Gender: Male Age: Secret Location: N/A
|Introduction: a... intellectual piece|
You must always have a clear mind. This is an artistic perspective. On sexual cruelty. To be an artist, is to be cruel in a way. I think about it. I think that it is true. You leave out... many things. This is not exactly a story. It is an opinion. If you are not interested, you should not read on. I have been blasted for making too many statements of variable worth. We go to the moon...
Not because it is easy, but because it is hard. Told... by a President. Is that what life represents for us? I am including comments this time. I want to hear what you have to say. I am writing something. And I hope you can help me.
I am an artist. I look at myself that way. Everything that I do it controlled. Sexuality is my way out. My freedom. But is it important? Do I have to think about it.
Perhaps I do... Perhaps I do. If I did not have my artist mentality, what would I use? I need to use something. I am placed. We are all placed. We are all referred to as... something. He is somewhat this or that. Perhaps I could be known as a cigarette smoker. I could be known as someone just trying to get it out, all the shit. But there is a lot of shit... Sexual cruelty. I like it. I like to delve in it, be the master... and all that stuff. But it ends. And there is nothing there. It was play. And we acknowledge that.
But what if it was real, and all of this was not artistic. A pretty terrible thing. How much play can we do, and talk about it? It is not an experiment. Life is not an experiment. We are not here to describe to ourselves and each other... I cannot be a thought in someone's mind.
It is kind of frightening, that we must go back into reality. That we must be ourselves. And not all this play. I am not saying that sex stories is not all that. I am saying that you are part of them. Each of us is part of them. I am part of the cruel bunch. I like to be cruel. And it turns women on. Makes them squirt. Especially on the live sex sites. But then I leave them alone. And I think of it in a clear way. There is nothing there.
But we are human beings that need each other.
Do we need play from each other? We are part of each other. That is not true is it. We are separate from each other. There is no God. So what do we realize? I said that in an artistic way... I should say, if I am a human being, why is there no God? I am not saying that out of curiosity. I am saying that because I am unhappy with the fact, just stated.
I should start talking about sex. About how normal it is. But we come to these sites, because it is not normal in our lives. We can't get to normal in our lives, and it is a very sad things. We hear about terrorists being promised all kinds of things in Heaven. That there will be women there... What are we missing in this life? What are we missing? It is not enough to say there is no God... I play poker. I play it all the time. I play it, and then go get some sex. It seems to be a dual... thing that I can do.
What is missing in me? They say that we are sick, and that we indulge ourselves. And that our minds are not well. And that we should be...
I do not want to be an artist. I want to be a trouble maker. I do not like people telling me what I should be. I do not want to be logical about it. But I do not want to go to jail.
And I am forced to do so. I am forced...
This feeling of force against me, makes me feel that I must have sex. To release me, to make sure that I do not kill someone in response to the force that they are inflicting on me. I need to be trouble. I do not need to be an artist and calm about all this. I am done with going to porn sites and live sex sites. I need to be trouble.
But i cannot be.
So I will continue. To smoke cigarettes. And ruin my life. And take on the pity of others.
I will continue to watch golf on TV, the stock market on TV, the films on TV, the... everything on TV. I cannot take it much more. I am being real now. I want reality to be there. I do not want us to be playing all the time.
And then say it is significant.
It is not.
I will switch off the comment thing... if I feel that the response is just rude. I do not need that in my life. I am making the point that we should be ourselves.
That is a very great point to make. You can be cruel back to me, because you think that I am being cruel to you. But you are not thinking about what I am saying. You are going for it. You are seeing to it, that your needs are met. This is a cerebral essay. A cruel one. It is pointing out that all the things that you are doing is wrong. I think about that. I have been having a lot of sex this way.
I have not been artistic about it, although the way I turn women on is in an analytical way. I see what they need and I give it to them. Sex, is in reality, different. I can't even say. I do not know...
And that gets me. It pulls at my heart strings. I know that you can order a woman around... I know that everybody knows what... they need to get, and they do... get it / from a woman. But a woman is a partner. There must be something wrong here. She is not supposed to be malleable. They are not so different from us. But why are we bending and making our way through this world, to make up for the things that the world is doing wrong to us.
The police... don't care about us. And beat us every chance they get. Not letting us get off the ground. The courts let us know what the law is, and not what justice is. I see a lot of judges... We are put in front of people, all the time, that judge us. Because they need to judge us. So they can get sexually off. We are put in front of a lot of clear thinkers, that make statements that we cannot use, and we just put them away. And say to ourselves we must be safe now. And we move around the world in cars and dangerous things, hoping that it will all be alright. That is no way to live. We exist on nervous energy. And then I come to the artist and he tells me to maintain, and that makes me so angry because he is lazy and nervous. He just wants to get through life, by saying something that people will see. I do not care about my senses! I do not care about sex! I want...
I have a craving in me just to act.
And this is where it gets dangerous. I am not allowed to believe in God. They are saying there is no God! I look about. And I try to understand this. Why are we here? What will help us? What will say to us the truth? How can there be no God...? It is harmful to think so. I cannot think anymore.
To end, I will end in some artist way. I have told you of my feelings. It is hard to express them. But in a normal world it wouldn't be. I think of my cruel state, and it is like my smoking... I cannot get out of it. I fit in in this way. And there is no way around it. I am one... thing to women. I turn them on.
WHAT IS THE POINT? I DO NOT WANT TO TURN ON THE WORLD. I DO NOT WANT TO RUN FROM IT. I DON'T WANT TO BE TOLD BY THE NEWS HOW FRIGHTENING IT IS, AND THAT WE SHOULD HIDE. FUCK YOU...
(You get my point.)
A man walks quietly by. He is tense. He is on his way to somewhere. A job. He is forced to do this job. Because his family depends on it. He has no chance. He has no chance at a happy life. The news tells us stories that the world is far too big and contentious to deal with. But they are doing it... for us. There is the CIA and the FBI. But these people are cruel. They are my department. I deal in politics. In an artistic way. But this site is where my heart it...
Beautiful, you say. But this is an argument and I look at you. With hate. I do not want to be beautiful. I do not want to be recognized. I want to be understood. I want you to tell me that I do not be cruel anymore and that the world is real. I go on and on... And I don't seem to be getting anywhere. And you are about to fuck off.
That is okay. You can do so. I am just being indulgent... or that other word...
Let us not think about going to the moon. Let us think of making it to the door.
Let us not thing that we are going to make it. That it will mysteriously come together. it is not a question of health. I am unpredictable.
I put my art away.
People want to be one with each other. It is impossible. How can you make any judgments that way. And if we cannot judge, how can we exist? We are in a world that...
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