streaming consciousness…

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  hardie karges 8:14 am on September 16, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: homosexuality ( 6 ), sex ( 39 )   

  The same people who say that sexuality is not a choice, 

  are the ones who go in for sex change. The homosexual claim to ‘normalcy’ is the implication that there was simply a mix-up in the delivery room and they were assigned the wrong set of genitals. Certainly they’re correct that sex centers are in the head, not the genitalia, but I suspect that choice and circumstance still play a large role in any deviation from the norm of sex. Most of the guys in prison who adjust themselves to a life without women by seeking sex with men are not the stereotypical lispy, eye-rolling, limp-wristed ‘gays’ on the outside. Sex accesses a need for power as much as sexual fulfillment. Whatever else it might access psychologically is a matter of speculation. It’s funny, or maybe not so funny, that the same word that refers to sexual fulfillment also refers to violence of the worst sort. It’s no less ironic that the same act gets used both ways. The same act that consummates love between a willing man and woman is the supreme form of violence when one partner is unwilling. What’s a rapist to do, join a singles club? Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way.

   

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  hardie karges 8:28 am on September 15, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: love ( 49 ), reproduction ( 3 ), sex ( 39 )   

  The praying mantis gives head like no other, 

  
  the hapless male giving new meaning to the term ‘self-sacrifice’. For those of you who don’t know, the female nibbles the male’s head off as a nutritional supplement, while it’s in the throes of orgasm and can hardly defend itself. This is one disadvantage of the missionary position. I once saw a show on BBC where a lady scientist was jerking off a pig. I feel better now. In case you don’t already know, they have penises that look like a corkscrew. Why Nature selected for that, God only knows. Anyway, the nice lady explained that the really runny liquid comes out first to have a head start for the prize Easter egg, while the viscosity thickens until finally the last portion is almost like wax, which plugs up the channel. That’s so that the sprinters don’t change their minds and back out. And that’s exactly the way it came out, she steadily pumping away on the poor creature’s forlorn member, he not complaining a bit. It was better than the horsie scene when Emanuelle went to America, which reminds one of just how bad porno movie-scripts can be. And that was the high-class porn, with a real story and everything. I never saw the donkey shows in TJ, so I can’t compare it with that.
   
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  hardie karges 12:37 pm on September 14, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: love ( 49 ), mother   

  I look for my mother in the eyes of Bangkok whores and go-go girls, 

  
  Romanian peasants and market women, Moroccan virgins and fortune-tellers, Peruvian sellers of potions and outrageous notions. I look for love in the eyes of strangers passing on northbound trains, I long gone south for the winter. I look for comfort beneath the blankets of experience and succor within the wrappers of confection. I look for my mother in the nickel ads and yellow pages, the department of lost and found. But she’s not there. She never was. She was at odds with the world, so she got even with me. She turned her back on her own flesh and blood. She created her own reality; I created mine. We agreed to disagree without pardon nor pause. She betrayed me with her words; she killed me with her sentences. She punished me with convictions and tortured me with her cross and sword. In the end it killed her, not me. Death becomes her. All flesh rots and turns to shit, just as all words escape into thin air, without shape nor form, sound nor smell, sin raiz ni razon, sin semilla ni sensacion. Hopefully we’ll meet again in a much better world.

   
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  hardie karges 8:34 am on September 13, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: mothers, religion ( 171 ), sex ( 39 )   

  “You’ll spoil your dinner,” my mother used to say 

  with all the conviction of a nutritional specialist issuing pronouncements on the future of the species, as though one bite of the forbidden cookie would send shock waves through the culinary establishment. Mothers are like that. They speak in parables. They speak in circles. They speak in broad terms on multiple issues. They issue directives. They issue freshly washed clothing and recipes for fulfillment. They issue love at low interest, with long-term repayment options. I loved her because I was supposed to love her, even though it was hard sometimes. No, that’s not true. It was hard almost all of the time, she rigid of bent and unyielding in her convictions, a woman of God and little else. I used to call her ‘Mother Superior’ only half-jokingly. At least we kept our sense of humor. I wonder what my father kept hidden. I doubt that he ever had good sex. Maybe he didn’t care. Hey, wait a minute! That’s me!

   
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  hardie karges 1:49 pm on September 12, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: EVOLUTION ( 21 ), love ( 49 ), reproduction ( 3 ), sex ( 39 )   

  Bottom line on reproduction is as clear as the line of her bottom. 

  There’s no rulebook any more and far fewer rules. We can reproduce the species without any reference to family structure if that’s what people want. We can reproduce the species without any reference to sex if that’s what people really want, though our sentimental attachment to sex seems pretty strong. The real issue, of course, is gene-splicing. Do we really want or need designer babies? Are we that dissatisfied with our current lives and that confident of our technological prowess that we’re willing to risk it all for cosmetic enhancements? Once genes are released into the environment, they are like viruses with lives of their own. The problem is that you might not even know the effects of long-term experimentation until it’s too late.

   
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  hardie karges 1:29 pm on September 11, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: Family ( 6 ), love ( 49 ), sex ( 39 )   

  In most species the male splits and lets the female(s) raise the kids. 

  Maybe this is not such a bad system after all, assuming, of course, that the male kicks in a big chunk of support, enough to compensate the female for her efforts, also. In the state of Nature, they don’t, of course. If the male and female can still love each other in this process, then so much the better. If not, then what’s the point anyway? Maybe too much emphasis is put on the ‘nuclear family’ and its many faults and failures, a rarity these days in countries where there’s a choice. Certainly no better is the broken family where children make rounds like the morning milkman. The lower the food supply, the more that animals seem to remain monogamous, and the male will help in exchange for the opportunity to drop his genes. When food is plentiful, fewer males are needed, and tend to kill each other for the chance to ham the harem. This phenomenon seems to apply even when a wild species becomes domesticated. The number of males and females seems to always be equal at birth, some sort of genetic law, the law of averages, the law of large numbers.

   
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  hardie karges 7:59 am on September 10, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: love ( 49 ), reproduction ( 3 ), sex ( 39 )   

  How much money you have when you die is not the important thing; 

  it’s how many women you’ve had that’s important. I call that the ‘Darwinian excuse’ for men’s philanderthal behavior. No other species gives even nearly as much consideration. The reproductive act all finished, the male of the species goes back to his hunting and fishing and foraging, leaving the female the joy of motherhood and the fate of the species. Tests have indicated that male baboons can actually identify their own offspring, but that’s tentative. Leave it to us great apes to subvert God’s plan by caring for our offspring. This could lead to dangerous precedents among the human species, already pussy-whipped and begging for more. Along with missionary positions and rumors of oral sex, we seem to share that guilt complex with bonobos, whose males also tend to follow their women’s lead. I guess that’s because they’re more sexual than chimps, too, the little sluts. But our technology puts us humans in a dangerous position. Once women realize they don’t need us, just a few studs, then they can organize to effectively shut us out of the deal, or worse yet, keep us as worker drones serving them… hey, wait a minute…. Isn’t that what Tang’s already doing with me?

   
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  hardie karges 9:05 am on September 9, 2008 Permalink | Reply  

  Sex is all in the head, 

  as the phantom orgasm of paraplegics proves (per Ginsberg). The phantom orgasm of schizophrenics probably proves something else. Nocturnal emissions prove we’re all in the same boat, creating images to match the emotion and creating emotions to match the necessity. And it all happens on a level that doesn’t even make the light of day, just a warm wet feeling in the middle of the night, and the evidence to prove that it wasn’t just a dream. Or was it? Weightlessness is the best part of dream sex, doing it in mid-air without even working up a sweat. Surely those astronauts must have a story or two to tell about what goes on when the cameras are off. NASA would have to know, just for scientific purposes.

   
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  hardie karges 10:39 am on September 8, 2008 Permalink | Reply  

  Love is not something you get; love is something you give. 

  Love is not something you find; love is something you create. Love is a 24-hour bug looking for a contract. Love gets lost in the shuffle of a stacked deck, a foregone conclusion I never forewent. Love is definitely the answer, but what exactly is the question? The Buddha and Lao-tse gave a way out, but Jesus gave a way in. “Love your neighbor as yourself”; no finer words have ever been uttered. Just imagine if everybody would do that. What do you mean somebody already had that idea? The best motives get sidetracked. Religion, like love itself, gets used for purposes for which it was never intended.

   
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  hardie karges 11:47 am on September 7, 2008 Permalink | Reply  

  I like to feel light and free. 

  
  Show me a postal service box and a storage unit, and I’ll show you my life. That’s me. That’s America- have fun, will travel. The rest of the world is way behind on this. England is catching up, but slowly. Europe is a museum, bones in glass showcases. America is an action movie. Euro-trash ratchet their heads up fifteen degrees and wax hippo critical on America’s lack of cult-your, as if America should have five-hundred-year-old art when it’s only two hundred years old. They can wax my hairy ass. For modern kulcher, nobody kulches like America. They’re just jealous, all of them. America has been under a microscope since day one, people waiting for it to trip and fall. Nobody rags on Canada or Australia, but America went the distance, never looking back. Sometimes that’s what you’ve got to do. You’ve got to grow new leaves faster than the bugs can nibble your old ones.