Red and Black and Yellow all over
So I chickened out. Ryan mentioned the red and black party... I kinda wanted to go, but I was doubting so much. I am trying to tell myself that I chickened out because it was too far (35th and Southern? Not the safest of neiborhoods), starting late, that I didnt know anybody there (besides Ryan presumably). I was just... scared. I don't know why i should be so scared. I mean... I already broke the first and most important barrier, right? And hell, I want to go farther, I don't want to be alone and waiting for something that will never happen if I don't seek it out, but somehow I just can't bring myself too it. I am relinquishing control over my life to my doubts and fears, to that strange unease in my gut.
It's so stupid. I like to tell myself that I don't keep myself in the same kind of box that those I see around me do. But am I really not in such a box, or is it simply a slightly larger box? Hell, I might even consider it a smaller one, considering I can see the way out of it but I am unwilling to leave. I am unwilling to break some covenant with my current existance. You'd think my appreciation for existentialism and absurdism might give me a few tips, but no, I just can't quite grasp my freedom. Either that or I wait for something to take me out of this, or at least a hand. Then again, thank you Sartre and Camus, it didn't work for Pierre and Eve, and it certinly didn't work for Meursault.
I am trying to belive my own beliefs. That existance is really only what you make of it. That pleasures of the flesh and mind need not be seperate, no, that they are one in the same. Is sex with someone you claim to care about really that different from sex with a stranger? Is the contact of a mouth to a mouth any different between the contact of the mouth and genitalia? Really, everything is broken down into nerves firing. One here, one there, one time, twice in a row, or more. Two parts pleasure, one part pain. One part pleasure... It all seems so simple. Its all just sensation, and lack there of.
I can then again ask myself, if I am trying to regain some freedom, what is the point of desiring simple pleasure. Its only value might indeed be that I desire it, and whether I will pursue it and be able to attain it. Then of course, I remind myself, that freedom simply is or it is not. If I was free, I could do, or not do, anything without hesitation. Doubting, and trying so hard to gain this personal control, seems by the very act to nearly destroy it. It leaves me sitting at home, thinking, like most things lead me to.
I won't be ruled any longer. I will seek one out, and I won't be held back my my doubts.
It's so stupid. I like to tell myself that I don't keep myself in the same kind of box that those I see around me do. But am I really not in such a box, or is it simply a slightly larger box? Hell, I might even consider it a smaller one, considering I can see the way out of it but I am unwilling to leave. I am unwilling to break some covenant with my current existance. You'd think my appreciation for existentialism and absurdism might give me a few tips, but no, I just can't quite grasp my freedom. Either that or I wait for something to take me out of this, or at least a hand. Then again, thank you Sartre and Camus, it didn't work for Pierre and Eve, and it certinly didn't work for Meursault.
I am trying to belive my own beliefs. That existance is really only what you make of it. That pleasures of the flesh and mind need not be seperate, no, that they are one in the same. Is sex with someone you claim to care about really that different from sex with a stranger? Is the contact of a mouth to a mouth any different between the contact of the mouth and genitalia? Really, everything is broken down into nerves firing. One here, one there, one time, twice in a row, or more. Two parts pleasure, one part pain. One part pleasure... It all seems so simple. Its all just sensation, and lack there of.
I can then again ask myself, if I am trying to regain some freedom, what is the point of desiring simple pleasure. Its only value might indeed be that I desire it, and whether I will pursue it and be able to attain it. Then of course, I remind myself, that freedom simply is or it is not. If I was free, I could do, or not do, anything without hesitation. Doubting, and trying so hard to gain this personal control, seems by the very act to nearly destroy it. It leaves me sitting at home, thinking, like most things lead me to.
I won't be ruled any longer. I will seek one out, and I won't be held back my my doubts.