Me and HTV

Me, HTV, and the bitches named Geeze and Louise

Please dump, unload everything on me. I can take it. Words spoken in moments of passion are the truest ones. That's why I perversely love to provoke, enrage, infuriate people and watch their reactions. Humans love to wear masks very tightly over their faces, love to inflate their self-worth. Passions---especial the negative ones such as anger, envy, hate---make the masks slip down, if only for a second. That's when I get glimpses of who they are and what they are made of. Geeze is such a person. I knew she wasn't too bright, but I didn't know she was cruel and crude until now. Louise was unduly arrogant and always thought she was smarter than she really was. She was not and is not cruel. However, she jumps over the fence every time, like a trained bitch that she is, if she runs into words she doesn't like. She let their lexical meanings overwhelm, crush, weigh her down. She is not free and flexible in thinking. She is defensive of her fragile ego, without realizing (despite her professing of being a student of Buddhism) that having an ego means still being insecure. She is not too smart and if I tell her that, her shit will hit the ceiling and she would start telling me that I am not smart either because if I were, how come I ain't rich and famous and no woman would not dump me, blah  blah, blah ad nauseam. The woman cannot think. She cannot dive beneath the surface of things. She just floats on superficialities, grasping for whatever intellectual hot air left behind by others. 

I am not cruel. There are times I wish I were. I am just unduly arrogant and self-destructive and the most strangely direct, crude, romantic, sensitive, lonely, emotionally weak, self-absorbed, and self-conflicting dude you ever meet. I don't wish to say I can be nice and kind, caring and loving, more tender than the night, and all that shit because saying so is tantamount to saying, "look, I am Mr. Nice and Wonderful. Come and get me before some woman does." That's cheap. I am not cheap at all. Not by a long shot. Not what I appear to be. There are more of me than what meets the eye. Shit, I read philosophy and write sappy poetry, talk like a fool, and yet smell like a rose, even at ten million miles away. That should say something about me. I can assure you one thing: you will never, ever, meet somebody like me. A strangest combination that ever sets foot on this planet. 

I wish you peace. And may the grace, in whatever form, guide and steer you in the right direction, always.