Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters
socratic

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Fresh style, cum and get it.

I haven't masturbated in a few days now and I think the excess semen has seeped into my brain and made me strong. I know I said that I'd stopped watching porn a few weeks ago, but I was weak and it is full of nude and bouncing breasts. That's not a recipe for a clean break. I slipped a few times and downloaded a couple dirty videos on the internet. Then I encountered one of the more interesting phenomena of pornography. The porn girl who you are actually attracted to for some reason. Most porn girls are sexually stimulating in some way. Either they have decent bodies, or huge fake breasts (something that triggers a reaction in the most primitive part of the male brain no matter what his opinion of the aesthetics of breasts are, the same place in the brain that tells him to scratch his balls as soon as they start itching, even if he is in the middle of giving a huge presentation to the board of his company and it's his only chance, or there are razor blades glued to his fingers.) Some are even pretty. There is, however, usually something about her that prevents you from being attracted. Maybe it's a huge black ink tattoo on her back, maybe the bad surgical enhancement, maybe she manages to mangle even terrible porn scripts and reveal the intelligence, talent, and charisma, of a massive tank of vomit, or maybe underneath her 40 pounds of makeup she's actually 103 years old. Then there are the girls who somehow manage to get to silicone valley without any of those traits. The fresh-faced young things who will be turned from girl next door beautiful to 40 year old barfly dried up husk in a dozen films. There's just something about these girls, the curve of their smiles, a glint in their eyes, a certain intelligence or groundedness in their voices, that makes you want to see videotape of them being tied up, their genitals penetrated by various objects animate or not, their buttocks slapped with a variety of interesting objects, and their pale nude bodies defiled with semen. It's a beautiful thing really. Guys will collect lots of videos of these girls, hoping to get closer to the dreamy creatures through a variety of gynecological shots and images of anonymous encounters under hot hot lights.

So my porn-free is the way to be plan was derailed, but now it's back on track, and I feel like a creative Samson after a visit to the hair-club for men. I was walking in the park today and ideas were swelling up in my head, trying to force their way out through my mouth so that I was forced to mutter quietly as I walked and hope that nobody important saw me. The video was so crystal clear in my mind I could almost reach out and touch it. I wish I could show you people some of the movies in my head, because they're really good. Today's feature was a college football movie with intellectual undertones and a vicious love affair. Good stuff. It's not the inspiration I lack, it's the execution. The words still come out clunky and not quite how I want them. I'm working on that, though. Oh how I'm working.

Some stuff that drederick said has been percolating in my brain the past few days and I think I've figured out what I need to do to take the writing to the next level. He called me an untalented hack, but also requested full access to my journal. This lead me to believe that the stuff he didn't like was not in the ideas, it was in the way they were being presented. Good crystal wrapped in newspaper as it were. I looked back at a few of my essays and I realized that I've been writing in an incredibly flat academic style. It's good for presenting information and boring people to death in the first three paragraphs. I've been concerned with the ideas but not the presentation. That's not writing, it's lecturing. It's not what I want to do.

So I've been looking at other people's work and I've been paying attention to rhetorical devices and stylistic choices. They sometimes interfere with giving a fair and balanced picture of a subject, but what they but for that cost is engagement. They are made inaccurate and interesting. That's not the worst thing a piece of writing can be.

So I'm loosening the reins. I'm no longer going to focus on the ideas so much, instead I'm going to let my finger and brains do the walking and indulge my rhetorical flights of fancy, let them take me where they may. The piece about the DMV is an example of this. It doesn't tell you a whole lot about what happened but it does so in an interesting way, if I do say so myself and I do. I don't think it will necessarily please drederick that may not be possible for me to do. I think it will make me a better writer though, and that's what I really need to be. So prepare for stylistic experimentation, clunky exposition, lots of confusing word whirls that tell you nothing in a pretty way. I'm planning to unleash clever combinations of ideas so interesting that they will make the alarming number of underage girls who choose to read this instantly want to have sex with me (until they realize that I am a baby-eating muppet, and that by having intercourse with me, something that would undoubtably result in multiple orgasms for all of them, they risk becoming pregnant. Then they'd have to go to court and try to claim sole custody of the child on the grounds that I plan to bite its head off and suck out its tender brains.)

Okay, maybe not, but things are going to change. They can't afford to stay the same.

There still will be expository stuff, especially regarding politics. This is a prime example, it's the old linear essay style but spruced up with nonsense. I expect there will also be shit so boring and lame you'll feel compelled to tell me I suck like a sinkhole. That's fine. Inconsistancy is the spice of experimentation and advancement. Get off the train if you're afraid of the crashes.

As for me, I feel inspired and somewhat unlocked. I'm excited. The lawyers accross the hall told me not to go to law school but to pursue my creative dreams instead. It's not worth the sacrifice just for money and security and not being homeless and getting laid all the time by law groupies.

I'm done being stodgy I'm done being formal. It's time to be sloppy and messy and crude. This might extend to my life too. I'm thinking about getting drunk and maybe trying to talk up some girls (at different times.) I'm thinking of a thousand ways to change myself and put it all in flux. I'm too comfortable right now. Too comfortable to set myself on fire and walk out on the wire once again.

Creativity is a flaming tightrope. Most of the time you're going to burn up or crash to earth. But oh those times you get to the other side unscathed. There's no spectacle like them in all of creation.
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