a half-demon
Here is a sorry attempt at an asexual way of life. Call it a personal sexual method. Or even an asexual theory. Doesn’t help that I have been a thought extremist for over 197 days. The insanity keeps on brewing in my heart. I have popped the egoistic mind. It needs to know its own place in my heart.
But of course, if I am going to die tonight, what’s the point of theory? An anecdote will be my theory. Staring in the beautiful eyes of Lady Death, all the hypotheses, guesses, anecdotes, theories, methods, and ends are mesh together into story. Leave the theories till the afterlife. I got a life to live.
Here’s a data point from last Sunday. I keep in mind that data is theory-laden (Hugh G. G. Jr et. al. 2002).
The house was empty. I undressed myself, laying naked on my bed. I rarely was naked except in the shower. I have only looked at my own naked body in the mirror. Shame normally greets me and shoos my eyes away from my own body. I went on and imagined that I was making out and making love to an imaginary character called Alice. I didn’t want to imagine a real person, that hurts too much. For that person, and for myself. Orgasm came pretty quickly, I am a 26 year old virgin after all LMAO.
Here’s a theory. If Jesus is God, all that I hate, the God I am angry at, is not Jesus. Jesus has been clothed for over two thousand years with so many thoughts and theories that I can’t see Him in His true glory. But to turn this idea back to me, I also wear much of religion. I have grown up the son of a pastor for the last 26+ years of my life. In that time, I have clothed myself in fake religion, trying to cover my nakedness, my sexuality, my darkness. The dark desire to fuck a girl into eternity, with no care for her desires, her passions, her needs. A rapist’s mind. The desire to have sex all the time. If I was such a demon, I guess The World and The Church are glad I stay a virgin. Lest I hurt a woman, rape her. So it’s best I lock myself in my room, lock my phone so pornography is far from me, lest I become the monster of my nightmares. Is this the monster of religion? Is this monster of self? Perhaps I need to undress both myself and God. I am not interested in being a mystic. Nor am I interested in Deconstruction. I am only interested in Reconstruction. If God is for everyone, that I will let Him slowly build a real image of Him. And I will slowly build a real image of myself. My heart aches everyday, but it’s better than fakery. My God seems so small, but it’s better than wooden images.
Writing this is a living daymare, but I don’t care (in my insanity, the me at 3 pm – it’s 9:17 now – will regret this). I am ready for the Kiss of Lady Death. The only kiss that every single, virgin man like me across the long span of history (there must be untold millions – after all, only the victorious men get the time to write their stories of conquest) can receive. The lowly men don’t get a chance in this dangerous playground, this bitter comedy of death. I hate it when people say “That’s Life”. It’s Death. It’s Fucking Death you are talking about.
What’s our (single men) foreplay before entering into Lady Death? The sun that kisses our face. The breeze that caresses our cheeks. The smooth rocks of the river the massages our feet. The poison of choice that touches our lips (mine is coffee). The birds that twitter sweet notes into our ears. The thick carpets that presses into me. These I have experienced this morning, followed by another fucked-up fantasy in the toilet. It’s all I have. How pathetic ain’t it :P ?
I called this post a half-demon because I see both light and darkness. Light in undressing oneself of shame. Undressing God of all the fakery, all the FUCKING FAKE RULES. Actually, never mind, they have dressed up a fucking wooden image. Darkness because what I am doing seems crazy to my past self. It’s all grey. But there is one thing that isn’t grey – heartache has haunted me for 197 days. One has told me that it was a gift. I see it as a half-curse.
I know I am ranting like a madman. But I am not like a madman. I am a madman, in this mad, insane world. If God made this world, man has really fucked it up. If God didn’t make this world, man is completely fucked.