[RANT] Yeah, that's somehow fair

This is JR Smith of the Denver Nuggets. He's been sentenced to 30 days in jail because of an accident that resulted in the death of his friend. He didn't cause the accident, the death, or the friendship, but the weight of all three bears heavily on his shoulders.

I can't help but think about what I'd do if one of my friends suddenly fell over dead. I've lost some close friends and family members, but the causes have always been either freakishly surreal (Kelly) or natural causes (gre-Uma and grandpa). It's never been unexplained or accidental.

I suppose I'd pray about it, but I damn sure hope I wouldn't wind up in jail over it.

God's lookin' down on you JR. Keep the faith.

RAVE: Love

Love is a many-splendored thing.
Love, exciting and new.
Can't buy me love.
Cannot kill my love buzz.
All we need is love.
Make not a bond of love.

Love, I have known it.
Beneath cherry blossom trees
'tis the wise lotus.

So, I'm feeling really really really good lately. I'm talking not-scaring-off-the-Mormon-missionaries good, just-had-a-big-dinner good, that kind of good that keeps you going when the day gets shitty. It's due in no small part to that elusive and oft-maligned four-letter word that we all enjoy so much.

No silly, not "Fuck!" but that's a good one too.

I'm talking about love. L-O-V-to the-E. I've felt it before, had it felt for me before, even been fooled into thinking I was feeling it before. I've developed a pretty good indicator for the fooling part, in no small way thanks to Guen, some good friends, and some past experiences. I gotta tell ya, even the fake stuff feels really good, but I'm here today to chat about spotting and experiencing the real thing. Here's some helpful hints:

Love something more than your lover, and make sure they love something more than you. I shouldn't say "more." I should say "other." I just need to drive home the point, and I really think more is better. My mistake in the past was making my partners the central figure in my life, or allowing myself to become the central figure in theirs. Love your children, love God, love your parents, love your cat, love your country, love something else. When you only love one thing or one person, it's easy to forget that there is so much more out there. The focus of your love becomes your sole source of validation, and it becomes easier to forget what's most important.

Love yourself. Seriously, you're useless, boring, annoying, needy, unattractive, petty, not pretty, and a myriad other bad things when you don't love yourself. If you're getting love from somewhere and you don't love yourself, then you're a parasite - pure and simple. If you can't figure out how to love yourself, get introspective on your own ass. Odds are, you're a pretty cool person or you wouldn't be reading this blog. If nothing else, follow circular masturbation logic: by masturbating, I love my hand, my hand is part of me, thus I love me. See? That wasn't so hard now was it?

Don't mistake frequent fucking for love. Sometimes we like to do things. Sometimes we do them more than once. That doesn't mean we love that thing, just that we like doing it. Sex clouds pretty much every issue. If you want to know if something is for real, ask yourself "Would I still feel this way if I were unable to give and/or receive hot dickings to/from this person?" If the answer is no, then you're not in love. You're either trading sex for affection, or you're chalking up frequent fucker miles. That's okay, just remember that there's a difference.

It's like faith. That tingling you might feel, that's hormones. If you're still fulfilled and on top of the fucking world when that tingling subsides, then you're on the right track. Power to ya.

That's all I've got for now. I really hope that everyone gets to experience this, 'cause it's awesome.

RAVE: Out of the Closet

Sometimes I sleep
Sometimes it's not for days
The people I meet
Always go their separate ways
Sometimes you tell the day
By the bottle that you drink
Sometimes when you're alone
All you do is think...

I've gotten my fair share of alone time lately, and I've had cause to do a lot of thinking. I don't mind, really, because I enjoy flexing the old mental muscles. For the past nine months or so, I've had cause to think about my spiritual life. Since I've reached a sort of crossroads, I figured I'd spew about my progress for a spell.

First, I'm a bad person. The truth is, you're the weak and I'm the tyranny of evil men, but I'm trying real hard to be the shepherd. I know that a fearless, unrepentant bastard shepherd probably isn't what most people think would be a good thing, but it's who I am. Thing is, just like Mr. Wallace, I've got a gleaming beautiful soul in my briefcase. Lots of people look to me as an example whether I want them to or not. Bushido dictates a certain level of obligation to those who look up to you, and because I choose to follow those tenets I have to honor that obligation.

Second, I started this line of inquiry for all the wrong reasons. I fell really hard for a Christian woman, and our spiritual differences were going to become a sticking point somewhere along the line. I decided to look into some different things to see if I could find a way to reconcile bushido-driven metheism with her peculiar brand of Jesus-freaking. I left all of my other books at home while I was traveling and set out to read the Bible - desperately searching for something that said I could be a good person without Christ. I found a bunch, but they all kept coming back to this one really important point...

Third, God loves me anyway. He loves me so much that he sent his only son to die for the sins of the world - my sins. If you held a gun to Guen's head and said that I had to choose between her life and the lives of ten people in the next room, well, I'd ask who those people were and the decision would still be agonizing. God loves me like I love my cat, with a pure and faithful love that sees beyond foibles and the occasional wet spot of the sofa. Say what you will, but I believe that. In the long run, that's really all that matters.

So having said all this, I'm still faced with some challenges. I have a very personal belief system and code of conduct that I need to reconcile with my newfound faith. I have a badboy reputation to protect, and I'm still a fearless and mostly-unrepentant bastard. I still think science and mathematics are the purest expressions of God's thoughts. And I patently refuse to rest on my laurels knowing that I've got a place waiting for me when I die (meaning I still think that living for the afterlife really misses the point). My spiritual advice thusfar has been to read more and to seek out like-minded fellowship. I'm working on the first part and struggling with the second, and I'm absolutely convinced that I'll never figure everything out.

I'm okay with that, but that doesn't mean I have to stop trying.

RANT/RAVE: I'm Still Inside You

I've got this thing with NIN (and with Tori Amos, but not so often) where I'll go months without listening to them. It's like being celibate for a time so you can remember how awesome sex really is (not that I've ever done that by choice, but sometimes the nookie just slows to a trickle). When I finally return to them, it's like discovering something new again. I liken it to shagging an ex or watching a movie I haven't seen in awhile but remember liking - you get to remember what brought you to it in the first place all over again.

The video above is a fan-vid for my current favorite NIN song. It's on the Wanted soundtrack and, for awhile, it was pretty much the story of my life. I'm sure I'm not alone in feeling like sometimes life is just droning on. Sure, the globe gets warmer and the rich get richer and the poor get poorer, but the average person just kinda keeps the ol' head down, learns the menu, and gets by. The thing to remember is that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I think Immortal Technique summed it up by saying "When you attempt to change the system from within, you find eventually that the system has changed you." You're keeping in step, in the line. Got your head held high and you feel just fine. 'Cause you do, what you're told, but inside your heart it is black and it's hollow and it's cold. (That's more Nine Inch Nails.)

I guess my point is that going through the motions is monotonous. It's a bunch of bullshit. Anyone who tells you different is a fucking lethargic devil. Sure, you may wake up every day at the same time, report to the same job, hang out with the same people on the weekends, but that doesn't mean that each day need be a carbon copy of the previous one. Change things up just a smidgen. Walk a different route, get lost and be late, relocate, explore, talk to different people, shag someone else, trade up. Just don't become your fucking khakis.

If nothing else, know that you can sell out and get what you're worth without becoming a cog in the machine or another fucking drone - even in the corporate world.

RAVE: For the Ladies

I remember promising back when I wrote Zen and the One-Night Stand that I'd do something for the ladies eventually. Better late than never, I say. Now gals, some of this might offend you, so if you're the kind that takes things personally or gets offended easily - STOP READING RIGHT FUCKING NOW! If you aren't that kind of girl, take this for what you will and remember that I love all women and I'm really just trying to help. Now, on with the show.

Ladies, I am not your gay friend. I am a caveman. Not just any caveman, but a fearless unrepentant bastard of a caveman. I also think of myself as an educator and a public servant. Just like I used my talents late last year to help men do a better job of helping you scratch certain itches, I'm now returning the favor with some helpful hints on what men want and what you can do to give it to them.

FRESH BREATH: I'm serious, it goes a long way. If I'm talking to a girl and she's got a bad case of the assmouth, I'm not going to talk to her for long. If a guy offers you a mint, he's either got extra mints and is being polite, or he likes you enough to try and resolve an issue that's keeping him from asking to take you home. Either way, take the fucking mint. Better yet, carry your own (you have a frikkin' purse) and save him the trouble.

STAND OUT, REACH OUT, LOOK OUT: I shit you not, the girls that'll get the most action are the ones that don't look like all the other girls in the gaggle. If you're traveling with a pack of blondes, go red. Your girls are all in black? Be the one in white. Guys want the aberration because she looks more likely to be willing to part with her gaggle of girls. Parlay that uniqueness into something even cooler by actually initiating a conversation or two with guys. It'll intimidate the old fashioned ones out there, but those're the ones that just want you in the kitchen anyway. Don't fuck them. They're fertile.

LET US BUY YOU THINGS: I shit you not. Few things get on my nerves more than when I go to pay the whole ticket and somebody tries to stop me. The only thing that's worse is when you don't accept gifts. Guys have this weird biological imperative to provide. They feel valued and like they're contributing. Eat the free dinner, drink the free drinks, and express gratitude. We know that you're liberated and maybe a little insulted, but that's part of why we do it for you.

WHORE IT UP A LITTLE: Note that I said "A little." Show some skin, but leave the halter top for the outdoor music festival. Swear a bit, but leave the skank talk for later. Almost every guy wants a girl that looks slutty, but not too slutty; acts innocent, but not too innocent; gets drunk, but not too drunk; and will still likely put out. It's that strange dichotomy that keeps guys from ever doing anything right. We really have no idea what we want, but we want all of that and then some.

THINK ABOUT THE GYM: Ever hear the phrase "What we find pleasing to the eye and pleasing to the touch are seldom the same. 'Tis a shame." Well, that was written by a guy who preyed on women with poor self-image and who had never fucked a gymnast. That's right, it was written by a damned dirty lying predator. Don't become a slave to fitness or get all muscle-bound and shite, just get comfortable with your body and you'll be a thousand times hotter. It's also nice to be able to look at a girl and know that she'll have some energy in the sack. The prospect of having to do all the work all the time can be a real turn-off. While I don't subscribe to the anorexic standard of beauty, there's a reason you don't see a lot of lonely skinny pretty girls. Men're wired and conditioned to what that. It's better to know that and use it than to live in denial.

KISS WITH YOUR EYES OPEN: This goes for fucking, too. If I'm taking a girl to her happy place, I don't want her going to her imaginary happy place. Be present for that shit. Imagine Tyler Durden slapping the shit out of you after he dumps lye on your hand. Don't block that shit out. It's called intimacy for a reason. Fantasize while you're masturbating. Be there and involved and you just might find yourself not having to masturbate quite so often.

FUCK THE NICE GUY ON OCCASION: Got a good friend that's always been there for you? Remember that fella that held your hair while you puked, then made sure you got home safe and didn't molest you even once? Yeah. You do. Give him a reward toss or something - or at least hook him up with a friend of yours. Nice guys that finish last too often go out and learn from bastards like me and then aren't nice anymore. If you get to 'em before they get to that point, at least you can train them to do things you like.

CARRY PROTECTION: Condoms and mace. Seriously. Guys never think to bring that stuff, and if they do you have no idea how long it's been in their damned pocket. Better safe than sorry I say.

DON'T FAKE IT: I can tell. Most men can tell. Most of the time, we really don't care. What you do when you fake it is deny us the feedback we need to really get you off. That's just mean and unhelpful - and generally unfair to you because you aren't getting yours. If you're one of those gals that just can't, then patently ignore this advice and get yourself some therapy.

That's all I've got for now. If you've read this far and find my commentary inflammatory, I'd encourage you to go and read pretty much anything by Sam Harris (no relation). My social commentary is kindergarten stuff compared to the words this magnificent bastard strings together.

RANT: Right to Life

Every day I spend at least a couple of minutes imagining myself torn apart by arrows, crashed against the stones by fierce winds or a crashing wave, or facing death in honorable combat. In making my death a constant part of my life, I master it and it holds no power over me. In thinking about death daily, I appreciate life and its' wonders that much more. Big problems become smaller and complexities simpler. All I really have to do is live and die, then journey from one end to another is just details.

Morbid? Probably, but it keeps me sane. It's also given me a unique perspective on death and loss. I've lost a lot of people close to me in the past few years, and while not all of them have died, some of them probably wish I would. Others don't wish for anything anymore - because they're dead. They don't get to make the journey anymore because they've done the final thing that they truly had to do. I don't know what happens to them, but I have a feeling that it's mostly good, stress free, and pretty peaceful.

Sure, I mourn them in my own peculiar way, but that's how I cope. I miss them when I think of them, but I also wish them the best. My favorites are the ones who chose how they went gently into that good night, but I still mourn the ones that, tragically, had their lives ended early. I'm sure that when the time comes and I want to die, it will be in a manner of my choosing, and I hope that folks will respect my wishes.

Think about this stuff the next time you're presented with options to keep someone lingering on, or to stop a life before it really has a chance to get started. Honor the wishes of the living, and respect the memories you have of the dead.

RAVE: The Poverty of Philosophy

Listen and learn...