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Clarifying this Buttery Mess

You know, I'm sure all you fine folks who DON'T comment about trying to pound me with vicious intensity, or whatever other rough sex you think we both have in mind, might honestly believe that I am quite irrevocably insane. Who is You? What in the name of all fuck are you talking about?

Let me explain the You as a literary technique, devoid of what is going on in my real life. But I will concede that a lot of the more...aggressive... posts are purely therapeutic. And the reason for that is...well, it's kind of entertaining. Why not entertain a whole boatload of strangers instead of one that I would pay 50 bucks an hour to hear me talk about White Girl problems?

You is something we can all identify with. Boy, Girl, Both, whatever you are, you have a You just like I do.

That doesn't necessarily entail that your You is the dapper apple of your eye. You could be your faith, your dreams, your parents, fame, political influence, really.... You can be anything you want it to be. And I hope, I really hope, that You has hit some kind of empathic nerve with you, kind readers.

You is whatever it is you desire that motivates you towards passion. You is something you love with such fervor that it does have you skirting the edges of sanity. You is a magic kind of thing we're all looking for. You is meaning, but You is nearly impossible. As perceptions change at the hands of the perpetual motion of the mind, so does the meaning of meaning.

 Mind you, passion is key. Plenty of things are motivating factors without eliciting any kind of passionate, soul-shaking response within an individual. Making money, for example, is something you  desire but you're motivated to earn your keep for survival... unless you're one of those Finance types and money really sets you off more than anything in the world could...So for money-loving folk, You could be more money.

And you see, for me, it's Love. And while that might sound like some syrupy bullshit you'd hear a pageant queen read off her sweaty palm, Love is something so uncompromisingly complicated with so many situational nuances that I can't help but find myself immersed in it with voracious fascination. Love of God, of Friends, you can even Love to Hate. Sick Love, good Love, mother's Love, bad Love, folie a deux... it goes on...and on, the way the beat would.

You know how there are theologians? Think of me as a Love theologian. And yes, I do know that that is not a marketable skill.

Moral: Grain of salt? No... you take this blog with a whole lot of Mrs. Dash.


  1. Well thank God you cleared up all the haze and confusion. I totally thought you were insane.

  2. No see, I think I'm in the tax bracket where I can legally call myself eccentric.

    If I was on welfare, then I'd probably have to call myself insane, so as not to get sued.


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