Stereotypes appear to be somewhat true in some cases. The Chinese do look all the same. Especially the women. It's amazing how after spending almost six months walking among them, I can verify this with some certainty. Long, 'poker' straight hair, small tennis-ball sized tits, yellowish-fair plain stretched skin and ugly hands (the cuticles especially in the case of middle aged women). Doesn't the description fit all Chinese women in some way? Six months and not a face I can particularly remember. 'Tis strange.
It's remarkable how I feel nowadays. Or have been feeling since 2008 when I decided to become an advertising student at IIMC. I feel numb, like Alice in Wonderland. I'm sure Alice mustv'e felt the same way. Not sure why or what she was doing in the rabbit hole, but continuing to walk nonetheless. Is that really a symbol/metaphor for life? Does everyone really feel vacant and directionless most of the time but having taken a certain course feels too defeated to alter it and just carries on? Is this the realization that made Shakespeare liken life to an actor's time on a stage in a play-scripted by someone else with seemingly random 'scenes' and characters? If you're playing the part of a character in a play, you often times wonder, why is this moron behaving in this manner? Why doesn't he do this or that and not what he's actually saying or doing? It's like you're being forced to lead someone else's life, words and actions already thought of for you by somebody else-an invisible, omnipotent specter not physically present but looming over the proceedings of the play nonetheless. Yes, that's exactly how I feel. When I was doing my masters, I felt like I had control over what I was doing. I wanted to pursue something in a certain way and knew how to get it done. Then I left Calcutta and into advertising and everything seems to have changed. I feel like I'm an actor on a stage-I don't speak my words or perform my actions-they have been written and thought of by somebody else. I'm not what I am. I wasn't supposed to be in this rabbit hole meeting freaks, but now that I'm here, I might as well keep walking or risk loosing my mind. I have broken clear of this earth, like Kurtz in that cerebral wilderness and something dead is inside me.
Porn is pure. There is something so non-adulterated about it that its freeing. The act of pure fucking-one purpose, no bullshit. No trappings, no morals, no values, no nothing. Just two bodies made for pleasure. And I'm fully aware of the whole commodification of sex, of the female form, artificiality argument that the nay-sayers have put forward. But the 'act' itself, the mimesis, deals with the most banal and the most profound of human achievements. The dramatization of pleasure in its rawest form in the act of copulation not just for procreation. Its the pinnacle of our progress thus far. The highest metaphoric form for human struggle and triumph, the prime fusion of nature-d bestiality and nurtured civilization. It is wholesome and momentous and like all great forms of art ultimately futile, realizing as you wipe your cock after a frenzied bout of masturbation. And just to add and elevate porn to the annals of great artistic mediums, like all of its peers, it makes man seem hopeless, alone and weak.
It's remarkable how I feel nowadays. Or have been feeling since 2008 when I decided to become an advertising student at IIMC. I feel numb, like Alice in Wonderland. I'm sure Alice mustv'e felt the same way. Not sure why or what she was doing in the rabbit hole, but continuing to walk nonetheless. Is that really a symbol/metaphor for life? Does everyone really feel vacant and directionless most of the time but having taken a certain course feels too defeated to alter it and just carries on? Is this the realization that made Shakespeare liken life to an actor's time on a stage in a play-scripted by someone else with seemingly random 'scenes' and characters? If you're playing the part of a character in a play, you often times wonder, why is this moron behaving in this manner? Why doesn't he do this or that and not what he's actually saying or doing? It's like you're being forced to lead someone else's life, words and actions already thought of for you by somebody else-an invisible, omnipotent specter not physically present but looming over the proceedings of the play nonetheless. Yes, that's exactly how I feel. When I was doing my masters, I felt like I had control over what I was doing. I wanted to pursue something in a certain way and knew how to get it done. Then I left Calcutta and into advertising and everything seems to have changed. I feel like I'm an actor on a stage-I don't speak my words or perform my actions-they have been written and thought of by somebody else. I'm not what I am. I wasn't supposed to be in this rabbit hole meeting freaks, but now that I'm here, I might as well keep walking or risk loosing my mind. I have broken clear of this earth, like Kurtz in that cerebral wilderness and something dead is inside me.
Porn is pure. There is something so non-adulterated about it that its freeing. The act of pure fucking-one purpose, no bullshit. No trappings, no morals, no values, no nothing. Just two bodies made for pleasure. And I'm fully aware of the whole commodification of sex, of the female form, artificiality argument that the nay-sayers have put forward. But the 'act' itself, the mimesis, deals with the most banal and the most profound of human achievements. The dramatization of pleasure in its rawest form in the act of copulation not just for procreation. Its the pinnacle of our progress thus far. The highest metaphoric form for human struggle and triumph, the prime fusion of nature-d bestiality and nurtured civilization. It is wholesome and momentous and like all great forms of art ultimately futile, realizing as you wipe your cock after a frenzied bout of masturbation. And just to add and elevate porn to the annals of great artistic mediums, like all of its peers, it makes man seem hopeless, alone and weak.
