Things could be worse: RETRO from the 2000's
I just got through watching the movie Talk Radio.
The movie brings up some heavy questions. I could apply a lot of the those questions to blogging.
SO Maybe I SHOULD do some soul searching....
What am I doing? What do I stand for? What do I want?
Nah, I find that shit boring.
What I learned from watching the movie.
All the important questions I can ask about this blog have to do with my audience.
What's wrong with my audience? What is it that youwant? Why the fuck do you keep coming back?
For the abuse?
I think you just enjoy watching me decay.
I keep seeing myself in the mirror. I'm getting old. My fat belly collects lint in the belly button when I forget to pick it out.
I think talking to 18 year old kids at work about my sincere love of "fit preggo" porn is laugh out loud funny. So did the 18 year olds. But what the fuck do 18 year olds know?
My goatee is uneven. My ingrown toe nail is bleeding through my sock. I have unexplained back pain. I keep finding squishy tumors in my testicles. I keep shitting green. I just put myself on Prilosec because my throat closes for no good reason. My face and lymph nodes are swollen.
I need a haircut. I am going bald. I am going gray.
Things could always be worse.
No they can't.
I feel terrible. I try to imagine a person worse off than me. I think about a guy who always wanted to be a woman. Who felt trapped in a man's body. Who hates his penis. He wants to cut off the penis and wear cute skirts and those long body shirts that get layered under shorter shirts. He wants to paint his nails. He wants to be taken care of. He wants to be rescued. He's so tired of making decisions for himself. He just wants someone to make the decisions for him.
So he gets the surgery. He gets his penis cut off. Now he uses the girl's restroom. He shaves his legs.
Try to imagine he does not have huge "man hands," or a massive Adam's apple. Try to imagine that he can have an orgasm with his new vagina.
Let's imagine he sits with his legs smartly crossed and has boyfriends. Maybe even fools the guys at college. They don't know that he is a Tranny. They just like his girlishness. They fuck him and he blows them. He enjoys all the cum in his mouth.
But one day he wakes up and misses his penis. I mean REALLY misses his penis. The way any man would miss his penis if it was cut off from him. I wonder what he would go through. I have no idea. Other than staring down at his empty pelvis.
Probably lots of crying.
There are just some mistakes you just can't undo.
He would have to go on living as a woman. He would have to wear those pink breast cancer buttons in September. He would have to watch Oprah. Fuck. I have no idea what else he would have to do. I guess he would have to keep on faking it like all women do.
Because men are useless fucks. We are. We just don't give a fuck. We want your pussies. We want you to admire us. We crave your attention. We need you to build us up.
I have no idea what the fuck you get back from us in return. We give you nothing. All we are is WANT. We are like children. We are want machines. We desire everything we can see and think of.
We need to feel. To touch... everything... maybe that's why you love us. We are your little children that can speak to you, and rub your backs, and lick your toes, and open jars you cannot, and build the world for you.
You just want to live in the world of emotion and make believe.
In the world where there is just you and me and we talk all night in the bedroom/and we cuddle on blankets listening to the rain splash against the windows/and off in the distance we hear car alarms go off after lightning strikes and the car alarms remind us that we are playing hooky/that the real world is out there/but not in here with us/not today at least/we are safe.
But at least YOU still have your penis! That poor tranny boy lost his!
I wish just my penis was cut off. I wake up with a boner every morning, but what use is it?
I am castrated.
Only you will tell me that my castration is all in my head.
A man without a car is castrated. I am a man without a car. I have only my erection. What purpose could my erection possibly serve?
A reminder that I never get what I want. You see The tranny has closure. I do not. My erection ensures that I will have an endless supply of "possibility" followed by failure.
BUT THINGS COULD BE WORSE
No they can't.
If things "could always be worse" then how can you gauge things as they actually are?
If your "standard for comparison" is always changing it can not be a standard for comparison. A comparison without a set value is fallacious.
Things are as bad as they can possibly be.
It's just as likely that we live in the worst of possible times as it is that we live in the best of times.