On Virtues and limits – vivisection of an epiphany

23 05 2013

I lack the virtue of moderation. This is all and everything about me. You don’t need to know more.
The truth, pure and simple: in my core I am boundless, I cannot be contained. Like a wild animal, like a river, I am bold and exaggerated in everything I do.

This whole is the point from where everything originated, especially my way to deal with what needs to be done and what shouldn’t be done.
Having no moderation means that sometimes I do silly things because my drive is to go above and behind, I am a traveler of deep space where the goal is the unknown, I like to break rules maybe – especially if nobody punishes me.
So, again, this is the core of my behavior being boundless, unconsidered. If I eat I will eat all, if I read I read it all, if I fuck I want to fuck it all, if I buy I buy everything if I spend I spend. Nothing else has interest for me.
I cannot understand or cope with mediocrity. Every single thing I see and feel is so special and weird that I cannot understand how people can be mediocre or mean. Everything could be so beautiful.
But this comes with a price and that price is harsh to pay… therefore I learnt in the past to be sensible, to don’t do silly things, to stop myself.
But this is all wrong.
I shouldn’t stop myself, I should be “stopped” by someone, like a wild animal in a cage somehow – the beauty I have is all in my intensity and if I try alone to castrate my intensity, I will become something sad and dry… but if someone cultivates this intensity – making it blossom, suddenly it makes sense.
I could go deeper in me, release my true self, because I would know I would always have someone who is capable of stopping me when I would go too far. This is the reason I am a slave, I want to be free.



But freedom is extreme.


A dull week for a surprising Saturday.

4 05 2013

Last week was indeed surprisingly simple. I visited my parents and stayed there, tipical holiday for someone pretty unable to save money like me.
The thoughts of my childhood are long gone, the motherly house is changed so many times that now I can’t see anything I relate to, so any flashback is highly unlikely. We have now a nice balcony from when I see an abandoned building and a lovely view of the mountains. I found myself thinking how it would be to cross that fence and delve deep into that building to be wonderfully abused while there is silence in the valley.
I found myself reading Wittgenstein a lot, his strict and demanding prose pushes my mind toward a semantic dissonance which mirrors in negative the confusion I have in my mind.
Because again is a matter of choices and decisions, two things I never was really happy to find on my way. Let’s take a step back and fly over my neural synapses, those thin contacts between neurosis and libido, where pleasure lies like an abandoned whore… it’s there that I intimately feel that taking decisions it’s not something I should be entitled to do. I see choices like a burden of many kinds, like a rock I must lift but I am unable to. Why it is so? Why to decide it’s such a tremendous task? I suspect it’s because somehow fix things in place, while I prefer motion and chaos. It’s also the fact that with decisions comes inevitably the necessity to leave a path for another and somehow this sounds weird.
I am paralized by choices, they represent something I am deeply unfamiliar with and they always trouble me behind measure.
When someone takes a decision for me, I feel the burden leaving. I feel someone must choose something for me because they know me better, they know what is best for me while I might not be so adamantly good with myself.
It’s like when you’re a child and you simply obey and you have a wonderful spinning inner life because all the burdens are taken away from you.
As a slave you are free to be free, whilst you are actually following a series of strict protocols it is clear to you that that miraculous childish joy has its roots in your giving up everything for you owner.

Now I must go. Work is calling. I suppose I must finish my thoughts but I needed to write these feeling before they could evaporate in the evening.

I must be captive of someone else desires to feel real?
I must abide to orders for I have no order for myself.
Or I must open up and simply play.

Find me where-ever I hide

1 05 2013

Today is a strange day. A very strange day. Today is a day for epiphanies so I guess some writing should be in order. I said I would write more, but I didn’t exactly gave myself a goal. I think that so far two posts a week would be enough, two posts on anything that crosses my mind, not only BDSM but also games and philosophy and other stuff.

Today I speak of myself though, and I speak of a peculiar place where I found myself the other day and I need to explore. This will be a long post, because I have so much in my mind and I need to write it down. I hope my few and patient readers will be forgiving as usual.

Everything started when at a cash desk a sales assistant recognized me as a customer that made some fuss about something a month ago. We work for the same company so when I approached to pay and she made some funny remarks, I thought she was joking.
She wasn’t. She hates me. She hates me because in her memories I made a big mess in her corner of the shop, while in the end I just wanted a bag from a mannequin but we found the bag somewhere else and I bought it.
In her mind, her version of me and of that episode, was of a mad customer – while in my mind I was merely joking about taking it from the mannequin and in the end nothing wrong happened. She told me that I am an egomaniac of some sort – to which I politely stopped talking after I realized to my horror she was NOT joking.
Beside the simple and easy solution that she was not paying attentions to facts but only to her impressions and my erratic behavior  what I found fascinating is something I already tried to learn from: the imagine we have of ourselves vs the imagine others have of ourselves.
A week before, something similar happened at work and I found out that my behavior is interpreted in a very malicious way.
There will always be haters, there will always be backstabbers, I know. I am merely not fitted to cope with them because most of the time I assume that everyone say and does what they like and believe, which is something of such an absurd and naive epicness that I should probably put myself in a mental asylum and threw away the key.
I do though, as much as possible, try to live by a rule of truth and simplicity. I try not to complicate what is already complicated, I try to find a common ground with everybody because I firmly believe we are all human beings and we should behave in a logical and responsible way. I know that my words and my actions have consequences and I expect the same from someone that speaks with me.
Such is not the case. I felt very bad last week because of this, because I could see how much hypocrisy is involved in social interactions, how many lies and how easily the reality of things is distorted.
What eludes me is though the reason why I can’t see this coming, never ever and why I keep trying to find the best in everyone.
For being a depressing and erratic personality, I seem too eager to give the patent of easy-going to everyone, basically doing the same fucking error of applying my way of thinking to everyone. Which is not the case.

I must remember myself I am peculiar. I must remember I am growing to be more and more INTENSE and PASSIONATE about what I like and believe and that my believes and my thoughts are not the ones of the majority. Otherwise the world would be pretty fucked up I guess.
I must constantly remind myself, every time I speak with someone, that they will be prone to misinterpret everything I say, or must I live my life by my rules and don’t give a fuck about people.
How can I make sure that the idea that I have of me – of a smart, easy-going, sometimes depressed, painstakingly ironic geek with intense passions – is reaching out my every day audience?
Am I so different from them?

In all this I still want cock so badly. I want to be punished badly too. I want to be owned. I want to scream to the world I am a fucking faggot and a wannabe slave and I want to live my life as INTENSE as it needs to be. I don’t want anyone to mess with my INTENSITY and my PASSIONS. These are all the beauty I am.

the real question though is:

In the meanwhile, porn is the answer. and music too.