Sanpixee the Alien: Writing is My Sex?
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Writing is my sex, my drug, my intimacy, my sports, my favorite time of day, my long warm bath, my plush bed. It is as much my safe cave as my reckless open air. Writing is to me what pilots talk about when they lift off into the sky into the “Big Blue” – where they are light and free – and all they can see and think about is the air all around them so do I lift off into a world where worlds flow all around me, a room of language where I can curl up and just be.
I will ride this writing phase out like a drug high, not really able to predict when I come down, but will use it to channel oft dormant parts of my being right out into the open, expelling it into a ruthless world for it to be dissected and scrutinized, where it can lay gasping for air like a fish who jumped out of its tank onto hardwood floor, knowing that an irreversible decision has been made.
This is my talk, my communication, when I feel most alive apart from dancing… the verbal I am not so good at, but the written I love. It is my intimacy, my language of love, my highest form of expression – it is all encompassing or everything remotely talented that I can acknowledge. A gift for language, sentence construction and the ability to infuse each combination with my sense of humour and self deprecation. It is always hard for me to talk about what I love doing – and it often comes out unconvincing as this is such a private affair, a secret kept between me and wordpress, often taken advantage of in moments if insomnia. Today I have been awake since 5:45 AM, maybe earlier but I just gave up and took out my computer hoping to yet again bore my brain to sleep.
In much the same way as my body has kept me home the past couple days due to its need to expel toxins is in the same way I feel my writing expels mental toxins, a healthy way of mind renewal, a way of regrouping and assessment. Many people can go from event to event without stopping to assess, to renew, to check in with self – for me it is vital, necessary replenishment in order for me to conduct any further social interaction.
I praise God for this gift and accept it willingly. I also hope I can fall asleep soon.
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Try this one and see how you feel:
http://sanpixee.wordpress.com/2008/12/19/sanpixee-the-alien-the-fascinating-male-species/
Sanpixee The Alien: Beyonce’s “Halo”
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Remember those walls I built
Well baby they’re tumbling down
They didnt even put up a fight
They didnt even make a sound…
There are no apologies for feelings… as there is no control over feelings unless Mr. Miyagi is your teacher. Although I could quote Confucious or one of his friends, there is nothing more raw, more honest and more applicable than this song I heard yesterday….
The risk that I’m taking
I’m never gonna shut you out…
Although the male species never stop fascinating me and holding my attention – my attitude towards them is one of two extremes. Either I really love them because of their physicality or I am completely indifferent towards them as a species. In my self therapy sessions I have found this gnawing thought: that I am not really capable of feeling sympathy, empathy or compassion towards men because within myself I do not beleive that men have emotions.
This is not bragging or arrogance but more like an admission, a confession, the unmasking of a fatal thought process.
In fact I think I more view males as transient “here-today-gone-tomorrow” beings, good to hang out with, have a bunch of laughs with but who will inexplicably leave my life as a result of distance, time or one of us getting into a relationship. Though I have male friends since young days, only one or two I would say are my bonafide hardcore friends. My father is very present in my life but has only recently become emotionally available which has led me to further self-diagnosis – I feel the need to take aloofness and emotional distance from men as signs of “something-to-work-on”, “something-to-stick-around-for” as this is a person who may actually be screaming on the inside for love, someone who may have missed formative years of social development and emotional regulation – someone who needs my patience and non-nagging. Chris Rock in his latest comedy special states that the best phrase a woman can hear from a man is “I ain’t going nowhere.” I have heard this once.
Remember those walls I built…
If I could count the many men who have told me that they could never know what I was thinking. Many times I wanted so bad to tell them, but I was so unpracticed and so nervous that it would come out like a pile of gibberish. Pen and paper being my most effective means of communication, which 17 year old boy could you imagine accepting 5 pages of prose with quotes from obscure writers and weird trivia as a profession of like for him? Not anyone I knew. And so after each inevitable transient being, I locked my main means of communication farther and farther away from the males, thereby distancing myself into oblivion, and right now I see them as penises and nice smells who I pray do not overstay their welcome.
Well baby they’re tumbling down…
The rawness of this song and the accompanying video completely took me off guard, until I nearly started crying. The intense intimacy of this video was so real and no-one was half naked, no jiggling bottoms up and down, no fancy dance number but it captured intimacy in its purest form. For 3 minutes and 44 seconds I sat with my jaw open, as living a life saturated with sex and sexuality everywhere from menus, radio and television advertisements, pure adult human connection portrayed by the media is rare. In fact, the key to why I am such a fan of this video is that there was no cheap intimacy indicators – no kissing, no half-nakedness in bed, no ecstatic wide-open mouths AND I LOVED IT.
There are many of us who are oversexed and underloved, those of us who need reminders of intimacy, those of who have screwed for like, screwed for love, screwed for pleasure and are just over it. I fact this video comes on the heels of when I have been considering going celibate as sex has brought nothing but confusion into my life for the past year, sometimes a fake joy, but more stupid decisions than one person needs.
And here comes Beyonce, with her blue-eyed man looking at her like she is a crown jewel, reaching for her while he is asleep. I want that, need that and deserve that… I need to untwist my brain to re-understand my understanding of the males. Thanks to whoever is responsible for the concept , creation, editing, cinematography and casting of this video.
Here is the link:
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