Striving Body

Through the wee hours of the morning light,
Rushing from track to track.
A strange, far-away land that feels like home to me,
Barely able to keep my eyes open on the final train heading back.

When I walk onto the platform at Okegawa Station,
I'm almost home again.
A night of sweat, laughs, disappointments and minor successes,
I have to crash again.

"Should haves," "could haves" and "might haves,"
There's nothing to regret.
Despite my torpid body,
My mind alert and set.

Heels aching through my black dress shoes,
This time no dead cicadas on the ground.
This time no crows cawing with the cry of a hundred zillion mornings,
My orange and blackness drifting through the quiet grey I've found.

To close my eyes in a healing sleep,
To drown the care for another day.
A pushing of my limits,
A blasting fatigue to wash away.

I watch myself get younger with age,
As my body gradually decays.
Ah! To accept what life is - that is the goal of one who strives;
To long, crave, strive, climb and then slumber,
Like a sunset in a devil's a eye.

Miss America by Howard Stern - a Book Review

I still remember when the movie Private Parts hit the theatre in March of 1997, when I was still only 15. I was born and raised in Toronto, so I had never even heard of Howard Stern. But I knew the movie would be awesome - I could tell from the television previews - so I rushed off to watch it in the theatre, and, not surprisingly, I was right; in fact, it was even better than I had expected. It was a box-office hit. Sheer genius, that’s what it was. I loved it so much I went back with a friend of mine, and I watched it a second time. I had never watched a movie twice in the theatre before, but I loved it so much that I felt compelled to. I was really blown away. It was the most awesome thing I had ever seen. It is still in my top five favourite movies of all time.

When I found out, the following summer, that Howard Stern was about to hit the airwaves on Q107 in Toronto, I was beyond ecstatic. I couldn’t wait. I knew he would come in like a hurricane and completely monopolize Toronto-morning radio, and, again, not to my surprise, I was right. Within the first few days of him hitting the air in September of 1997, one third of all cars on the roads of morning traffic were tuned into the Howard Stern Show - the greatest radio show in the history of this planet; that’s for sure. 

Princess Diana had just recently died at the time, and he was doing a lot of hilarious song parodies about the incident that you can find on YouTube now, and he was getting a lot of calls from angry women who adored the Princess - idiots who can’t take a joke - but his ratings soared due to all the people who do not know well enough to change the station when they do not like what they are hearing and instead stay tuned even longer. Masochists.

I read the book of Private Parts, which is a completely different thing than the movie, in the summer of ’98. It was a really thick book, but I was so drawn into it and its brilliant hilarity and outrageousness that I finished it in no time. I have never read a book that quickly in my life. It was the fastest selling book in Simon and Schuster’s history and rightly so. I believe it was the previous summer that somebody got me the Private Parts Soundtrack for my birthday. I listened to that thing incessantly for years to come. It was one of my prized possessions, and I have a very large CD collection. That album both rocks and makes you laugh at the same time. It’s pure gold, just like everything else Stern has ever done, including his hit show on the E Network that he had on for years and which aired five days a week. Hey, why do you think he’s called the King of all Media? Because he excels at every medium he puts his mind to: radio, television, literature, film and soundtracks. In short: the man is a GOD!

A lot of years have gone by since I read Private Parts, but my most favoured brand of comedy has not changed, and my first published book, Incorrigibility, attests to that. I have now finally read Howard Stern’s second book, published in 1995, entitled Miss America. It became clear to me, before even finishing the first chapter, why it had quickly become the fastest selling book in publishing history. Yes, indeed, you read right. (Now it’s Harry Potter, however, that holds that record.) It isn’t just how funny the man is that enthralls a person into what he has to say, no. It is, more than anything, his unabashed authenticity - the very thing that makes phonies, more than anyone, hate him so much and call him an ‘asshole.’ I’m not saying I don’t understand why so many people call him that; hell, he admits to being one three or four times in the book. The man is a professional asshole; make no mistake about it. But I’ll take an asshole, who brashly speaks his mind and who has made millions and millions of people enjoy their countless rides to work in the morning while being stuck in the misery of traffic, over an uptight asshole who is disingenuous to the very core of his or her being.

Howard gets a lot of flak from puritans from both the religious and feminist spheres, claiming that he is sexist and objectifies women. The first claim is a ridiculous lie on its face because he absolutely, thoroughly believes in the equality of the sexes - that is, equal pay for equal work - and in no way ever exalted his sex over woman’s, and everyone knows that. The problem is that the word “sexist” is so vulgarly and haphazardly thrown around these days, which has, in turn, caused it to lose its true, original meaning. And to call Howard Stern of all people that - a man who believes in the sexual freedom and the liberation of women, and who always fights for their right to choose - is pure slander; that’s all it is, and it sickens me to my very core.  It should sicken you, too, as a matter of fact, both on an intellectual and moral level.

The second claim, of course, has to do with the different women who are constantly coming on his show to strip down to nothing (or almost nothing) and talk about their sex lives, a major aspect of the show since the early ’80s. To this, I would first just like to say that I have never, for the life of me, been able to see how a woman can suddenly transform into a sex object, or be deemed as being treated like one, simply by showing off her beauty and having others admire it. She is still a person while that happens, after all, not a mere object but a sentient one, just like we all are. Therefore she thoroughly remains a thinking, feeling subject as well (just like sex is a very interesting subject) and so the claim is ridiculous and nonsensical and is usually thrown around by dirty-minded losers who like throwing filth and guilt on sexuality, often because of their own sexual frustrations and hatred towards life (sex, of course, being a biological prerequisite of life and the ultimate expression of life), not to mention insecure women who hate the way they look and are insecure about aging and no longer being (or never in their lives having been) nearly as attractive as the beautiful women who go on the Howard Stern Show to be ogled. It is not so much a contempt for Howard as for the male sexual prowess itself and towards what men tend to find most sexually appealing that drives this backlash of defamation.  

Second of all, even if women were “objectified” by Stern, not to mention strip clubs and pornographic magazines, for that matter, I still do not see anything wrong with this so-called objectification, namely because ALL OF US are objectified in our day-to-day lives! It’s the norm of existing at all! A cashier is objectified as someone who works a cash register. Does that mean we no longer view that person as a human being but merely as an object because that is all we happen to know of him or her at that moment? Of course not! And I don’t see any shame in being a cashier, nor do I see any shame in being paid to pose naked for a centerfold. What’s the use of having a beautiful body if you’re not going to harness it in some way? It’s a gift, just like an intelligent mind is. There is no shame in that - NONE! The shame would be in taking such gifts for granted and letting them go to waste.

Finally, I would like to pose this question: How can something that is already “objectified” be objectified as if it were not already? That is, long before there were ever cook books, food was objectified as something that you ate and was desired as something that fills the appetite and sates the taste buds. And long before there was Howard Stern, Hugh Hefner and pornography of any kind, women were, indeed, something that were lusted after, and so were men! Sexual attraction and the human interest in sexuality is not a twentieth-century phenomenon! It is a biological fact among animals, which we are, like it or not, and no amount of petty idealizing is ever going to change that. Lust is GOOD! Sex is AWESOME!! It’s the reason I’m here writing this right now, and why you are alive and breathing and reading it! If our parents had never lusted after each other, we would not be here right now. End of story. And stop using obnoxious morality to infect others with your degenerate hang-ups and to then get a feeling of moral superiority over them [instead of dealing with your own personal insecurities about sex]; it’s pathetic! And for the record, nobody ever has a gun to the heads of the women who choose to strip down on Howard's show and talk about their sex lives. They willingly and freely come on for just that reason! It's damn good publicity being on the Howard Stern Show.

But to continue: As with his first book, Miss America lets you right into his life from the get-go, giving you the most intimate of details, without any preliminaries. It is raw and it is real, and that’s why, like all his work, it has gained such mass appeal from people. The first chapter is all about Howard’s discovery of cyber sex shortly after the founding of the internet and about his preoccupation with masturbation even at the age of forty-one, which is how old he was when he wrote this masterful book. He takes you right back to his antics in childhood, and his sexual frustrations and obsessions with getting girls, just like he does in Private Parts. Chapter Two is one of the most captivating of the entire book and is many people’s favourite section. It’s about the secret interview that Howard has with Michael Jackson and his agent, which Howard held himself from revealing on the air in order to keep it a surprise for the book. It’s hilarious! I won’t say anymore about it, however. This review isn’t meant to be a spoiler of any kind.

In Chapter Three, he discusses his own personal struggles since college with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and then severe, excruciating back pain that started as shoulder and neck pain near the end of his days at WNBC. After years of being held hostage by them, he found a way of overcoming their stranglehold over his life and reveals the secret as to how he did that in this remarkable chapter. It’s an incredible story, and millions of people out there could benefit from this section, whether they have OCD, back pain or any other kind of ailment that they have to suffer with on a daily basis. It’s a matter of dealing with your emotional and psychological issues head on, instead of suppressing them out of fear of looking weak. With suppression comes the toll taken on the mind and body. What this chapter is, is one of self-overcoming and strength and offers hope to so many. Howard did not give up, you see, like so many do with their physical and/or mental anguish. He did not want to go to a physician who would merely give him prescription drugs that would create a whole new whack of problems due to side-effects. He searched and searched until he finally met the doctor who would change his life for the better - Dr. Sarno.

Through meditation, Howard realized that his OCD was a manifestation of his unwillingness to turn an honest eye towards all of his insecurities, anxieties and feelings of failure that if he did not make it in the radio industry, he would be a mere shell of a man who could not support a family. The OCD was there to distract him from this turmoil of his, as a suppressive mask. He then realized that his egregious back pain was there to distract him from what was causing his OCD. The whole thing is truly a remarkable story that begins with his childhood and then goes on through college. His very messed-up LSD stories are incredible, but also very intense and frightening - great, great stuff!   

Chapter Four is The Stern Ponderosa. Part of it is about his home life with his wife and kids, and how boring of a person he usually is when he is at home. It is in this chapter that he gives his “Fantasy Fuck List” of women he would have liked to have slept with if his wife, Alison (whom he later divorced in ’99), died. Each woman is divided into OCCUPATION, NEGATIVE TRAITS, AVAILABILITY, CHANCE OF SCORING AND DESCRIPTION - fun, fun stuff! Chapter Five is about what he calls his “second family.” They are, of course, his coworkers and employees. He gives great detail about his relationships with them and the hilarious idiosyncrasies of their personalities and characteristics. For me, by far the funniest personality of them all is Fred Norris. I always liked Fred. As for Robin, it turns out she’s completely insane and for years was impossible to work with both on a professional and social level, which did not surprise me at all. I was never a fan of Robin’s to tell you the truth. Chapter Six is a short chapter about pretentious celebrities, both in the Hollywood and political sphere, whom he cannot stand. Nobody can rant like Howard Stern; he’s a master at that forte of his.

Chapter Seven is without a doubt my favourite chapter of the book: LONG LIVE THE BEAST!  This one really grabbed me from the very beginning because I could relate heavily to what he was saying:

“Yes, somewhere, deep in my bosom, deep in my soul, deep in my heart, lives…‘THE BEAST.’ For the most part, THE BEAST never emerges and never rears its ugly head. I keep THE BEAST buried, deep inside. On most days you’d say I was a model citizen: I am kind to my parents, faithful to my wife, and loving to my children. But make no mistake, I have a dark side, and that dark side is evil and mean. I am capable of true terror, but it is THE BEAST who drives me to do those cruel and unthinkable acts.”

Howard gives the details as to what created this beast inside him in his life, in case you were wondering. It’s fascinating stuff!

Now, WNBC had fired Howard Stern, and the rest of the chapter is how Howard harnessed the beast to destroy WNBC in the morning ratings from his new-found home at 92.3 K-Rock. The beast had called out to him from within for the first time on March 25, 1986 to do just that, for when the beast sets Howard’s mind on doing something, he does not rest until it is accomplished. The beast does not let him rest, you see. After the ratings report that showed K-Rock’s landslide of a victory at number one, Howard and the gang held a funeral on the streets of New York City for the ratings-death of WNBC within shouting distance of NBC’s godforsaken office building. They had won over their entire audience! Within half an hour, four thousand loyal Stern-show fans showed up to salute the man who put his former bosses in their place and rub their noses in the biggest mistake those fat cats had ever made by firing him. Robin eloquently read the eulogy and then everyone gave WNBC the finger in unison, the beast from the open sunroof of the hearse they had rented. That’s what you get for firing the greatest thing to ever happen to radio, YOU MORONS!!

Next was the Philadelphia market where he destroyed DeBella and held a funeral for him in his hometown after defeating him in the ratings as well, not to mention DeBella’s wife, who DeBella was giving a severely hard time to in their divorce. This is where the great Captain Janks comes into play. He was personally offended by DeBella for the most hilarious of reasons and ended up dating DeBella's ex-wife, thanks to the Dial-a-Date that Howard had set up on the show for her to come on. God, revenge is so sweet, and it was being dished out on all sides! Midway through the chapter, which is about midway through the book, there is a short but brilliant, and very professionally done, Fartman comic strip, followed by different titles and movie posters that Howard went through for his movie, which was still in the making while the book was being written. We’re talking sheer juvenile brilliance, baby; I’m telling you!

In Chapter Eight, Howard then goes on to give the details, both on the air and behind the scenes, of how he went on to take over radio across the United States through syndication, something unprecedented and unheard of before him. It’s a very short and to-the-point kind of chapter. The next two chapters will easily be a lot of people’s favourites, as they are simply HILARIOUS! Chapter Nine is all about Howard’s infamous run for governor of New York State. Chapter Ten is pure gold, simply because it revolves around the great Stuttering John, who is, of course, one of the legendary former characters of the Howard Stern show and is also one of the highlights of Private Parts, the book.

Chapter Eleven is great, especially for people, like myself, who are huge fans of prank calls. Howard Stern phony phonecallers are a phenomenon that were unleashed across America beginning with Captain Janks in 1989. Howard highlights and writes out in script-form the greatest prank calls ever done to live television shows in his honour. It’s fabulous, especially since Howard himself loved doing crank calls as a kid, as did I when I was 16 and 17, but that’s a different story altogether. Chapter Twelve is all about celebrities whom he loves and whom he loves to hate on. There are some classic interviews in this chapter; it’s awesome. And the rant against that walking, talking abomination of American right-wing punditry and rhetoric, Rush Limbaugh, is simply superb and warmed my heart to read!

Chapter Thirteen is another heroic chapter, this time about Howard’s battle with the U.S. Government, specifically, the abhorrent, repressive foulness known as the FCC. He shows how he became a kingmaker, that is, was able to win seats for governors so they could then, in turn, assist him against the oppressive, archaic tactics of censorship and extortion, executed, mafia-style, by the government of a supposedly free country. There’s a great story in there about how he got a pitstop named after him, too, which is just more brilliantly quirky stuff from a truly brilliant, unbelievably exciting life! – A life to be envied, to be sure.

Now, Howard Stern, a true American icon and hero, is, of course, dominating satellite radio and has been doing so ever since he got on Sirius Radio back in late 2005 when he said “goodbye” to his 20 million fans on terrestrial radio. Millions of them, of course, went on to purchase a Sirius radio and subscribe to it so they could hear Howard completely and utterly raw and unadulterated, WITHOUT ANY GOVERNMENT INTERFERENCE WHATSOEVER, and, frankly, reading this marvelous book has truly brought out a need inside me to join as well. I really do miss him so very much and hearing snippets of his show here and there on YouTube just isn’t cutting it for me anymore.

I give both this book a genuine five-star rating - just like I give that rating to Private Parts the book, Private Parts the movie and Private Parts the soundtrack - and, of course, the Howard Stern Radio Show itself.

Yes, indeed! Howard Stern: Truly the King of all Media and, as he rightly said of himself on the airway back in ’83 while Eddie Murphy was on the show, truly God’s gift to comedy! PURITANS BE DAMNED!! And, not to get too philosophical, from a Nietzschean perspective, Howard Stern is one of the closest things I’ve ever seen to an Overman in my life. IF THIS MAN IS NOT A GENIUS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THEN THE WORD ‘GENIUS’ HAS NO MEANING!! Howard, I LOVE YOU! I’ve ALWAYS loved you! I will always continue to love you! Thank you SO MUCH for all the laughs, the sheer ingenious comedy, for fighting the good fight against the insidious, insufferable curse of puritanism, for exposing ostentation wherever you have come across it, and for being the greatest interviewer I have ever heard in my life! You’re the only one who really knows the right questions to ask and how to get the answers that everyone wants to hear, killing us with side-splitting laughter in the process. Your wit is undeniable to anyone with a sense of humour.

Thank you, Howard; thank you for being you.

Yours Truly,

Rayme Michaels

P.S. For the record, I do not agree with Stern at all when it comes to foreign policy. When it comes to that, I find his views to be abhorrent, ignorant, hateful and, at times, overtly racist. 

Book Release #2: RED LOVE

You know when you meet someone’s sibling and they’re absolutely nothing like them, and it’s hard to believe they came from the same parents?  Well, such is the case with my new novella, Red Love, in comparison with my last one, Incorrigibility.  Yet, I love them both equally, although they be completely different offspring from each other.

Red Love is a dark, gory, romantic vampire thriller about calamity, carnality and the lust for power, and before you roll your eyes, let me just assure you that it has absolutely nothing to do with the Twilight series.  Believe you me, that’s not a bandwagon I would ever jump on.  It’s more like a concoction of Anne Rice, Friedrich Nietzsche, Jean-Paul Sartre, Quentin Tarantino, and Rob Zombie on peyote and heavy doses of aphrodisiacs.  Something like this was bound to happen, given my prurient mind’s preoccupation with horror movies as a child, and my love of philosophy in adulthood.  As you can imagine from the cover alone, it’s not for the squeamish, but it’s got it all.  If you haven’t purchased my last project as of yet, well, now is the perfect opportunity for you to buy both works together, and save on shipping (two for the price of one).

They can both be found here:  www.lulu.com/spotlight/Rayme

I’d like to thank the fabulous Lucy Walsh for her superb work on the cover, another example of Face Book being a truly wonderful thing, for if it wasn’t for FB, I would have never known her, and, hence, my new book would be lacking the richness it currently has, thanks to her very talented self.

Take care, and Happy Birthday to me! :)

http://www.lulu.com/shop/rayme-michaels/red-love/paperback/product-20278623.html

Book Release!

I have released a book!  It's a Rabelaisian story that's sole purpose is to make you laugh so hard that you either piss your pants or blow your load. It is entitled, Incorrigibility, and it’s a novella (a short novel) that goes under the category (if there were such a category) of bawdy, irreverent humour. I’m going to tell you right off the bat, however, as it’s the least I can do, that, no joke, this thing is rude, crude and lewd from beginning to end. It is both prurient and puerile, just the way I like my entertainment.

A lot of it is guys talking the way they do when women aren't around, or saying what they often have on their minds, but are too bashful, due to the politically correct status quo, to actually speak. As you may have guessed, it is also a tad bit existential and critical of religion as well, and does have its serious and sappy (yet genuine) moments, given it is character driven.  For the most part, however, it is a quirky relationship/sex comedy, where the boundaries of the mundane are mocked, bent, ridiculed, pushed, pummeled, pulverized, pounded, picked on and provoked. It also carries within it the most riotous courtroom trial you'll ever encounter!  It's a very surreal, theatrical book, and hey, look at it this way:  it’s pretty short, so if it turns out to be a complete waste of your time, it won’t have been that much of a waste of your time. Know what I mean, jelly bean?

You can get the paperback for 15% off, or, if you want to save on shipping, it is available to you in eBook form as well:  http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/Rayme

Enjoy!  It's good for a chuckle and a surreal escape.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being (book review)

I just read this book by Milan Kundera, written in '82, published in '84, and I was very impressed by it. One of the former colleagues of my Master's Degree recommended it to me last year and I'm glad that she did. It's a marvelous book. It's slow, but very real, very philosophical and very well written.

Kundera's intent is on exploring the unbearable lightness of being, that is, the fact that things are fleeting, will never happen again, and, if the human race goes extinct, may as well have never happened at all. He uses four primary characters - two womanizers, a mistress and a wife - to explore whether this lightness can lead to joy just as easily as it leads to angst and the feeling of constantly falling down the hole of nothingness. And, of course, morally speaking, if not even the "good" matters in such an existence, then how can its opposite?: "For how can we condemn something that is ephemeral, in transit? In the sunset of dissolution, everything is illuminated by the aura of nostalgia, even the guillotine" (p. 4).

The book goes back and forth in time. The tragic death of the two main characters is made known about mid-way, so that the prospect of death is always ominously looming over head in every scene that involves them and the unwinding of their lives, which, although they have been through a lot, now only mean anything substantial to each other, and even that substance is impermanent as well, just like everything else.

It takes place during Communist Russia's stronghold over Czechoslovakia and emphasizes much of what was happening in '68 and the years to follow, so the book is very political as well, and discusses what Kundera refers to as "kitsch," which is pretty much exactly what Ernest Becker refers to as the causa sui project in The Denial of Death, one of my most cherished books ever, which he won the Pulitzer Prize for in '74, but couldn't collect it, because he died in March of that year. He wrote it while he was dying, so it is written with his final blast of vitality, fire and strength of mind, and it appears that Kundera was heavily influenced by it, because he discusses matters such as our denial of bodily aspects like waste (due to our bodies representing death and decay), and other things on a grand scale that close down that barrier between spirit and body, "sublime and squalid, angel and fly, God and shit" (p. 261).

The book is very phenomenological and the characters are constantly dealing with the catch-22s of their lives that are hopelessly and ceaselessly plummeting towards the doom of annihilation, just like the rest of us. One of my favourite aspects of the book is the relationship the youngest of the four main characters, Tereza, has with her mother, who, after losing her youth and beauty to the wrong man, raises Tereza as if beauty and the body do not matter at all, nor social propriety of any kind, and, although she spends twenty years trying to ingrain this notion into her very feminine daughter's head, all she succeeds in doing in the end is creating a narcissist. She is quite the character indeed. The end of the first introduction to this anonymous woman made me laugh hard. (Kundera has a great, though dark, sense of humour). The effect she had on Tereza mentally and emotionally is profound, and Tereza carries it heavily into her relationship with the main character of the book: Tomas.

I did not really like the ending; it seemed empty and insipid, but all and all I understand why it is such a classic novel, and I now most humbly recommend it to you - my dear ones. Enjoy it, if you so choose to delve in.

Women Woman-Haters

It disgusts me the way women talk about each other. The biggest woman-haters are not, and never have been, men – they’re women! How can women expect men to respect woman-kind, when they can’t even respect each other? What are these disgusting terms they use to denote other women who dare to live promiscuously: “cheap,” “slutty,” “skanky,” “a whore,” and combinations of them like, “slutty, skanky whore”? It’s loathsome, and it has always bothered me. It’s most pathetic, however, when it comes from women who are too unattractive and sexually unappealing to have men fawning all over them in the first place, and so lash out at women (who can get that kind of attention) with these despicable insults and the like, either because of the way they dress (usually sexy, and I have no idea what’s wrong with sexy), or because they have slept (or would sleep) with a lot of guys, or because they were always good little virgins, who went out the other night to a club or bar, met a guy and went home with him. So big fuckin’ deal!! What’s it to you? I don’t understand! How does that make her sexually immoral or whorish because she isn’t afraid to explore her sexuality and be sated? Maybe if these harridans weren’t so afraid of getting some more often themselves, and, hence, weren’t so uptight, they’d be a lot happier, instead of being miserably preoccupied with the sex lives of others! I’m so sick of this petty bullshit! It’s hard enough to get laid as it is, without women inhibiting other women with their slander.

I know where this vulgar stupidity comes from, though. It’s part of the unfortunately vast, excruciatingly inexorable resin left over by Christian value-judgement, in particularly 1 Corinthians 6:13-15, where the renowned misogynist, Paul of Tarsus, argues his theory (very poorly, I might add) that fornication is like putting the body of Christ with a prostitute. Meaning, if a woman fornicates, she’s a whore! Yeah, thanks for that, Paul - you fucking asshole!

The inability some people have to just stop caring so much what others do with their own bodies and lives, along with their inability to stop giving a damn what others think, is beyond me! Leave our sex lives alone! And the preposterously moronic guys who contribute to this shit by demeaning promiscuous women as being only worthy of being fucked and left, deserve to be hung up by their tiny testicles and beaten with a sledge hammer! You’re making it incredibly harder on yourselves and the rest of us to get laid, you idiots, because women end up being more inhibited and uncomfortable with their sexuality, whether they are religious or not. Can’t you see that you’re shooting yourselves in the foot? You’re promiscuous, so why can’t a woman be? Why shouldn’t she be? And then you complain about some chick not giving it up or playing hard to get. Well, what do you expect with this kind of chauvinistic culture, where a man can be the biggest man-whore in the world and get away with it, while a woman’s “reputation” (and I never did get that word in this context) is maligned and shamed for the exact same thing? Why the double standard? Why strengthen and bolster it with such idiocy? It doesn’t make any sense. It’s JUST SEX!!!

I think this world would be so much happier and at ease if these godforsaken stigmas surrounding sexuality weren’t so prevalent after all this fucking time. It bothers me the most, however, when it comes from women themselves. It’s so self-defeating, so masochistic, so contemptuous, so hateful – so mean . . . so fucking mean. Why hate on your sisters so brutally, ladies? Why lash out at them for what they do with the orifices of their own bodies? Maybe it’s because they can do it guilt-free and you can’t, and the jealousy of that consumes you, blackening out all reason, logic, rationality and the ability to be happy for someone else’s joy? Does the resentment you have towards these others consume you to the point where you feel the need to contribute to the supposedly patriarchal society that you hate so much? Well, then, it is only you, who can change that.

As for the rest of you women out there, you know I have always loved you and always will so very dearly. The majority of the world could, and should, learn from you, but I fear it may never do so, not in 2012 and not ever, because the mob are too busy telling others how to live, and virulently disdaining them for not conforming. In the meantime, ladies, please, don’t ever change; that is, don’t let defamation, slander and obnoxious sexual hang-ups change you. I like you just the way you are. Disregard these petty societal mores; don't even think twice about them. Be the fun-loving person you naturally are in your own skin, and don't allow yourself to be filled with unwarranted guilt and shame, because one thing a person can never be for wanting to experience life to the fullest, is "cheap." What’s cheap is condemning others in order to feel superior to them, and, hence, better about oneself. It’s pathetic, and it’s weak; and I’m so goddamn sick of it. So fuck what others think! They obviously don’t give a damn about thinking for themselves anyway. Too bad, so sad.

Have a Happy (and hopefully easy) New Year. :D

Sincerely,

Me

Happy 30 to Me! :)

I bury my youth today. I've earned every right to bury it. And although I say goodbye to my youth as I place a red rose on its tomb, it is not dead, no, it lives on, for its fire stays with me. My 20s may have started off rocky, but they ended with a bang: graduating from college at 22, living and working in Dubai for seven months when I was 23, losing my religion, and, hence, being emancipated, shortly after coming back, getting a four-year Honours BA in less than three years' time, finishing on the Sessional Academic Achievement List, learning the art of seduction (something I'm ALWAYS working on improving, as I love women with all my heart and soul), meeting a lot of great people, making tons of new friends, removing certain toxic individuals from my life, going to Cuba on my own two days after my 29th birthday, finishing my book back in November, going to Hawaii for 10 days this past May (as I was asked to speak at the Tenth East-West Philosophers' Conference, held every 4 to 6 years - a trip that, for the most part, was covered by my university, as I was representing it), working as a TA from September to April ( a fabulous experience), finishing my master's degree in Eastern and continental philosophy (with an A average) in the very lovely St. Catharines (where it's been a joy and privilege to live in, where the air is Niagara-fresh and the girls go absolutely wild come Friday and Saturday night), etc., etc.

Hawaii is, indeed, paradise, and is a place that I had been wanting to go to for as long as I can remember. The night life is amazing. The clubs stay open till 4. People are so incredibly friendly, too, because, well, what reason do they have to be grouchy? It was the perfect final trip of my 20s, and my presentation, which was a comparative essay on Merleau-Ponty and Nagarjuna, went very well. I got good questions, and answered them all thoroughly and enthusiastically. I still can't stand reading Merleau-Ponty, though [even though he's certainly a genius, and I don't disagree with his standpoint], but not nearly as much as I detest reading Husserl [who's my worst philosophical nightmare]. Nietzsche is still my fouvourite, and he's the reason I am where I am in my life right now. My MA's Major Research Project was/is entitled, "Friedrich Nietzsche and the Contingencies of Christianity." Quite quaint, I think. :)