Monday, 13 December 2010

an inked up philosopher is the perfect woman, providing she can take a slap

alright, so why do all the decent girls have boyfriends who treat them like dirt? ill be your boyfriend


It is reported that the earliest evidence of the act of tattooing dates back to over 7000 years ago. The concept of modern tattooing on the surface, is for cosmetic advancement. To make yourself look sexier, funkier and cooler in the eyes of the world around you. Sentimental reasons are often cited for the motive behind getting a tattoo. Some people are genuine and earnest in this, some aren't. Some people justify their cause for a tattoo by hiding behind reasons they don't truly believe in because they don't have the confidence or self-esteem to outright declare they're seeking other people's superficial approval. Insecurities run through the collective mannerisms of society like water through a cheese grater. The industrialised, western world is dominated by impression. Seemingly we live in a continuous Crufts show, the main categories for judgment being fashion, taste, appearance and interest. Subjects intended to be shaped and moulded by our DNA and the way we grew into ourselves, i.e. "who we are." Instead they are contrived, customised and cultivated for the viewing pleasure of the onlooking, well herded, unified and united conformist crowd.

However, beneath the lies, fake rationale and artificial justifications, tattooing's routes lie in empowerment and the conquering of one's self. Like piercing, scarring and body building, the purposeful manipulation of our bodies awards us with a primitive, instinctive satisfaction. A staunch symbolism of control and self-mastery that gratifies and feeds us. When survival is all but assured, we seek pleasure and entertainment. When we experience stress or pain, the brain releases Endorphins. That feel good, laid back, no pain, no stress, blowjob in the shower kinda shit. Tattoos are painful. Being tattooed is like dozing peacefully in a hammock on a warm, lazy evening, the birds tweeting gently in the distance, having a beautiful woman fondle your balls and poke at you with hot, sharp sticks. Painful? Yes. Uncomfortable? Sure. Satisfying, gratifying and empowering? Hell yes.

Self-adornment is not an addiction. Pain is. We love pain. We scream and yearn for it like a young child clutches to his mother amidst frenzied fear. We mutilate and burn ourselves for pain, for the appeasing, enchanting bliss it tends to us. Is it any wonder people endure misery in work and relationships when we crave so archaically for self-destruction? What kind of delirious, demented and deranged individual strives for a stress free job and a healthy relationship?

Hey there doll face, I was just wondering if you wanted to come out with me some time? I’m generous, loyal and kind hearted. I’m out for a good time, I’ve always got a smile on my face and I’ll do my best to keep you safe and happy if it’s the last thing I do.

Thanks for the offer, you sniveling, low life fucking pansy - but I think I’ve got a better idea. I’m gonna go sit on that neo-nazi’s face and get off on his harrowing racism whilst his bigoted, prejudiced friends beat my face in with baking trays, belt buckles and beer bottles.

There are shitty people everywhere. From indecent cocksuckers with bad intentions to the dumb, narrow-minded, spineless cocksuckers that put up with them. Never be afraid to cut those people the fuck loose. All of them. Fuck fear. Fuck the fear of being alone, the fear of not being accepted, the fear of non-conformity. People go to waste because they live their lives everlastingly ‘putting up’ with people, with jobs, with shit they plain don’t like. “Let’s shake these chains and start living man!” “Nah, fuck that. I’m gonna stay shackled up in this rotting corner under this fluorescent light and wilt like the ball-less fuck flap I am.”

Have you ever sat down in a reflective mood and done a good bit of soul searching? Everyone must be familiar with that feeling. Well you fucking well shouldn’t be. Soul searching? What the hell is that? What are you even searching for? An answer to your bullshit problems? Apparently the power of your sub-conscious wasn’t enough to figure it out, but settling down and concentrating on the matter as the brain dead, puerile, insensate, dribbling fucking idiot you are will really help to crack the case and solve all your bullshit problems. No one has ever ‘soul searched’ for any one specific thing. People sit around, moping like the self-absorbed, egotistical, delusional degenerates they really are. Then have the outright fantasy to convince themselves they’re being productive and perceptive. ‘Course you’re gonna have problems when you can’t even be honest with yourself. Shit.

Aberrancy amongst beauty will never catch the eye like beauty amongst aberrancy for it is the light that imposes upon the dark and this will always endure. Fuck the grotesque.

1 comment:

  1. 'I'll be your boyfriend.'
    you type my thoughts