So who here feels sympathy for this guy?
So who here feels sympathy for this guy?
Modern day Cathedrals of Steel, you stand as an example for man. But what example is it that you set? Who is being worshiped upon stage lit by flashing bulbs and never ending cameras. It matters not if housed between those walls are the most spiritual of people because they are not of the people anymore. They are religious movie stars and how amusing that so many in this world turn a blind eye to the mansions that mirror these plastic churches. Who dwells in that fine house that sits in the shadow of the MegaChurch that feeds it? Does God live there as well?
No… only a man. A man with other people’s money.
Just so people know… I don’t intentionally skip comments. Even if you are checking time stamps… I hope people realize I do make an attempt to respond to all comments on this website. No matter how ignorant, foolish, mundane, odd, humorous, random, scary, or terrifying. I appreciate anyone that leaves me a comment, remark, or threat and thank you.
my boy i am the shade of his sun afraid he will burn, but i am more than the smell of the bosom he has learned, to grow up and leave and cleave to the woman of his heart i am the album of regrets and and deficiency and forgiving the roots that climb deep down parents' omissions i am the redemption of the years my mother pushed through the choices she didn't have on grit and coffee did you know? korean grandmothers don't have a name but Grandma in korean and tradition erased their childhood -- no one heard -- their cheerful silence was their greatest gift to us i am the epode on the piano G major 7 in improv and syncopation while i keep time for my family, i am the sus pension that knows to resolve the holistic heave of my jazz i can S C A T i am the cherry blossoms that concede their soul in season, unabashed and the ones that could not hold on their delicate dance down in death dust to dust i don't need self-esteem i know Whose i am but God doesn't have twins and He doesn't make machines we are each His masterpiece no -- no, i don't want to roar that i am Woman i just wish silence -- license -- to put to paper my person who cares what i am but the earnest page and the memories and dreams that ask not to die i am the apology that i know what i want and have begun to sing before the cicada's time i am the choices i live with am almost the books i wait wait to write. Holistic Wayfarer at holisticwayfarer.com
Seoul never sleeps. It is still the Summer of 2000, but we are waiting to depart back home to the United States. I called my mom and she said a few of my friends wanted to meet me at our house after I arrived if that was ok. They were hesitant, the grape vine of information must have let them know something possibly traumatic had happened to their friend while in Korea. Suspicions should not be hindered from the fantastic, I was obviously a North Korean spy now.
We are sitting in my dining room. My family and a few of my friends are here, I hand out a few gifts. I don’t really remember too much from this period, it is kind of like a dream that someone told me about that I then feel like is my own. I probably could remember more, I probably don’t really want to. I do know that while in Korea I developed a love for the spirits. In Korea you just need to be able to crawl to the bar and say “Soju!” and the God of soju appears. I was eighteen at the time, took first grade twice to learn English for those counting, so drinking sounded like a remarkably great idea. I recall guzzling a pint of rum, post finding out my big news, then proceeding to spread my breakfast, lunch, and dinner all over Pusan. Yes, drinking was definitely for me. Now let’s go to college…
Don’t preach to me feminists about what you stand for anymore. Here is an idea, go preach to your “so called group.” It is OTHER FEMINISTS that are giving you a bad name. I suggest an annual convention to really get your group’s goals down in print.
I hate arguing with feminists. All they have to say is “well you don’t get feminism.” Others will say “well those women aren’t really feminists.” At what point do WE that aren’t feminist get to say “well what makes your feminist views better than that girls over there?” All this man hate everywhere is so amusing to me. Who do you hate women? The successful man? The privileged man? The good looking men or maybe the men that just think they are good looking? Do you also hate male bunnies? I do.
When your movement gets taken over by enough fractions it is no longer valid. It is a failure. Taking the goals of the original feminists and calling it something else (how about humanism?) might be a good idea. How long before you all get tired of making excuses for the “other feminists?”
How long before the feminists that are really about equality understand that they are outnumbered by the man hating women in this world? We men have accepted their existence, is it not time you feminists did as well and addressed your internal issue? Open your eyes.