I’m a bad bear. I should be punished, or at the very least hit repeatedly over and over with a stick. But I don’t want to go into that now…
Instead, I’m currently serving penance for a post I sent to septimuswarren. I ranted about how I hated reading Thoreau as a teenager. So, I just bought “Walden” and will start it tonight. I’m trying to be a better person, or at least expanding my horizons beyond my tight list of likes and dislikes.
With that in mind, here is a list of other things that I hate, and I should work on changing:
I’ve tried to like poetry. In the last five years, I’ve started several books, only to get bored and put them down. Alighieri’s “Divine Comedy”. W.H. Auden, which I bought because I like the fact he was homosexual, and I was touched by “Four Weddings and a Funeral” with every other fag in the audience. Similarly Pablo Naruda, after watching the movie “Mindwalk”. Yeats from the rock group the Waterboys and Heather Alexander. Shakespeare sonnets because I love the plays. Walt Whitman, because if I could go back in time, I would have sex with him in a civil war bunker.
And all the poems are good… they’re just dull. Boring and without a point. I think poetry is for people that like Deep Thoughts without committing themselves to a coherent argument. They are people in love with words, words, words. When friends of mine want to show me poetry they’ve written, I run screaming. I should try again… I bought “Leaves of Grass” and maybe I’ll try that after “Walden”.
I would be completely happy if I never left the house again. It’s not that I’m agoraphobic, it’s just that the best things in life are inside: electricity, computers, refrigerators, videogames. This morning I noticed that I walked outside and noticed some yellow… yeah the daffodils are out. But I didn’t look at them for more than a tenth of a second.
I don’t appreciate sunsets. If I stand outside a car looking at a breathtaking view, all I can think about is how I want to get started on the roadtrip again. If I squint hard, I can pretend what it’s like to be a normal person… I can see the beauty of a mountain, and could write a passable poem about it (see #1 above). But it feels fake.
The funny thing about this is that I *love* to get muddy. Caving or working cattle or 4-wheeling is a sexual fetish for me. And you can only do those things outside. So, I made a new year’s resolution to go outside more in 2007. We’ll see how that goes. Until then, I’ll be inside, unless my boyfriend forces me to garden.
Contrary to most gay guys, I don’t like sucking dick. I don’t know why. My friend Gerry once told me rapturously, “I’m very oral.” Anything goes into his mouth: lollypops, fingers, ballpoints pens. Many men’s penises.
I wonder if this is a form of self-hatred and homophobia… if by not sucking dick I’m portraying myself as a sexual top. But that doesn’t work psychologically – I love being fucked, and I’m not really into *getting* a blowjob either. There’s just not enough stimulation, and tons of things I’d rather be doing with the guy.
On the other hand, sometimes I like being a sexual slave. And sucking dick is mostly expected for a slave. And in a twisted way, I *like* the fact I don’t like sucking dick. When a Master makes me do it, the fact that I dislike it makes it a hundred times worse, and as a result, a hundred times hotter. And don’t get me started on force-feeding.
4. Watching sports
I imagine it would be fun to watch baseball on TV. My friends that like televised sports seem to enjoy themselves. I like the trappings of the games: eating food at the stadium, watching your team progress (or regress) up a bracket, gambling is fun. I had a former roommate who used to watch 10-20 baseball games a week, and the time he spent on the sofa was equivalent to a part-time job.
I love playing sports, though. Part of the reason is that I didn’t play rough-and-tumble as a youth (you know, being repressedly *gay* and all), so I feel that I’m making up for it as an adult. Getting lasik surgery five years ago changed my life, because now I didn’t have an excuse not to swim, jog, and get mud in my face.
But even games I am trying to get better at, like hockey, wrestling, and rugby, seem like classroom exercises when I watch them on TV. My body wants to follow the action on the screen, and my mind tries to figure out why the professionals are so good while I suck. I get exhausted, even with a few beers, and it’s not fun. The guys are hot though.
I’d rather be a Christian instead of an atheist. I miss the *music*. Ah, from classical Bach to puerile contemporary Christian rock like Amy Grant, I love it all. I miss the fellowship, the comradery. The sermons. The intellectual parsing of scripture. The self-help jolt on a Sunday that got me through the whole week.
But I’m missing something. FAITH. I’m not sure what proselytizing Christians want me to do. Sit quietly in the pew, even though I think the main tenets of their faith (the existence of miracles, the efficacy of prayer, the existence of god) are complete bullshit? Do they want me to fake it? Should I grin and nod and not let on that their arguments are empty?
I still read the bible. I read the prophets and visionaries of the old testament last summer, and whoo boy! Those guys were fucking nuts. Ezekiel in particular. I’m shocked at the lack of knowledge of most Christians. The primary details of modern faith aren’t in the bible. Human beings dying and becoming angels? Not in the bible. The majority of people speaking directly with god and hearing his voice? Extremely sporadic in biblical history, certainly not at today’s levels. The description of heaven in the bible is horrifying to me, certainly not like fluffy clouds and harps.
This is your book… not mine. Do you even *read* anything but the easy to understand parts? I think every since religious and spiritual person is guilty of an advanced degree from MSU: the school of making shit up. But I miss the certainly and belief. My life would be a lot easier with some certitude.
There are tons of other things I dislike but should learn to like: country music, wine, smoking cigarettes, sport shooting, laying on the beach, spicy food, photography, soap operas, hunting, ham radio, hiking, bridge, genealogy, birdwatching, astronomy, stamp collecting, opera, scrapbooking, and working on cars and motorcycles. So many of my friends enjoy these things that there must be *something* to them. However, I can’t seem to see the pleasure yet.