existence.
on my journey to paradise-to be explained later-i was to
behold two pubescent twelve year old girls , swimming with
their bathing suits...possibly in the laundry...maybe not
existent...they seemed free to be who they were...the fear
of their progressing sexual development seemed to allude
them...and this concept seemed so foreign to me.
it is not our bodies that are sinful , nor is it our dark
nature , in a sense...the horror is in the self hatred and
fear that we have for our true identities.
to actually accept our selves as we are is the greatest
gift that one can receive in this life time...it means that
we truly have found the heart of god and have embraced
it.
we fear being physically exposed because we fear being emotionally
and spiritually exposed...and it is in the root of this
fear that we find self hatred...fear blocks out the light
of gods love...until we discover the value of nudity...in
every respect...we cannot find the grace of god.
the children played freely...and i must admit that i embraced
the moment...without any concept of sexual thought , that
is...i saw , not the ideal of freedom...yet the possibility
of finding that beautiful path...shame on any one who would
see the splendid joy of their bodies as a means of self
gratification...surely truth is far from such an individuals
heart .
innocence , purity and the desire for awakening...in the
context of a pornography movie they are an entity onto themselves...upon
the body of an old sagging lady...they are a joke...something
that is humorous...sickening even...anything...that helps
us from dealing with the reality of their existence.
on my journey to paradise-to be explained later-i was to
behold two pubescent twelve year old girls , swimming with
their bathing suits...possibly in the laundry...maybe not
existent...they seemed free to be who they were...the fear
of their progressing sexual development seemed to allude
them...and this concept seemed so foreign to me.
it is not our bodies that are sinful , nor is it our dark
nature , in a sense...the horror is in the self hatred and
fear that we have for our true identities.
to actually accept our selves as we are is the greatest
gift that one can receive in this life time...it means that
we truly have found the heart of god and have embraced
it.
we fear being physically exposed because we fear being emotionally
and spiritually exposed...and it is in the root of this
fear that we find self hatred...fear blocks out the light
of gods love...until we discover the value of nudity...in
every respect...we cannot find the grace of god.
the children played freely...and i must admit that i embraced
the moment...without any concept of sexual thought , that
is...i saw , not the ideal of freedom...yet the possibility
of finding that beautiful path...shame on any one who would
see the splendid joy of their bodies as a means of self
gratification...surely truth is far from such an individuals
heart .
chapter 21
the beautiful thing about sleeping on a park bench is that
it is not only air conditioned...but its also free...and
if you have to take a piss...you just have to open your
zipper and let it go...especially if you got a big cock...i
dont want to brag...but i hit the stray cat between the
eyes...and he was six or seven feet away from me.
it was about four in the morning that i awoke to the sound
of drunk teenagers...they were singing in french over my
sunken body...i assume it was french anyway...it sure as
hell wasnt english , and we were in france... a good looking lad named pierre pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and
offered it to me...i still remember the words he said :
''want a cigarette ?''...so profound for a young man...i told
him that i didnt smoke.
its strange how significant things seem so insignificant
at the time...and visa versa...words and actions are only
a reflection of what is really going on in a particular
circumstance...sometimes an accurate reflection...usually
not...what is important is the spiritual dynamic behind
the moment...that is to say...is the event inspired by love .
a small act of love is forever...it transcends time , space
and everything else that can be transcended...this is opposed
to, lets says , musical awards show...where someone is getting
reconized just because people are stupid enough to think
bullshit is great just because flies seem to like it .
a dollar given out of love , in terms of eternity , is greater
than a billion given out of selfish ambition...that moment
of being awoke from my sleep by a gang french ambassadors
was the result of something real at work...it will be with
me long after i am dead...long after telling tanya that
i loved her , in grade ten , so i could get a hand-job...is
burned into ashes and removed from this universe forever.
( if anyone ever tells you that : ''you cant take it with
you ''...ask them politely what the fuck they mean by ''it''...personally
, i spend every second of my life nurturing and cultivating
''it''...because taking ''it''with me is what life is all about).
it is not only air conditioned...but its also free...and
if you have to take a piss...you just have to open your
zipper and let it go...especially if you got a big cock...i
dont want to brag...but i hit the stray cat between the
eyes...and he was six or seven feet away from me.
it was about four in the morning that i awoke to the sound
of drunk teenagers...they were singing in french over my
sunken body...i assume it was french anyway...it sure as
hell wasnt english , and we were in france... a good looking lad named pierre pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and
offered it to me...i still remember the words he said :
''want a cigarette ?''...so profound for a young man...i told
him that i didnt smoke.
its strange how significant things seem so insignificant
at the time...and visa versa...words and actions are only
a reflection of what is really going on in a particular
circumstance...sometimes an accurate reflection...usually
not...what is important is the spiritual dynamic behind
the moment...that is to say...is the event inspired by love .
a small act of love is forever...it transcends time , space
and everything else that can be transcended...this is opposed
to, lets says , musical awards show...where someone is getting
reconized just because people are stupid enough to think
bullshit is great just because flies seem to like it .
a dollar given out of love , in terms of eternity , is greater
than a billion given out of selfish ambition...that moment
of being awoke from my sleep by a gang french ambassadors
was the result of something real at work...it will be with
me long after i am dead...long after telling tanya that
i loved her , in grade ten , so i could get a hand-job...is
burned into ashes and removed from this universe forever.
( if anyone ever tells you that : ''you cant take it with
you ''...ask them politely what the fuck they mean by ''it''...personally
, i spend every second of my life nurturing and cultivating
''it''...because taking ''it''with me is what life is all about).
chapter 22
the next day i decided to find myself some more appropriate
sleeping quarters...maybe even with a bed...having coffee
at the hotel i met a middle aged man who came over to my
table and sat with me...he was american and wanted to talk
about american things...baseball and such...within minutes
we made a connection and decided to embrace the city that
night together.
its fucking awful never having had a father...you keep looking
for a replacement for the rest of your life...then once
you have achieved some level of enlightenment you become
somewhat aware that you will never find such a man...yet
you still continue to look...in spite of yourself...the
inner frustration is considerable...information of eternal
consequence...has eternal pain attached to it.
even three year ago , i would have let him fuck me around
for the rest of the evening...this...person...wasnt interested
in me...he was interested in writing a novel about all the
people that he met during his european vacation...i was
just another chapter...within fifteen minutes i realized
that my hopes of finding acceptance was gone...in two hours
i was completely aware that this guy probably , like most
people , had never really loved anyone in his life...i looked
at him and said good-by .
healing never consists of being freed of our hurt...we always
seem to deal with that for the rest of our lives...what
healing is , however , is being aware of our neurosis...even
to the point of looking down at it from above...being aware
of it fully...then making the correct decision regardless
of our inclinations.
i roamed the streets of nice alone that night...then sat
on my balcony and drank the night away...i looked at the
french skies and thought to myself...it doesnt matter if
my father beat me half silly...god loves me for who i am...what
is left of me...and that is all that matters .
sleeping quarters...maybe even with a bed...having coffee
at the hotel i met a middle aged man who came over to my
table and sat with me...he was american and wanted to talk
about american things...baseball and such...within minutes
we made a connection and decided to embrace the city that
night together.
its fucking awful never having had a father...you keep looking
for a replacement for the rest of your life...then once
you have achieved some level of enlightenment you become
somewhat aware that you will never find such a man...yet
you still continue to look...in spite of yourself...the
inner frustration is considerable...information of eternal
consequence...has eternal pain attached to it.
even three year ago , i would have let him fuck me around
for the rest of the evening...this...person...wasnt interested
in me...he was interested in writing a novel about all the
people that he met during his european vacation...i was
just another chapter...within fifteen minutes i realized
that my hopes of finding acceptance was gone...in two hours
i was completely aware that this guy probably , like most
people , had never really loved anyone in his life...i looked
at him and said good-by .
healing never consists of being freed of our hurt...we always
seem to deal with that for the rest of our lives...what
healing is , however , is being aware of our neurosis...even
to the point of looking down at it from above...being aware
of it fully...then making the correct decision regardless
of our inclinations.
i roamed the streets of nice alone that night...then sat
on my balcony and drank the night away...i looked at the
french skies and thought to myself...it doesnt matter if
my father beat me half silly...god loves me for who i am...what
is left of me...and that is all that matters .
chapter 23
another day...another train ride...this time to cap di...a
small town just outside of nice...thirty miles from the
italian border...it was where i spent my time on a park
bench , actually...but this day its first class...the youth
hostel...complete with beds and windows...and walls to put
the windows in.
cap di is , in fact , paradise...on the french riviera...looking
out to the clear light blue waters of the sea ... the waves touching the shore like a mother caressing
her child.
come night i was introduced to a young dutch boy...and we
spent the rest of the evening with a bottle of rum between
us.
the beautiful thing about having a bottle of rum between
yourself and another is that , if drank in proper volume...then
there is a great possibility that nothing else will be between
you...booze simply helps us to say the things that we usually
cant .
there are not many people alive that are actually honest
in word and deed...our brain has a strange habit of filtering
out the true essential part of who we really are...and it
does so for a good reason...people will judge us...hurt
us...even kill us , if the truth be known.
love , then , can be alcohol in its purest form...love can
lower our resistance to our true identities...no longer
because we are too stupid to keep them up...but because
we are now in safe hands and we feel that there is trust...where
, in normal circumstances , there could be only fear and
paranoia.
i dont think that too many people have actually experienced
the state of not being afraid...and as a result , they never
took the chance to find out if they were loved or not...so
, in reality , they led a quiet normal life...dying to be
accepted...but never taking the chance of finding out if
acceptance was a possibility.
small town just outside of nice...thirty miles from the
italian border...it was where i spent my time on a park
bench , actually...but this day its first class...the youth
hostel...complete with beds and windows...and walls to put
the windows in.
cap di is , in fact , paradise...on the french riviera...looking
out to the clear light blue waters of the sea ... the waves touching the shore like a mother caressing
her child.
come night i was introduced to a young dutch boy...and we
spent the rest of the evening with a bottle of rum between
us.
the beautiful thing about having a bottle of rum between
yourself and another is that , if drank in proper volume...then
there is a great possibility that nothing else will be between
you...booze simply helps us to say the things that we usually
cant .
there are not many people alive that are actually honest
in word and deed...our brain has a strange habit of filtering
out the true essential part of who we really are...and it
does so for a good reason...people will judge us...hurt
us...even kill us , if the truth be known.
love , then , can be alcohol in its purest form...love can
lower our resistance to our true identities...no longer
because we are too stupid to keep them up...but because
we are now in safe hands and we feel that there is trust...where
, in normal circumstances , there could be only fear and
paranoia.
i dont think that too many people have actually experienced
the state of not being afraid...and as a result , they never
took the chance to find out if they were loved or not...so
, in reality , they led a quiet normal life...dying to be
accepted...but never taking the chance of finding out if
acceptance was a possibility.
chapter 24
every day would begin with a two hour walk and prayer...attempting
to mend and heal this person that i have become...it was on
day two , i believe , in my stay at cap di...that i suddenly
had an acute revelation of what i had recently been through...
after a four year battle with depression and a three year
battle with post dramatic stress disorder...i , in 1999
, attempted suicide and spent three days in a coma-like
situation...fuck...it seems so clear to me now how horrible
that time was in my life...for the first time i feel that
it is far enough away from me that i can really take a close
look at what actually happened...there seems to be nothing
to do but cry .
i am not ashamed of what tried to do to myself...people
judge people that have been in my situation out of fear
and pride...to have been rejected and beaten since the day
i was born was easy for me to overcome...unlike any other
person that i have ever met , in fact...two dozen fatal
afflictions...learning disabilities...my brother disowning
me then dying...broken relationships and lovers betrayal
, etc...it was just shit that had to be overcome...fuck
it...it didnt matter...it was what happened to me in the
confines of institutionalized religion that caused me to
lose myself fully and completely...i believed in organized
religion , and it saw me as a means to an end...when i didnt
produce...they took away my life.
its so easy to kill people when you dont believe them to
be human...and thats what we do to each other...we dehumanize
...so we can destroy...it is commonly referred
to as narcissism...and it aint healthy .
i completed my walk and then ate a pizza with some friends
that i had met the day before...my tears were dry and it
was time to enjoy france with some really interesting folk...indeed
, the more of pain that you have seen...the more that life
can be enjoyed .
to mend and heal this person that i have become...it was on
day two , i believe , in my stay at cap di...that i suddenly
had an acute revelation of what i had recently been through...
after a four year battle with depression and a three year
battle with post dramatic stress disorder...i , in 1999
, attempted suicide and spent three days in a coma-like
situation...fuck...it seems so clear to me now how horrible
that time was in my life...for the first time i feel that
it is far enough away from me that i can really take a close
look at what actually happened...there seems to be nothing
to do but cry .
i am not ashamed of what tried to do to myself...people
judge people that have been in my situation out of fear
and pride...to have been rejected and beaten since the day
i was born was easy for me to overcome...unlike any other
person that i have ever met , in fact...two dozen fatal
afflictions...learning disabilities...my brother disowning
me then dying...broken relationships and lovers betrayal
, etc...it was just shit that had to be overcome...fuck
it...it didnt matter...it was what happened to me in the
confines of institutionalized religion that caused me to
lose myself fully and completely...i believed in organized
religion , and it saw me as a means to an end...when i didnt
produce...they took away my life.
its so easy to kill people when you dont believe them to
be human...and thats what we do to each other...we dehumanize
...so we can destroy...it is commonly referred
to as narcissism...and it aint healthy .
i completed my walk and then ate a pizza with some friends
that i had met the day before...my tears were dry and it
was time to enjoy france with some really interesting folk...indeed
, the more of pain that you have seen...the more that life
can be enjoyed .
chapter 25
moving right along...like kermit the frog in the muppet
movie...only different...i begin to think about the concept
of sin...do you know the only thing worse than being a sinner???it
is thinking yourself not to be a sinner.
i dont 1ie...i dont betray...i dont even touch the bodies
of girls , unless i feel that i love them and that it could
develop into something special...the
point here is that i have lived a life of loving the best
way i possibly could...and have been despised for it by
gods wonderful servants .
only if i had a secret...if only i had fucked the bishops
wife...or daughter...then maybe i could have justified the
way the church has treated me over the years...and i wouldnt
have tried to kill myself...no shit...i had my nervous breakdown
the moment that i became aware the world was totally unfair...and
that i had done nothing to deserve all the hatred that i
had received from the church .
ironic , eh ? ,my love for people is what eventually almost
killed me...i couldnt believe that one could be so innocent
and still be so hated...im not so innocent any more , unfortunately...i
do things that i would have never have done in the time
that i was accused of being the anti-christ...but i am wise
now...so my pain is my own...my hurtful behavior-though
very insignificant-is between me and those that i trust...i
havent yet lied...but i wouldnt put it past me.
indeed , we are our experiences...and that is why we cannot
judge others...we dont really know what they have been through...and
we certainly cant tell if they are trying to deal with their
hurt or not...judgment is not a gift that any one of us
have...if we cant accept a behavior...then we should get
out of the way...but only god knows the state of the heart.
movie...only different...i begin to think about the concept
of sin...do you know the only thing worse than being a sinner???it
is thinking yourself not to be a sinner.
i dont 1ie...i dont betray...i dont even touch the bodies
of girls , unless i feel that i love them and that it could
develop into something special...the
point here is that i have lived a life of loving the best
way i possibly could...and have been despised for it by
gods wonderful servants .
only if i had a secret...if only i had fucked the bishops
wife...or daughter...then maybe i could have justified the
way the church has treated me over the years...and i wouldnt
have tried to kill myself...no shit...i had my nervous breakdown
the moment that i became aware the world was totally unfair...and
that i had done nothing to deserve all the hatred that i
had received from the church .
ironic , eh ? ,my love for people is what eventually almost
killed me...i couldnt believe that one could be so innocent
and still be so hated...im not so innocent any more , unfortunately...i
do things that i would have never have done in the time
that i was accused of being the anti-christ...but i am wise
now...so my pain is my own...my hurtful behavior-though
very insignificant-is between me and those that i trust...i
havent yet lied...but i wouldnt put it past me.
indeed , we are our experiences...and that is why we cannot
judge others...we dont really know what they have been through...and
we certainly cant tell if they are trying to deal with their
hurt or not...judgment is not a gift that any one of us
have...if we cant accept a behavior...then we should get
out of the way...but only god knows the state of the heart.
chapter 26
having lunch with a pervert...bless his soul...who am i
to judge...talking , he does , of the prostitute who he
was soon to discover was a man...it aint hard to figure
out how this profound truth was learned.
the interesting thing about the act of sex is that every
society in the history of our planet has either glorified
it or condemned it to one extent or another ...strangely
enough , nobody seems aware that these extremes are the same
perversion .
the sad part is the poor bastard who takes either extreme
seriously...who believes that casual sex , with no love
, is an oak. idea...or actually believes the minister ,
when he screams from his podium , that his sexual drive
is completely ''under control"...that he is victorious over
''the flesh''...isnt lying completely.
the truth of the matter is that we are intensely sexual
beings...and these feelings will inevitably be explored
in one context or another...and there will be mistakes and
confusion along the way...as for those people who are pretending
to deny this...virtually every time they are the greatest
sexual criminals of us all...the deception builds a wall
of darkness that is unable to allow any light into the soul...the
result is a sickness...and the greater the sickness...the
greater the lies and condemning of others.
i could hardly finish my lunch...this did not make him a
bad person...i simply felt blessed that i wasnt that screwed
up within the context of my own sexuality...its like this...if
you say any word enough times...it slowly loses its meaning...and
if you screw anything you so desire...sex , too , will lose
its meaning...its not a matter of going to hell...or whatever...its
a matter of living a life with true meaning...with freshness
in every experience...sexual or otherwise .
i threw up right outside the dining quarters...customers
quietly walked away...the cook , for some strange reason
, thought that the whole thing was funny...we all laughed
and had another bottle of wine
to judge...talking , he does , of the prostitute who he
was soon to discover was a man...it aint hard to figure
out how this profound truth was learned.
the interesting thing about the act of sex is that every
society in the history of our planet has either glorified
it or condemned it to one extent or another ...strangely
enough , nobody seems aware that these extremes are the same
perversion .
the sad part is the poor bastard who takes either extreme
seriously...who believes that casual sex , with no love
, is an oak. idea...or actually believes the minister ,
when he screams from his podium , that his sexual drive
is completely ''under control"...that he is victorious over
''the flesh''...isnt lying completely.
the truth of the matter is that we are intensely sexual
beings...and these feelings will inevitably be explored
in one context or another...and there will be mistakes and
confusion along the way...as for those people who are pretending
to deny this...virtually every time they are the greatest
sexual criminals of us all...the deception builds a wall
of darkness that is unable to allow any light into the soul...the
result is a sickness...and the greater the sickness...the
greater the lies and condemning of others.
i could hardly finish my lunch...this did not make him a
bad person...i simply felt blessed that i wasnt that screwed
up within the context of my own sexuality...its like this...if
you say any word enough times...it slowly loses its meaning...and
if you screw anything you so desire...sex , too , will lose
its meaning...its not a matter of going to hell...or whatever...its
a matter of living a life with true meaning...with freshness
in every experience...sexual or otherwise .
i threw up right outside the dining quarters...customers
quietly walked away...the cook , for some strange reason
, thought that the whole thing was funny...we all laughed
and had another bottle of wine
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