May 17, 2013
wtf did i just read

I think you bring up some good points. I’m not here to push this or any other view on you, or even defend my viewpoint - you seem to be thinking about what is being said which is all I really care about if I were to be pretentious enough to say that my “writing” has a “goal” other than my own need to express my bullshit.

Context context context

For context it is worth mentioning that there is a reason I call it “plan B” - because its not what I am planning on. Right now I have a wife and a child on the way and work as an executive of a company that is in the process of going public (I’m more of a grouchy old man than a burner lately. I say “kids these days…” way too often). Point is, its mainly talk - I’m on another path.

I don’t choose to be a Zen monk, but if someone were doing it I would say go all the way. I don’t choose “plan b” either, but if someone is choosing to go down that route I’ll defend my version of it as one of the most fulfilling and interesting ways to do it. That’s what “plan b” is all about.

For more context (if you’re interested) see my comments on general hedonism - “plan b” may sound like the typical adolescent give-no-fucks self-destruction that you are used to thinking of as “hedonism”, but there is more to it if you take a look.`

Are drugs cool?

Well that’s a definition game isn’t it? For context, here is the standard entry point on that discussion. You poke at this question with the “glamorous” language. I think it comes down to what a person is looking for - are you trying to have a “cool” experience  or are you trying to be perceived as cool or glamorous? For young people especially drugs become a social status and part of a personal definition - many do in fact draw identity and status from their drug use. Being a rebel is badass blah blah blah. It is also fun to be oh so self-righteous droning on about the war on drugs and how immoral it is on and on and on ad nauseum.

But this is not everybody, and it need not be you or your friends. Some of us don’t do drugs because of who is or isn’t watching, but because we find something beautiful and valuable in altered mental states. Maybe some people aren’t “glamorizing”, but just showing how they have found value in odd places. With so much propaganda blindly skreeding against drug use, someone has to hold up the other side of the conversation…

Juvenile?

Maybe, depends on your definition. A lot of people think masterbation or video games are juvenile, but I disagree. Everything has its place and there is more or less room for various things at different ages. Just because the age when something is initially explored or when it is most expressed is at an immature age, does not mean the whole kit and caboodle is juvenile.

Again, its what you make of it, just like I was saying in “plan b” - take ownership of your life and make it yours whatever that is. Anything else at some level involves making cowardly excuses. For some of your friends that means going to school and doing the normal “American Dream” such as it still exists. For others it means hanging out getting high and doing comedy. Different strokes for different folks.

Observation

I think you are on the right path because you are doing something very intelligent - looking at your peers’ choices and comparing what it has done in their life. This is the way to do it - don’t use theory (drugs good or drugs bad) - use empirical observation. What tradeoffs have your friends made, how has that effected them?

For example, you can probably think of a friend who has fucked up their life on drugs. You can also probably think of a friend who got a college degree and got a normal job and did everything “right” and is miserable and trapped by all their commitments and things.

Does that make either of their life plans wrong? No, probably just means that you shouldn’t do it that specific way.

On the other hand you can probably think of a friend who uses drugs responsibly has an amazing time, and through it finds creativity and inspiration and living in the moment and manages to keep their life from flying off the rails. You can also probably think of a friend who has a normal job and a family and loves life by the book and is very happy.

Maybe you choose one or the other, maybe you are somewhere in the middle. Point is, don’t make assumptions, and keep observing :)

Maybe try asking yourself simple questions like “if I needed to crash on my friends couches because I needed a place to stay, who would respond the fastest” or “of all my friends, who is most likely to give to a beggar on the street”. Which of your friends are the healthiest, the most “spiritual” (if you care about that)? Who are the most unconditionally loving? Who makes you laugh? Who has you back no matter what? Who is “at peace”? If you needed someone to explain what love means, who would you turn to?

Which of that characteristics do you want for yourself? Questions like that probably give you some answers.

Opportunity

Whenever you make one choice, you unmake countless other good choices. Such is the way of things - most spots in the universe don’t let you have your cake and eat it too. The only way to escape the feeling that you are missing out is to make good decisions based on your true values (not the ones you believe you believe) and take all that comes with joy.

Life is a simple game with one win condition - be happy. Don’t overcomplicate it. A win is a win is a win.

HP

farhaha:

I’m still torn on whether or not drugs are cool.

Tonight I came across a forum question about drugs. The main gist was:

I just have it in the back of my mind that someday, I’ll die of an overdose. It scares the shit out of me and thrills me at the same time.”

(No, I will not discuss which forums I spend my time on.)

It wasn’t a super interesting post, but Hedonist Philosopher’s response to it (at the link above) was pretty interesting. Like, mildly fascinating. While reading it, I thought:

  1. Descriptions of glamorous self-destruction will always be fascinating
  2. Buying into glamorized self-destruction will always be…juvenile?

Idk what it is, but there’s some sort of conflict here—maybe just between the “drugs are cool” camp and the “drugs are stupid” camp.

And now I realize that I’m using my San Francisco comedy friends and my Amherst College friends as mental references for the two camps.

The SF crew (and probably most comedians, in general) are really good at glamorizing the dark shit. It’s cool in a rebellious way. (And when you do enough drugs, you’re not only rebelling against legal authority—you’re rebelling against yourself. What’s cooler than truly not giving a fuck about your own mortality?!)

The Amherst crew (note: my sample size is small) has a lot of disdain for drug use. From the way some of them distance themselves from it, I can’t help but project a subtext of ‘nerdy high-school overachievers justifying their lacking social and personal development by degrading the cool kids’. And I see them achieving this subtextual bolstering of their own self-worth by inflating the overall value of things like scholarly aptitude or future earning potential—things that cool kids and drug abusers are worse at than they are.

Anyways, I’ll contemplate glamour vs. prestige now and you can read that post. It’s a good one.

hedonistphilosopher:

image

May 10, 2013

ring from walmart
high priestess from gomorrah
bride from the forest
flowers from the road

May 3, 2013
that dog only barks at men in cowboy boots

I love talking to stoner chemists because most are Shulginites and I like seeing how obscure of a reference I can use to get the nod and chuckle. As a clueless Silicon Valley tech fuck in skinny jeans it can catch the beardies who knew Owsley off guard.

Fans of Arrested Development play the same game. I bet some of you would notice if I added “dot com” to the end of a statement with that inflection.

Today chemist was telling me about his rural land that he was putting a home lab on and I got him with “ah, so you’ve always wanted to have a lab at the farm”.

The hulu.com original series “Battleground” makes the best use of the “circle game” in media that I’ve seen. I highly recommend it.

For those of you who are playing, I just lost The Game too.

tololo lo lo lo lolo lo lo lo 

Anyway, cool thing is that stoner chemist was playing a similar game with me with the Tao. And thinking back to the beginning I now realize there was a zen reference. But thats easy to see after the fact but thats normally how that sort of thing goes.

My formal introduction to zen was a stoner at a bar. I had overheard him quoting some James Joyce that you don’t hear often and I asked him if he was a poet or a scientist he replied “neither I’m a realist”. I didn’t believe in realism so we had a fine argument.

When people who for some reason think the universe babbles to them babble, one of the things you hear is that it has a sense of play.

Wouldn’t surprise me.

Edison! Out!

April 16, 2013
yesong

i can hear them talking in the real world
“and they think they’re really alive” says the
joker to its thief.
que sera mutherfucker.

i can hear them talking in the real world
they know everything and I am dumb.
but they don’t understand:
a soalin’ we’ll be merry

theirs a cunt shaped like this dick between us two and
plenty of mismatched hair on these
silly things that twine and groan and
creak on their slow crumb to dust that
reveals the flames beneath

i can hear them talking in the real world - 
clueless and so very lost forever.
Their in love those two fools over there
talking of this and that blindly orbiting the
barycenter glowing between them.

I can hear them talking in the real world
in the quiet of the silence of the dark.
Lost in the glow its empty and its still my
god I’ve never been this far from home and she’s
holding the thread on the other end.

words through a maze graze
corners rounded by gusts down the
hall. hello chaos my old friend.
we’re at your alter once again
wondering this time?

such is how they
talk in the real world

8:49am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZAjS4wiqUYO1
Filed under: poetry 
March 2, 2013
"It seems I am always too much of a grouchy old man for one scene or too much of a junkie wanker for another."

February 4, 2013
reap the whirlwind

image

I once was talking to someone who I trusted could give me an answer to the question “are curses real?” Why would I ask such a question? I don’t know, I like to ask weird questions to weird people.

He of course didn’t give me a straight answer, but then the kind of person to answer a question like that will normally be that way. “When was the last time you were pissed at someone in traffic? What did you do?

I probably yelled ‘fuck’ and flipped him off or something”. I say. “Well that sounds like a real curse now doesn’t it?” he replies.

I wrinkle my forehead at him. And wait. He owed me more than that.

He starts talking again. “Well its not a very good curse, you’re right. That one would have no more energy than whatever anger you experienced, and casually cast without any skill it will cycle back and bite you, so you don’t really come out ahead on that one.

He pauses for a while so I prod him “so what, I get blowback from my own cursings? Thats a bit trite isn’t it?

I start getting a what-I-have-to-connect-the-dots-for-you vibe from him. “C’mon, you know some things about empathy - do you seriously expect to be able to throw stuff like that around without entanglements? And what if something you throw out latches accidentally, you don’t think that won’t pull you?

I’m sensing he’s about to clam up “K, so unskillful curses backfire - I don’t know that is what I need to be worried about.

Prolly not, you don’t seem very malevolent or very powerful. But can you say the same for everyone you ever cut off on the interstate?” He leans back in his chair like the rest is obvious.

Well no, but I’m not just talking about road rage. What about real curses?

I thought we already agreed that ‘fuck’ and finger was a real curse” says he.

I wasn’t able to beat anything else out of dude, but I try not to curse at people anymore and I’m careful who I look in the eye.

Weirder things are true.

8:02pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZAjS4wdR6bw6
Filed under: prose 
January 3, 2013

praemordeo asked: Everyone secretly wants to either be a pretentious fuck, or be around one. Don't apologize for having the audacity to be one.

At the very least it offers the catharsis of bitching about how annoying they are.

January 2, 2013
in response to someone confiding they were growing tired of the party/rave “scene”

I find myself feeling this way at times lately. It hit me specifically hard one evening at an afterparty for a burning man decompression. I was sitting with my girlfriend amidst a bunch of legitimately cool people and all they could talk about were drugs. Mostly they were talking out their asses but I just bit my tongue. They were comparing drug dick sizes and doing lots of coke off the designer glass coffee table.

As I watched them shifty-eyed measuring who had got more of the blow and spouting bullshit about how many of the “new” RC’s they had done and how “spiritual” they had all become and who from what scene or crew was hanging out where doing what of whom I started getting the same vibe that I get when I go into night clubs where everyone is trying oh so hard to have a specific good time that they are sure they are supposed to have but can’t quite push it over the edge. You notice it the most in someone who has been standing in line out front for an hour when they first get inside and they go into “now I’m having fun” mode without a second thought. The whole production without bothering to check whether they are having a good time or not. I had sex like that once or twice. Shudder.

There was this haggard 35’ish sparkle pony with a tight yoga body who was fucking the washed up mid-fourties biker who only has a bicycle at the moment. Sparkles kept blabbing in a California accent about how she is from Europe so blah blah blah. The guy who went to burning man and then quit his job and now deals drugs and lives off his 401k and goes exclusively by his playa name in daily life kept going on about how to check blow for purity. As a coke-head and dealer I would have assumed he would know what he was talking about. The “MDMA” he sold me gave my friend a headache.

My GF kept turning to me when something was said about drugs that even she knew was inaccurate, expecting me to jump in, but it was a lost cause. These people don’t want tech, they just want to hear themselves talk about their scene and all the drugs they do and all the enlightenment they have found and all the squares they freak out and how stupid the laws are and how fucked their parents are and how hard it is to be vegan. I certainly don’t want to get a reputation for knowing what I’m talking about among these folks. Then I would have to participate in the talk and either quote sources like an egghead or whip out my drug dick to back up my advise.

The people I ended up having an interesting conversation were the 401k guy’s old friends who were invited as the token squares. They still had jobs and could talk in a straight line about topics that weren’t chemistry-related. One had a shirt with the taxonomy of moustaches screen printed on it and laughed at a moustache ride joke I made. We bitched about rent prices in the City and I got some tips on a good tapas bar. Being the least enlightened of the bunch they went home first.

The pretty blonde about my age was the freshest and least depressing of the fiend crew. She is a talented designer with a lot of quality creativity. But I had to resist the urge to slap the cocktease as she kept sitting close to the host who she knows is nursing a crush on her playing the “you can’t have this” game while talking about what a good lay she is. Shit or get off the pot, bitch! Brag to me how good you are in the sack and I’ll demand that you prove it or shut the hell up (don’t think I won’t make good on it blondie! My partner and I don’t do jealousy). For all their supposed “no holds barred” libertine hedonism they still can’t get real about sex, treating it like some taboo forbidden fruit where it is still ok to play by middle-school rules.

I tried to ignore the noise from around the coffee table that has a certificate showing which in a series of XXXX it is. I hugged my gf tighter and looked out over the Bay from the high-rise apartment. One of us made some comment to the other about how the hosts bedframe was really nice and would be nice for rope-play. The comment was overheard and the attention of the group turned to us and I was asked to give a list of the shibari knots and ties I know. I didn’t want to talk about my sex life with this crowd and did my best to come across as boring and clueless as possible. I mainly wanted to be treated like they were treating the two squares who were abandoned on the balcony.

Anyway, I could keep painting the picture, but you see what I’m talking about by now. I like drugs and want them to be part of my life for a long long time, but I began to realize how much I didn’t want to be like any of the people at this party when I was their age (mostly 5 to 10 years my senior). But then none of them probably want to turn into the grouchy old man that I seem to be prematurely developing into.

Who am I to judge, right?

Whatever, when I hold my lover and look out over the bay and feel how beautiful it all is I don’t really question my life choices or priorities. To each their own. Maybe there is something about a limited edition coffee table and coke that I just don’t get. Maybe we all just need to grow up.

Long story short, when I had the opportunity to bail out on the New Years party 401k dude was throwing by blaming it on my girlfriends exploding ovaries, I took it. We stayed home and napped until a bit before midnight when the mariachi band next door started up. We mixed half a bottle of McKellan 12 with a quart of cider from my dad’s farm and made out while the ball dropped and the mexicans set off fireworks in the street. ‘Tis a gift to be simple. Or something.

Or so says this grouchy old man at the ripe age of 26.

January 1, 2013
"Good morning and happy 18’th birthday! Now you can smoke, vote, and are no longer jailbait. Good luck - at least two of those aren’t all they are cracked up to be."

December 30, 2012
if I ever have a child ask if they were an “accident” :

“Well, I wasn’t fucking your mother for no reason…”

December 30, 2012
someone should fuck some sense into those cosmo sex writers…

…seriously, as in, I’m volunteering. I think the collective girlfriends of the world deserve to know how well the cosmo girls are at pleasing your average randomly chosen dumbfuck.

I realize that by volunteering for this task I might be setting myself up for disappointment… I may have to give candybritches time to find a new secret spot. Even if she fails I’m sure it wouldn’t be a wasted evening. After all, its not like us dirty hippies don’t know what to do with a hundred pounds of coked up new york girl.

December 28, 2012
the two pickup lines that have gotten me laid

I’ve got a pretty low success rate in this department, but then I guess that’s not surprising. I don’t really have what you might call “game” and I tend to dress like shit so I look better naked than clothed. I’ve also got this forced smile that always settles on what might charitably be called a “pensive scowl”.

One of the successful lines I had to repeat because I said it in English first. I got lucky like a dumbfuck and realized the disconcerted look that crossed her face wasn’t the normal rejection that my advances yield but me speaking the wrong language.

I repeated in Spanish “You look like Sofia Vergara’s little sister”. 

Fucktard lucky I am. First white boy she met in The City who spoke Spanish.

The other successful line I told to my Greek cousin over the holidays. We now have a new inside joke term for masterbation.

I was striking out with the unfortunate object of my attention and quite horny. As she politely deflected me I said “what am I supposed to do, go home and wank?”

I got a derisive scowl and was about to get entirely ignored when I came up with “I can’t do that without adult supervision!”

She wasn’t sure how to respond. Neither was I. But it got a non-forced grin from both of us. 

Anyway, pussy comes and goes, but now my cousin and I can talk about jerking off in front of my Mormon parents by discussing adult supervision.

5:35pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZAjS4waPlqhE
Filed under: prose 
December 17, 2012

image

When you move out of a
place there is always that goofy
feeling at the end when its all
empty and all the shit is taken out and it
echoes more than it did before.

You can sit there whistling in the
dark and it rings like the inside of a
guitar resonates - a whole room clean and
clear vibrating from the smallest sound
as a soulwhisp inhabits the body because without all the
stuff in there the room doesn’t hold life on its
own anymore. When you step out the
breath goes with you there at the end
when you go in and out back and forth with
boxes and bags and grunting. 

When you pack up to move
out its worth keeping in mind how long you were
there so each time you put something in a
box its easy to count how many times you’ve used thing
x over a known period of time. This makes it easy to decide
whether its actually worth moving or just throwing away. 

Of course sometimes calendar measures of time are
tricky. Or lies.
For example I can never remember exactly how long a
relationship is in months but I can approximate because I
easily remember how many 28-day
cycles of successful birth control we have.

You might tell someone your age by how
many times you’ve vacuumed or swept all
four corners of your bedroom and
all the edges. Thats hard to do without removing all
your stuff. You forget what the space is 
like until you are leaving it. 

If these walls could talk I always think.
How many friends come and gone? How many
orgasms do those sheets know how many
times has that parrot in that poster seen you
cry? How many women is it who have known that ugly
comforter from the 90’s that I inherited from my parents
when they got a bigger bed?
We carry with us from house to house these
talismans that know us better than we do ourselves. 

Every cell in the body gets re-cycled every seven years.
Most of our stuff lasts longer than that. 

The thing about dead flowers is that they were
once alive. But that is asking for a different
flavor of memory entirely. 

November 26, 2012
stoner princess

Stoner princess decked in ice cream,
dripping on your nose and pants.
Toke it up and pass that pipe, girl
lets go do the sparkle dance.

Stoner princess wrapped in shadow
knows the void - that pit of black.
No demon circle long can hold you -
love’s thrum will always call you back.

Stoner princess, kind of sideways
seen reality fall away.
This world of dust has nothing for you
here and now you’ve gotta stay.

Dixie darling covered in peachfuz 
got the warmest apple pie
swig that handle of Jack Daniel’s
“Tally ho”, your rallying cry.

Princess fucktard where’s your lighter?
the BART card? the cracker? your shoes? your head?
Empty headed mind vibrating
find the live wire in the dead head.

Gypsy conju’ror, where ‘you going?
You know the lust to rove and roam,
keep on moving but don’t be restless
inside you’ve always got a home.

Stoner princess, mind atwitter
wonder dripping from your gaze,
spinning chuckling riding rolling
dropping into dazzling days.

Sugar magnolia, smiles a’ blossoming
Wading in a drop of dew.
You carry all of nature’s wonders
trees and waterfalls pull you through.

Gaelic maiden, bawdy drinker
pour us all another round!
Dance the fairy ring encircled
chasing fate-whisps you’ll be found.

Stoner princess, bangs ‘a blazing
be mindful where you point that torch
though teeth may crumb, your bite is fierce, love.
Hearts are soft and quickly scorch.

Goddess Shakti cloaked in glory
secluded with your second soul.
Yin and yang force, brilliant - twining
know the heart of rock and roll.

Stoner princess still a child,
eyes flashing with a woman’s days.
Though giggling there’s a back of iron,
and strength to crack all your dismays.

November 22, 2012
Diving into Monogamy: Other Avenues of Sex Positivity

Monogamy as an expectation
as a requirement
as a moral necessity
as a convention
as a cultural norm
as the product of guilt:

                                                  pretty ugly.

Fallen into as a habit:

                                                   quite wonderful. 

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