Don’t kiss her too hard

When we kiss there is predictable harmony that tries to drown me. There is a droll predictability to happiness. You resent it, yet crave it, and depend on it. You embrace it with the troubled antagonism you would embrace your brother after a 20-year stint in state prison. She smiles, her eyes look beautiful. They always look beautiful when they are so close to your own. Wide-eyed, innocent, devoted. Proximity deludes. Satisfaction cascades. You know this is a fleeting sunlit moment. You can have many moments in the sun but two can never… Two people, synchronized in a bout of dueling energies will feast upon the other’s ego. It’s inevitable. This is how we are constructed. Knowing this, you purse your lips and feel her warm moistness reciprocate against you and you hold her shoulder blades in your arms. All is well for the moment. However, the inner clock, the latent turmoil and doom, await your friendly greeting, but for now. Happiness.

You two: kissing, loving each other’s pyres in the afternoon Wintry sun, are magnifiers. Just as medical scientists chemically amplify viruses, you amplify love and good will and savor this candied moment. Doom hovers but it’s best ignored.

Her lips press yours again. Agony and futility rendered hidden. Her warm plumpness. Women are plump and soft and that is the indelible physical memory that resides in your mind. The bloated calm, the serpentine gusto. The carefree horniness and relinquishment to logic and indecipherable fate.

Too much happiness barters with a steep price.

Sometimes, the room is bright, the December day is unrealistically tinged with a warm sunny glow. Your kiss carries all the magnified unreality you can muster. And sometimes, in the middle of the burning kiss, in the depths of the primordial embrace, darkness drops from the sky.

Like a curtain.

Like a bolt of darkening lightning.

Death and petulance. The end and the beyond visit and intrude and extinguish heat in a muffle.
You are startled, but still, you continue your to proclaim your humanity.

The moment you planted your lips on hers, you had an image and a sensation. Black endless gloom, the surety of death to come. The horizon blurred, became black, misery was at hand.

You can only escape it for so long.
It will remind you when you least remember its omnipotent prowess.

In the middle of this kiss the end stands and steals your attention. It refuses to be ignored. Death is not far afield, ever. The kiss is brief, a momentary warmth, like when you blow into your hand on a viciously cold morning.

It cures the tempest, but does not quell the agony.

Don’t kiss her too hard for even that will not rescue your dwindling spirit.

Familial Culture is more powerful than IQ

Well…we love the IQ in these parts, don’t we?

We are orderly, organized and slightly compulsive blogizens and we prefer when we can quantify human behavior within an understandable, measurable context. We appreciate the cold equations that shape our world. We worship numbers, laws and intractable prinicples which never lie nor stutter. This is how we desire our humans served to us. And we try to comply by aligning unruly human behavior with static units of measure.

IQ is our Girl, and not to point fingers, but I plead guilty as well. However, some rely on the standardized measure of intelligence in obnoxious doses of dependence beyond anything I can approach. IQ is a handy but unsteady tool of human character. It must be accompanied by a plethora of other human traits in order to be of any true use. The tool box of traits must be judged together for their unified cadence rises and falls with IQ scores considered singularly across populations. Across broad swaths of population, this is one of the best ways by which to predict the behavior of individuals within groups. Still, I believe IQ scores are poor predictors of group or individual behavior with precision. IQ’s must be considered only within the container of other known human elements when asserting human behavior beforehand or remotely. This is more than we’d prefer to sift through in order to understand this ridiculous primate line. This is why we rely on the IQ score and glorify it to the degree that it has become analogous to the thinking man’s version of penis size.

Many people paint certain human qualities behind the broad IQ stroke, qualities for which I believe IQ is generally useless to pose as a cause. I’ve encountered instances in the blogosphere where human IQ has been asserted as a predictor of credit rating scores and financial long term planning. While one’s ability to maintain or attain an excellent credit rating and ability to structure a present around the distant future is partly due to, but indirectly attributable to, IQ. These responsibility traits people like attributing to IQ are due instead to something I call “familial culture.” High IQ people undoubtedly make better decisions and use their money wisely and generally partake in activities and professions which are usually more profitable (thus lending to disposable incomes), but I would also venture to say they are just as wasteful and impulsive as low IQ people. The difference being that low IQ people don’t use their money wisely and thus leave absolutely no room for themselves to act impulsively. Impulsiveness is not an IQ-dependent act in of itself. Rather, it’s the self-constructed environment of the high IQ person that allows them to weather impulsiveness. Low IQ people don’t do anything different on the back end. It’s the front end where they implode. It’s the lack of “paving the way” for future waste that defeats them.

I thought of this while reading a couple of blogs recently, Desire For Immediate Rewards Tied To Low Credit Scores from Future Pundit, and Why understanding ethnic differences in IQ matters: Part CMXII from Steve Sailer. Both articles, while not identical in tone or nature, did touch upon the personal FICO score as a proxy for self-control and long-term planning, thus, IQ. Sailer’s post addressed ethnic-based variants and Future Pundit talked about “time preference” as a manifestation of genetic legacy. Since ethnicity was not overtly mentioned in FP’s post, I filled in the blanks myself. Obviously, he was describing the putative inner city ghetto mentality of rent-a-rims and overdone bling and shady financial deals. It’s so patently obvious. I have no problem saying it. The point both articles make is that financial acumen spawns from self-control and long-term financial awareness. I differ from them here. This is an example of using IQ and heritability as determining factors in making diffuse long-term decisions. IQ is a very weak correlation with long-term wisdom. Familial culture is a much more precise marker.

“Familial culture” is exactly what it sounds. Familial culture is strongest within the basic family parent/child unit and gradually weakens as an influential force the further you branch out within the extended bloodline. Familial culture is a precursor of many traits, IQ included, but there are many other specific mores, priorities, values, beliefs, behaviors, that are strongly bequeathed within familial culture. Financial wisdom and the ability to withstand the weak urge of instant gratification follow. Overeating is strongly correlated with familial culture just like certain culinary affinities. A child learns most of his life values and habits from his parents, whether they are around, or not, in which case the value of absence is passed on. I will concede that certain familial cultures are endemic to specific ethnicity’s, but familial structure, due to intermarriage and cross-cultural intermixing, tends to seep out over time and embody the ethnic culture’s broad manifestation. Hispanic culture has its trademark familial culture and unfortunately, when transplanted into the United States, devolves into a self-destructive mutation. Still, the familial structure I emanate from seems quite different from most Hispanic familial cultures. I’ve always been vitally aware of this.

I can never have emanated from another family and turned out the way I have. My parents are the long-term orientated, practical types, and thus I was. I departed from this path for a period during my 20s and into my 30s, but I eventually resumed the calling of my familial culture. I’m known today for my frugality and urban asceticism. I guard my credit rating with fanatical devotion. I bought a car recently and discovered my credit score (for one of the major credit reporting agencies) was 820 and the other agencies were not far behind. I attribute this more to my familial culture than intelligence. I am restrained and monkish in habits and lifestyle. I make a decent income which I basically stockpile. What does this have to do with IQ? Hardly a thing. With familial culture? Almost all.

Lastly, about familial culture: it is self-perpetuating. Familial culture is one of the most reliable indicators of mating success. You are most likely to bond with a mate who hails from a similar familial culture as yourself. If you pair with someone whose familial culture was wildly divergent from your own, your relationship/union will be short-lived. Thus, successful couples, whose familial cultures are congruent, tend to be of the same ethnicity because familial culture is a stronger correlate of ethnicity than IQ. As I said, my own familial culture seems unusual when examined from within the context of my ethnicity, and in fact, most of my pairings have been with members of external races, and not for any fetishistic reasons.

Working for the cult

I work for a cult.

That’s what it is.

If you work for a large global conglomerate, you can probably relate. I thought of it today. The cult of belief intensifies this time of year when most organizations are trying their damnedest to squeeze out the last crappy morsel of the desperate numbers and financials they need at this time of year to fulfill their annual goals, hence bonuses. Like all good cults, the ultimate arbiter of conscientiousness is exhausting self-interest.

Our A/R department and cash collections appears to be under a zombie spell in December. I’ve never witnessed such single-minded, numb persistence on the part of any group of individuals (except maybe for the Scientologists) that exists in our Credit and Collections department this time every year. The humanity dissipates and the department retreats to a battalion of pencil-pushing dronehood buzzing around their unifying goal of collecting, collecting, collecting. The same people I’ve spoken with on friendly terms all year turn into faceless orbs of corporate-induced mania.

It’s a cult!

Working for such a large corporation means you are a cult member. Only if you find yourself steeped deeply in the culture while keeping a clear head and an outsider’s perspective, can you witness, in intricate and sickening detail, the cultish rantings of the modern work place.

From Wikipedia’s Cult entry, the predominant distinguishing element of a cult are its “bizarre” and “abnormal” practices and ceremonies. Wiki adds, “Sociologists still maintain that unlike sects, which are products of religious schism and therefore maintain a continuity with traditional beliefs and practices, “cults” arise spontaneously around novel beliefs and practices.” There. A cult is differentiated by its “unique” personality and simultaneous alienation from accepted patterns of thought or belief. A cult arises independently, if you will, of long-standing or established patterns of dogma. This is how Christian religions can ward off accusations of culthood. Because they are so common as to be “accepted.”

Which I suppose points away from my insistence that international corporate business rings that control most American industry are similar to cults. But they are! The cult leader is the organization. Many times the organization is deified within the realm of corporate fundamentalism and catchy slogans are paraded across our visual landscape with the intent or reinforcing said stupidity repeatedly until the basic gist of the company is that stupid slogan which is repeated to the level of autosuggested hypnotism. The cult leader becomes the slogan, and vice versa. The corporate slogan is a chant, and all corporate denizens are encouraged to chant it, but only within the confines and dictates preordained by the international marketing rings who watch out for the corporation’s best interests; they are encouraged to quip the mantra at all opportunities with the ostensible aim of elevating the cult leader to international streams of godly status within the global financial markets.

The cult is a brainwasher. It elicits a need and consequently, supplies a supply and cure for its followers. The cult is responsible for a self-devouring serpent trail of beliefs and acts on the part of its cult members (employees).

Logic takes a tumble and reason dissolves when the management, those with the largest stake in perpetuating the corporate cult, hover with crazed eyes and will you, beguile with lusty commands of hollow motivation, to try harder and harder and harder. Ultimately, they are second tier cult leaders and they embellish their position on the backs of the toiling masses. The toiling masses who likewise lose themselves in the magnetic demands and circular rewards of the cult.

Some look on and must shut up if they wish to remain ensconced in the machinations of such a lecherous organism.

After all. It’s a job.

Dark matter is my home

What are diversions?

They are cleverly placed decorative props that insulate us from grounded reality and introspection.

Why are we alienated from introspection? Why is it we do all in our power and spend money seeking to escape the fearful scourge of…introspection. We conjure up every little mental, physical, emotional, sexual, and culinary activity just to avoid tackling the dreaded chore of peering inward, or worse, not experiencing. Diversions produce nothing, contribute nothing. They flamboyantly instill a false sense of accomplishment and petty happiness. Diversions are like the Human Resources of life. They are waste. Pure, odious, waste.

I have no patience for diversions.

Why do people insist on diversions when there is so much less to do. Notice I didn’t say so much more to do. We ward off ennui with material essence but run from voids. Why can we not embrace nothing? Why can we not fall in love with that which goes unspoken, unloved or undone? We are enraptured with the arrow of fullness and forward activity. We don’t make time for the vacuum. Why? The vacuum of our soul, the vacuum of our existence? Does a vacuum necessarily counteract the premise of existence? No. Existence can Be or Not Be. Yet, we are unable and unwilling to fathom an existence that is Not Be.

Many time I prefer to sit and observe. All the time, really. I avoid engaging. This is why I do not like gambling, sports, social groups…these activities swallow my cognition and spit it out empty. They ask me to participate emptily. Mostly, I have no desire to do anything other than watch and feel and let the warm breeze and sunny clouds rain down upon me. The din of life is disturbing enough. It is soothing and preordained when I stare at an empty pond for hours. Because that is where I live.

I am happy to live in the void, in the dark matter. My habitat.

Sensitivity of my Zen

Last night Amy commented on my post “Square peg in a pussy world.” Initially, I agreed with the validity of her point and mused that perhaps in the heat of such an emotionally profuse post, I had blundered over word choice. It wouldn’t exactly be the first time… Some of my posts tend to be intense. They are like a personal dirge and the words fly from my fingers in a fierce, unrehearsed manner. Many times, during proofreading, these ill-fitted words escape reconnaissance. Amy wrote:

“I’m the most insensitive and Zen guy on the face of the planet”

An odd pairing of adjectives, that! Describing someone as “Zen” (in contemporary slang) seems to imply that he doesn’t overreact to things, but I don’t associate insensitivity with “Zen.”

Though after further consideration–it implies a kind of focus, honesty, and getting down to brass tacks that *appears* insensitive to the politically correct crowd. You know, the people who believe it’s possible to pick up a turd by the clean end.

Yes, it occurred to me that in fact “insensitive” and “Zen” do seem mutually incompatible streams of consciousness. Perhaps I dove into that sentence thoughtlessly. Blogging is free-form lunacy. There is no editorial board to keep you in check. That’s what readers are for. As I said, in some of my “dirge” modes, I tend to write and pound on the keyboard like a harried and mad concert pianist. The words fly…and they aren’t always precisely chosen. Maybe Amy was on to something.

But then, throughout the day (I was home from work to take care of last-minute Christmas crap), I experienced a similar sense of Amy’s “further consideration.” Indeed, I did choose the words I intended. I experienced a similar evolution of thought in regards to the juxtaposition of Zen and insensitivity.

Amy’s comment was directed at something I wrote describing my journey home on public transportation after a rather troubling day. I wrote, “I’m the most insensitive and Zen guy on the face of the planet” when describing the personal frame of mind I experienced on the ride home. In order to focus and resolve a level of mindfulness necessary to “pause” my mind, all lucid cognitive systems must be funneled down into a state of hibernation. Affect idles. Naturally expected behavior is sequestered due to true squandering of energy it represents. Superfluity devours mindfulness. I am describing the Zen arrow; it is the contrary element, the antagonist, of the archetypal dramatic, self-righteous pose assumed by most people when engaging stress and disruption. The predominant Drama Queen reaction (which incidentally is not restricted to females) is an essential element of the 21st Century persona. People swing from extreme to extreme. Along the way, they are riddled with imploding and exploding emotions and nothing is ever placid or linear. The impression given by the dramatic personality is of extreme sensitivity. We equate emotion with sensitivity. However, when emotions are constantly strong and expressed in a continuous hum of elevated noise, how can a person be sensitive when in fact, the threshold has been raised so high that “desensitization” is the result of feeling too much, continuously. True experience is numbed. However, allowing emotions and sensations to coat your being in an even and measured dose are what lead to true sensitivity. This is the essence of my thought. It’s the appearance of insensitivity to the hyper-emotional whose perceptions cloud their own expectations as definers of the outside world. If we were to put their expectations into words, it would be “someone who doesn’t experience the rabid outward emotions I do must not be very sensitive.”

Only by willing and habituating myself into a state of insensitivity do I in fact become very sensitive. If only those on the outside understood this.