Connies>>>>>>>everything
If anything can represent a triumph of will over matter, it's my just having scanned about twenty pictures of Connie despite scanning being a huge strain on my arms and my back and my everything. I'm shaking everywhere from fatigue but I'm still typing this up because it's a fucking achievement, dammit.
And it's funny how I've always been very much kneejerkily against all these religions and philosophies that moan about the body and the world being miserable and rubbish and how the spirit world/God is better, but I've certainly grown to understand them better the older and more ill I get. I'm still not embracing those philosophies because fuck hating and denying the only body and the only means of experiencing good things you've been given, but this knowledge (and putting those philosophies in the context of the pre-antibiotic and pre-vaccine era where pretty much everyone would've had some constant aches and pains... yeah). I felt like I was fighting against the flesh and against nature when I was forcing myself to hunch over the scanner and do the thing (whenever I scan books, I obviously have to hold the scanner lid down and for a high-res scan, it takes almost a minute to scan a big picture and I have to hold the lid down for all that time). The muscle fatigue and the exhaustion were constantly fighting me, but my life force/Eros/whatever the hell you want to call this burning, spiritual-erotic-transcendental passion I have for Connie told it to shut the fuck up because this needed to be done. More pics of him need to be brought into the world for people to look at and to get aesthetic pleasure from, I thought, like I was the madame of a Veidt brothel/cinema/art gallery/library. And while I don't want to divide the body and the spirit like that, into warring factions, I really do have a deep understanding of *where* that dichotomy comes from. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, et cetera, and while Mother Nature is a fucking bitch at times, it doesn't mean I'm still not a part of her, so hating her would be to hate myself and that wouldn't lead anywhere--it'd be like trying to saw my right arm off. I like my arm. I like drawing and writing and wanking with it, dammit. Even if it's a weak arm and it's trembling even as we speak.
So, now I've got about twenty pics of Connie that I have to clean up and post, and most people won't think much of it at all, but for me, it's like I've just run a fucking marathon and finished first. So, just so you know. It's a triumph.
Also, he's a stupidly pretty bastard.
BASTARD.
I'm exhausted, but feel satisfied. His beauty is its own reward.
And it's funny how I've always been very much kneejerkily against all these religions and philosophies that moan about the body and the world being miserable and rubbish and how the spirit world/God is better, but I've certainly grown to understand them better the older and more ill I get. I'm still not embracing those philosophies because fuck hating and denying the only body and the only means of experiencing good things you've been given, but this knowledge (and putting those philosophies in the context of the pre-antibiotic and pre-vaccine era where pretty much everyone would've had some constant aches and pains... yeah). I felt like I was fighting against the flesh and against nature when I was forcing myself to hunch over the scanner and do the thing (whenever I scan books, I obviously have to hold the scanner lid down and for a high-res scan, it takes almost a minute to scan a big picture and I have to hold the lid down for all that time). The muscle fatigue and the exhaustion were constantly fighting me, but my life force/Eros/whatever the hell you want to call this burning, spiritual-erotic-transcendental passion I have for Connie told it to shut the fuck up because this needed to be done. More pics of him need to be brought into the world for people to look at and to get aesthetic pleasure from, I thought, like I was the madame of a Veidt brothel/cinema/art gallery/library. And while I don't want to divide the body and the spirit like that, into warring factions, I really do have a deep understanding of *where* that dichotomy comes from. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, et cetera, and while Mother Nature is a fucking bitch at times, it doesn't mean I'm still not a part of her, so hating her would be to hate myself and that wouldn't lead anywhere--it'd be like trying to saw my right arm off. I like my arm. I like drawing and writing and wanking with it, dammit. Even if it's a weak arm and it's trembling even as we speak.
So, now I've got about twenty pics of Connie that I have to clean up and post, and most people won't think much of it at all, but for me, it's like I've just run a fucking marathon and finished first. So, just so you know. It's a triumph.
Also, he's a stupidly pretty bastard.
BASTARD.
I'm exhausted, but feel satisfied. His beauty is its own reward.