Wednesday, May 5, 2010

adult services feed is depressing me

Once in a while I'll click on one of the links to something like "Cute brunette kinky tight" and wonder what the hell is going on in the world if there are hundreds of girls in L.A. being hookers. Does anyone have a comment on this? The links are amusing but I feel like an authentic sexual relationship is becoming mythology. Is anyone out there NOT paying for sex or offering to fuck for money? When did the sexual revolution become a cheap flea market?

p.s. if you are offering to fuck for money please justify your pricing in terms of Adam Smith's theory that a bushel of wheat is the standard of trade. Like how many bushels of wheat is a blow job worth? Why?
Right now oil is worth 8 times as much as wheat.

Winnie the Pooh Has No Penis

I blame Winnie the Pooh for my misery. The reasons should be self evident. Just look at him. He is wearing a shirt that's too small for his fat tummy and he's got no genitals. And his freakish smile is obviously from smoking too much crack.No genitals! And what is up with that shirt? What are you so happy about, Pooh? I'd like to wipe that smile off you face.

Anyway, I had a mural of Winnie The Pooh land in my bedroom in 1976. Winnie and Piglet and Eyeore and Rabbit and Owl all hung out on the walls, living in caves and trees and socializing and singing songs and I got it in my head that this was paradise. Call it my Rosebud.

I have since learned that Winnie's lifestyle was not realistic for a few reasons:

1) Winnie has no penis. That right there would make my life much much easier. The burden of chasing pussy and/or resisting the urge to chase pussy or once I actually get some pussy taking measures not to have children, and then regretting not having children...well, it's fucking exhausting. Some people like it...but not Pooh. Pooh didn't have any problem trying to get dates or watching his sex drive ebb and flow like the phases of the moon. Hey, Pooh. Fuck you! You heard me, you dickless bear!

2) No taxes. This is just a blanket category for the financial responsibilities that will eventually crush my spirit and leave me in a hospital fighting for life while my chest is cracked open. Pooh didn't buy shit. He ate honey, watched the wind blow, slept, talked to Piglet, etc. You know how much a rack of St. Louis Style ribs cost? Huh, Pooh? $3 a pound. That's right. And there's barbecue sauce and salad and wine. $20 easy. How am I going to impress a girl with a fucking bottle of honey?

3) No job. Well, this is one category Pooh had it perfectly right. Unfortunately, there is #2 to consider and how you are going to afford Nat King Cole cds and songbooks? Singing folk tunes with Christopher Robin might be fine for Pooh, but here on earth we like some variety. We like Jazz and Swing and Rock. That takes money and money means you gotta whore yourself out to make it. I'm a phone call away from taking a job stuffing inserts in newspapers. If I can't keep that job then forget about it. But Pooh just lived in his cave and took naps. "Let's go wish Piglet a happy Thursday," said Pooh. BULLSHIT! That's fucking Bullshit! If Pooh was here right now I'd pull that sissy shirt over his ears and pound the shit out of him. I'd punch his belly so hard his liver would rupture. That's what I think about Happy Thursdays. I'd like to wish Pooh a Happy Broken Spine and Shattered Ribcage.

4) Sealed universe. You see any bulldozers in Pooh Land? No. Any oil spills? Any meteors? Any billionaire inventors who sell you stuff you don't need? Any deer ticks? Nope. But that's what we have in my universe. Maybe I shouldn't pay attention, like Pooh, but I can't help it. I'm not a dumb, forgetful bear who lives in a cave and eats honey. I read the news. I pay attention. And if I ignored everything then what would happen when I went to interact with anyone.
"Why aren't you wearing your gas mask?"
"My what?"
It must be nice to live in a closed universe but I live here on earth and current events have a way of poisoning you if you don't watch it.

5) Not cool. Pooh is a sissy. How many forest rangers banged on Pooh's cave? How many cops bust down Pooh's door? Well, in my world these things are regular and really mess shit up. You get a ticket and you gotta fight it and you gotta form a defense and the cops will harass you and your girlfriend is a hooker, blah blah blah. Did Pooh have a hooker girlfriend? Did he? No. So he's a sissy.

I'm going to wrap this up. I just want to say that I chased Pooh's Utopian social perspective for 35 years and never found it. It was a myth my mother painted on the walls. What was she thinking! Oooh, I hate Pooh!
Here's a clip called "Apoohcalypse Now" to try and even the score.

Dan Tranh

Another day of nakedness in Lebanon. The photographer said his series was about "Humanity" the quest for communication and the limitations we have. I forgot my camera in Portsmouth so I don't have any pictures of the Vietnamese instruments he asked me to play. One was a major pentatonic based lap guitar type instrument called a Dan Tranh like the woman below is playing. No matter what I played it sounded Vietnamese. You pluck with the right hand and only have 5 notes to choose from but because there is a bridge in the middle your left hand can put pressure on the plucked string to bend the note to different pitches. It would take a few years to figure out. Imagine me buck naked playing this instrument in a living room in Lebanon and you'll see why I posted this picture instead.
The other instrument had a single string and a little wooden cup as a sound chamber. You pluck the note and then tweak that curved stick and it changes the pitch of the string. I studied these instruments in my ethnomusicology class. The one below is called a Dan Bau. It was hard. I tried to play I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas but couldn't find the flat notes.
The photographer has family roots in Vietnam so that's why these came into the series.

Then I got a big box of fried chicken and potato wedges and cole slaw and ate it in the park in Lebanon. It was Community Yard Sale Day in the upper valley but I didn't buy anything.

I got lost on my way to Weirs Beach but finally made it back to conquer Venture but failed to eclipse my score of a week ago. Too much driving and not enough tennis.

Fort Stark Brigade

Yes, I was the youngest by 30 years (where are all the 40 year olds at 9am on a wednesday?) but the fort stark brigade volunteers are good folks. The state owns the land but there is no money for any kind of maintenance so the locals have taken the matter into their own hands. I feel a little uncomfortable when they talk about "Keeping the kids from smoking pot in the dungeon." What is youth for except to trespass and smoke pot?
But the projects are there and it makes the place look inviting and respectful of the American flag now flying over the parade grounds. Right? Could we fly a flag over a filthy abandoned fort with "Fuck you" spray painted on the walls and kids smoking crack in the old cable room? I think not. I mean, the idea of America is damn impressive, it's just the reality of America that's so fucked up. 5% of the population of the planet using 33% of the resources. For Hannah Montana dolls and porn videos. NOT IMPRESSED!
But the men and women of the Fort Stark Brigade, I salute you.
Creative Commons License
Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.