Quzzical. Questioning. Eccentric. Evolving.
When one of my favourite bloggers got a stupid proposal which puts the chutney on the movie “Indecent Proposal” digestible. Even so his lingo and attitude needs improvement. Not to chat girls up but to be a better human being.
I know maybe he may just be a nervous form of fellow but really I too make social faux pas but you know I do try to learn and grow from them but I dont act all great and crap.
was wearing blues; to a happy occasion
or seemingly happy — because it was the blues
I feel undervalued a bit at times
within a corporate sphincter
that breaks evenly
as a typhoon on edge
etching closer to self engulfing
many a times industrial gears are drawn really blue
now I know why
I wonder what most people are doing now. I myself am a bit active in my blog but those who usually read me have not said anything about my recent work so I am truly wondering if they hated or disliked anything. I do not mind criticism as long as its fair. We might have stylistic differences maybe some of our grammars might be different but a good opinion as in well written even bashing my writing it or being nice to it is hard to come by so please by all means tell me what you are thinking about.
And this is not only about my writing. I am curious to know what my regular readers are doing. Are they busy? Are their lives busy? Are they too busy in their own writing? Of course, lives are busy but I want to know how — are you guys doing any university courses? Are you guys doing any new kind of job? I really want to know what you are up to.
O_O —> my reaction after reading this review. How can someone blatantly admit they raped people and go around making a grand shit about it
I’m tired of blogging about rape culture.
No, honestly, I am. It gets exhausting after a while. It wears you down, you know? There’s just so much awfulness, so many rape apologists, and it takes a lot of energy to wade through it, dissect it, call it out and then deal with the backlash.
I’ve diagnosed myself with what Jezebel calls “rape fatigue“, a pretty accurate term for how I feel.
I wasn’t going to blog about anything serious this week. I was going to blog about cute things, funny things. I had a whole post planned out about how Red Fraggle is a feminist icon. It was going to be great, you guys.
And then The Good Men Project published a piece called “I’d Rather Risk Rape Than Quit Partying.”
And, well, here we are.
Let’s deconstruct this article, shall we?
We’ll start with the title:
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Any woman or man can relate to this in both categories. The so-called calm and rational man is being “logically abusive” saying things that actually put two sexes and genders in conflict with one another. Contradictory statements like this dissolve individualism and uses collective reasoning as drone mentality. There can be collectively but they are not so wound tightly; they are semi permeable you can breathe in them.
He doesn’t hate women.
Above and beyond everything else, he wants you to know this: he does not hate women.
He has two daughters, for god’s sake, and a wife that he adores beyond anything else, and a sister that he texts every day and a mother who is the strongest person that he’s ever known – yes, stronger than any of the men he’s met. So don’t think that this is because he hates women.
If anything, his real problem is loving women too much.
See, he just wants his daughters to grow up safe and happy. And to be honest, some of the things that you’re saying – that these feminists are saying – are troubling to him.
He just wants to have a sort of academic chat. Peer to peer. Grownup to grownup. That’s all. He’s not saying you’re wrong – not by a long shot! He…
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there is no “proper methodology” of studying the soul
as in to know it like a slab of meat waiting to be devoured
some people prefer labels as corsets to bras or boxers to briefs
you can’t say which is really right because preference is usually
a mountain in formation and makes Maslow’s pyramid look like a poor kitsch imitation of life —- but we cannot subtract the soul
which we have learned to do
even if one is not religious or is religious a soul must looked at all angles all dimensions and even the 9th can count —– a secularist
may say soul is just bits stuck to the meat of us or another secularist
may say soul is a nebula before actually blastocyst and it is from there
the ideology of self starts from; all religions do not look at the soul the same way but all agree on an incarnation or a continuation; transmigration is not all foreign to the functions of a being —
—- postmodernism is at its heart a soul specialist too; it may not give credits to “depths” as in it does desire to be a pretentious quip but rawness of surface energy can only be radiant with a soul; does the moon not light up as a surface and need an energy to do so? — a corpse is also a surface area reduced and dismantled so a soul for a surface is needed —- puncture the skin the heart bleeds with the fibres of nerves feeling the twinge and those who lack pain still know a heart is bleeding with the skin. Postmodernists with their intertextual tongues carry more depths than rhizomes but maybe not into binaries of highs and lows like modernist weedy theories.
and what is the soul’s state now? In me? I have yet to study it but I am drinking tea and my soul is like a dew drop on a honey comb._—-
Well, I mentioned that I was fat. And about fetishism. No, I was not only focusing on fat fetishism; that would be aa very limited approach to fetishism which is ironic because even though fetishism minimizes the diversity of its persecution is not limited. I use persecution because most fetishes do persecute and cloy and reduce people into othered objects. Sure, we love others for their myriads of qualities which we may not see in ourselves but objectifying them solely for those traits is treating them lesser for who they are.
I am not only my fat. But my fat is related to a chain of other things like my health and that is why it cannot be ignored. My appearance may look better if I was thinner but that is not only the main issue. Some people look really cute with a little fat but being anorexic looking or too fat do not work with most people I know and see.
Does that make them less beautiful? Obviously not.
Does that them less healthy? Probably so.
Also, I am fat because I am depressed and I hope that I get out of it. Beauty is so an umbrella term that figure is but just one part of it, personality and intelligence couple with empathy are other parts that may combine to illustrate the term beautiful. I am talking mainly about how I had gained weight as a delusional thought that eating much will eat up the mundane hours. I know how incorrect that it. Will I instantly change? There is a 0% in the horizon I see for that happening. But will it help me break out of it? Well, maybe, so —- I know I have a problem and I know pretty much why so I will work towards trying to break the eating curse down.
I hope Allah Almighty will Help me to accomplish it.
I am a newbie to life
life hurts too much at times
with its rambling engine and corsetted concordant gears
I am not merely accompanying it in machine tones and terminologies
but as I am a reluctant functionalist; I find my heart weary and my brain and lungs wearier
and the homeostasis of my intellectual and sexual corpus is put on hiatus against
a grain of solitary cogitative indolence ——- hyperglossia in tandem with monotony
breaks against waves of wasted salt; transfat and filth accumulated in layers around the spine
interferring with the interflow and intermission of lovely, useful stimuli —– simile to a contagion
and there is that useful gasp that we have when we break out of drowning water; episodic metaphors
here and about telling me that as I was, for the lack of better circulatory functionals, asphyxiated
it is good I got out of it —- human interactions are important too thus this feeling of release requires
something akin to the gleaming hotness of humans which objects gather but cannot really replace
well, I do know this —- there are lamps that I have, books and masks that I have collected
but I will lose my marbles if I think that they are the only intimates and that they are by themselves
a great arc of pretty things —- I know that lamps need nimble fingers and so do books; an artefact is named
so for the palms and bones have grazed them and they are ceased to be lonely traps of unmeated mammals
so, what does a newbie do? I am afraid I am just new in the equation or rather so
aware of it this exsanguation from which I suffered from before that it is incredulous
to think ami bhule jabo and that will be the end of it, cogito ergo sum did not begin or end thinking
rather death has not also. A neophyte to life can probably mutter a few letters but writing long ones
are still challenge prone so let me get this —- life is not only a graph blimp that charts ack-ack high
and goes on a murderous low —- shall I only think that a retirement home is the advent of life’s pinnacles?
so, I had sex and maybe seen some genetic signatures on that but what does that do? I cannot retire.
have I retired from breathing? From seeing the settings suns? Feeling the marigold warmth of moon as it
sizzles as a freaky steak on that juicy oil lathered frying pan of a night? As soon it becomes a cushy lettuce of a sun
pops out to be made up in a blue salad of a sky? —- yes, call the youths and young ones and let’s see if they work the pearl
necklace of a lunar-starry sky or ate the cotton candy sensations of the day; muddy caffeines stick on their mouths like bad lipstick after a gouty kiss.
life, just wears chronology as underwear, wired bras and extra elastic jockstrap to seem more idyllic endowed
to feed oneself a hashish and go eesh how do the cows go pasturing in the fields of pasteurized love
life is more than breathing and eating and daydreaming of that high rise office in the middle of urban nowhere
it isn’t always the murky streets and icky cigarette tongs with their skilled voyeurs and oozy flirtations with cancer
with the foreign fair guy lighting up a tea-glass on the spirit of off with the cups (no bra pun really intended)
life is a cloister, cellular, cranial, clitoral —- ball sack included; it can be a great vapour of lusts and demolishing the hurricane of patented hypocrisies that engage you only as arbitrary mood of blank bovine stares in some corporation office judging you for your funky nailpoilsh partnered together with a turttleneck and non-tight pants which made you non-labeled and harder to deal with because then thinking twice of slut shaming and well the other decanters of abuse —- but you are not the Anglo Saxon Wasp and that proves the racial dilemma again because though a rainbow is promoted; rainbows are easily digested by other light plays and are not always visible in the air so you can say that as people do not want it around so they like it as a particular of bad weather.
there is more or less a prep for a newbie and the expert may tell you suck then but you must endure because you are a newbie thus
conveniently censored —- newbies are new to life, their pulses may glow soft but their hearts need, feast on adrenalin, they don’t want to vacated out of their own bodies put up foreclosure signs and have the bank of your names and classifiers come and bulldoze them into stampeded marks out of a bad movie (preferably animated for some satirist effect) and then what will be a newbie if not a sycophant and a loser born to be just housing for some nuclear test site —- or some countercoup in a company unprepared for colonization in the form of coalition which translates simply to cold war
ummmm, here I am a newbie not entirely sure what the world is but entirely eager to know; I’ll jostle and jump, sulk and salivate, seek and saunter, sexualize and animate my body parts for my own directory and database; thank you for taking me to this boring masquerade party but I like walking out in my own face and not feel that the shadows on the walls are just highlights of the evening._—–
I am fat. There. I said it. What else can I do? ——- traditionally, and technically; you will tell me to watch my calories and exercise but is that it? —- because, that would be traditionally and technically that would be kind of boring.
Why do I binge eat?
There is a solution to the problem. But why do I have it? But you can’t evaluate it by your standards and only one methodology — any symptom can be more than one disease.
I eat. Because in eating I made my delusional self believe that I am giving weight to my existence. I have this condition. Not so neurotic psychological but I think it is boredom being a devil’s worksjop.
I am tired of over eating. I do not want to eats so much like this. I am becoming severely overweight as in “bad fat” you should not be so fat that you are so disease prone nor so thin that the same reaction happens in a different form.
I do not want to fetishised as a potential for a chubby chaser nor do I want a love to only love me for my “good thin” figure which is now in fashion. I am not saying people cannot have types of people they cannot like. Of course they can but you know some people only love you for some traits and then stop loving you if you are having problems with those traits. Or love you after they consume enough only those traits. And cannot love you beyond that. That sounds more like a fetishism than love to me. I am no love expert but loving someone means understanding them and being able to be understood and not only focused on reaping and sowing in superficially scant terms. If you love a woman only for her breasts or a guy only for his breasts (good chest span) it may not always stay the same or you might not love them after a while. For you were treating them only as boobs. (You get the idea)
I cannot consume singularly either on just one part.
But I do want to healthy. I want to be able to feel energetic and not bulky and tired. But I know I eat because I feel without eating I cannot have a regular life and time: I am very incorrect. I need to shape my life with more fun and work to be able to get out of the feeding frenzy.
Yes, exercise is relevant to keep your body functioning well. It oils the joints and helps filter the blood and firm the muscles.
I hope, By Allah Almighty, I get over this 🙂
The Second Sex was written for a reason and truthfully many people are in a bad state female or male due to gendered liberties 
