It’s 11 am. I’ve hand-washed my delicates, read 3 newspapers, scavenged a hunt through the local No Frills and put on a little vinyl Cash to set the smoky tone of my surroundings. I momentarily retire now to my wobbly computer chair to ponder the near future as I savor some Orange Pekoe and polish my charcoal hued pistol – a chore I’ve been neglecting for quite sometime. I stare at it… the tea, the rather expensive leather chamois, and then over to the gun sitting gently in my palm. I consider it. Observing its length and shine. I think it’d be a venomous black-cat born of python and feline if said weapon took imaginary animal form. I think it’d be sexy. More sexy than one would think life-threatening.
Anyways, I’ve been thinking a lot about animals lately. How humans in the most basic sense, in the most primitive of explanations - are animal. Considering the big picture… there’s survival and everything else is just indulgence…the luxuries that pad the walls of humanity. The duck feathers that prevent displeasure or insanity when the harsh environment that confines us, and its zygotes tempt us (force us!) to bang our heads against the brick. It’s a reassuring thought to remind one self that we don’t need a lot to survive. Mind you… endurance and the Will for survival involves intangible factors beyond water and oxygen. They “need” (and I use this term loosely) a particular state of mind, an emotional attachment, a passion.
Passion is the “why” in the desire to survive. I have passion… therefore I want to live. I have the will to endure the pains of reality (surreality), and in the very least I have the bare essential desire to survive. But is this passion “animal” or is it the child of humanity’s technological boner? Arguably it’s both. Arguably “human” is by my and others’ philosophical definitions animal and machine. As is passion.
I struggle to determine whether I value human’s more animalistic instincts and pleasures more so than their intellect, desire for ingenuity and escalating advances in technological and psychological progression. Sometimes I find myself being a snob discrediting the tribulations of the human-heart and it’s need for attachment, dependency and flowers and candy on Valentine’s Day. But at the end of it all, I shed my cold-robotic shell and melt over the simplest of romantic pleasures. I am human after-all, which means I have a human heart. The heart is the malfunction in the human design. The heart makes people weak. It makes us insane. The heart makes us creative. It makes us want and therefore struggle for the fulfillment of those wants. It makes us FIGHT till the death until we have whatever it is the HEART desires. The heart is deadly. It’s as dangerous as a bullet is to human flesh or the sun is to a double scoop of frozen dairy.
It controls.
I could walk down the street and see a man or order a coffee in some 50s diner, or watch Gael Garcia Bernal slap a bitch on the silver screen and I can fall in love with any one of them in the blink of an eye… in the flutter of a heartbeat. And as I fall in love instantaneously and without any apprehension, anywhere at anytime, I imagine my life 20 years from now with said lover. I can see Gael and I on a boat docked in some Mediterranean sea-side in love… living off the bare essentials of life. Who needs technology when you’re in love? Heart trumps the mind. Heart even trumps the machine's distorted take over of sex. But does the MIND trump sex? It depends on the person you are I guess.
Some journalist from Baltimore, I think his name is H.L Mencken… or L.H Mencken… or maybe it was D.L. Hugley… I can’t recall… Anyways… this man who is apparently noteworthy enough to quote… he said, “Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence.” This fucks me up a bit. We believe the truism that imagination comes from the mind – it is what our brains think up and create. But lately…. I’m starting to consider the heart as the equivalent to the brain in terms of its power. The mind thinks. The heart creates, believes and dreams. So where does imagination spawn? Does imagination come from the heart?
Regardless… imagination is beautiful… but is beauty animal? Or is it machine? Perhaps it is neither. There is a third element we often forget about and tend to overlook… the supernatural.
Imagination, and therefore beauty... is magic.
Alas... All of these longwinded, over-written ruminations simply come down to my back and forth debate on whether or not I will go out freely and willingly on Valentine’s Day (alone or with friends) or stay in and get off on doing homework and some form of chronic. Where does passion lye? Which will feed my passion? Ohhhhhh… the trifles of a young socially awkward tamale... sexless and sometimes restless in the City.
Check out this link on animal superstitions about Valentine’s Day and love.
http://www.indobase.com/holidays/valentines-day/valentine-day-facts/valentine-day-superstitions.html
XOLo.
If I were a fictional illegal substance I would be – A version of Neapolitan ice-cream made with hot tamales – banned in 50 states because of it’s manless-orgasm-causing stimulant. Obviously it’s banned in this supposed scenario because of its natural castrating abilities.
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