"Horror" Films?

Have you ever wondered why they're called "Horror Films" ? I don't mean all
of them. But most of them, particularly the popular kind. Or the kind that used
to be popular, anyway. You know which ones I mean. Screaming teenagers,
running from inexplicably inescapable human monstrosities armed with whatever
cutting implement is their particular trademark.

So, why are those movies called "Horror Films"? It is not like they actually were
about horror. Sure, you might flinch and bury your head in your hands or a kindly,
convenient shoulder when the screen fills up with torn bits and more red than an
actual human body could ever offer. But that's just a side-show, a little extra thrill,
like the one-liners and occasional glimpses of nude bodies before they are just
bodies and nothing more. But the main attraction, the thing that these films
actually are about, is delight.
Vindictive delight.

After all, there are never many characters whom we actually want to see
make it to the end of the movie, are there? The cast might be unique to each
flick, but it's largely interchangeable. Archetypes. There's the jock. There's
the bitch. The slut. The snob. The bully. The know-it-all. And any combination
thereof. And then, there's that one character. The one island of reason and sen-
sibility in a sea of ignorance. The under-appreciated smart and beautiful one
whom all those unlikeable pricks seem to look down upon at best or ignore
at worst. Genre enthusiasts know this character as the "final girl". She's the
one whom we all know will survive. And she's us.

It doesn't matter all that much whether one is a teenage girl, a grown man,
a child, short, tall, athletic, disabled, transgendered, black or white... We
are all this pretty young girl. We are the one who does things the right way,
or at least tries, or means to try. We are never fully appreciated, we are
outcasts, we are the ostensible loser. But we are better. Deep down, we
know that.

And, as the lumbering, invincible maniac swings his machete right through
the heads and hearts of all those ignorant, unlikeable pricks, we run, we
hide, we scream. We are scared. We are horrified by what happened to
all of them. But not really. They kind of did have it coming, didn't they?
For all their bragging and bullying; their privileged, easy life, their
getting-some when we don't, they really leave the world a better place
when they're gone.

And that's why we'll survive. Because we are innocent. We are pure
and smart and humble. We are right. We are normal, even when we
take pride in being everything but that.
Sure, the killer is still coming to get us. He might swing his weapon at
us, catch up as we run and scream, even hurt us with a way-too-close
call... But he will let us live.
Because he, too, is us.

Hello!

I wish all nosy people an unique day!

Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry.

I apologize.

I apologize all the time.
At the slightest hint of conflict. Not even just when I
might have done something wrong. When anybody has
done something wrong. Or somebody might feel that
someone has done something wrong. Or when somebody
is inconvenienced at all. 

I do it to defuse the conflict. I just can't stand fighting
or disharmony anymore; my skin has worn as thing as
a wet layer of paper tissue. I can't take it. I can't take
anything.

It affects the apologies that are meant to be. The heart-
felt "Sorry. I screwed up and I hurts me that I caused
you pain" ones. I am not entirely sure when I actually
feel that way anymore. It all gets lost in the automatism
of apologizing.

And the punchline is... It doesn't even work. 

Murk

Sometimes, I see a hand rise from the murk,

and with surprise, I realize that it is my own.
As all the wet dirt and grime and mud slides down, off the fingers, it looks almost clean, almost normal, as it reaches out for the bark.
But of course, the bark really is a blade of straw.
The mud crashes over my head as I briefly pull the straw down with me before it slips through my fingers and floats back to the surface.

Then, things are as they were.

Man and Women - Domination ? REALLY ?

There should be a video up there.

Blissing Followup

Followup on the "things that bliss you" thing.
Will have to do more of this another time.

Everybody must see this for one reason or another

I usually don't link-or-embed-blog, but 
sometimes, it's very much called for.

An ID Card

I have a card.

There's an old photo of me on it, along
with a very recent notice of renewal.

It says "Schwerbehindert" on it.

It depresses me.

Sort of self-fulfilling.

A Nugget of Brainstuff

Nugget of Brainstuff for today:

Why let what you are not define you,
when there is so much that you are ?

Girls Kissing Girls - The right way and the wrong way

Girls kissing girls.
Kind of a popular topic lately, isn't it ? Lots of song,
lots of talk. Usually, I'd welcome that, being an obvious
proponent of gay right and all the related jazz. But I'm
angry. Why am I angry about all the song and all the
talk, you ask ? Because it's all backwards.

Regarding rights and acceptance, it's become obvious
that western society seems to be marching backwards
hell-bent on wronging some rights. Don't believe me ?
Well, let's have a look at exibit A, a song called
"I kissed a girl"... Not by Katy Perry, but by Jill Sobule,
in 1995.

I like this song. It's happy. It's positive. It's all about
self-discovery and finding the right life, the right person,
regardless of gender conventions. It's about love.
No
overblown drama, no angst, just a happy little bit of
love.

Key phrase: "I kissed a girl, won't change
the world, but I'm so glad I kissed a girl"
See, that's a good one because it sums it all up. It's
no big deal. It won't change society. It's just what
some of us silly humans need to be happy. This is the
right message.


Now, as much as I'd like to avoid it, let's have a look
at exibit B. You know what's coming,  I know
what's coming, let's cut to the chase.

Quite a different affair, isn't it ? Even the video shows
the differences clearly. No playful silliness, no bright
colors. Instead, we get our standard "sinful decadence"
setting and bodies moving seductively in slow motion
while the almost-threatening club beat stomps away.
And what does Miss Perry tell us about it all ? 

No, I don't even know your name It doesn't matter, You're my experimental game Just human nature, It's not what, Good girls do Not how they should behave My head gets so confused Hard to obey

Key phrase: "I kissed a girl and I liked it
The taste of her cherry chap stick
I kissed a girl just to try it
I hope my boyfriend don't mind it"

Yep. She even... Actually, scratch that. This is
clearly a designer piece. Marketing. Not the
effort of a musician. So....
They even had the nerve to include that boyfriend
line, just in case that, heaven forbid, somebody actually
thinks that we have a real lesbian on our hands. Eww,
no !  Who'd like a girl who doesn't fuck boys ? We
clearly can't have that.

The implications are clear.
Thirteen years after Jill Sobule got it all damn right,
we're back to looking at lesbian relationships as
nothing more than a forbidden kink. A porn movie
fantasy. "Woah, look at what a naughty, naughty slut
I am, boys".

Way to go, Katy. Way to go, Capitol Records.
I hereby congratulate you for your valiant efforts
in setting both the movements of gay and women's
rights back by at least thirteen years. Your contri-
butions to the ongoing effort of reducing women
to vapid and disposable sex objects have inspired
many.
I'm sure that all the homosexual (and bisexual and
heterosexual, for that matter) women of the world
will be eternally grateful for greedy assholes like you
and your crafty ways of making tons of money by
spreading their sexist and condescending image of
women.

If any of these women happen to be inclined to express
their gratitude with the aid of torches, pitchforks and
possibly baseball bats with huge nails driven through
the top... Would you mind a guy who's just itching
to tag along ?

Somehow Shallow

There is something that has been going through my
head lately and has been dug up and put right on top
of the mental pile by almost losing my friendship with
someone who might prefer not to be named on here
and Crystal's latest blog...

The way I end up picking my friends is terrible.
Mind you, the friends are not, but I keep noticing that
I practically solely dedicate my friendship to gorgeous
people. There is not one ugly person in my little (ex-
clusively online, by the way) circle of friends. What
does that make me ?

A shallow bastard, I suppose.

Now, it's not like I would be friends with a hot airbrain.
I don't think that I could stand that for even a few
minutes. But doesn't that actually make it worse ? 

Isn't it awfully decadent of me to "pick out" an "elite"
group of amazing people ? It's not really a conscious
effort, mind you. But that's where I am drawn and it
is what it ends up being. It just seems that it makes
me a... not very good person, so...

I wonder how to fix it.

Doing Stuff

A random observation on cheese

When baking cheese, there is a very thin line between
"Crispy and delicious" and"dairy equivalent of volcanic rock". 

When microwave ovens are involved, the timeframe that separates the edible from the flash-fossilized dissolves into mere seconds.

Another Part (of me)

Today, I tried to get back in touch with a part of
me that I've been having issues with - My body.
A few years ago, inspired by a friend's blog, I decided
to get into better physical shape... To be what a man
should look like. To be able to look at myself without
disgust.

And, while not overwhelmingly so, it did work. I shed
over 22 pounds and, for the first time in my life, there
was actually a visible effect when I flexed a few of my
muscles.

And what does a guy who is proud of something
do ? Show it to the world, of course. This might come
as a bit of a shock to some of you (assuming that any-
body is left reading this), but I have indeed taken up
photographic self portraits. Of my body. In a word,
nudes. Hopefully "artistic nudes", as the phrase goes.

However, over the course of 2008, I became negligent.
I ate more things that I shouldn't be eating and kept
skipping my workouts. And of course, it showed. So
I grew ashamed and hid from the site that I posted my
nudes on. And I felt miserable about myself every day.

But I decided that I can't keep spiralling down into
obesity. Sure, at the rate I was going, it might take
years.... But it was definitely the direction I was going.
I won't allow it, though. I just cannot lose the only thing
that gives me any right to call myself a man. And believe
me, without a man's body, I am but a boy.

So I am re-adjusting again. Eating better, working out,
being active. And I'm taking photos again. If things keep
getting worse, I still won't be hiding it. There has to be
something that I can do right, and it might be this.

In closing, I'm attaching a link to my non-nude
Deviantart.com gallery. There, I am posting a modified
version of this blog entry, which will contain a link to
my nudes. Because I decided that I have nothing to hide. 

Link: My  Deviantart Gallery (Non-Nude)

Not Well Lately

I'm not feeling great lately. I don't really know
what triggered this, but lately, I've been feeling
quite unhinged. And I can't really talk about it with
any of my friends, because they either have enough
problems of their own, or they are in good spirits
which I really shouldn't ruin.

But hardly anyone ever seems to read this blog,
so I suppose that I can get it out on here.

Where do I start ?  I've got those increasingly
frequent and overwhelming pushes of aggression.
This  chaotic rage and desperation. Sometimes, it's
to the point where I need to scream every few
minutes. I'd do more than scream, but that would
be unreasonable.

I've been slacking off with my fitness workouts.
And to make it worse, I can't stop eating lately.
Maybe that's because my parents keep telling me
that I'm underweight (160 pounds at 6'1 / 73 kg at
1,86m, judge for yourself), but the way I eat lately
isn't healthy at all. I'm losing everything I've been
working the past two years for. I don't want to go
back, but that's where I'm headed.

I rarely really talk to my friends anymore.
I think I'm failing them all. It's like I lost my
ability to help others....
or maybe I never really had any ability like that.
Maybe it's all too complicated for simple advice
now.

I can't find any drive to do anything lately.

Everything seems so futile.

And it is.

Last Night

She is a goddess. Wonderful, unreachable, no matter
how close she seems to be. It is all I really know.

I'm not sure how I got here. I don't even
know where "here" is. It is not important.

The rest I lie in is oddly comfortable, even as confined
as it is. It fits the contures of my body perfectly.. both
below and above me. The upper half that that covers
me only has openings for my mouth, nostrils and for
my eyes. Usually, this would be uncomfortable, even
claustrophobic.
But right now, it is just right. For just
beyond this constriction, there's
her.

I thought that I had known her for years. But I never
really knew what I witness at this moment. In a way,
she still's still the same woman... Her aware eyes, her
full hair, her slender lips... But there is something else
now. Something so warm and serene, something
overwhelming. Something burns within her, and I've
never seen before it was bright enough to blind me.
I'm blind enough to see now.

She is above me. In every way. Her white, pearlescent
garments produce a silent rattle, as she moves just
enough to enchant me with her swaying. She is speaking
to me, and even though I don't understand the words, I
know what she is saying. She's filling my senses with her
warmth, her passion, her heavenly love. She knows that
I want to be with her, hold her, merge with her. But
whatever happens, happens on her terms. I strain against
my coverings, trying to see her closer, take in her scent,
maybe reach her with my tongue. Longing. Sweet agony.
She rewards my struggle with a fleeting kiss, as she slips
off her garment. My arms are free now, and without a
word, she allows me to caress her waist.

Suddenly, she is far away from me. I must be upright,
as I can still see her on the other side of the room. I see
the place we are in for the first time. It is a temple of old,
but clearly built in modern times. The perfect place to
worship a perfect woman. She is clothed again, lying
on an invory-like bench suspended above a pool of
water that I know to be warm. She is still looking at me,
smiling so warmly, still affirming, and entirely in control.
Around her are other women. But there really aren't
any other women in her presence.
They are merely framework.

Knowingly, she slips into the water with divine grace.
I hesitate for a moment, as an unseen voice warns me
about lacking the proper preparation for excellence.
Won't everyone see my arousal straining against my
clothes ? Do I have to be ashamed ? It can't matter.
Not while she is there. Not when I could be with her.
I slip out of my confinement and drop into the water.

The water is welcoming. I have no difficulty holding
my breath as I approach her elegant shape gliding
through the silent warmth. She smiles at me as I take
hold of her arm in a slow spin.

I wake.

Just woke up. Oh wait, I didn't.

Recently, I've revisited a place I hadn't been to for
quite
a while. It wasn't New York or Paris or Rome... I've
never been in those places. The place I'm talking about
is much closer, but much harder to visit... at least inten-
tionally. I usually wind up there by chance. It's the place
between sleeping and waking.

No, I haven't turned into Lewis Carol, Alan Moore or
the nutjob living down the street (is there much of a dif-
ference, though ?). I am talking about a relatively
obscure medical condition called Sleep Paralysis.

In case you never heard of it (which
is likely) - Allow me to explain a little bit.

Sleep happens in different phases. The deepest and
most well-known part of each sleep cycle is the REM
phase. REM stands for rapid eye
movement, which
occurs because the eyes move in accord with what
we "see" in our dreams. This is a normal occurence.
In order to keep the rest of the body from acting out
what goes on in dreamland, the human body releases
a hormonal cocktail that effectively paralyses all
major muscle groups with the exception of internal
organs and parts of the face. The commands from
the brain no longer reach the body.

This is a good thing, because people would run
against walls a lot at night if it didn't happen, and
that would drive insurance payments through
the roof. In fact, it might drive people through
the roof, too. Or through windows. Down the
stairs, into one another... you get the picture.

However, what happens when the "command
routes" aren't cleared when you wake up ?
Imagine waking up in the middle of the night. At least
you are pretty sure that it is the middle of the night, be-
cause you can't see a thing. You are trying to get
up,
but you can't. You can't do anything. You arms won't
lift, your legs won't scramble the sheets, your back won't
rise from the mattress. You have no idea what is going
on, and you're starting to panic a little.
Well, that's sleep paralysis.

Now, before you start worrying too much.. it's harmless.
The condition usually passes within seconds or minutes,
and, unless they know better, most people just assume
that they were dreaming.

Speaking of dreaming - There is another, most peculiar
symptom to sleep paralysis. Apparently most likely
related to the understandable anxiety that comes with
the confused state of waking up as an oversized paper-
weight, the brain starts conjuring up random audatory,
sensory and sometimes visual scenery to explain this
fine mess to the conscious. In other words, you hallu-
cinate a little. What exactly you hear, feel and/or see is
up to you; Or rather, it's up to your subconscious.

It's fairly common to think that there's something heavy
on your chest, pushing you down into the bed. A lot of
people hear strange, random and unnerving noises. A
particularly religious person might perceive a demon
trying to take hold of them; daytime talkshow viewers
might believe to experience an abduction by aliens,
complete with floating out the window and being
probed somewhere in a spaceship. In fact, some re-
searchers believe that the idea of alien abductions in
fact stems from sleep paralysis, becoming progressively
more specific and detailed as sufferers heard descrip-
tions of such abductions in the media and pulled them
from their subconscious during episodes.

Fortunately enough, a good way to avoid such b-movies
playing out in your head during sleep paralysis is simple:
Realizing what is going on.
As an "informed" sleep paralysis patient (I use the term
loosely here, as I am not receiving medical treatment),
I perceive the episodes as what they are - A mild
annoyance and kinda interesting at the same time. That is
not to say that I'm not experiencing hallucinations... But
mine (and those of countless others) are rather mundane.
I can still perceive a heavy weight on my chest, but I 
realize that it's really just the blanket or my own arms.
I see myself lifting those arms when I try, even though
I might not be moving them yet. That's admitably a little
vexing.

If you are now sitting in front of your screen with
the elated expression that comes with finally figuring out
what happened to you all those nights, here are a few
words of advice for you.

There is no surefire way to avoid sleep paralysis, but
there are things that help. Keep a healthy and steady
sleep schedule. Try to live healthy in general.
There seem to be medical ways to reduce the likelyhood
of an episode, too.. But that is generally not recommen-
dable, as those would needlessly strain your mind and
body disproportionally. Rather try not to sleep on your
back, as that appears to be the most common position
for sleep paralysis to occur. (Personally, I almost never
experience the phenomenom when I sleep on my side)

If and when you happen to slip into this confusing state
upon waking up, the best advice is to stay calm. If you
don't panic, you won't see or hear anything out of the
ordinary, except maybe exaggerated versions of the
normal noises around you (silently ticking clock
becomes loud ticking noise). To come out of it, try
to speak or make small movements like wiggling your
fingers or toes. Don't be upset if it doesn't work right
away - I went through the entire alphabet song before
I was fully awake last time. Staying calm, you might
even fall back asleep and wake up again regularly
a little later. Just remember - You're not going insane
or losing control of your body. It's merely a little flub
that will work itself out in a minute.

If you'd like to find out more about sleep paralysis and
it's causes, I recommend having a look at one of the
following links:

http://www.spis.org.uk/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep_paralysis
http://csicop.org/doubtandabout/sleep/
http://www.wikihow.com/Cope-With-Sleep-Paralysis

PS: You could theoretically try to go back and try
to conjure up some more pleasant, maybe even
delightfully naughty hallucinations.. but it probably
won't work if you absent-mindedly roll onto your
side like I did last time. Damn !

Kissing

Kissing is a curious thing to me. While I have had the
regular share of innocent childhood family affection
kisses (long term, isn't it ?), I have not had the chance
to engage in the romantic version of the activity. And so,
I wonder.

It is such a strange thing, isn't it ? Pressing lips against
one another, parting them, moving, tongues, saliva...
taken out of context, it seems downright repulsive.
Definitely unsanitary. What is it that compels people
do engage in such a bizarre act ?

Of course I am aware of the biology. The pheromones.
The ritualism. The tribe culture and evolutionary drive.
But aren't we, as humans, also conscious, self-aware
beings ? How can our minds tune out what is actually
going on ?

Maybe it has to do with conditioning. In modern
society, we are born into a world of flickering lights
and endless supplies of ever-new stories that are all
the same old things at the core. Kissing is glorified,
romanticized, and overused as an everlasting symbol
of affection. Is it this that compels us ? Is it true that
some isolated tribes of the human kind are not doing
it at all ?

And why would they ? It is silly. It is pointless.
It even spreads diseases.

And yet, and yet, and yet... I find myself wishing
that I had the chance. Just once. And then again
and again and again.

Oddity Chronicle I

December 29th, 5:18 am:

Found half a peanut on toilet flush button.
Went to sleep with questions unanswered.

Online Crushes, eh ?

To my moderate surprise, I found out that today is either
the day that one officially gets the chance to publicize their
"online crushes" or it is the day that one particular blog-
gerist decided to blatantly make stuff up. Since the latter
would clearly never happen, I have to assume that today
is the day for crushing.

So, in no real order because I can't follow orders anyway:

First to mention because she started this outing within my
horizon is one Crystal, with whom I disagree in length and
agree briefly - 'Cause, when she's right, she nails it. She's
also a source of crysaline crazyness and avatarian saint-
wisdom, which is kinda rare. Also, she's hot.

Also absolutely mention-required is the man called
Cobalt, who is less of a crush-object and more of a
co-joined at the virtual hip kinda thing. He taught me
a lot of things I never wanted to know and some that
I really SHOULD know. I couldn't do without him
and all of his oddballings. Also, he's hot.

There's one very, very bad girl (sorry, no links here..
trust me, it's for the better) who totally irritated me by
actually talking to me and blew my mind by becoming
a close friend. Way too wild and way too wise and
weally, weally not quiet ! Also, she's hot.

Mentions that MUST NOT BE UNDER-
ESTIMATED go to the waytookind MDguy
and the Horsegirl sisters. All three of these
mentions are also hot.

And finally, there's one whose cameos in my online
life are such a bittersweet affair. You haven't lived
until you know a beautiful woman who can
practically quote the entire "Friday, 13th"
series by heart. And is also hot. With her,
I close this possibly-but-not really arbitrary list.

'nuff said.