Sanpixee the Alien: Drunkenness
Beer before liquor or is it liquor before beer, don’t mix red and white, don’t mix different brands of tequila, don’t mix liquor and Asians….it appears that drinking is about as interpretive as Philosphy 101.
When has it become okay to only be our true selves when drinking. Forget drugs and other emotion blockers — for now we will speak about drinking — one issue per blog please.
If we are only our true selves when drinking, who is this person we are the rest of the time? Or for whatever role we are playing at any given time of the day…what is it that we are suppressing? For drinkers who get caught up while drinking and wake up the next morning clutching stained sheets to their chest with a horrified look on their face…who was it then that was n control the night before?
Humans are frail and it may be our frailty that will be our downfall. Not only are we physically weak with a thin outer layer, we are also vulnerable to attack spiritually. Our ability to be on “autopilot” but still carry out actions is provoking. When we have a car in cruise control does not mean the hunk of metal parts is going on its own accord, it means the machine has assumed the control we have knowingly relinquished.
Same with drinking. We have relinquished control, so who or what is behind the wheel? And why is it that it usually ends in destruction or regret? Which bring me back again to why is it that we beleive that we are our “true selves” when drinking. I think we have been brainwashed into thinking that…but that is not our true selves and it is not really fun…it is a opiate-like moment…soothing and comforting but short lived and fleeting….
Drinking is okay. Getting drunk though…hmmm….giving up our temple to the autopilots of destruction…not so much….
Sanpixee the Alien: The Fascinating Male Species.
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David Beckham
My world revolves around men, these fascinating yet simple creatures of simple minds and simple verbiage and the primitive hereditary bond they share with other men. I have no desire to be a man yet I long to consume them. During sex all I want to do is bite and nibble and taste and bite until they wince and scream and grimace from holding themselves back from pulling my hair, trying to decide if they like it or not, wondering who is in control, whether it is me or them – I love this fabulous species with more sexual, passionate, playful desire with a duller ache of a want of a emotional connection. Sex is my weapon and I like it and will always try to be better, always still seeking the perfect partner to giggle between sessions but someone who is willing to study me and my reactions like a teenager studying for a driving test scheduled to occur the following morning.
Is there only one man who will be my partner in crime or are there several? Is it one for a lifetime or one by one as in succession, each one bobbing their heads into my life to take another’s place on cue. I am never without a man or a love interest and without these, without someone to fantasize about - someone whose tongue I can imagine between my thighs it is hard and I don’t know how I would cope.
Along with my impatient disposition it is the man who has stimulated my mind and body which will be my undoing. He will be the kink in my armor, my sweaty palms, my witty banter and disconnected observations about the environment along with badly told boring stories of events long gone which would sound much more interesting and beleivable coming out of another more excited mouth than mine. This man, this mecca, this being would be as powerful a being in my world as Oprah..armed with no affect and the ability to transcend class, culture, breeding, race and religion, this being would be a personification of a key to zip— me— open.
He will be my muse.
And in his wake I will write no more witty banter but my prose would take on the adoration similar to that expressed by King David in his songs he wrote to his wife in the Bible. A calming, loyal tone…my prose will be an ode to David’s in being an example that prose of praise for the human who has your heart is rendered much more potent in the often misunderstood submissiveness of its tone.
My man will be the shit.
And I will be the shit for bringing not shit but THE SHIT out of my man. He will talk tall beside me and the clues to our fiery relationship will lay in our dilated pupils and childish pokes, prods and gropes…sneaking off in public places or in good company…we will be each other’s addiction. Our fights will be brutal and our lovemaking just as. We will tire each other out while constantly stimulating each other …our relationship will be an energy barter system…
I love men and I love that I have had the company of some damn good ones, men of few words but trained, telling touch…who have listening skills so well developed it can easily be listed on their resumes. Perhaps it is the company of these good men that has been my blessing and my curse. Blessing in their unknowingly revealing a whole new level of MAN, not redefining but altering the definition of MAN. A curse in the sense of, it takes so long to recover when things do not work out with a good man…especially when you are more concerned with preserving his legacy than listening to the winds of move on that blow in quietly from the east…
I love the men, my man to be and my partner in crime for life…
A man who will love me like Shihan loves his woman
*muah*
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Sanpixee The Alien: Sleep!
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sleep
I have not slept since coming to America and I refuse to take sleeping pills for it. A restful night here is about as elusive and as fruitless a pursuit as finding good jerk chicken. All I can do is bide wasted nights staring, forcing positive thoughts and orchestrating dreams like plays one act at a time.
My dreams are usually orchestrated around who currently makes my heart flutter or replaying an unpleasant recent scenario and replacing the real life ending with a preferred less awkward one…sometimes I even think of witty things, sayings or events that have amused me and wonderful things to add to social networking profiles…meaningless sterile thoughts, kept meaningless and sterile with the hopes of boring my brain to sleep.
Yet most nights it doesn’t work so here I am blogging at 4:54 AM, knowing full well I will be an unfocused mess by 10 AM…but too tired to exercise, too alert to watch a movie/sitcom, not interested in phone conversation…so here I am alone with my thoughts, forced to be introspective as I have nothing much to say or do regarding the real world when the one inside my head and inside my computer are so much more interesting.
I’ll turn off the lamp light, squeeze my eyes shut and try this one more time…
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