Feelin' down and dirty, feelin' kinda mean ...
I've been from one, to another extreme ...

I suppose a true blog does not always go with high concept. And so it is with me tonight. But I will sputter along.

I'm thinking of getting rid of one of my cats. I got her from a shelter, where they supposedly got her on the side of the road, or something. But she had obviously been abused. Had her for over 3 years now. Never slapped her or given her a wack. But she always runs away when I go to reach for her. She's a black cat. When I come home at night she will be sitting there, in the midst of my dark blue carpet, barely visible. And when I come in she will peep to say hello. But when I move to engage with her she runs away. This isn't the reason I'm thinking of cutting ties with her. But this trait, this infection of routine sadness into one's life and day, surely does not help.

I've been chatting with a young female for almost 8 months now. She got into the lifestyle in high school, fell into a really nasty crowd that was actually training her to be a community fuck doll: gangbangs every Saturday night, random 2 and 3 guy visits through the week, real hard edge porn modelling, real strict dehumanization. If you've seen the on ramp to the road of sex trafficking, you get the picture. We've talked about her (perhaps) leaving the scene. Perhaps she has left it. This is what she has said. Perhaps not.

It was stunning to observe her total lack of forethought in how this life and treatment could effect her, had effected her, and would effect her for a very long time. You hear people talk about informed decisions and then you see this and you are left with mobs of idiots spouting words they don't understand. But, back to my friend: many of the typical signs of psychic breakage and unconscious TPE were there. It has been perhaps 6 weeks since she "left". All the signs are still there. Though she says now when she runs, there are brief moments of a new clarity. Twice, "I felt like I used to feel." Perhaps that is good. Perhaps it is new energy to be used as a fuckdoll.

My cat is a beautiful black cat, and it is sad. This young woman is a beautiful young woman; a classic archtype of female beauty of this time, and it, too, is sad.

She said her mind was a complete blur when she was in that life. How could it not? With severe crashing twice a week with no one helping her through it. There were times she could barely type figures or do basic math at work. And there are those who think you can actually take a living human and make them into an it, a bang appliance, a fucktoy, the objectified twat. And they are stupid and clueless: for no matter how base the behavior, there is still a soul in that fucktoy that, no matter how damaged, turns to the light of day. It may turn to the light of day with no clear thought nor identity, but it still turns to the light of day with confusion, disorder and the vague horror of slow destruction. And if you've ever - even for a moment - stepped out of your tiny little intellectual comfort zone enough to experience horror, then you know it is one of the most personal things one can feel. Joy may be impossible, but horror can still be mustered. The person still survives. Well done.

Feelin' down and dirty.
Tonight I saw Spartacus, a tale of courage and sacrifice for a noble cause. Those who damage beauty should be strung up and fed their own testicles as they beg for a drop of water. Yea, let they who damage be finally and permanently damaged.


To Aphrodite , in the key of B flat minor, with stringed instruments.

tgd