Today I went into your store, and I was appalled and disgusted that you blasphemed Almighty God Jesus Christ and His Most Holy Nativity Christmas by selling from your store shelves a filthy pornographic lamp that said “Christmas” Story on it. REMOVE THAT PIECE OF FILTHY, PORNOGRAPHIC BLASPHEMY FROM YOUR STORESHELVES AT ONCE!
British Bisexual activist Marcus somethingorother (adjectivemarcus on Livejournal) speaks up about why “Gay Marriage” isn’t the same as marriage equality, and displays some significant ignorance.
Recently at a conference I heard someone say the law should be changed to allow LGBT marriage, specifically because “currently gay, lesbian, bisexual and trans people can’t legally marry”.
The amount of unwitting ignorance that showed left me speechless. Not just because bisexuals are perfectly capable of being in opposite sex relationships (which, even if it’s two bisexuals of differing sex can sometimes still get called “straight relationships” - insulting and even more confusing, as that’d be ‘gay’ people in a ‘straight’ relationship)
This is a pretty good source for artists who don’t have access to a figure drawing class: a variety of models in a variety of poses. You can specify make or female, clothed or nude, and 30-second, 1, 2, 5 or 10 minute intervals. some of those poses I’d hate to hold for that long — I’ve done figure modeling before!
The model sat, egoless, naked, one knee raised, head down. The students captured his form in large, looping curves, a bell chimed, and he stood, arms akimbo, facing the lights. Another minute, another stroke of charcoal pencil, another bell, another pose. Again. Again. Again.
The teacher calls for ten-minute poses. The model becomes his body. The model becomes an observer to his body, tracking aches and tickles as they migrate from shoulder to thigh, thigh to buttock, buttock to biceps, biceps to back. The model remembers the last time he posed, drawn by someone who loved him, long ago, and he finally understands that the love was real, the ending no fault of either lover, that it happened because it happened, and that tautology is enough.
The teacher calls for thirty-minute poses. The model recites multiplication: twos, threes, fours, fives, sixes. The model regrets closing his eyes, as this leads to less-focused mind-wanderings, and erotic daydreams come with trouble in this setting. The model experiences leaving his body and running around the room flapping his arms. The model experiences time expanding and contracting at his beck and call. The model calculates how many pages per day he must write to achieve a certain arbitrary goal by the end of the month.
The teacher calls for one final pose, forty-five minutes. The model meditates on focus. The model’s stomach gurgles. The model imagines himself with wings. The model is drawn with a halo.
Interesting, food for thought. I can’t help thinking this relates to the Nature vs Nurture arguments around homosexuality. convincing people it’s genetic isn’t going to make them more accepting. Personally, I’d like it to be okay even if it WERE a choice. Ben Goldacre, ladies and gentlemen.
“Now we can say with confidence that ADHD is a genetic disease and that the brains of children with this condition develop differently to those of other children,” said Professor Anita Thapar. “We hope that these findings will help overcome the stigma associated with ADHD.”
Does the belief that such problems have a biological cause really help to reduce stigma?
You love her, even when it doesn’t feel that way. Love is more than a physiological bit of brain chemistry that makes you warm and fuzzy. Love does not go away amid anger, frustration, jealousy or fear. Love is a choice. No, a calling. It does not come and go with moods or libido.
You love your wife. She loves you. This fixes nothing, makes nothing perfect, but it makes things worth fighting for.
”—I wrote this to someone, and liked the sound of it. I hope it doesn’t cheapen it to share at large.
The talented and lovely songstress of geekdom Allison Lonsdale (http://www.allisonlonsdale.com/) Writes a lovely bit about the nature of personality, ego, and pissing. It’s in a locked post, so I have been granted permission to quote:
ego, feuds, and getting covered in your own piss
An interesting concept in the writing of Buddhist scholar Wes Nisker (whom I believe I learned about from slothman) is that of the personality as a pet. It follows you around. Sometimes its presence is comforting, sometimes aggravating. You have to clean up after it. With patience you can train it, but its underlying temperament is pretty strong, and sometimes it will just bark like crazy when the doorbell rings, or sharpen its claws on the sofa, and there’s not much you can do. But it isn’t you, and in the grand scheme of things it isn’t all that important.
Considering the recent fanfeud, I was moved to envision the egos involved as small dogs.* I have not witnessed this phenomenon, but I have heard that when a small dog pisses on a tree, he will strive to piss as high as possible so that other dogs sniffing the mark will think it was made by a bigger dog. Theoretically, this could lead to an arms race in which the inevitable result will be that the dog most grimly determined to win will piss straight up in the air and it will fall back onto him. I believe that this image captures the essence of the Pyrrhic victory that can be achieved in such a feud.
Only a fighter firmly entangled in the belief that his ego is him, and is terribly important, will pursue victory so fiercely.
One of the paradoxes of ego is this: the more fragile it is, the more ferociously one is driven to defend it. A sturdy ego can survive being shoved under the sofa and ignored for a while. In fact, zazen could be viewed as a form of crate training for the ego, gradually getting it used to not being the center of attention.
I think the fragility of an ego can be roughly measured by how hard it persuades its person to fight against perceived slights. Ergo, it would be fallacious to call my opponent in the recent kerfluffle arrogant. If he truly believed that he were superior to me, he would not take my snark seriously, and would certainly not find me threatening enough to warrant a long counterattack garnished with thinly veiled blackmail.
An arrogant person would simply have said, “Why should I give a shit what some rude bitch thinks of me? To hell with her, I’m going to go write another best-selling book.”
* Surely I cannot be the only one who, upon seeing dogs sniffing trees, says “They are reading each other’s blogs.”
But for all of her high-falutin’ musical and intellectual pedigrees, Berberian was equally known as someone with a sense of humor. Her Revolution album of Beatles covers is a unique and quirky collection indeed, but she really ties together her pop and avant garde inclinations beautifully in her own composition, “Stripsody,” a short vocal piece where she uses comic book exclamations and sounds (Words like “Boing!”“Vrrop vrrop” appear on the sheet music) to get the point across, sounding very much like a comical version of Cage’s Fontana Mix.