streaming consciousness…

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  hardie karges 6:52 am on September 2, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: sex, women ( 5 )   

  I want an analog woman, 

  infinitely adjustable, none of that digital shit, merely off and on, yes and no, in and out. I want infinite settings and an ocean of probabilities. I want a big brown knob that I can tweak to my heart’s content until I get things tuned just right. I want to try different flavors, different toppings, a la mode. I want light hot licks on long cold nights. I want platitudes and attitudes. I want moveable walls. I don’t want sixteen colors on two-bit logic. I want an infinite degree of separation between infrared and ultraviolet and an innumerable number of paths between them, just like that rainbow up there always perpendicular to your line of sight no matter from what angle you approach it, and not there at all when you really need it. Rainbows rule in an imaginary world, though practically worthless in real life. Women are a lot like that. Men probably are, too, if you’re a woman.

   

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  hardie karges 8:04 am on August 17, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: sex, Thailand ( 75 )   

  Sell your face to the highest bidder. 

  
  It’s easier than working. Only that would explain why prominent singers and songwriters and playwrights would give it up to play bit roles in Hollywood movies. The only requirement is that you look, uh, interesting. Not all that many actors are really good, anyway, so there’s not much of a standard to meet, just show up. We’re all whores at heart, so it’s just a matter of price. Evolution drives us prettier by sexual selection. That’s where Thailand comes in, the breeding ground between East and West. About the time Western women were saying, “we don’t want to be sex objects any more,” Thai women were saying, “we do!” The rest, of course, is history. Every half-breed Thai is an experiment in genetics and anthropology, living proof that opposites attract.
   
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  hardie karges 8:50 am on August 14, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: language ( 151 ), sex, Thailand ( 75 )   

  Thai is the mother tongue; English is the father. 

  
  Thailand is pragmatic, hot molten pragma oozing from the pores of poster girls and wanna-be models. A million pragmatists walk the streets tonight, looking for succor from some sucker, sympathy for assorted devils. Millions of women are waiting there to smother you, love you to death, kill you with kisses. They smother you with the black hole of ignorance, so you stab them with a prick of your aggression. I think that maybe I’m sexually attracted to ignorance; I guess that’s Nature’s way of getting even. It all balances out. They’re a throwback to an earlier time when men were men and women were women and the twain only met undercover. The fruits of this labor might not even know the push and pull of history that led to such a consequence. They might not even care.

   
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  hardie karges 2:22 pm on June 4, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: drugs ( 7 ), religion ( 161 ), sex   

  SEX, DRUGS, RELIGION 

  One of my previous lovers left me for a woman. That made me stop and think. She swings both ways now, I think, if and when she swings at all. I guess that’s natural when your life consists primarily of sensation. She’s an artist. She’s also an atheist, or so she says. They’re the saddest people in the world, or so it seems. They also seem to be more inclined to drug use, though I couldn’t place causality. They go way beyond recreation, inspiration, and good ol’ fashioned “getting fucked up”. They’re into Club Med, something to kill the pain, that special kind of sympathetic pain that accrues mostly to druggies; they need it special. But don’t forget the ‘opium of the masses’. It kills pain, too, the pain of being. I think the main problem with religion is the picture in our minds of the traditional battle gods with their long beards, war wigs, and bad teeth, threatening us with eternal damnation if we slip and fail. Thor is there with a fist full of thunderbolts, and so’s his boss Woden and Frida the Wonder Woman, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday hanging over us like a sentence of death and a book of lies. It’s so negative, promising Hell for bad behavior, as if we couldn’t behave ourselves otherwise. Islam takes the opposite tack, promising a Heaven full of virgins if we do the right things here and now. Score one for Islam. You already know what Hell is like. Buddhism doesn’t do any of that. It doesn’t lead you into battle, nor does it promise Heaven nor Hell. It just doesn’t do much of anything at all, actually. This world is all illusion. No shit. These are not religion’s bright spots. People have done things in the name of religion that I wouldn’t do to my worst enemy. It doesn’t have to be so hard.

   
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  hardie karges 4:04 pm on May 7, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: ISLAM ( 67 ), religion ( 161 ), sex   

  MUSLIM OUTCALL 24/7 

  Muslims just don’t get it. Life can be fun and religious, too. The two are not mutually exclusive. Or are they? Certainly Christian fundamentalism is almost as conservative as the Islamic variety, but at least it allows for some good clean fun. It doesn’t lock women in the house or behind the veil. I doubt Judaic fundamentalism is much of a rocking time, either. I think that a negative attitude toward life emanates from the Middle East, for what reason I don’t know. It could just be a guilt complex at finding pleasure in sensation rather than God, or just good old-fashioned female control methods to assure male dominance, but I suspect it’s low cultural self-esteem at seeing their once vast domain now vastly reduced. Fortunately it’s not all like that. Moroccans are certainly some of the nicest people in the world, at least once you get past les faux guides working the tourists in Interzone. Indonesia is the same. Without the local Taliban policing people’s panties, you’d have something like a low-key Thailand. I guess that’s what they don’t want. That’s why the jihadis blew the Balinese joints up. Laos maybe? Communism is more fun than Islam any day. The problem is that all restrictions are restricted to women. Men can do whatever they want, and do. Bar boys twitch their butts and giggle and make chitchat at bars in Bali. Beach boys (no, not THOSE Beach Boys) escort young Japanese girls and older Western women openly and freely (pay in kind). Gay guys roam Kuta Beach at night preying on tourists and praying for tips to the point that I’d rather watch TV than suffer the annoyance. Girls used to walk that beach until the Mafia or the Taliban moved in to protect its turf. I had sex in a lifeguard stand there once. Hey, we were in love! What’s wrong with those Muslims anyway? The last time I was in Indonesia, a week before the 10-12 Bali bombers, a guy stalked me all over the streets of Malang, speaking perfect English and talking about the CIA. Life’s weird.

   
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  hardie karges 2:04 pm on April 21, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: ADDICTION ( 2 ), BUSINESS ( 2 ), sex   

  BUSINESS AND SEX 

  Business is a disease infecting my soul like the heartbreak of psoriasis. The virus is clever; not only does it allow you to reproduce fully, but it even allows you to survive in some reduced capacity as a worker drone. It infects early in the teen-age years so that it can’t be readily distinguished from the multitude of other desires begging for your attention and sweet caress. It’s a disease of the soul, like alcoholism, like HIV; it infects the pleasure center, so that you want it even though you’ve already got it. You want it even though it’s bad for you. Business is a monopoly game, in your dreams, building empires and getting you out of jail free, just like Thailand. When rich people here get busted, they run for office. Business is the opium of the rich. Business and sex cancel each other out. The more I get of one, the less I need of the other; same with opium. The pleasure centers are the same, though no evidence of cross-tolerance. They all affect your ability to have a good shit. I’ve tried going cold turkey from business, but stuffed in whole-wheat bread, hold the mustard. The results are inconclusive, maybe too lofty an approach. Probably better to try sex as a substitute, a sexual maintenance program. Sex in the morning is the real thing, the hard-on you’re stuck with, rank like the smell of bacon to a vegetarian, the dark side of appetite. Good sex is like a good shit, nature’s dirty secret. Opium will plug you up like sticky rice, something like sticky mind. The antidote is physical work, high fiber, and fear. That’ll clean you out and get you up.

   
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  hardie karges 11:01 pm on March 5, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: chat, Peru Thailand, sex   

  CHAT 

  Chattiness is a national personality trait that I value highly, an open society without pretenses or pretensions.  This is not something to be taken for granted, especially between sexes.  In fact, in many, if not most, cultures, men and women can’t simply meet and chat each other up casually.  That might lead to bigger and better things, after all.  Yep.  Or maybe they can, but they don’t, for lack of opportunity or appropriate setting.  Village communism is the flip side, not bad necessarily, in and of itself, but so mathematically imprecise as to be maddeningly annoying.  If you get ahead of the pack, then you can be sure that every one else will have his hand out looking for a piece of the action.  By the same token, you have the right to call on others for help when you need it, but for some people that’s simply not the way of life.  Still the trade-off is largely worth the downside.  Too often smiles are forgotten in the transactions of existence, the currency of personality, the personality of life.  What’s the good of life if it has to be stressed or strained, coaxed through filters and reduced to mush?  Not surprisingly, the countries best at this are the least macho countries, like Thailand and Peru.  Also not surprisingly, these are countries with beautiful women, an obsession with sex, and a total dearth of logic.

   
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  hardie karges 4:27 am on March 1, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: Caribbean, sex, travel ( 14 ), Venezuela.   

  Wander Love 

  I judge a country by the beauty of its women. Even after thirty years of travel, there’s still a lump in my throat, still a lump in my pants at the thrill and fear of landing in a country for the first time.  Unfortunately, Venezuela and the Caribbean don’t seem to have the lithe blithe femmes carrying a tray of fruit on their heads like you’d want them to, all smiles and sex and shortness of breath.  In actuality, the only women I’ve ever seen with fruit on their heads are the Hindu Balinese ladies on their way to temple with offerings, legs strapped together with tube skirts for virgins, sex the last thing on their minds.  Venezuela is part of the Caribbean segment of Latino culture, hot, kinky-haired, and thick of speech, akin to Panama and the Spanish Antilles, and Central America to a lesser extent, not surprising since it shares the same tub with them.  In Panama, salesmen line the streets in front of their stores, clapping their hands in short staccato bursts, as if that sense or urgency will inspire increased sales.  In Venezuela stores have long surrendered their fronts to the throngs of ambulatory vendors appropriating the public right-of-way for their private benefit to the point where the sidewalks are almost impossibly impassable.  This seems to be a growing trend, even in countries like Venezuela and Thailand that have technically left the Third World, as least in terms of GNP.  Unfortunately the flight of the filthy rich obscures the plight of the filthy poor.  The rich get richer and the poor get babies.    

   
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  hardie karges 8:15 am on January 24, 2008 Permalink | Reply
  Tags: life ( 33 ), love ( 49 ), sex, Vietnam ( 9 )   

  Life and Love in Time of War 

  Black-pajama buzzard ladies line the Hanoi pavement perched on their haunches, chewing their betel nuts, grinning like Cheshire cats under their cone-shaped mushroom caps proving McKenna’s theory that we evolved from a psilo-cybernetic visitor from outer space. The men have their own perches on other branches, sucking on the business end of a water pipe loaded to the gills with long stringy shreds of tobacco. If Asians sometimes don’t even seem human, be assured the feeling is mutual. Somewhere across town foreigners light up ganja in a sidewalk café for the same reason that a dog licks its balls. The lady selling cigarettes in Saigon sells those left-handed ones by special request, just like she did back in the Tet offensive. I imagine those practices are being phased out by now as Vietnam re-enters the real world. Not so Cambodia. Cambodia specializes in filling those little gaps that others leave unattended. The girl in Siam Riep gave me her holiday photo as though we were first loves sharing the only little bits of ourselves that were available for public consumption. She was right. I never saw her again. Many a Thai man who’d kill another Thai man for looking at his girl would readily offer her up for an hour to a Farang to bounce off of as if the Farang weren’t really human so didn’t count. It’s just phone sex with a vibrator attached. Sometimes love seems no more than the relationship between that lump in your back pocket with that lump in the front, notwithstanding exotic currencies, floating exchange rates and general arbitrage of the soul.