Toilet Rumination #127 (How to know if she loves you.)

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Nothing in this based on an actual person. I do not endorse any kind of harm or violence done to anyone. I am discussing subversive ideas through fiction.


How can he be in a relationship with a woman who wants to be in a relationship with someone else? She wants to be in a relationship with him but she also wants to be in a relationship with someone else. With him the relationship is close. She loves him and they have built a life with one another. She likes her life with him. They have some passion between the two of them but not much. They are close but in more of a friendly, companionship kind of way. It is a deep and meaningful relationship but there is also a lot of stress caused by her wanting to have relationships with other people. For example, she met another man. This man and her have good sex. They have the kind of sex she wants to be having. Long, hard, intense and mostly about giving her a lot of pleasure. She has the kind of sexual relationship with this man that she wants in her life. She also enjoys his company. She likes being around him because it is fun. They have a good connection with one another and she really enjoys her time with him. With the other man it is difficult for her. It is not always fun. There is a lot of stress and tension. Things are not easy and fun although at times they are. But for the most part there is a distance between them. But with this other guy there is no distance. There is fantasy. Things are very close and even though a distance grows between everyone, they are not there yet. She loves this close connection. She loves the fantasy. And she loves that it is fun and light hearted. She also loves that this man is completely head over heals about her. He is in love with her even though he tries not to be. She is in love with him even though she tries not to be. Who could not be in love in these conditions? And he, the other one, knows this. He feels it. He senses it. It is not hard to. And he is often upset about this. She comes home very late when she is with the other man. He waits up. She does not often text him. She gets very excited about seeing the other man. He gets excited about seeing her. He can feel how she is drawn to this other man. That is ok, he thinks. It is only natural. But he grows fearful. He freaks out. He thinks that she is going to leave him for the other man because he knows how much she loves sex and connection. He thinks that she is more in love with the other man than she is with him. He thinks that she does not want to be married to him. He thinks that she is deceiving him. Not telling him the full truth. He wants to be with her for the entire duration of his life but questions if she feels as strongly about him. He becomes insecure and afraid. He feels like he is going to lose her. He freaks out and then there is intense emotional turmoil. He wonders how he can be in this relationship without any emotional turmoil. Or with much less. How can he be with her when she wants to be with someone else also? Maybe he could just let her be free to be with this man, to have her fun with this man while enjoying his time on his own? Maybe he could be completely confident that she is committed to him while also wanting to spend time with this other man? Maybe he could  just let her be completely free with this other man while getting on with his own life. When she is with him that is great but when she is not with him because she is with this other man that is fine also. He gets sad and feels alone when she is gone but he needs to get over this. How can he create and live his own life while she is gone with another man? I suppose he would really need to feel like she loves him. He would need to feel like she is committed to the relationship. She would need to be able to continually prove this to him. Make him feel like he is safe even though he knows that no one is ever really safe. But then isn’t he putting too much emphasis on her to make him feel a certain way? Shouldn’t he rely on his own resources? If she wants to be with another man how can he be at peace with this? I suppose the only way is to let her be free. To take things day to day. But it’s hard because he grows sad that she wants to be with someone else. He gets upset about it and feels abandoned. He feels lonely without her. But he needs to get over this somehow. He needs to live part of the time as if he were single and part of the time as if he is in a relationship. It hurts him that she wants to be with someone else but it also turns him on. I suppose he would just need to know if she is in love with this other man and wants to be with him more than she wants to be with he. But how can someone ever know that? It changes from day to day. There is no insurance against this sort of thing. Passionate feelings can not be controlled. The only way that he can be healthy in a relationship with someone who wants to be in a relationship with someone else is if he lets go. If he just allows whatever is going to happen to happen. If he stops needing to know. If he just accepts what is and moves on with his own life while still being with her. This often confuses him. How does a person move on with their own life while still being in a relationship with someone they love? It is all very confusing. If there was a pill for non-possessiveness and fearlessness, he would take it.

Toilet Rumination #126

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Nothing in this based on an actual person. I do not endorse any kind of harm or violence done to anyone. I am discussing subversive ideas through fiction.

I am looking to meet an attractive and slutty young woman to engage in sexual and perverted fun with. I would like her to be very attractive and perverted and fun. Maybe you could call this a party girl. I really want a woman who is hot and intelligent and will settle for nothing less. I know that I am a 47-year-old man but that does not matter. I am still very attractive despite my thinning hair. I am very well-dressed and have a very educated and refined aesthetic and literary sensibility. I am a rare human being. There are not many of me around. I know no one like me. So I deserve to have specific tastes. I deserve to not settle. I will hold out no matter how long I have to wait for this girl. I prefer the word girl to woman. I like youthful women. I do not like women who have grown old, uptight and stodgy. I am not interested in women who have let themselves sag. I prefer women or girls who have a very youthful, free and sexual spirit. I made the mistake of marrying a woman like this and it bites me in the ass most days. That is ok though. That is how it goes. These women are wild. They want to be having sex. They want to be being adored. They want to be naked and laughing. They want to be free and intellectually engaged. I get it. One man can not possibly satisfy this voracious spirit. These women are animals. They are yet to be fully domesticated by man. They are yet to become a man’s property. I can respect this. I want this kind of woman. This kind of woman is the most enjoyable to be sexual with. I just want a fun and kinky and perverted sexual experience with someone I do not know. Some hot and sexy girl with style who wants to talk, listen to music and be sexual. This would be nice. I am not looking for anything else. I have everything else I need in my life. I mean I am always looking for the most contemporary and obscure music and literature I can find. I am always looking for good food and a relaxing place to sit, listen and rest. But I would really like to find a perverted, kinky and highly orgasmic woman to be sexual with. To hang out around. To go out with and have some fun. I am not bored with my reclusive and domestic life. I like it. I have lots of time to read, listen to music, write and keep to myself. But it would be good to share my existence with another woman. I already have a beautiful wife but it would be fun to share my life and my mind with another sexy woman whom I have no issues with. I want the clean slate. I want the brand new. I want the no water under the bridge. I want the not yet corrupted. I want the full on sexual connection. Sounds like an enjoyable thing to engage in a few times a week. Not sure how I will met this woman because most women around where I live have sticks up their asses, but I still hope. I still try. I remain patient and keep an eye out.

My Failed Saturday Night

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Nothing in this based on an actual person. I do not endorse any kind of harm or violence done to anyone. I am discussing subversive ideas through fiction.


Saturday night was a failure. But was it really?

It was and it wasn’t. It was because I failed to get my hands on the object of my desire. I wasn’t able to scratch my itch- not even with pornography.

The goal of most people on a Saturday night is to scratch their itch so it is not still here on Sunday morning. This makes Sunday more relaxing and the work week ahead less dreadful. A Saturday night where that scratch is not itched,  is a failed night. I am still itchy.

What is the itch for me? It is the desire to have a perverted, sexual experience with a stranger. Few highs are better than the high of a sexual experience with a stranger. Some have talked about this experience as being just as transcendental as an LSD experience can be.

So I am wanting and wanting and wanting and wanting to have this experience. Last night I came close.

My wife was out and I had my house to myself. How wonderful this was. I celebrated my temporary bachelorhood by making myself a steak and potatoes dinner. I played records loud. I smoked a lot of pot. I walked around my house and garden and listened to various sounds.

When I was finished with my dinner and the dishes it was 10pm. Normally by 10pm I am in bed (or close to it) but my desire was keeping me awake. I figured it was Saturday night and I was a bachelor. I should shower, get dressed nicely and have a sexual experience. Why not? It is only one or two nights a week where I feel this free.

I didn’t want to go to a bar and meet a woman. What was the chance I would actually meet someone? Also, I do not want to meet a woman and have to go through all that song and dance in order to get her naked and in my bed doing perverted things. I want to fall in love with a slutty woman and when you are a married man it is always better (and easier) to pay the woman you want to make into your beloved whore.

I also lack the energy or interest in bullshit. When I meet a woman I am direct in saying what I want. I’m not looking for a relationship. I mean we can hang out once or twice a week and talk and get high but I am wanting sexual experiences. Even if you just sit there nude and let me stare and touch you.  Most women these days are terrified of or offended by this. They are looking for a life of banality.

So I went on my computer searching for escorts. I found a few very attractive ones. I sent them texts letting them know how hot I thought they were. We worked out prices. I sent verification pictures of my genitals. Then they asked me for my address and I would panic.

I wanted to do it but what if the escort came to my home and robbed me? What if she killed me? What if she was affiliated with some gang and was getting the low down on my house so someone could later rob me? I have very nice things in my home. I need to be cautious. I didn’t need these potential hassles in my life right now so I told all the escorts I texted with maybe another time.

On-line I found a brothel, a seedy hispanic brothel, 12 miles from my home. I decided to go give it a try. I smoked more pot, finished my craft beer and stuck $150 in my pocket. I wanted to stay home, get in bed and read a book. But I told myself it was Saturday night. I needed to go out in search of a degenerate experience or suburban living was going to turn me into a complete bore.

I got in my 1982 Westfalia camper van, which was freezing cold. It lacks heat so I smoked more pot. I was very stoned and worried effusively about getting pulled over. My white Volkswagen van sticks out. Especially in lesser parts of town. I stick out. Especially in lesser parts of town. I told myself what happens will happen, just try to be cool.

I took my old but still strong and hearty camper van on the freeway. I got it up to 70 miles an hour and felt like I was flying through space. The stove and closets rattled in the back, reminding me that I was driving an old and unstable house on wheels and should slow down. I was too stoned to be driving that fast.

As paranoid as I was, I had the greatest time of my night driving that van at high speeds on the freeway, while stoned. GoogleMaps led me to the location of the brothel and I stopped out front. I turned off my van and sat there in the dark. I wanted to see if anyone else would go in or come out. A few gunshot sounds reminded me I was in the Ontario ghetto. I smoked more pot and wondered if all the girls would be thick and large. I prefer skinny and petite ones.

Do I really want to spend the money? Do I really want to do this? I debated with myself. I smoked more pot and thought about too many things at once. I felt some nerves about walking up to the blue lit door but I realized I had been there before. The women were all heavy-set. Did I really want to take the chance? I could spend that money on records and books.

I always go through this rationalization process before paying for sex. I normally talk myself out of it because I don’t want to spend the money. I tell myself to go masturbate. But I do want to spend the money. I want to have a wild sexual experience with a whore, but each time I talk myself out of it. I am a writer. Not a rich man. I can’t spend that kind of money on sex. It is either books and records or sex for me. I always chose books and records unfortunately.

I decided to drive back home. When I turned my camper van on I received a text from one of the escorts I had texted earlier. She was very cute and young. She agreed to come to my house and spend a half hour with me for $120. I told her I was a writer. That was a deal.

She asked me to send a verification picture of my genitals. She sent me one of hers. I was under stimulated. I am not a fan of female genitals. I am making an effort to get more into them because this is what I am told a man does. Being a man who does not like female genitals is like being old and having an aversion to flowers. It doesn’t make sense.

I told her she would have to give me 15 minutes to get home and then I would send her a picture. She said ok.

I raced home. I drove so fast I missed the freeway entrance. I was spacing out. I was high. I was having a blast driving that van at a moderately high speeds. I was looking forward to having a whore over to my house.

When I got home I did what I needed to do. I took a picture with my pinky in it (as she requested). She said thanks. Then she asked me for my address. I freaked out. She was so hot. I wanted her to come over. I wanted to have a cute little whore in my marital bed. I had the money. The price was right. It was 12am and I was very high. It was the perfect time.

I smoked more pot.

But what if she came over and robbed me? What if she was a police officer and I was to get caught up in a sting operation? It would be terrible to get arrested and have a clan of cops in my house. My house is a sacred space and I didn’t want to invite that kind of trouble in. What if she shot me or poisoned me? I wanted to do it so bad but chickened out. I told her that I was very sorry but maybe another night. She told me to save her number in my phone. I did.

I then felt relieved of everything I feared but had that itch still eating away at me. I opened up my laptop and put some pornography on. I watched very cute girls doing really attractive things. I wished I was there and I orgasmed. This experience was not nearly as exciting as a sexual interaction with a human would have been.

I still itched

My night was a failure. I got in bed and read Brion Gysin’s novel “The Process.” I pulled my small dog up against my side. I read. I smoked more pot. I was happy to be alone. I tried not to think about how I had failed once again. But then I told myself that it was not at all a failure. At least you have a good story to tell. Then I fell into a deep sleep.

Suicidal Depression

In our sleep we are plentiful, released at least in part from sordid conformity, whereas by day we wear the grey mantel of inhibition as if somehow it gives moral superiority. -Penny Rimbaud


What is suicidal depression? I have always thought of suicidal depression as a state of depression that induces suicide. But ironically enough, suicidal depression rarely leads to the actual act of suicide.

So then if suicidal depression does not lead to suicide what is suicidal depression? Is it a state of living with the continual feeling of wanting to commit suicide but never actually committing suicide? Is suicidal depression a completely dark and barren state of being?

I was thinking about this on my morning bike ride. I was wondering if I could be suffering from a state of suicidal depression.

Lets investigate this most difficult state of emotional and psychological being.

Assuming that I am and have been experiencing a continual and long-lasting state of suicidal depression, what does that mean? As an existentialist, it is my responsibility to understand these things.

I love life. I certainly do not want to kill myself. I would never go through with the actual act of suicide. I don’t think (a person always has the potential to be surprised by what they are capable of). It is true that I think of it often. I visualize it. I am aware that just this is a dangerously unhealthy mental state. But it has been my mental state for as long as I can recall.

Why am I often visualizing my own suicide? It is probably a way that I fantasize about liberating myself from this deep and often existential pain. Just like I will fantasize about having sex with a woman when I am feeling horny, I fantasize about suicide when I am feeling depressed. But this I believe is such a small part of what suicidal depression really is.

A person who is suicidally depressed is living life in a suicidal way. What does it mean to live life suicidally? Does it means to always take risks? To live with excess? This could be a form of living suicidally, often done when a person is young and reckless.

But most people who are suicidally depressed do not do the above things. They are the opposite of reckless in many ways. Instead, they have become much too safe and secure. They have become so safe and secure that these states cause them to not care about anything. They have the time, possibly, to reflect too much.

I do not know what the cause of suicidal depression is. Maybe it is caused by too much self-reflection. I presume it has something to do with a bad relationship with one or both parents while growing up. I also presume it has something to do with feeling lonely, with not feeling like one fits in anywhere. A person who is suicidally depressed usually lacks friends and a community of people with any vitality. A suicidally depressed person has retreated deep within themselves and as a result pushes others away.

I have always wanted to publicly protest the idea that humans are social creatures and that we need to socialize with other like-minded humans in order to feel well in our lives. I have wanted to prove or argue for the virtues of being alone. I have wanted to believe that we do not need others to make us feel well. We should be able to find or derive this sense of well-being and satisfaction on our own. But man can not live on bread alone.

Although I think it is true that we can (and should) find well-being on our own and through our own intellectual, spiritual and/or artistic pursuits, I also think there is a fundamental part missing. Suicidal depression can be birthed out of this missing part.

I am afraid to admit that we humans are indeed social creatures. I know there will be many who are disappointed in me for admitting this. Our well-being is more dependent on the immediate world around us than I would like to admit. Human beings need to feel connected with the surrounding geography of where they live. They also need to feel connected with the surrounding sociology where they live. There is some fundamental part of our humanness that I assume grew out of being in a tribe.

In the same way that humans need some amount of alone time, we also need engaging and vital time with others and with the land around where we live. After all, vital time spent with others is what creates culture. And culture is religion. Religion is a particular belief system by which a group of people live. A group of people watching a punk rock show together may share a similar belief system and as a result have a religious experience. It does not have to be churchy or gody to be considered religion.

The suicidally depressed person has no culture. As a result they have no religion. They are truly alone in the universe. They are in exile. They exist in a state of complete isolation, even when around others all day long. It is actually the being around others but not feeling a vital social connection with them that can turn loneliness into suicidal depression.

So what have we learned thus far? Suicidal depression is not a state of depression that leads one to commit suicide. It can lead to this but more often than not it does not. Instead a person’s life becomes like one long and slow dragged out suicide. They have lost interest in most things. They have stopped caring about things to and extent. They have pushed others away. In terms of being social creatures who need a vital community connection they have found themselves in a position of defeat and as a result they feel suicidally depressed.

So the essence of suicidal depression could be a general state of apathy (this does not mean that the individual does not feel other intense emotions). The suicidally depressed person is completely stuck in a particular situation in their life and an appropriate response towards being stuck or trapped eventually becomes apathy. Apathetic towards life in general.

The suicidally depressed person does not stop working. They do not stop taking care of themselves or doing the things they need to do to survive. But they don’t do much more than that because often times there is not much more they can do. They are stuck. Sometimes they are trapped. The best they can do is often make and sustain a comfortable cage for themselves.

I do think that suicidal depression is quick on the rise. The daily exposure to social media gives rise to a state of suicidal depression. Magazines used to make people feel bad about their own lives but social media is much more pervasive in a person’s life than magazines ever were.

Suicidal depression is a very serious issue. Why? Because it keeps an individual moving in a direction of degeneration, atrophy and defeat. These are strong forces for a person to struggle against. They will make everything more difficult than need be. This is why the suicidally depressed person could benefit from psychiatric medication or the continual use of low or medium levels of marijuana throughout the morning, noon and night (in the night one can be a bit more excessive with their marijuana use). These medicines can help to lessen the feeling and symptoms of depression.

How does a person remedy suicidal depression? I presume that a great escape would be needed. A grand escape from their current life. They would need to find themselves a more optimal social, cultural and environmental situation. Possibly they can discover this where they currently live but most likely they would not be dealing with suicidal depression if they lived in an environment which possessed optimal social, cultural, sexual, environmental and spiritual conditions.

But this may not be true. I am reminded of Mark Rothko who was a suicidal depressive. From my perspective he had all of the above conditions. He was a very successful painter. He lived in New York City. But still he was suicidally depressed. So there is not one easy answer to the problem of suicidal depression. It does have a lot to do with a person’s childhood experience I suppose. But I also think it is a fundamental risk a person takes when spending too much time alone. As I said, as human beings we need vital social interactions. Mark Rothko spent much time alone lost in the isolation of his own head. Maybe this is what caused his suicidal depression.

So maybe I too spend much too much time alone and as a result and suicidally depressed. I feel no connection with the surrounding culture or geography where I live. I have no friends nor do I really want any. But is this really true? No, sure I would like friends but they would need to be like-minded. Where am I going to meet a like minded middle-aged man like me around where I live? The chances are slim. I am not willing to make friends just for the sake of making friends. Most people do this and the result can be devastating. Without a like-minded and vital connection to another person an individual just ends up feeling more lonely even when with others.

So what is one to do about suicidal depression? It is difficult to escape when one is stuck. I suppose that all a suicidally depressed person can do, at a fundamental level, is realize that they are indeed suicidally depressed. That their life has become very lonely and a fair amount of apathy about things has overtaken them.

And then meditate. Or reflect. Or realize that we all have burdens to bear in this life. Some people’s burdens are just heavier and that is ok. Learn to live with your suicidal depression even if it hurts. Maybe some day it will be gone. Maybe it will never go away. But for now, you or I are suicidal depressed. It comes and goes depending upon certain conditions but it is always there, deep beneath the superficial surface of things.. So that is the situation we are in now. Ok. So be it.

Lets move on to other things now.

Toilet Rumination #125

Toilet Ruminations has been banned from Instagram. I am going to quit Instagram. What a repressive regime Instagram is. I mean there is not even anything that bad on my blog. But I do express ideas that are countercultural. My ideas are radical. Some of them are radical. Some of them are typical and even sad. But it is my honesty that is radical. We are not allowed to be too honest in our culture. The only ones who can be too honest are the ones who can afford being too honest. I can’t afford it but I take the risk anyways. I am a writer. That is my job. So I am going to quit Instagram. Maybe I will move to Twitter. Give that a go. See how long I can freely express myself until I am banned. I have already found myself censoring myself to avoid getting banned on WordPress or other places. That is not good if a writer has to censor themselves in order to reach you. In order for you to have access to them. That means everything you read, on-line at least, is censored in some way. That is not good. Who wants to read things that are censored? That is just watered down crap. Not full honesty. Not complete artistic and intellectual freedom. So everything you read on-line lacks this complete freedom. Possibly. If you read this censored stuff all the time written by writers who are censoring themselves you become watered down. Your ideas are lesser then. Your mind is just average. Filled with censored ideas. I don’t want to do it but I do it to avoid being banned. But I have already been banned by Instagram. Guess I was not careful enough. Maybe it was my description of jacking off in my garden while watching my wife have sex with another man in our home. Maybe that did it. Or maybe it was talking about my love of prostitutes. Or maybe it was talking about how conformist our culture has become and how to attempt to exist outside of it. Maybe I am just too honest about my struggles. It sheds too much light on contemporary inner-life. That is not allowed because if we all became aware of it, talked about it, were honest about our own struggles we would do something about it and repressive institutions like Instagram would collapse. Who knows. I have no desire to be happy. I am not interested in the goal of happiness. There is nothing more conformist and normalizing than the desire to be happy. Happiness is overrated. It is not a goal that I am interested in pursuing. There are few things more pitiable than the happy writer. I am more interested in pursuing meaning. Experience. Inner experience. Sex experience. Just experience in general. It does not have to be a particular way. If I am suffering and miserable that is just as valid an experience as being happy is. I take what comes and try not to have too much judgement about it. All these idiots in pursuit of happiness and judging others who do not share the same pursuit. But it is just a pursuit leading nowhere. Even the people who judge you for not being happy are not happy. It is a front. Happiness has become the default state for denial. It is not genuine happiness. It is just a status symbol. BS. Genuine happiness is the acceptance of whatever is happening. One can be happy even when miserable if they do not judge being miserable. I’ve gone off on a tangent again. I do this when sitting on my toilet. It is only because I see through the myth of happiness, because I do not buy into that false pursuit that I have been banned from Instagram. Instagram is supposed to be a happy place. That is ok. It is a terrible platform for my authentic self-expression anyways.

Toilet Rumination #124

I don’t like the liar. The liar is a very cowardly person. They are willing to create pain and destruction just so they don’t have to deal with or confront the truth of who they are. I really do not like the liar. The liar is an all-pervasive character type in our society. It is as American as apple pie. The liar thinks that they are being unconventional in their deceptions but really they are no different from their next door neighbor. Lying is the most typical behavior in today’s America. Everyone out there is lying. They are lying all the time. Lying is everywhere. This is what conformist society asks us to do. Lie and make a normal life out of the lie. The reason the liar gets away with lying is because everyone else is doing it. The moment the liar comes up against someone who is not lying, there will be trouble. Fortunately, in today’s America the liar does not often have to come up against someone who is not lying because almost everyone in America is lying. They have built a life out of lying. And we know what is behind lying- fear. And we all know what is motivating human behavior in today’s American society- fear. So if your behavior is being dictated by fear- you are just like everyone else around you. Even those who think they live with No Fear are some of the most cowardly people on the planet, terrified of being found out for who they really are. The thing about the liar is that the person that they lie to the most is themselves. They are contained within a huge lie so how could they know that they are really a coward? They lie to themselves all the time in order to believe that they are not. No I do not like the liar. They are a terrible kind of person. The kind of person who is willing to deceive themselves. I don’t like people who are willingly deceiving themselves let alone deceiving me. I like people who are in pursuit of truth. People who are dedicated to being more of who they really are. The liar is antithetical to this search. The liar could give two craps about the pursuit of truth. They are in pursuit of lying and deception. They are in pursuit of a false reality. They are in pursuit of hiding from themselves and everyone else. How could this be admirable behavior? No the liar is only admirable in their profound ability to lie to themselves and everyone else. I know this because I was once a terrible liar. I still tell small lies here and there (traces of lying are impossible to get rid of) but I am now in a committed pursuit of truth. I want to live in truth and am always trying to be as blatantly honest as I can be. I know what it feels like to live a lie and don’t want to go back to that. I do not know how much time I have left on planet earth and I want my time here to be lived in as much truth and authenticity as is possible. But I am always being confronted with liars. Liars are everywhere and as someone who was once a terrible liar and is no longer one, it is impossible not to see the liars everywhere. You can not hide something from someone who used to be that thing. They can smell it and see it from a mile away. They know what it looks like as well as they know what their own face looks like. To try to keep your lying from someone who was once a master liar is impossible. I can smell your lies everywhere and it makes it difficult to like you. Just like I always deceived others I can smell you deceiving me. I do not like how it feels. I get angry and resentful and want to kill you. That is how much I despise liars. But I am not a violent man and would never kill anyone. So I sit with my rage and disdain. I have to live with it and swallow it. If I tell a liar what I am upset about they will immediately become enraged. Any time a liar is confronted with the truth of who they are, any time they are shown how their behavior is seen by someone else- they will become wickedly angry. A liar is so stuck in their own lies that to become confronted with the truth and consequence of their behavior is too much. It is unacceptable. It threatens to blow their entire facade. They get too close to the tremendous fear they feel about being seen for who they really are. Lets grow up liars. Lets work on being this person who you really are. Lets stop the cowardice. Lets stop being like everyone else. This life is for being who you are. Lets rebel against the American Way by being truthful in everything we do and say (this is the most important form of rebellion). If there is so much fear around being who you are, see that this fear is destroying your life. Well, maybe it is not destroying your life. Maybe it is making your life easier since everyone else is living a lie. Since America has become the Republic Of Liars. Maybe it is the one who is committed to truth who is at risk of destroying their life. That is fine. I would not have it any other way. I could not possibly go back to living the lie.

Toilet Rumination #123

I have five minutes to sit here on my toilet seat and ruminate. Man. I am so sick of this. I can’t stand this. I have to see so many clients today. I don’t want to be doing this. I don’t like seeing clients. It is brutal. I would rather be doing things I want to be doing like sitting on this toilet seat ruminating. I would rather be left alone in my bathroom. But I have to be stuck in a psychotherapy office listening to clients talk about their crap. I don’t even like that word client. What a cold word. They are my patients but I do not want to be seeing patients today. I have had it. But such is life. The reality of work is that it sucks. It sucks for everyone who has to work a job. It is the way it is in the capitalism of today. Working sucks. No one likes it. Everyone would rather be doing something else it is just that most people lie about this. They pretend to be happy with their work but they are lying. Working sucks. It is painful. It is just the way it goes. Stop complaining. Stop being in denial that things are this way. Accept life for what it is. Get off your toilet seat and go back to work. Suffer. Why should you be any different from everyone else? Work is horrible whether you are a waiter, novelist or a psychologist. Doesn’t matter. Go back to work now.