The Peep Show Tent...

The dynamic of sex and gender: such a cliché utterance of human interaction that horns its way into everyday life. The economy of it, the bartering that everyone tries to ignore, the ridiculous games hidden beneath the façade of animalistic need, all of which end in the same stereotypical resultant scenarios. Inherently, humans need this, the chase, the game, the coy smiles and the fabricated conversation; all of it creates a guise under which we can hide and pretend that we care about something other than the skin to skin, sweaty, breathless interaction that really drives the rest of the bullshit to manifest in reality.
It’s a never-ending cycle; the supposition that men only want the ‘no-strings’ interaction and women want relationships. We perpetuate the misunderstanding because anything else is met by shock and disappointment at not upholding the fantasy. So ‘round and ‘round we go…batting the eyelashes, holding open the door, reiterating that we aren’t ‘looking for anything serious.’
It’s all about fear. Fear of commitment, fear of isolation, fear that someone might actually live up to the expectations that so many fall short of. I’m just as guilty of perpetuating the cycle, although I typically tend to relate to the ‘male’ point of view. I have the sex drive of a seventeen year-old boy. However, casual encounters bore me. I have no interest in hopping into bed with random people just to fulfill a need that a vibrator can accomplish (likely with more finesse and less effort). However, if a moment strikes me and I should decide that I fancy a little roll in the hay, I think I’m fully entitled to pursue such an interaction, which hardly implies that I’m looking to propose marriage. Of course, when I assert such an opinion, I’m again reinforcing gender roles, as I’ll get labeled the whore while the men within the same context are congratulated. I’m less than concerned with that.
What I’m concerned with is the overall cycle that should have been extinct by now. Humans evolve, psychology evolves, and yet still, we’re all caught up in the vicious, vapid circle of interactions that prohibit such evolution of the mind and the heart. Fuck the stereotypes, fuck what you’re ‘supposed to think and do.’ Live. By your own set of beliefs, needs and wants. If you don’t, you’re already dead anyway.

The ride begins...

The legendary, yet tragic little pseudo-love-story of Echo and Narcissus, ends with the self-involved bastard of a daffodil meeting his demise due to his unrequited love affair with his own reflection. Now, I think N was being a bit of an asshole, but this self-indulgent little fucker may have been onto something: who’s to say that he wasn’t well-justified to turn down all of his potential suitors, before becoming completely enthralled with the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen? Perhaps Echo, and these other said suitors just didn’t have what he needed, wanted, or deserved; in which case, shame on us for expecting him to settle with an inarticulate little nymph.

So, Narcissus finds himself in what appears to be a lose/lose situation: he is lusted after by mediocre specimens, yet the one thing he loves is unattainable. However, he was also spared the potentially tortured existence within the constraints of what is now the last legal form of slavery (yes, kids, I mean marriage); not to mention, his devoted relationship to his reflection was also free from the drama-filled croakings twittering around the rest of pond; free to spend each day appreciating his own aesthetics, he was completely oblivious of who was stroking which pussy willow or who was catching algae from someone else’s lily pad.

I look in the mirror, because it’s more real than what exists in the vapid façade of small-town social bullshit. Bottom line: at the end of the day, I’m all I’ve got. Narcissus may have died, but I’m still alive and I’m just looking to vent, laugh, whine, banter and smirk about the cursed and the vile, the worthless and the worthwhile, the shallow and the vain, the tears and the pain, the stupidity, the idiocy, the unbelievable traits of the human race…and how I remain sane while being one of them in the middle of this “bullshit, three-ring, circus sideshow of freaks.*” Feel free to come along; no height requirement, no safety restraints, but you may be forced to pass an IQ test before occupying a seat. Please keep your hands, arms, and anything else of value, inside the vehicle and please remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop.

And don’t you fret, this carnival isn’t leaving town anytime soon.


*Aenema - Tool