RANTS FROM OBLIVION

As I was growing up Mom always encouraged me to develop my journalocity since she felt it would, and I quote, "have the benefit of developing a crystallocity of the amorphous haphazardarity of protoplasmic matter generally known as your mentalocity - and thereby develop the crystallossification of it into a stuctured symmetricfully organized citadel of power, strength, acuitaciousness and wisdom."

It seems she was correct.

After blogging now for several months I am beginning to FEEL the developicity - the being "one" with the intellectualarity. I'm sure Mom would be proud of the the practicalicious utilitarity of my hard worked talentaciousness because if there was anything she despised more it was somebody complexificating the simplificaciousness of a subject.

Her deep perceptionacity and insistence on finesscitude was the nutrientious sustenancity I was fed as she imparted her sense of comprehensciousness on the untested aptitudinalism of me, her young son/student. So now, clarificacity in its finalarity has come home to roost and for the sense of qualitacitude which she has purveyed upon me, I feel the neccessitatiousness to express my deepest gratitudinarialacificationessleocity.

The peculiar reality of war is that a large, or larger percentage of people are more resistant to the idea of it than are supportive of it.
Ideally this is the notion I support: I care deeply about the safety and well being of anyone who is in harms way. My fervent wish is that no one anywhere will ever have to be engaged in killing or being killed to defend anyone or anything again. As well as being my honest opinion/feeling it also serves as somewhat of a disclaimer of sorts. Now on to the blog.

What I've noticed for years and years and years is that some people are romantically connected/drawn in a savage way to certain aspects of war - the fear mongering, battle planning, armaments, defensiveness, strategy, killing, and lastly (for brevity, even tho the list could continue on and on), an almost perverse high that you can only receive from being in battle as your courage and mettle are tested. Certainly the adrenelin rush you get from facing down your obnoxious boss at Taco Bell for neglecting to add enough MSG in the meatsauce , or coming to grips with the danger of your rolling pin wielding spouse as you stumble in drunk as hell at 4 in the morning pales in comparison after these experiences.
Conversely, you have the peacemakers whom for all intents and purposes, would much prefer never having to take any of these tests. They would be quite satisfied to have the Government, who they feel is currently spending billions of trillions on the defense budget, redistribute the tax dollars toward more practical applications such as repairing local pot holes, distributing influenza shots, or establishing a "phonics in the grade schools" program whereby insuring that as adults, our children will be able to correctly pronounce n-u-c-l-e-a-r (http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=nuclear)

Well, seeing that the twain shall forever have an almost impossible chance of meeting, its time to come up with an alternate plan.
So, noting that a large number of people (particlarly of military ilk) will never be satisfied with the prospect of war being over (peace); and similarly observing that an annoyingly large group of people generally regarded as the "enemy" are of like mind, I suggest:
that we set aside an area for all the combat craving, hostility hungering, skirmish seeking, conflict coveting individuals in some remote, inhospitable, godforsaken, part of the planet. It would resemble a paint-ball battle area where combatants would dress in appropriate outfits, and raise flags, bring armaments, battle plans, and even do the rebel yell if that suited their tastes but with the stipulation that there would be real bullets, etc. being used, and that you could only deploy units in this one specific area of the world....or if we're lucky, maybe some other planet!

See, the rest of the world is sick of this crap. Life is annoying enough just finding a beautiful, intelligent, sexy date for Saturday night, or finding the money to buy that Corvette for your 50th birthday, or getting the kids cleaned and fed and dressed and out to school without having to also face the prospect of getting blown the hell up or indiscriminately shot or whatever other asinine bullshit du jour is being hatched in some lunatic's mind.
We dont want to play this game anymore. If you're interested in joining the "game", go sign up and get your ass over to "WarLando" wherever it ends up being, and let us tend to the day to day affairs of the rest of the sane world in the way affairs were intended - rationally and intelligently.
It gets more interesting:
By assigning an area where war can be held, the hawkish politicians can beg money from hawkish devotees to finance skirmishes/wars to employ hawkish militarily oriented individuals to fight the like-minded hawkish "enemies". On a smaller scale, if you should develop a particularly nasty bitch about someone or something, you too can start saving your money and calling in your personal hawkish friends, etc. to join you in your own war to be fought over in WarLando too.
Oh yes, if you are not interested in these so called war games, you are not required to contribute jack, $$$, moolah, dinero, wampum, nor have your social security system's vast fortunes curiously "repaired" during a massive drive to fund what else, a war.
The nice thing about this is it keeps people who have no interest in the conflict busy at home contributing their hard earned tax dollars to the programs and infrastuctures most important to them - the local ones, while requiring the people who are most anxious to spend HUGE amounts of money on the war machine digging deep in their own damned pockets.

In conclusion:
I remember in highschool when one of the hotties in school would have a couple of suitors prancing about, competing in order to attempt to sway her affections each in his direction. The expression which came about from the next ratcheting of the competition as I recall was this: "Let's you and him fight!" Interesting use of the contraction "let's" (let us) MEANING: Hey you guys, fight for ME!!!
Likewise, I feel that the "let's" go to war contraction has been overplayed for CENTURIES. By creating Warlando, we remove "us" from the contraction and it puts the expansion and the cost of the hostilities right back into the hands of those who crave and love it so dearly.

To put it simply. The lesson in the highscool fight was that in the long run the hottie, as cute as she was, wasnt worth getting bloodied up for even if you did get laid. She just wanted the attention.
Likewise,
1.Politicians aint cute enough to fight for
2.You'll get screwed but it wont be fun
3.And of course, they just want the attention too.

Since I was too busy actually living my Valentine's Day to write a blog about it, I now apologetically and exhaustedly (after all the champagne, lobster, roses, hot oil, hot-tubs, hot-times, etc) get down to it.
My story begins when my daughter was about 6 years old and V-day was upon us. N came merrily home from school that day and lovingly presented me with the sweetest little Valentine saying how much she loved her Daddy and I was the greatest Daddy in the world, etc.... I loved my daughter dearly and it was really quite touching.

But that was nothing....
The touching part was just about to unfold....
In her tender, innocent, most inquisitive voice she quietly asked: "Daddy?.... Where's MY valentine?" Well having thought about it earlier while bustling about during the day, I had determined that Valentines were for girlfriends and wives (??not in that order??) and that daughters would probably deem a valentine card from Dad as being gauche and totally uncool. Well judging from the flood of painful tears streaming from a crestfallen little angel's eyes down her rosy red cheeks, Daddy was slightly off in his calculations.
No talk could erase the sadness from her little face. All I could do was to swear it would never happen again.
And damn it I held up my end of the bargain....

This is where the real touching part happens....
Get your tissues....
N was about 20 and was at the "University", full of studies and very much intellectual curiosity, and I guess, very much her self. Well I just happened to be there on V-day and kindly presented her with her card - just a simple expression of what a great kid she was and how lucky a dad I was to have her as a daughter (etc,etc,etc). Well, as I handed it to her, even before she opened it or read it, she turned to me and in her snottiest 20 year old voice said: "Dad, dont you think its pretty goddamned weird for a father to give his daughter a freakin Valentines day card"
Well, judging from the flood of painful tears streaming from a crestfallen father's face, she was slightly off in her calculations....
In reality,
1. I sucked it up cause I'm a man, damn it.
2. I wouldnt give her the satisfaction of knowing, ya know...(that showing feelings issue)
3. I think I said "Gee, I dont remnember you feeling that when you were 6, ya little brat!"

Amazing how things turn around aint it?
Think she felt her Daddy's pain and sent him a card the next year?!?!?
Think Daddy ignored her and sent her one the next year!?!?!?or next?!?!?

Life was once so much more innocent and free.

The "Drinking Before Drinking" blog (see below) almost automatically inspires another comparable concept and of course, you, my perspicacious reader, have already guessed the obvious progression. Right?? Thats right, Sex Before Sex. Lets face it, if you're already half lit in preparation for going out, doesnt it make sense to put a little time into preparing yourself to be all that you can be in a sexual sense too? I know there's a lot of lip service concerning the fact that some people (gender-wise) "are only going out to have a good time with friends" etc. blah blah blah. Come on people, 'fess up - who doesnt go out without at least the small prospect of getting laid stuck in some horny corner of their party-ass mind?? Well, Thank you. Honesty's so freeing, aint it? So now that we've established that, let's move on.

Physiologically, it's interesting how the sexual makeup of men and women is so different. Its a sick joke. Guys have to struggle with all their might to Hold on, to Fight to control, to Beg the sex gods above, not to Blow their wad before some semblance of time has elapsed(20 minutes to 2-3 hours) which can be construed as adequate in terms of being a self respecting lover. 30 seconds to 5 minutes and women will seriously gaze at you with their panties still half on with that look: I cant believe you just wasted my freakin time for THAT. I actually knew a girl who said that to a guy who had begged her to go out for months and then was history in moments.
OWWW! Thanks to the gods of Priapism for helping me avoid that messy problem.

Women, conversely have an equally daunting but opposite responsibility hammering at their minds. They're expected to be able to expose their vulnerability while having sex and to be relaxed and comfortable enough to trust whomever they're with to allow the orgasmic function to just take over and happily happen. And all within 30 seconds to 5 minutes on average.

See what a sick joke this all is: men may NOT cum and wimmen may not NOT cum!
Of course in the long run, for either gender, trust really is the key to sexcess.

But OH SHIT, ITS FRIDAY NIGHT and there just so happens to be NO such trustable animal in sight or on tap tonite. So what do you do if you do meet the person of your dreams?? Or what do you do when your moral turpitude beats the crap out of your moral riteousness after 5 jello shots, a vodka passion punch, 3 red wines, 2 gin gimlets, a khalua conglomerate, another red wine, and 3 beers??? The answer = be prepared.

For men, the answer is simple: just give yourself a hand. The 2nd time always lasts longer than the first time. The sacrifice may be only noticeable to you in the degree of loss of passion you may bring to the love-making but the confidence you bring to the table (or the bathtub, or your couch, or your neighbor's tool shed, or if you're gonna be freakin boring as shit, your bed - but you get BIG points tho, IF you end up in your ex-girlfriend's bed from 3 years ago in her apartment opened with the key you just happened to find....)
A confidant man in bed is a woman's best friend.

For women, the answer, though not as simple: give yourselves a warm hand. But again, ya'll have a more complex procedure to follow. In order to prepare yourselves for the prospect of sex thats gonna work, and that's gonna work for YOU, and in 30 seconds or less (again in the event you meet Brad Pitt, or whoever your throbber is),you have to set yourselves up like a time bomb, set to explode. Unlike the guys, you cannot allow yourselves to melt into oblivion - you have to be like the guy on a date - get yourself OH SO close to the edge, right to the tip of the precipice, and just as you are about to catapult into nirvana, hit the fuckin switch! Then do it again, not just once, but 3 or 4 times, or maybe 5,7,10 times if you like, just to tease the hell outta yourself, and then you'll be ready to PARTY....and if any man should be fortunate enough to get near that switch later in the evening, bamalama bingo!! Talk about priming the pump. I dare say another advantage is that as you go to different clubs, the guys'll be lookin way cuter to you than usual and way SOONER too.

My advice: couple this with "Drinking before Drinking" and watch as your pheremones tackle the guys on the dance floor for you.

Last night as I flirted with impending intoxication, it occurred to me (especially after talking with R) that something I used to do years ago might actually help other people mix and mingle more easily. That something would be to have a couple (or more, depending on the social severity) drinks to loosen up before you even go out. Generally I started out with one or two friends who stopped by, not just me alone in the dark muscling down a few martinis. That's too desperate!
It initially began as a protest to the high priced drinks at the shore bars around the corner from which I lived. The fact that a large portion of my evenings and early mornings were spent in the frenzied local liquor dispensing establishments, it became economically advantageous to start at home where profit margins were kept to a minimum. Plus, why enter the scene up-tight and in need of a drink? F'you've got a bit of a buzz on before you even get there, hey the fun's already started, right? None of that social ennui - the party's in progress! Oh sure they'll call you a lush, but why pretend? It's not like you wont be drinkin, eh?
I'd say 9 times out of 10 I had a great time and I danced WAY better!
So, Bottoms Up...

I've been reading for a few weeks the sad, frustrating, and heartfelt stories of several women's search for romance, truth, and sex (not necessarily in that order, on a Friday night.) Its like a depressing Sex And The City episode but I've come away with this sense: be careful what you ask for.
It struck me that these same women in several months could/may be sitting around complaining about the relationships they've just developed/fallen into. I say that because I know the work that's involved in maintaining a relationship. It's not easy. And SOOOO many times people do "settle" for their mate. Lets face it nobody's perfect and to DEMAND PERFECTION, you BETTER BE what you demand. So people are willing to compensate for another's failings because they are human too. Consequently as imperfections start to annoy and polarize, they find themselves writing blogs to each other pointing out how they'd wished that their goddam mate would "........." (fill in the blank)etc. Next thing you know the whole shootin match is goin to hell in the tiskit tasket freakin yellow basket and bam! back where ya started. The Dating Drag.

THE NEW PARADIGM:
Nobody likes to sleep alone all the time. Its certainly nice to have someone warm next to you on occasion (or even more), and even nicer to boot if you get to score in the homerun derby. Problem is, the availability of a new boyfriend/girlfriend poses an annoying prerequisite - that of having to "match" shit - you know, personality, desires, and the whole plethora of demands which go hand in hand with deciding this one is THE one, and the ONE AND ONLY for life. Yikes! No wonder people go nuts.

What I'm suggesting is that instead of going thru the rigorous convolutions of convincing oneself that joe/jane shmo is the New, Now, Cat's Meow sent from heaven above, why not set up a "romance, friends, sex, support network collective". That would be a union of M/F friends who ideally should be on the same 'basic' level of intelligence, looks, economic strata, emotional balance - the stuff that friends are made of. The only difference would be that you would all share each other. Not just sex bingo but more along the lines of a roommate/family style of living where emotional support, communication, cooperation, and standard values would be encouraged - would actually be the norm. Only difference is you'd get to sleep with whomever - based on the mutual choice of the individuals, even if sex were not an option, or were.
Of course, you'd have to determine first and foremost that this is only a temporary situation and that no one can become emotionally entangled/involved with any of the members. It would be set up as an opportunity to provide a TEMPORARY stopgap to emotional and sexual desperation while simultaneously providing the individual the opportunity to go out and meet people with whom one could develop a monogamous relationship.
Emotional entanglement = exclusion.
The process of "inclusion" would be one whereby founding members would:
1.have to like and enjoy each other's company and most importantly
2.be able to sleep with different people while understanding that the relationship with the group is the sustaining energy, not the individual's selfish needs.

What this provides to each person is a more rounded, balanced degree of attention and understanding which is generally (honestly, almost universally!) unable to be achieved with just 1 mate. Another advantage is that the initial people who choose new 'members' would form a sort of council which would, importantly, help to determine the validity and reliability of potential newbies. Its a fact that women are much more likely to fall victim to predatory men when they do not have the benefit of a network of people/friends/family.

Of course, this is just a preliminary concept - any positive suggestions are critical to further developing it.

An interesting concept I've experienced many times but which I'd never put into words ended up as a kind of eureka as we played last night: emotional expression/madness versus keeping it all together.
Basically it got down to this - as I personally became more excited playing last night and by that, I mean infused with emotion, it became evident that I was treading the line between connectedness and madness. I've always believed what turns people on musically is when an artist has the ability to set loose the free-est aspects of his/her soul and to have that freedom felt/experienced vicariously by the listener. In other words, if a musician is simply reading notes off sheet music, it translates as that - flat (I always loved music because if someone is a poser, when they play, they're visible as that - a poser, and there's no disguising it. Conversely, if you're real, you're real)Now if the same musician is infusing sheet music with excitement and emotion, then the resultant piece can be FELT.

The development which took shape last night was this: I was playing and as I became more and more warmed up thru the nevening, I began to dig deeper and deeper into the "well" to summon the emotions neccessary to build the excitement level. That generally comes about after you get past the point of your initial charge from the newness of a situation etc. As you go deeper and deeper you tend to stray farther and farther from a rational, left brained reality. This is a VERY visceral experience and very pleasurable (splanchnic, to say the least!) but at the same time VERY dangerous beacause you are literally flirting with a form of anarchy which, when you are in a "team" situation, can very easily upset the balance. So the dance becomes balancing the sensual lure of madness and mayhem with the responsibility of maintaining the structure for which you've rehearsed so hard. And I believe that knowing your material inside and out really does allow the prospect of freedom a greater possibility of occuring than not being fully practiced. The chance of having to revert back to rational thinking while in the process of total expression can seriously inhibit the right brain experience. What a screeching halt your freed emotions have to endure if you all of a sudden they have no idea where they are!

It seems to be a type of horserace in which the emotional and rational parts of your playing brain compete - the emotions charging wrecklessly and with no regard to conventionality while at the same time the rational components are conscientiously attempting to endure a shaky grip on the wildly bounding, bucking rodeo show that playing live music is.