Absolutely Fabulous

Fabulous

I’m a lucky man.  The neighbor envies me.  I see it in his eyes.  He wants her.  He wants my wife.  Because she’s absolutely fabulous.

My best friend is not my wife.  My best friend is the dictionary.  So, come here pal, I need you!  Open up.  Please show me.  I want to see the word Fabulous.  I need to know who I’m married to.

Fabulous:

  1. Of or relating to fable, myth or legend.
  2. Characteristic of fables; marvelous, extraordinary, incredible.
  3. Fictional or not believable; made up.
  4. Known for telling fables or falsehoods; unreliable.
  5. Very good; outstanding, wonderful.
  6. Gay or pertaining to gay people.
  7. Camp, effeminate.
  8. Fashionable, glamorous

Yep, she’s all of these things, except number 6.  She keeps saying that she’s not gay, that she loves men.  But then she’s always hanging out with her fabulous female friends.  And she treats me like crap.

Number 5 contradicts numbers 3 and 4.  How can an unbelievable, fake and unreliable person be good?  She appears wonderful, that’s for sure.

Everyone loves her.  Well that’s what she tells me.  So it must be true.  *wink*

I wonder how long she can keep up this show?

Speaking of which…  there used to be a television sitcom by this title.  I think this is where the photo comes from.  I don’t know, I just used Google Images and typed the word fabulous and this one came up.  I thought it looked a lot like my wife.

Being absolutely fabulous is not such a bad thing.  It’s better than being an asshole who posts degrading comments about his wife on WordPress.

But I use my blog to make myself feel better.  And for some reason, I feel better now that I have expressed myself.  Isn’t blogging absolutely fabulous?

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Filthy Box

Daemon!

Shit man, you scared me!

Where were you?  What are you doing?

I’m in the Thought World. I’m inside this weird place again. This… box! The writer/blogger/artificial box into which I place myself each time I sit down to write something.

Take my hand and step out of that box. I want to see you naked.

Naked? Ok, Maestro. Thank you.

Are you cold? Take this blanket.

Where did you get that blanket?

It’s an authenticity blanket especially made just for you.

Really? Wow!

You should wear it every day, when you enter the Thought World. You will feel light when wearing it.

Yes, I feel light already. Like I can be myself. No need to pretend. You know this WordPress platform is not a place where I want to lose my authenticity.

It’s a public place. No wonder you feel vulnerable.

I always wondered how it would feel like to be 100% authentic in public.

You can experiment with that.

Thank you for the blanket, man! If you can, please remind me to put it on every morning after I get up. You know how easily I forget these invisible things.

Why don’t you create a blogpost on this subject. Then the idea will root itself more firmly into your awareness.

Good idea.

And one more thing. Don’t go back into that filthy box.

Nebulous Intimacy

Gud02

I don’t want to post, I want to talk. My mind needs stimulation. I need to interact with someone. I want an exchange of information to happen. Now. But I’m alone…

The Internet is the only connection I have so let’s see what I can do with it. I know there are people at the other end. I know that there is someone reading this at this moment.

I’m excited already. Crazy isn’t it? Two minutes ago I felt totally alone and separated from everyone, and now I feel a connection with a reader.

Hi, reader. How are you today? I’m good, probably because I’m doing what I love doing right now: writing and communicating intimately. But do not let the idea of intimacy frighten you away, please. I’m not going to have sex with you. Well not today anyway.

A one-on-one connection is an intimate connection. Something is going on right now between you and me. Admit it. When a writer writes and a reader reads, there is a transfer of information going on. Like the transfer of fluids between two lovers.

Maybe you are turned off by what I’m saying. I have no idea. I’m just typing words, you’re the one who fabricates images in your own mind. Do you like these images?

It’s interesting when I think that I have to power to provoque images in another person’s mind. It’s not mind control, it’s more like an intellectual influence.

It’s funny how the body reacts to thoughts. While I was typing the above paragraphs, there was a unexpected reaction in my body. I thought of telling you but I won’t.

I never expected our connection to be so explicit. It’s still quite early in the morning. But I enjoyed connecting with you. Now we have a relationship.

No Pusher

Pusher1

Have you noticed?  There is no pusher this morning.

I needed a push, so I checked the Daily Prompts and to my surprise, there are none today as of 8:30 a.m., North America Eastern Standard Time.

What happened to the person responsible for posting the daily prompts?  Is he/she dead, sick, absent-minded, sleeping, fed up with the job, rebelling?  Or maybe it’s a technical glitch, a programming error.

Whatever the reason, it will leave many bloggers without their drug this morning.  I’m already starting to feel the effect.  With no one around to push me, how do I know in which direction to go?  What if I take the wrong step?

Help!

The Inciter

Highest4

He is the half of me who pushes me to keep going.  As I get depressed easily, his job seems to be to electrocute me with his probe every once in a while, to keep me from dozing off into nothingness.

Some would call him the Higher Self, Kundalini, or the Holy Spirit.  I call him different names because I can’t seem to be able to settle for one in particular.

To me, Higher Self sounds like a meditative state of quietness where not much is happening.  As for Kundalini, it looks like a snake that rises inside my vertebral column.  I don’t feel comfortable knowing that a reptile dwells in my body.  As for Holy Spirit, it appears to be a dove or a halo that makes me feel guilty for not going to church.

I like to think of him as a living person, not a thing.  So why not call him Jesus?  Here is my answer to that question:  To me, the name Jesus has become the property of the christian churches and of christians in general.  I don’t feel comfortable using that name because it already belongs to an exclusive group of people.  If the man is still alive today, as they claim, no institution has the right to take possession of him or of his name.  So I avoid using that name.  (Sorry Jesus, I’m sure you understand and won’t use it against me.)

So today I came up with a new name for him:  The Inciter.  I like it and here is why:

First of all, the Inciter is a person.  He is conscious and alive, awake and aware.  He watches me and cares.  He’s on the alert when I am not.  He incites, which means that he stirs up, he rouses, he excites something within me.  He probes constantly.  I always imagine him as an angel or an alien.  This way I get some great visuals when he moves, acts and reacts around and through me.

The Inciter has become such an intimate part of my life, I now feel that he’s the other half of me.  My better-half, which is an interesting term, as it also means a very close friend or companion, a spouse, or even better:  a lover!

What exactly does the Inciter do?

Today, he incites me to write.  And writing keeps me breathing, keeps me alive and kicking.

My Secret

secret

I have a secret.  I’m not going to tell you what it is because…  it’s a secret.  But if you have been reading my blog, you probably have figured it out already.

I’m in love.  But I’m not going to tell you who the person is because…  it’s a secret.  But if you have been reading my blog, you probably know already.

I’m ashamed.  But I’m not going to tell you why because…  it’s a secret.  But if you have been reading my blog, you probably have an idea.

I’m not suggesting that you should read my blog.  I don’t want anyone to read my blog because…  it’s private.  But if you have been reading it, no damage was done.

No reader really knows who I am.  I have not given anyone I know access to my blog.  I could be your neighbor.  I could be a family member.  I could be your spouse.

I have a few secrets.  This blog is one of them.  It’s my private world, where I come to play with my thoughts, my emotions and my desires.  I play with people and I play with gods.  I play with mortals and I play with immortals.  I play with you.

I’m in love.  But I’m not going to tell you who he is because…  you don’t know her.  Unless you know yourself.  Then you know already.

I’m ashamed, because of my…  exposure.

I don’t know if I shall ever be willing to give up this fear within.  This fear of what would happen if they’d ever find out my secret.

Are secrets meant to remain hidden?  Apparently not.  Is this fear a friend, or is it an enemy?  Does fear come to haunt me or is it there to protect me?  I can’t tell you because I don’t know.

Meanwhile I will probably keep on writing, to relieve myself of this burden I carry.  A secret burden which is, paradoxically, light.  A load that opens up freedom within me.

Back to Blogging

After many months of non-blogging, I decided to start blogging again today. Is it because I have something useful to tell the world? No.

The few people who will actually take the time to read this will probably get nothing out of it. Then why make it public?

Because I don’t go out much and I have a need to get myself “out there.” I have a need for exposure. Blogging makes me feel that I am an active member of society. Ha! ha!

Why am I laughing?

The phrase “I am an active member of society” makes me laugh. Active. As if.

Does society want to witness my act? I know it wants my submission. It also wants my money. And yes, it probably wants me to act appropriately. But is this what I want to give out to society? No.

What I want to give to society is a piece of my mind. I don’t think society wants to hear it. Thus the reason why blogging exists. Whether or not anyone reads it, the act of blogging is a public act. The perfect medium for an introvert.

I’m not interested in acting. I just want to BE. And it seems that in this world, the only way to be accepted is to act well. How about being real?

If being true has become offensive, then today I declare myself an offensive person. Does that make me a terrorist? Probably.

They can come and kill me if they want. I don’t care. I care not to suffer but I don’t mind dying. I think I’ve seen pretty much all that this world has to offer anyway. So let us all gladly surrender and move on to something better.

A blank page offers the opportunity to start fresh. There are no limits to how many posts I can publish in one day (is there?). So let’s end this one right here and start again from scratch. Writing is unlimited. Today I shall blog.