(Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business)
-by neil postman
1985
In the first lincoln/douglas debate, abe had ninety minutes to respond to douglas's hour-long opening speech. Then stephen got to speak again. Any points they made were specific, contextualized, and comprehensive. By their standards, the event was short; an earlier debate had lasted seven hours. Any chance politics might return to that format?
Postman's book, about the degradation of public discourse in the television age, is not exactly what you might expect. Neil's point is not that cheesy sitcoms and mindless dramas are sucking our brains out, but rather that in an age when television has become the essential conduit of our interaction with the world, everything becomes entertainment. TV has to look good for ninety seconds, while leaving our minds clear for the next segment. It's not junk TV that's killing us, it's news programs, Sesame Street, and commercials. It's Jeopardy (and its moron cousin, Trivial Pursuit). It's religious programs - at least in the past, their leaders were people of deep study and earnest intent. Now, they're teflon talking heads angling for a guest spot on SNL. Have you heard of the Dunkers? Their one commandment, had they been immodest enough to declare it, would have been "Thou shalt not print thy principles, lest thee be entrapped by them". Gee, i wonder why they died out?
Postman analyzes the history of mass communication, to deconstruct how each revolution changed not only how we disseminate information, but how we think. The telegraph laid the foundation for our all-encompassing "what's next?" mindset.
Neil compares the dystopian visions of orwell and huxley, and argues that "Brave New World" was much more prescient for a species moving into the "information age" (a conclusion huxley himself came to in "Brave New World Revisited").
A point neil might make were he around today - is it possible that the much-lamented decline of America's schools is not simply about budgetary neglect or the world catching up, but also the inevitable fruits of America's charge into the television age? Are we first in dumbing ourselves down?
And what would neil make of the "golden" era of reality television? Oy.
I'm almost embarrassed it took me this long to get around to reading this book, even with roger waters' subtle exhortation. It's scathing, and deserving of a spot on any list of books every thinking humyn must read.
Sunday, August 26, 2018
Sunday, August 12, 2018
In the Meadow
(I was cleaning out old files yesterday, and came across this piece i wrote in my twenties, as an attempt to deal with the loss of the first real romance of my life. It's pure navel-gazing, and overwritten - nothing you need read, unless you're patient. I've resisted the temptation to edit. It's filled with alienation and the nigh-impossibility of rising above selfishness in this society, but there's also a sweetness in my quixotic younger self...and even back then my dedication to nakedness, no matter how unflattering, was apparent. And i set it in a meadow! Perhaps when i named this site, i was subconsciously tapping this memory? I also love how i made one of my alter-egos female - pretty radical for a product of a culture of chauvinist machismo. The characters are classic freudian archetypes - the intellect, the unrestrained impulsive, and "me" in the middle. I've risen above most of the shallowness that tormented me here, but that ticket leads nowhere when everyone else is still playing the objectification game. I'm at least much more forgiving of myself now...the present "me" understands how dysfunctional our society is, especially over anything to do with romance or sex. This younger me still believed there was some way to to get it "right". It's easy to read this and think the relationship must have been a crashing failure, but it wasn't...we loved each other very well. Reading this was painful. Such sadness and longing...)
-a drama by rob shineyoung, 1997
CHARACTERS
William Fudd
Worthington Freely
Wonker Fangdripper
(a meadow)
Wonker: (to William) What the hell are you moonin' about?
Worthington: Let him be, let him be.
Wonker: He's pissin' me off, he's draggin' me down.
Worthington: So maybe he is.
Wonker: Fucking dumbass. Fuck this, let's party.
Worthington: So party.
Wonker: Ahh, don't yank my fuckin' chain, you lousy blastopore. Ain't much of a party with Dopey sittin' over there. (to William) Hey, mope-ass, how 'bout I pop you in the head a few times, will that pry your head out of your ass, or the world's ass, or whatever-the-fuck-her-name-is ass?
William: I don't know.
Worthington: Wonk, let it be. Maybe you start popping him in the head, and maybe he gets up and forgets. Maybe he joins that tango that you're about to weave, because he loves you, and he loves being that dance. And then what? The dance stops, and he ends up exactly where he is. And why so? Because you took him there once already today, and what did it accomplish? It brought him right back where he was. So let him be there. It's where he is.
Wonker: Ahh, don't even try to sell any end/means justification crap. The very premise your point is built upon, your idea that the dance must begin and end, shows that at best you compartmentalize the dance, and that at worst you view it as some sort of "other", maybe real, but definitely not essentially you. You wet yourself at the idea that the dance may be the only real there is. Well, the dance didn't put him where he is, and it for sure ain't looking for any blessings from a pinhead like you!
Worthington: I would not presume to give it one. I want the dance, my respect...my desire for it grows.
Wonker: Bullshit. You fear it.
Worthington: How can you say that?
Wonker: You may take a hundred thousand steps in a desert toward a distant ocean. But unless you take the step that drops you into that ocean, you will always and ever be firmly in your desert.
Worthington: Wonk, you're a ball buster.
Wonker: Yeah. Ain't it a beautiful thing?
Worthington: All I'm saying is that if he is resisting leaving where he is, then maybe that's all the reason we need to let him be there.
William: Hi, guys.
Wonker: It speaks!
William: Feeling frisky today, Wonk?
Wonker: You bet yer sweet ass, bwana.
William: Wonk, Buddy? I gotta ask, because I'm probably just imagining things here. It sounded an awful lot like there was a voice in this meadow discussing "compartmentalizing" and "premises".
Wonker: Ahh, bite me, bwana. I been hanging out with a bunch of pinhead wankers.
William: Wonker and the Wankers. Wasn't that an early rhythm and blues group?
Worthington: Jazz quintet, I believe.
Wonker: Ahh, bite me, you wankers.
Worthington: I was going to mention it myself, but I was just so damn proud.
Wonker: Well then, William, he'll be even more proud that I...no, I'll not say it now, as it might be interpreted as a sour grapes of some sort, as though you little pinheads might actually be capable of getting under my skin.
Worthington: I can hardly wait. (pause)
William: Okay, lets talk about pregnant pauses. Raise your hand if you love em'. That's what I thought.
Wonker: Well, the pause to get pregnant is rather invigorating... (pause)
William: Okay, there it is again!
Worthington: William, who talks? One who is not at peace with their thoughts? We're all aware of it, we all feel it, but the unrest is something that you bring here. Why?
William: I am sad.
Wonker: Oh, a breakthrough.
Worthington: What did you think? That she would walk right in, and announce that henceforth all her mail was being forwarded here?
William: No...I didn't think that.
Worthington: What, then?
William: I didn't expect this feeling of wondering if it all was a lie. Or of being a "bad guy" when all I'm doing is busting my ass trying to care for her.
Worthington: Oh, you're so fucking noble. So you're sad because you think she's running away from everything you thought you ever had in common, that she never believed any of that stuff in the first place? You want to talk about lies? Okay, let's talk. Let's talk about the things you never told her, right from the very beginning, Mr. "if-you-don't-reveal-your-deepest-thoughts-you-haven't-got-anything". Let's talk about these things. Do you remember when you met, how you had been wanting for awhile to find a lover or friend to make out your will with? Because doing so would be such a sweet opportunity for someone to learn about you, and about things and people that are important to you? Whatever happened to that? She was there, and you thought about it a few times, but never moved on it.
William: The right time never came up.
Worthington: Excuse me, how many months did you spend together? You wouldn't be bullshitting me, would you, William? Was it maybe because deep inside you were holding out for someone better?
William: I...maybe.
Worthington: Uh-huh. What about the stories, what about William Fudd the storyteller? The poems and stories that have long been such an important part of your life. Hadn't you longed for a lover to tell whispered tales to in quiet moments?
William: I...often thought about it, and did some of those things a few times, but it was her. I never really felt that she was as excited about listening to such things as I was in telling them. So I told myself that your lover doesn't have to respond to all of your passions just as you do, and I moved on. Which is healthy!
Worthington: Quite right, but not the issue at all. The issue is lies, and the truth is that you never really told her just how disappointed you were that the two of you did not share that aspect of your life more. Even if you didn't love her the less for that disappointment-
William: Okay, you're right.
Worthington: Yes, perhaps I am. What else, William?
Wonker: Massages, good Worthington, massages.
Worthington: Oh my yes, what about those? How can you possibly explain that in all the time you were together, you never showed her your passion, your skill in the beauty of giving to another through massage, anywhere even remotely near it's fullest expression? A few measly rubs here and there, when your hands and arms are the contact point of a tool that has lovingly taken many on hour-plus journeys to undreamt-of planes of relaxation and body awareness? How did that possibly happen, or rather not happen? Did she not deserve it? Did she not want it?
William: To this day, I'm really not sure.
Wonker: Is that a cop-out I smell?
William: It was the ticklish thing, at first. She was so ticklish. And the feet thing. It was hard to relate to someone who wasn't comfortable with being touched. And her ass, she seemed truly unhappy with it. She never seemed comfortable with all of her body, and that was hard to relate to. I decided that maybe she just needed time, to get more comfortable with herself.
Worthington: But time went by, and...nothing?
William: I don't know...I lost...
Worthington: What?
Wonker: What he's trying so hard not to say is that she didn't do it for him, that she didn't inspire the necessary passion.
William: No, that's not true...I would have been ready at many a point, but...
Worthington: But what, she "lost out" because she never demanded your best? For someone who claims to be as giving as you, that seems a strange thing to say.
William: I know. The whole thing just seemed to sit there, and I'm not quite sure why.
Wonker: Cop-out!
Worthington: Well, the issue here is lies, and whatever the reasons, the fact that it "just sat there" doesn't seem quite in synch with full disclosure, does it?
William: No.
Worthington: Alright, then, what else?
Wonker: Ooh, get to the sex.
Worthington: Oh yes. One of my favorite lies of yours, William. I love that charming little story you tell about how the sex after the breakup was just bad, an insult to a beautiful act. Well, you always neglect to mention that the selling sex short went back a little further than that. Like, to the beginning, basically? You've got your little "sex is about communication" trumpet, but...didn't you kind of gloss over the oral sex part, her pleasure a little, and yours a lot? You were curious about what more you could do for her, ways to make oral sex more than just fun foreplay. It occasionally was, but that was a bit accidental, wasn't it? And then what about yours? There you had a sweet, eager lover on your hands, and she was trying to figure out why her efforts took so long to get you off (the few times that they did), and why it could have taken gosh knows how much longer if you hadn't finally made a real effort to reach that peak. What helpful hints or suggestions did you give? You didn't understand the reasons yourself, but you gave her damn little to work with. You solved that question by not asking for it, and focusing on her pleasure more. Which may give you a point or two for generosity, but so much for communication and two-way streets, right? Alright, what else. I also loved how you never quite told her how really mystified you were with how quickly you often came, in intercourse with her. And, as a result, the two of you never really explored why that was, as much as you could have, right? Oh, you told her about your liking to be underneath, but she simply didn't like it so much that way. And so the two of you avoided that position, which you didn't mind so much, again because you were a giver, but perhaps to a fault, eh? And, Mr. great sexual communicator, since you yourself have said that avoiding the truth is just as destructive as any outright lie, you were guilty of cheapening your sexual relationship pretty much from the start, correct?
William: There is truth in what you say. But if I may say so...I had been learning to enter a sexual relationship with the attitude "Tell me...tell me what, where, how long, what not, why, how many...teach me what you like." And then she comes along, and her answer to these questions is "I really have no idea." That kind of throws my game plan out the window, you know? So maybe it can be understood if I focused on the things that somehow, amazingly, seemed to actually be successful, and kind of shoved other things aside.
Worthington: Your point is taken. But for a person who has almost no frame of reference for the feelings and sensations she is experiencing, wouldn't that make full communication more, not less, important?
William: Your point is taken.
Worthington: And there's more to it than your explanation gives, more going on that you kept to yourself. Wasn't there? Somehow, on some level, you seemed to be willing to hold back, to keep your very best from the sex you shared. Why? Wasn't she worth it, weren't both of you worth it?
Wonker: That's it, Bubba. He was saving his best for someone who really got his rocks off.
William: Now wait, now just...slow down.
Wonker: No bullshit, buddy, no cop-out.
William: If you want a simple answer-
Wonker: Yes.
William: Look, the element of keeping it simple, focusing on the things that did seem to be working, some of that's legitimate. Not only was she nearly a complete stranger to what we were sharing, but so much of what she had experienced was just wrong and bad, in ways that people should never have to deal with. There was so much to overcome, such a long way to go.
Worthington: And you were the one who was going to descend from heaven, and lead this poor, lost sheep to your promised land.
William: To her land. I never claimed to have all the answers. I always wanted to learn from her as well.
Worthington: Well, that's very nice, and possibly true, but are you going to say that you didn't have the attitude of saving her, of lifting her out of her emotional and physical wasteland with your healing love?
William: Yes, in a way, but I needed saving, too, a shelter of love in this world.
Worthington: The same kind of saving she needed?
William: No.
Worthington: Then you've got to admit to an essential inequality in your relationship right from the very start.
William: Yes.
Wonker: And so, St. William, you're going to pretend to be perplexed that she walks away from a relationship which was founded on inequality?
William: An inequality which was dictated by the circumstances, and could even out with growth over time.
Worthington: But which was there! Why are you fighting it? What's more, it didn't even out, because growth does not flourish amidst lies.
William: No, in the time we had, it didn't.
Worthington: You like the lost ones, don't you, William. Do you fear the ones that aren't lost?
William: That's not fair.
Worthington: I withdraw it. And I wait. For that which is unsaid. Is it your own shallowness you fear?
Wonker: Well, I'm glad somebody finally said it! For cryin' out loud, William, her body just didn't do it for you!
William: That's not true! Her body did plenty for me.
Worthington: So it did, William. Your love for her, your regard for all that she was, strong these were. And truly, never did you fake the desire for union with her. But acknowledge things for what they are.
Wonker: And acknowledge her ass for what it ain't.
William: But...dammit, that started with her. I wanted to love her ass, but she was all "hands off" and "let's just pretend it's not there". You try to get excited about an ass that you suspect the owner would probably trade in, in a heartbeat. Anyway, it didn't become so much a turnoff for me, more of a non-thing.
Worthington: Which is a little true, but also not, because you know that your passion demands loving all of that which you embrace.
Wonker: Including the area of the body from the hips to the knees, Willy. You sure didn't need any prompting from her to be turned off there, did you? Cellulite, anyone? Willy, have you let go yet of that silly idea of yours that you can love and desire someone purely on the basis of the person inside?
William: The idea may have been rocked a bit by experience, but it's not dead.
Wonker: Well, air your sins, buddy boy. Tell us about the night of that party.
Worthington: The six of you kids, having fun at your friend's place. The games. "I can make you smile." The sleepover.
William: It was the first time, the first time I really took notice of the shape that she was, or rather wasn't in. And found that I was turned off by it. When we carried her through the hall, I looked down and noticed that she wasn't just a little soft, she also had a little extra weight hangin' around. Not of the muscle variety, y'know? Of course, it probably didn't help that she was drunk. That's never been real attractive. And at any particular moment when you find a lover unattractive, there's almost always more to it than the primary, obvious reason. I defy either one of you to listen me in the ear and tell me that's not true. Anyway, she was laughing as we carried her, and I felt guilty to be having these thoughts. She had made my love and acceptance important in her life, and here she was this laughing, drunken girl, basically clueless to these thoughts of mine which would have trampled her security and happiness. Yes, I felt guilty.
Wonker: And this from the one who says he's "got no time for guilt", that "life's too short" for it.
Worthington: Even if there was more to your unattraction reaction, William, the issue here is sex.
Wonker: And your fact, William, is that then, just as right now, the prospect of bringing down a sexual earthquake, or a sexual infinity of tranquility, with a lithe woman, one like yourself, one whose spirit exults in the passion of raw physicality, one whose muscles tremble and respond like yours, one whose body explodes, runs, pushes, and persists like yours, this prospect arouses your passion and inspiration in ways that the body you carried down that hallway never possibly could. Even now, these mere words I speak have stirred something in you.
William: Yeah, a little.
Worthington: Don't feel bad, buddy. Hell, I'm a little turned on.
Wonker: So tell me that sharing love with the type of woman I've just described wouldn't add an intensity to your lovemaking that was never there with her. You won't, because you can't.
William: I reject the notion that I could never reach my full sexual intensity with a woman who didn't fit the description you've given. I reject it. I...but as for her...and remembering that these things you mention are only a small part of the complexity that is a sexual love relationship...as for her, you are right. She knew some of the truth of what you speak, but not all. All right, any other lies?
Worthington: How about...and this is possibly the most insidious of all your behaviors with her...how about the fact that you were never as proud of your relationship with her as you maybe let her think you were. Certain things there were that she probably always sensed were not there, things that would have opened her up to you in ways that could have been wondrous to behold. The picture of her that never appeared by your nightstand?
William: Nightstands.
Worthington: Nightstands. The eagerness to show her off, to have her meet all of your friends, where was that? Throwing her on the phone with your faraway friends she couldn't meet? And when you were out with her in the world, with her friends or your friends or strangers, where was the talking up of how beautiful a person and lover she was?
William: Stop. Up until now, the truth has been strong in your words, but you have just dived into an ocean of grey, and the leap that you took to get there was so huge that the shore is but a distant memory. Not once, never once did I ever tell her that she was the center of my life, the thing that completes me, or any other type of ridiculous thing like that. Never once did I ever tell her that I wanted these things, either. And Vishnu, you make it seem as though she were some dirty little secret of mine!
Worthington: I can only strive to be as good a friend for you, William Fudd, as in truth you do tirelessly strive to be for me. I do not claim that you were not proud of her, nor do I claim that you never showed to others the pride you had in her. Above all, never would I seek to deny the strong love, the true caring you had and still have for her. I, too, remember the time just a few months ago when you told Jude, one of the most precious people in your life, that part of the change Jude was noticing in you was due to the fact that, for the first time in your life, you had been part of a sexual love relationship that was healthy, caring, and mutually healing on deep levels. But the fact that this lover of yours was not there to meet Jude, tell me that was not, on some level, in some way, liberating. Again, William, this is simply about lies. And just as you would do for me, I can do no less for you than to tell you simply to smell me in the nose, as you might say, and tell me that "dirty little secret" did not in some way, no matter how small, describe a part of the feeling you had for her. (William is silent) Wonker! Where've you been?
Wonker: Oh, I just...went out and had it all.
Worthington: Did you?
William: Is there any left?
Wonker: Oh yeah.
William: Anything else?
Wonker: I met your friend.
William: You met her?
Wonker: Oh yeah. She's sure...um...well, she's...she's kind of contradictory, y'know? I mean, kind of cute, but kind of contradictory.
William: I know. Most people are, you know.
Wonker: Yeah. I knew there was a reason I was glad I wasn't one of them.
Worthington: So, what were your other complaints about her? Oh yes, you feel unjustly vilified in your efforts to care about her. Really though, William, I would think you might be very glad to be vilified in her nostrils. If your protests are valid, about her choosing fear over love, and whatnot, then I would think you would at least be honored that she cares enough to vilify you. If she's got the passion to vilify you, it could either mean that there might be a truth in your words that she would rather ignore, or that at the very least, she does care about you. In either case, you or the things you stand for are a real part of her life, something that no amount of vilification will ever take away.
William: Worthington, you say the sweetest things.
Worthington: Anything else bothering you?
William: Not much.
Wonker: (offstage) Hey, guys! I see her! Here she comes, Willy! Boy, does she look happy...oh, ah, well, it's actually not her. Just a U.F.O., or a weather balloon, or somethin'. Sorry, little buddy, false alarm! My bad!
William: Wonker, your momma wears combat boots.
Wonker: Yeah, I hear she's one rip-roaring, sheet-burning fuck, too! What's your point?
William: There are things I wish I could say to her.
Worthington: To Wonker's mother?
William: Like when she would say that a friend's job is to be supportive, and understanding, and that I was failing her as a "friend", I would say that a friend is also one who understands when the person they love is messing up, and doesn't just sit by quietly. At times, I am still literally stunned by some of what she's done. Her insistence that I am never to be allowed to meet this new lover she's got...is so atrociously childish, so unbelievably third grade, that I somehow am still waiting for the punch line which has never come. I begin to wonder if he even exists. There were moments in our relationship that reached into me deeply...moments of connection when she truly seemed to start to understand some of who I was, and so much more than that, that she saw some of these parts of me as being beautiful, as being worth struggling for...and now, her actions seem to scream "I was never actually too damn impressed with these things that you were...it was fun to pretend that I was, but that doesn't interest me anymore."
Worthington: Are you sure that you're not just incensed that she didn't become your apostle of "St. William's Truth", adoringly giving up her spirit and thirstful young body to the altar of your benevolent brilliance?
William: You know, that's just like you, to take a point I am about to make, and turn it right back onto me. I did not want to own her-
Worthington: Didn't you? If she had, bit by bit, become more like you, embracing with passion all of your mental, emotional, physical, sexual, psychological, and whatever views you have, you would have rejected her?
William: I'll admit that, on a deep level that most of us are only dimly aware of, we do spend our lives in a largely unfulfilled searching of the world, yearning to find ourselves in something or someone else. And if she had embraced my essences, made them hers, not because they were my ideas, but rather because she believed in the ideas themselves, I'll admit that the attraction would be powerful. But she seems to be taking the search for commonality too far, her new beliefs seem so suddenly to be so far from who she seemed to be. I know that we all must search, and try different things, to answer or raise questions about ourselves, but her changes are so sudden that it seems her search does not concern other people at all, that all she searches for is a mirror to gaze into, to admire her reflection, and now she's found a replacement mirror, one that is easier and less challenging.
Worthington: And you are saddened because you know that some of what you say is mere speculation, because she has shut you out.
William: Yes. It seems that, once upon a time when she sought my love, that it must have been something else she wanted. Because my caring for her is as strong today as ever it was, but it seems now that her caring for me was merely contingent on our being lovers, an "I'll love you if"-type of love.
Worthington: Love given, but at a price; again, a person stands before the twin paths of love and fear, and fear is embraced.
Wonker: What's fear?
William: Nothing, Wonk. Not a thing, buddy.
Worthington: You've been rather quiet, Wonker. Any thoughts?
Wonker: What, are you two still yadda-yaddaing about all that mopey stuff?
Worthington: Yes. Any other thoughts for William?
Wonker: Oh, I've got something for William, but it's certainly not a thought.
William: Am I good enough for it?
Wonker: You show some potential. Oh, and Worthington, why you fail in any attempt to understand the dance, is that you insist on understanding the dance as an "it". Understanding will only come when you realize that the dance will never be an “it”. The dance, my friend, is you.
Worthington: I was wondering when you'd get around to that.
Wonker: And William?
William: Yes?
Wonker: Words bore me just now, but I'll toss out just a little bit more. Wouldn't it actually be a bit ridiculous to be surprised if your friend starts acting like a typical eighteen-year old American female? I mean, that's what she is, right?
Worthington: Actually, Wonk, somebody told me she was nineteen.
Wonker: Close enough. Near as I can recall, the peak maturity level that the average American female reaches is about eighteen years old, anyway, right?
Worthington: Well, the divorce rate is pretty high these days, which has boosted that maturity level a bit, but you're still basically right.
Wonker: So. And, if Freely here will recall some earlier advice, then Freely will most certainly have to back me up here. If, William, this is where your friend is at just now, then make your point, which you have, and let her be there.
Worthington: What's that deafening noise? The sound of peaceful thoughts?
William: What do you say we get out of here, guys?
Wonker: A primo idea. What the hell is this place, anyway?
William: It's sort of a poetic image, I guess.
Wonker: Well that's precious. Nothing against poetic images, but what do you say we head some place a little more...
Worthington: Intense, Wonker?
Wonker: You know it, Bubba. (Wonker and Worthington head off) Well, Fudd?
William: I'll be right by your side in a couple of minutes.
William Fudd
Worthington Freely
Wonker Fangdripper
(a meadow)
Wonker: (to William) What the hell are you moonin' about?
Worthington: Let him be, let him be.
Wonker: He's pissin' me off, he's draggin' me down.
Worthington: So maybe he is.
Wonker: Fucking dumbass. Fuck this, let's party.
Worthington: So party.
Wonker: Ahh, don't yank my fuckin' chain, you lousy blastopore. Ain't much of a party with Dopey sittin' over there. (to William) Hey, mope-ass, how 'bout I pop you in the head a few times, will that pry your head out of your ass, or the world's ass, or whatever-the-fuck-her-name-is ass?
William: I don't know.
Worthington: Wonk, let it be. Maybe you start popping him in the head, and maybe he gets up and forgets. Maybe he joins that tango that you're about to weave, because he loves you, and he loves being that dance. And then what? The dance stops, and he ends up exactly where he is. And why so? Because you took him there once already today, and what did it accomplish? It brought him right back where he was. So let him be there. It's where he is.
Wonker: Ahh, don't even try to sell any end/means justification crap. The very premise your point is built upon, your idea that the dance must begin and end, shows that at best you compartmentalize the dance, and that at worst you view it as some sort of "other", maybe real, but definitely not essentially you. You wet yourself at the idea that the dance may be the only real there is. Well, the dance didn't put him where he is, and it for sure ain't looking for any blessings from a pinhead like you!
Worthington: I would not presume to give it one. I want the dance, my respect...my desire for it grows.
Wonker: Bullshit. You fear it.
Worthington: How can you say that?
Wonker: You may take a hundred thousand steps in a desert toward a distant ocean. But unless you take the step that drops you into that ocean, you will always and ever be firmly in your desert.
Worthington: Wonk, you're a ball buster.
Wonker: Yeah. Ain't it a beautiful thing?
Worthington: All I'm saying is that if he is resisting leaving where he is, then maybe that's all the reason we need to let him be there.
William: Hi, guys.
Wonker: It speaks!
William: Feeling frisky today, Wonk?
Wonker: You bet yer sweet ass, bwana.
William: Wonk, Buddy? I gotta ask, because I'm probably just imagining things here. It sounded an awful lot like there was a voice in this meadow discussing "compartmentalizing" and "premises".
Wonker: Ahh, bite me, bwana. I been hanging out with a bunch of pinhead wankers.
William: Wonker and the Wankers. Wasn't that an early rhythm and blues group?
Worthington: Jazz quintet, I believe.
Wonker: Ahh, bite me, you wankers.
Worthington: I was going to mention it myself, but I was just so damn proud.
Wonker: Well then, William, he'll be even more proud that I...no, I'll not say it now, as it might be interpreted as a sour grapes of some sort, as though you little pinheads might actually be capable of getting under my skin.
Worthington: I can hardly wait. (pause)
William: Okay, lets talk about pregnant pauses. Raise your hand if you love em'. That's what I thought.
Wonker: Well, the pause to get pregnant is rather invigorating... (pause)
William: Okay, there it is again!
Worthington: William, who talks? One who is not at peace with their thoughts? We're all aware of it, we all feel it, but the unrest is something that you bring here. Why?
William: I am sad.
Wonker: Oh, a breakthrough.
Worthington: What did you think? That she would walk right in, and announce that henceforth all her mail was being forwarded here?
William: No...I didn't think that.
Worthington: What, then?
William: I didn't expect this feeling of wondering if it all was a lie. Or of being a "bad guy" when all I'm doing is busting my ass trying to care for her.
Worthington: Oh, you're so fucking noble. So you're sad because you think she's running away from everything you thought you ever had in common, that she never believed any of that stuff in the first place? You want to talk about lies? Okay, let's talk. Let's talk about the things you never told her, right from the very beginning, Mr. "if-you-don't-reveal-your-deepest-thoughts-you-haven't-got-anything". Let's talk about these things. Do you remember when you met, how you had been wanting for awhile to find a lover or friend to make out your will with? Because doing so would be such a sweet opportunity for someone to learn about you, and about things and people that are important to you? Whatever happened to that? She was there, and you thought about it a few times, but never moved on it.
William: The right time never came up.
Worthington: Excuse me, how many months did you spend together? You wouldn't be bullshitting me, would you, William? Was it maybe because deep inside you were holding out for someone better?
William: I...maybe.
Worthington: Uh-huh. What about the stories, what about William Fudd the storyteller? The poems and stories that have long been such an important part of your life. Hadn't you longed for a lover to tell whispered tales to in quiet moments?
William: I...often thought about it, and did some of those things a few times, but it was her. I never really felt that she was as excited about listening to such things as I was in telling them. So I told myself that your lover doesn't have to respond to all of your passions just as you do, and I moved on. Which is healthy!
Worthington: Quite right, but not the issue at all. The issue is lies, and the truth is that you never really told her just how disappointed you were that the two of you did not share that aspect of your life more. Even if you didn't love her the less for that disappointment-
William: Okay, you're right.
Worthington: Yes, perhaps I am. What else, William?
Wonker: Massages, good Worthington, massages.
Worthington: Oh my yes, what about those? How can you possibly explain that in all the time you were together, you never showed her your passion, your skill in the beauty of giving to another through massage, anywhere even remotely near it's fullest expression? A few measly rubs here and there, when your hands and arms are the contact point of a tool that has lovingly taken many on hour-plus journeys to undreamt-of planes of relaxation and body awareness? How did that possibly happen, or rather not happen? Did she not deserve it? Did she not want it?
William: To this day, I'm really not sure.
Wonker: Is that a cop-out I smell?
William: It was the ticklish thing, at first. She was so ticklish. And the feet thing. It was hard to relate to someone who wasn't comfortable with being touched. And her ass, she seemed truly unhappy with it. She never seemed comfortable with all of her body, and that was hard to relate to. I decided that maybe she just needed time, to get more comfortable with herself.
Worthington: But time went by, and...nothing?
William: I don't know...I lost...
Worthington: What?
Wonker: What he's trying so hard not to say is that she didn't do it for him, that she didn't inspire the necessary passion.
William: No, that's not true...I would have been ready at many a point, but...
Worthington: But what, she "lost out" because she never demanded your best? For someone who claims to be as giving as you, that seems a strange thing to say.
William: I know. The whole thing just seemed to sit there, and I'm not quite sure why.
Wonker: Cop-out!
Worthington: Well, the issue here is lies, and whatever the reasons, the fact that it "just sat there" doesn't seem quite in synch with full disclosure, does it?
William: No.
Worthington: Alright, then, what else?
Wonker: Ooh, get to the sex.
Worthington: Oh yes. One of my favorite lies of yours, William. I love that charming little story you tell about how the sex after the breakup was just bad, an insult to a beautiful act. Well, you always neglect to mention that the selling sex short went back a little further than that. Like, to the beginning, basically? You've got your little "sex is about communication" trumpet, but...didn't you kind of gloss over the oral sex part, her pleasure a little, and yours a lot? You were curious about what more you could do for her, ways to make oral sex more than just fun foreplay. It occasionally was, but that was a bit accidental, wasn't it? And then what about yours? There you had a sweet, eager lover on your hands, and she was trying to figure out why her efforts took so long to get you off (the few times that they did), and why it could have taken gosh knows how much longer if you hadn't finally made a real effort to reach that peak. What helpful hints or suggestions did you give? You didn't understand the reasons yourself, but you gave her damn little to work with. You solved that question by not asking for it, and focusing on her pleasure more. Which may give you a point or two for generosity, but so much for communication and two-way streets, right? Alright, what else. I also loved how you never quite told her how really mystified you were with how quickly you often came, in intercourse with her. And, as a result, the two of you never really explored why that was, as much as you could have, right? Oh, you told her about your liking to be underneath, but she simply didn't like it so much that way. And so the two of you avoided that position, which you didn't mind so much, again because you were a giver, but perhaps to a fault, eh? And, Mr. great sexual communicator, since you yourself have said that avoiding the truth is just as destructive as any outright lie, you were guilty of cheapening your sexual relationship pretty much from the start, correct?
William: There is truth in what you say. But if I may say so...I had been learning to enter a sexual relationship with the attitude "Tell me...tell me what, where, how long, what not, why, how many...teach me what you like." And then she comes along, and her answer to these questions is "I really have no idea." That kind of throws my game plan out the window, you know? So maybe it can be understood if I focused on the things that somehow, amazingly, seemed to actually be successful, and kind of shoved other things aside.
Worthington: Your point is taken. But for a person who has almost no frame of reference for the feelings and sensations she is experiencing, wouldn't that make full communication more, not less, important?
William: Your point is taken.
Worthington: And there's more to it than your explanation gives, more going on that you kept to yourself. Wasn't there? Somehow, on some level, you seemed to be willing to hold back, to keep your very best from the sex you shared. Why? Wasn't she worth it, weren't both of you worth it?
Wonker: That's it, Bubba. He was saving his best for someone who really got his rocks off.
William: Now wait, now just...slow down.
Wonker: No bullshit, buddy, no cop-out.
William: If you want a simple answer-
Wonker: Yes.
William: Look, the element of keeping it simple, focusing on the things that did seem to be working, some of that's legitimate. Not only was she nearly a complete stranger to what we were sharing, but so much of what she had experienced was just wrong and bad, in ways that people should never have to deal with. There was so much to overcome, such a long way to go.
Worthington: And you were the one who was going to descend from heaven, and lead this poor, lost sheep to your promised land.
William: To her land. I never claimed to have all the answers. I always wanted to learn from her as well.
Worthington: Well, that's very nice, and possibly true, but are you going to say that you didn't have the attitude of saving her, of lifting her out of her emotional and physical wasteland with your healing love?
William: Yes, in a way, but I needed saving, too, a shelter of love in this world.
Worthington: The same kind of saving she needed?
William: No.
Worthington: Then you've got to admit to an essential inequality in your relationship right from the very start.
William: Yes.
Wonker: And so, St. William, you're going to pretend to be perplexed that she walks away from a relationship which was founded on inequality?
William: An inequality which was dictated by the circumstances, and could even out with growth over time.
Worthington: But which was there! Why are you fighting it? What's more, it didn't even out, because growth does not flourish amidst lies.
William: No, in the time we had, it didn't.
Worthington: You like the lost ones, don't you, William. Do you fear the ones that aren't lost?
William: That's not fair.
Worthington: I withdraw it. And I wait. For that which is unsaid. Is it your own shallowness you fear?
Wonker: Well, I'm glad somebody finally said it! For cryin' out loud, William, her body just didn't do it for you!
William: That's not true! Her body did plenty for me.
Worthington: So it did, William. Your love for her, your regard for all that she was, strong these were. And truly, never did you fake the desire for union with her. But acknowledge things for what they are.
Wonker: And acknowledge her ass for what it ain't.
William: But...dammit, that started with her. I wanted to love her ass, but she was all "hands off" and "let's just pretend it's not there". You try to get excited about an ass that you suspect the owner would probably trade in, in a heartbeat. Anyway, it didn't become so much a turnoff for me, more of a non-thing.
Worthington: Which is a little true, but also not, because you know that your passion demands loving all of that which you embrace.
Wonker: Including the area of the body from the hips to the knees, Willy. You sure didn't need any prompting from her to be turned off there, did you? Cellulite, anyone? Willy, have you let go yet of that silly idea of yours that you can love and desire someone purely on the basis of the person inside?
William: The idea may have been rocked a bit by experience, but it's not dead.
Wonker: Well, air your sins, buddy boy. Tell us about the night of that party.
Worthington: The six of you kids, having fun at your friend's place. The games. "I can make you smile." The sleepover.
William: It was the first time, the first time I really took notice of the shape that she was, or rather wasn't in. And found that I was turned off by it. When we carried her through the hall, I looked down and noticed that she wasn't just a little soft, she also had a little extra weight hangin' around. Not of the muscle variety, y'know? Of course, it probably didn't help that she was drunk. That's never been real attractive. And at any particular moment when you find a lover unattractive, there's almost always more to it than the primary, obvious reason. I defy either one of you to listen me in the ear and tell me that's not true. Anyway, she was laughing as we carried her, and I felt guilty to be having these thoughts. She had made my love and acceptance important in her life, and here she was this laughing, drunken girl, basically clueless to these thoughts of mine which would have trampled her security and happiness. Yes, I felt guilty.
Wonker: And this from the one who says he's "got no time for guilt", that "life's too short" for it.
Worthington: Even if there was more to your unattraction reaction, William, the issue here is sex.
Wonker: And your fact, William, is that then, just as right now, the prospect of bringing down a sexual earthquake, or a sexual infinity of tranquility, with a lithe woman, one like yourself, one whose spirit exults in the passion of raw physicality, one whose muscles tremble and respond like yours, one whose body explodes, runs, pushes, and persists like yours, this prospect arouses your passion and inspiration in ways that the body you carried down that hallway never possibly could. Even now, these mere words I speak have stirred something in you.
William: Yeah, a little.
Worthington: Don't feel bad, buddy. Hell, I'm a little turned on.
Wonker: So tell me that sharing love with the type of woman I've just described wouldn't add an intensity to your lovemaking that was never there with her. You won't, because you can't.
William: I reject the notion that I could never reach my full sexual intensity with a woman who didn't fit the description you've given. I reject it. I...but as for her...and remembering that these things you mention are only a small part of the complexity that is a sexual love relationship...as for her, you are right. She knew some of the truth of what you speak, but not all. All right, any other lies?
Worthington: How about...and this is possibly the most insidious of all your behaviors with her...how about the fact that you were never as proud of your relationship with her as you maybe let her think you were. Certain things there were that she probably always sensed were not there, things that would have opened her up to you in ways that could have been wondrous to behold. The picture of her that never appeared by your nightstand?
William: Nightstands.
Worthington: Nightstands. The eagerness to show her off, to have her meet all of your friends, where was that? Throwing her on the phone with your faraway friends she couldn't meet? And when you were out with her in the world, with her friends or your friends or strangers, where was the talking up of how beautiful a person and lover she was?
William: Stop. Up until now, the truth has been strong in your words, but you have just dived into an ocean of grey, and the leap that you took to get there was so huge that the shore is but a distant memory. Not once, never once did I ever tell her that she was the center of my life, the thing that completes me, or any other type of ridiculous thing like that. Never once did I ever tell her that I wanted these things, either. And Vishnu, you make it seem as though she were some dirty little secret of mine!
Worthington: I can only strive to be as good a friend for you, William Fudd, as in truth you do tirelessly strive to be for me. I do not claim that you were not proud of her, nor do I claim that you never showed to others the pride you had in her. Above all, never would I seek to deny the strong love, the true caring you had and still have for her. I, too, remember the time just a few months ago when you told Jude, one of the most precious people in your life, that part of the change Jude was noticing in you was due to the fact that, for the first time in your life, you had been part of a sexual love relationship that was healthy, caring, and mutually healing on deep levels. But the fact that this lover of yours was not there to meet Jude, tell me that was not, on some level, in some way, liberating. Again, William, this is simply about lies. And just as you would do for me, I can do no less for you than to tell you simply to smell me in the nose, as you might say, and tell me that "dirty little secret" did not in some way, no matter how small, describe a part of the feeling you had for her. (William is silent) Wonker! Where've you been?
Wonker: Oh, I just...went out and had it all.
Worthington: Did you?
William: Is there any left?
Wonker: Oh yeah.
William: Anything else?
Wonker: I met your friend.
William: You met her?
Wonker: Oh yeah. She's sure...um...well, she's...she's kind of contradictory, y'know? I mean, kind of cute, but kind of contradictory.
William: I know. Most people are, you know.
Wonker: Yeah. I knew there was a reason I was glad I wasn't one of them.
Worthington: So, what were your other complaints about her? Oh yes, you feel unjustly vilified in your efforts to care about her. Really though, William, I would think you might be very glad to be vilified in her nostrils. If your protests are valid, about her choosing fear over love, and whatnot, then I would think you would at least be honored that she cares enough to vilify you. If she's got the passion to vilify you, it could either mean that there might be a truth in your words that she would rather ignore, or that at the very least, she does care about you. In either case, you or the things you stand for are a real part of her life, something that no amount of vilification will ever take away.
William: Worthington, you say the sweetest things.
Worthington: Anything else bothering you?
William: Not much.
Wonker: (offstage) Hey, guys! I see her! Here she comes, Willy! Boy, does she look happy...oh, ah, well, it's actually not her. Just a U.F.O., or a weather balloon, or somethin'. Sorry, little buddy, false alarm! My bad!
William: Wonker, your momma wears combat boots.
Wonker: Yeah, I hear she's one rip-roaring, sheet-burning fuck, too! What's your point?
William: There are things I wish I could say to her.
Worthington: To Wonker's mother?
William: Like when she would say that a friend's job is to be supportive, and understanding, and that I was failing her as a "friend", I would say that a friend is also one who understands when the person they love is messing up, and doesn't just sit by quietly. At times, I am still literally stunned by some of what she's done. Her insistence that I am never to be allowed to meet this new lover she's got...is so atrociously childish, so unbelievably third grade, that I somehow am still waiting for the punch line which has never come. I begin to wonder if he even exists. There were moments in our relationship that reached into me deeply...moments of connection when she truly seemed to start to understand some of who I was, and so much more than that, that she saw some of these parts of me as being beautiful, as being worth struggling for...and now, her actions seem to scream "I was never actually too damn impressed with these things that you were...it was fun to pretend that I was, but that doesn't interest me anymore."
Worthington: Are you sure that you're not just incensed that she didn't become your apostle of "St. William's Truth", adoringly giving up her spirit and thirstful young body to the altar of your benevolent brilliance?
William: You know, that's just like you, to take a point I am about to make, and turn it right back onto me. I did not want to own her-
Worthington: Didn't you? If she had, bit by bit, become more like you, embracing with passion all of your mental, emotional, physical, sexual, psychological, and whatever views you have, you would have rejected her?
William: I'll admit that, on a deep level that most of us are only dimly aware of, we do spend our lives in a largely unfulfilled searching of the world, yearning to find ourselves in something or someone else. And if she had embraced my essences, made them hers, not because they were my ideas, but rather because she believed in the ideas themselves, I'll admit that the attraction would be powerful. But she seems to be taking the search for commonality too far, her new beliefs seem so suddenly to be so far from who she seemed to be. I know that we all must search, and try different things, to answer or raise questions about ourselves, but her changes are so sudden that it seems her search does not concern other people at all, that all she searches for is a mirror to gaze into, to admire her reflection, and now she's found a replacement mirror, one that is easier and less challenging.
Worthington: And you are saddened because you know that some of what you say is mere speculation, because she has shut you out.
William: Yes. It seems that, once upon a time when she sought my love, that it must have been something else she wanted. Because my caring for her is as strong today as ever it was, but it seems now that her caring for me was merely contingent on our being lovers, an "I'll love you if"-type of love.
Worthington: Love given, but at a price; again, a person stands before the twin paths of love and fear, and fear is embraced.
Wonker: What's fear?
William: Nothing, Wonk. Not a thing, buddy.
Worthington: You've been rather quiet, Wonker. Any thoughts?
Wonker: What, are you two still yadda-yaddaing about all that mopey stuff?
Worthington: Yes. Any other thoughts for William?
Wonker: Oh, I've got something for William, but it's certainly not a thought.
William: Am I good enough for it?
Wonker: You show some potential. Oh, and Worthington, why you fail in any attempt to understand the dance, is that you insist on understanding the dance as an "it". Understanding will only come when you realize that the dance will never be an “it”. The dance, my friend, is you.
Worthington: I was wondering when you'd get around to that.
Wonker: And William?
William: Yes?
Wonker: Words bore me just now, but I'll toss out just a little bit more. Wouldn't it actually be a bit ridiculous to be surprised if your friend starts acting like a typical eighteen-year old American female? I mean, that's what she is, right?
Worthington: Actually, Wonk, somebody told me she was nineteen.
Wonker: Close enough. Near as I can recall, the peak maturity level that the average American female reaches is about eighteen years old, anyway, right?
Worthington: Well, the divorce rate is pretty high these days, which has boosted that maturity level a bit, but you're still basically right.
Wonker: So. And, if Freely here will recall some earlier advice, then Freely will most certainly have to back me up here. If, William, this is where your friend is at just now, then make your point, which you have, and let her be there.
Worthington: What's that deafening noise? The sound of peaceful thoughts?
William: What do you say we get out of here, guys?
Wonker: A primo idea. What the hell is this place, anyway?
William: It's sort of a poetic image, I guess.
Wonker: Well that's precious. Nothing against poetic images, but what do you say we head some place a little more...
Worthington: Intense, Wonker?
Wonker: You know it, Bubba. (Wonker and Worthington head off) Well, Fudd?
William: I'll be right by your side in a couple of minutes.
Wonker: We'll be waiting.
Worthington: We'll be easy to find. She'll be the one chewing my head off, probably. Wonk, is your last name really Fangdripper?
Wonker: In this poetic image, I guess so. But don't worry, Freely old boy. Where we're headed, it probably won't be nearly so tame.
Worthington: I can hardly wait. (They go. William remains, examining this place. He reaches out with goodbye and love. He goes.)
Worthington: We'll be easy to find. She'll be the one chewing my head off, probably. Wonk, is your last name really Fangdripper?
Wonker: In this poetic image, I guess so. But don't worry, Freely old boy. Where we're headed, it probably won't be nearly so tame.
Worthington: I can hardly wait. (They go. William remains, examining this place. He reaches out with goodbye and love. He goes.)
Sunday, August 5, 2018
naked nurse 20
SOOTHING OUR SOCIAL/SEXUAL/SPIRITUAL STRIFE
Dear naked nurse,
Any tips for new lovers?
-smitten in Smyrna
Lovers are made of head, heart, and hormone (though head and "heart" are physiologically non-discrete, they FEEL different). In loving, all that matters is heart and hormone! By the time we're adults, our heads are pretty much useless - broken, neurotic, selfish messes. Nothing good will arise, when heads enter the loving bed.
Send queries to nakednursing@yahoo.com!
Dear naked nurse,
Any tips for new lovers?
-smitten in Smyrna
Lovers are made of head, heart, and hormone (though head and "heart" are physiologically non-discrete, they FEEL different). In loving, all that matters is heart and hormone! By the time we're adults, our heads are pretty much useless - broken, neurotic, selfish messes. Nothing good will arise, when heads enter the loving bed.
When a new lover enters our life, we heap all our baggage and expectations upon them. Half of that is inevitable - we don't control our baggage, it controls us. With decades of spiritual practice, you may learn to diminish (or not project) said baggage...but that's no use to your new lover today.
Expectations are all you control...which almost no one does.
Expectations are all you control...which almost no one does.
All of the aforementioned will make your loving better, though not necessarily your living. On that, it might have the opposite effect.
unburdened ungulations,
the naked nurse
unburdened ungulations,
the naked nurse
Send queries to nakednursing@yahoo.com!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)