Yearly Archives: 2014
Blamers – A Short Zombie Story
A blast from the past that I felt like re-running instead of generating new content because I am exhausted in every conceivable way but I wanted to put something out there. This little piece is essentially the protagonist of Waiting on the Dead, a novel I’ve been Waiting to Finish since I lost the ability to be that guy for a while but I’m hoping to recapture that voice so I can finish it and get that monkey off my back. Anyway, consider this an introduction to The Waiter.
That short story idea I mentioned? I carved some time today to bang it out.
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There’s a lot to hate about the world today. I mean, between the lack of electricity, horrendous snarls of traffic from abandoned cars, the total absence of a friendly face, and hordes of disgusting rotting cannibalistic walking corpses – let’s face it, there isn’t much to be happy about. Unless you count being alive in the face of all this, which is sort of a mixed curse and a blessing when all is said and done.
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My Concerns About the Present State of Male Sexuality
The male side of the sexuality equation, and one that I plan on offering my own personal perspective on. Consider that a warning for those who’d rather not know more about me than they already do.
I think it’s impossible to start a discussion about male sexuality without prefacing it with the following:
1. I’m a woman. I cannot know the male experience, but I do my best to empathize with the stories and observations I witness and that have been volunteered to me. I expect some people will disagree with what I have to say, but if you do so, please don’t do it on the basis that I’m not a guy so I couldn’t know. I am happy to be proven wrong if the argument is persuasive, but that argument just isn’t. We cool?
2. Traditional notions of masculinity feed directly, and indirectly, into male sexuality. Traits that society deems acceptable for traditionally masculine men to have include strength, power, courage, confidence, independence, assertiveness/aggression, and, last but not least, lust. I know that this list is by no means exhaustive, but, just so you understand…
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My Concerns About the Present State of Female Sexuality
I think this is important, because it ties into many of the things I feel and think, as well as tying into the things I touched on in my feminism post. There is a part 2 coming that I plan to elaborate on in a post of my own, from my own perspective.
Disclaimer: if you don’t want to hear about my sex life, skip the first big paragraph. It’s just for context.
Ok, here we go.
I am a sexually-active 25 year-old woman. Over the last 10 years, I have had sex in relationships, outside of relationships, with men, with women, with people that meant the world to me, and people that I downright didn’t like or didn’t care about at all. I’ve had boring vanilla sex and transcendently awesome vanilla sex. I’ve had kinky sex that didn’t do a damn thing for me and kinky sex that has completely changed my views on life. I’m friends with virgins, porn stars, submissives, dominants, and people who blush at the mention of 50 Shades of Grey. I’ve examined sex from romantic, psychological, physical, and social viewpoints. I’m not quite a sexpert, but I do consider myself somewhat of a sex nerd. I’m just pretty into sex as a thing…
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Five Things on a Monday – December 8th 2014
He hungers for souls.
Since I don’t have any opinions on hotly-contested topics I wanted to express – today, anyway – I thought I’d fall back on an old thing I used to do, five brief blurbs about something that I find interesting or annoying or happening or some kind of ing. Here are those five things for today:
1. I saw BBC’s Sherlock for the first time this past weekend. I’d heard a lot about it from people – well, mostly about how people of all sexes want to carry Benedict Cumberbatch’s babies – but I’d never gotten a chance (well, actually, I’d never carved out the space for it) to see the show before. I thought it was a great show, with an excellent cast doing an amazing job of putting Sherlock in the modern day without losing the Holmesy feel. BC (even I have my limits on how much I want to type) and Martin Freeman absolutely sparkle in their interactions and make a script full of superb dialogue really crackle like a mouthful of locusts. Moriarty, Lestrade, Irene Adler – they all put a different spin on the classic characters and really shine, but none more so than Moriarty (played by Andrew Scott), who makes both the funniest and scariest villain I’ve seen in a long time – he is just flat-out crazy and awesome. So if you have missed this obscure series (it’s only won several Emmys, BAFTAs, and Golden Globes and is the most-watched drama series in the UK and insured international stardom for BC – it’s been flying well under the radar and you’ve probably never heard of it), I’d recommend you give it a whirl. And unlike those people who expect you to watch the entirety of The Wire and Dexter and the Sopranos and Parks and Recreation and Scandal and etc and so forth – watching all of it would take you just one longish Saturday binge.
The Word “Redskin” and What It Means to This Washington Fan
A redskin potato, or a red skin potato. The jury is out.
I’m a fan of the NFL Washington Redskins, in case you haven’t noticed. My first memory of being a live, thinking, and functioning human is of watching a Redskins game in the basement of our house with my father and brother (as they lost to the fucking Cowboys, because of course they fucking did). I inherited my love of the team from my dad and sibling and it’s been part of my life ever since. I’m such a huge fan of this team, in fact, that I can’t watch them play and haven’t watched a Redskins game in its entirety without previously knowing the outcome in years. I know that doesn’t sound like being much of a fan, but I care so fucking much about what is happening that I lose my ever-fucking mind. A first quarter third-down stop by the defense leads me to an expletive-laced tirade about how lame the opposing team is and how I wish them all to die in a cancer fire, and that’s for a PRESEASON game. When they win (rare!) it brightens my entire outlook and psyche. When they lose (often!) it sends me into a bitter spiral of anger and despair. I actually frighten people who have the misfortune to be around me when for some reason I can see the game.
Yes, I have a problem. No, that’s not actually the point of this blog.
Why I Hate on Peter Jackson So Much
The shield-riding is probably not a bad place to start.
In another of my popular series, “Why I Hate on Random Shit Like TV Shows and Movies That Are Not Very Important In the Big or Even Medium-Small Scheme of Things,” I have decided to answer a question posed to me by a commenter on my last blog post. Basically, it boils down to this: as a fan of Tolkien, why do I hate on Peter Jackson so much when he brought so much of Tolkien’s vision to the big screen and mass audiences, revitalizing the genre and Tolkien’s legacy and exposing an entirely new generation to the joy and wonder of Middle-Earth?
Christ, when I put it that way I make myself feel like a crotchety misanthropic asshat who would complain about the method someone used to make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Of course, I am exactly the sort of person who would be disappointed if someone incorrectly assembled such a sandwich by, say, putting the jelly directly onto the other slice of bread rather than on the peanut butter, which is the proper method for creating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and anyone who says it is the same either way is wrong and should feel bad about themselves.
Why The Silmarillion is the Best Book Ever
Just fighting a god one-on-one, no biggie.
I know this blog is better known for screaming ranting hate and me bitching very loudly about things like cupcakes or Brad Pitt’s hair or smoke detectors and other things, but occasionally – very occasionally – I talk about things I love that are not currently being shit on by Peter Jackson and instead wax rhapsodic – or, well, as close as I can get to rhapsody at any rate – about things that bring me joy. This is one of those posts. Sorry to disappoint you guys.
Anyway, I love The Silmarillion. It’s been my favorite book since I took in the first few pages a long long time ago. I know I’m in the minority on this one. In fact, I know only one other person who agrees with me. Even people who love Tolkien and The Lord of the Rings can’t get through it at all in a lot of cases. Most people say it’s dry, it’s dull, hard to read, hard to keep track of what’s going on, etc etc yadda yadda.
I get it. It’s not written like most books. Of course, it’s not really written by Tolkien himself, since it was basically an attempt by his son Christopher to turn the vast amount of notes and work-in-progress stuff into a single cohesive narrative to share the history of Middle-Earth. But I’ve never thought of it as dry. Matter-of-fact, maybe, but there is a sort of poetry to the whole thing all at the same time. Check this out:
Blue was her raiment as the unclouded heaven, but her eyes were as grey as the starlit evening; her mantle was sown with golden flowers, but her hair was dark as the shadows of twilight. As the light upon the leaves of trees, as the voice of clear waters, as the stars above the mists of the world, such was her glory and her loveliness; and in her face was a shining light.
That’s fucking poetry, only less emo and not bullshitty like James Franco.
Winter in Derenemyn 