Facebook causes SweetMelody to delete acount, hate Nietzsche even more

Well, I’ve been shirking long enough and it’s time to write. I suppose the many, many insults I’ve been getting for weeks have had something to do with my reluctance to get back on the old blog, but fuck those assholes I hate Nietzsche even more...

For some reason, I have as one of my Facebook bro a dude I tertiarily knew when I was 20, and this particular dude has been a source of laughter for me on many occasions. He’s about 40 years old, has been a rave DJ for the last 16 years, and, like rave DJs the world over, has a hankering for women half his age because they’re too young to realize how fucking ridiculous it is for a 40-year-old man to be hanging around in dodgy industrial lofts playing tired, rehashed 1999 house music for teenagers on ketamine by night while spending his days writing and re-writing online bios about what a serious musical artist he is. I know I’m supposed to disassociate myself from all sexists, misogynists, users of women, and general dick-fers, but I just can’t seem to do so sometimes. As revolting as these types can be, they’re also good for a laugh. I mean really, what in the world is funnier than a person who has striven for so long to avoid analyzing himself or the world around him that he has successfully convinced himself that playing records in public matters and that the absurd thoughts that Methylenedioxymethamphetamine causes in the minds of people who dress like kindergarteners gone wild might have the potential to radically improve human society? I can’t give up a source of entertainment that rich just because the guy happens to objectify women. Call me a sell-out if you must; I still don’t listen to Ludacris or go see Seth Rogen movies.

Anyway, this particular individual has recently been having problems with his 22 year old girlfriend. I know this because he stopped posting her borderline pornographic head shots with captions like “My little supermodel” and began writing cryptic updates about the value of honesty and how wack it is when “people” attempt to deceive others. It was REAL subtle, I assure you. I admit it, I snickered at this fellow’s misfortune, but only because I think it’s very funny when adults air their relationship difficulties in a public forum. I especially like it when they include song lyrics they think are pertinent to the situation. Well, this guy dealt very poorly with having been cheated on and dumped and, in between posting updates such as, “I don’t have to put up with this shit.”, got a little introspective and started checking out quotes from European philosophers on the internet, the choice of which he elected to share with his many Facebook pals. Most of them were the kind of silly, obvious, sophomoric nonsense that seems to appeal so much to Fight Club fans (sorry, Geoff) and martial art enthusiasts, but one of them really got me to snickering. The other night, this sage posted a quote from our boy Friedrich Nietzsche that nearly made me drop my humus:

“The true man wants two things: danger and play. For that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything.”

I started sputtering and cussing in a manner reminiscent of Leary discussing Seagal’s ponytail as I recounted the quote and its context to we know who. In between giggles and exclamations of surprise at just how ridiculous people are capable of being, we came to a very important conclusion: it’s probably best to avoid anyone who likes to talk about Nietzsche.

Think about the famous people who claim him as an influence. Marilyn Manson? Jim Morrison? (Scott Stapp claims to be the inheritor of Jim Morrison’s legacy, so we can indirectly blame Nietzsche for the existence of Creed. OK, maybe that’s a slight stretch, but whatever.) Yes, I’m aware that Nietzsche did present some interesting ideas about the possibilities of intellectual inquiry, and that all those French dudes I’m forced to read every semester would have been nowhere without the foundation Nietzsche laid (I’ll give him credit for some of that, but he also gets credit for helping some of those French dudes drop us into the toilet of relativism we now swim in), but very few people know anything about that. Most people who go around quoting Nietzsche do so because they heard he questioned the basis of morality, and that kind of shit really appeals to people who are looking to intellectualize their juvenile, narcissistic interest in smoking pot and participating in faux-Wiccan orgies or whatever.

But as hilarious as Jim Morrison was (The Doors is the greatest comedy ever made) and as embarrassing as Marilyn Manson is, they still at least deserve credit for attempting to understand something Nietzsche wrote beyond whatever one-liners one can find on a website of quotations that also includes “I’m the type of nigger that’s built to last. If you fuck with me, I’ll put my foot in your ass” (NWA, “Gangsta Gangsta”). Jim Morrison was most definitely a self-absorbed asshole whose “art” amounted to getting ripped, fucking whoever was around, abusing his girlfriend, and overusing the word “death,” but at least he was smart enough to justify his behaviour in terms that were not quite yet trite in the 1960s (now, on the other hand…). And though I cannot help but snort, snicker, and pretend to fall over with mirth when someone tries to tell me what a genius Marilyn Manson is, I suppose I can admit that he seems reasonably intelligent and that he possesses the mental faculties required to manipulate quasi-rebellious adolescents en masse. But this DJ dude, and the vast majority of dudes I come across who love to repeat banal quotes from philosophers in some impuissant attempt at projecting sophistication, cannot boast of such, and hence deserve even more derision than Morrison and Manson (fuck, what a radical super group that would have been).

And it’s the selection of quotes like the one above that tip you off to who these guys are. Let’s think about that quote for a minute. Real men want danger and play, and hence they’re into women because women are “the most dangerous plaything”? SNORT.

Now, I know better than to spend any time stomping around in a rage over the misogyny present in nearly every philosophical text from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries (whoops, I mean ever). I do, after all, have to sift through them once in awhile to get at ideas that I need to write or think about. But it’s 2010. Even DJs should know that the ideas these guys held about women and gender roles are fucking silly. Nearly every one of these continental thinkers seemed not to realize the contradiction between making the assertion that women are mentally inferior children who need male guidance even if “guidance” requires physical violence, and then claiming that women are evil geniuses who will make use of their wily-ass feminine wiles to dupe even the most astute among men of letters into doing their bidding; bidding that almost always results in the destruction of the man of letters in question. It’s fairly obvious that these guys had some serious problems relating to women (maybe because they were continental intellectuals, the totality of which group has never produced one dude any woman should have deigned to have sex with), and that their ideas about what it means to be a man resemble most closely the masculine ideal of The Lord of the Rings or some other such regressive dorkery, so why the admiration?

Oh, right, because quotes like that from figures one has heard mentioned by people who wear glasses do a sweet job of grounding one’s own stupid worldview and behavioural tendencies in pseudo-intellectual authoritativeness. After all, in this day and age the kind of dude who, at 40, dates someone who was born when he reached the age of majority needs to stand on the shoulders of giants if he’s to reconcile his penchant for preying on younger women who have yet to develop the maturity and self-confidence to recognize what a creepy freak he is with his insistence on crediting them with the kind of depraved brilliance that would allow them to victimize her. I mean, really, how else are we to interpret the “dangerous plaything” concept?


Fuck this I need air, I'm going for a long walk to cool off. See yah!

Forest from the trees

I went for a walk a week ago,
I struggled to find my way back home,
I'm home now,
Safe, but not sound...

Artifical Intelligence

Yesterday while I was driving home and listening to CBC radio, and this really interesting song was playing and I ran home to download it. The funny thing was by the time I sat down at the computer to search the song I forgot the name.

If you ask me what type of music I like I will most likely respond " I like all music". Instead my response should be "I appreciate al types of music". I genuinely do like all music.

Indie: Low self esteem, not very hard-working, kind or generous. However, creative.

Rock’n'roll: High self-esteem, very creative, hard-working and at ease with yourself, but not very kind or generous.

Hip-Hop: Class all on its own. There has been more controversy surrounding this music since the Watergate scandal. Excellent entrepreneurs, who are not givers. They are narcissistic. Not really creative, but are great pretenders. Nice!

Reggae: Pothead. Dreamer. Unrealistic.

Sometime creative, but typically eating and sleeping. They lack energy, and zeal. Excellent party goers

Techno: Hm. I don’t think it made the charts, although suffice to say repetition. Generally very bored, kind, realistic and witty.

Classical: High self-esteem, creative and at ease with yourself, but not outgoing.

Opera: High self-esteem, creative, gentle.

I actually found this on Danish National Television. A team of psychologists at the Heriot-Watt University in Scotland are behind a study linking people’s personality and their taste in music. I can’t really tell what I like most of the above seven categories of music, though I guess opera is my favourite.

From the above I can deduce that I’m certainly hardworking. Hm. Giggle. Creative. Somewhat really, you know! Not very kind? Oh my, and I thought I was such a kind person… Not outgoing. Hm, I categorically deny that and I know people who’d dispute that. Dreamer... Yes. I will never deny that, but I am awake and realising the dream. I always want to be Gentle. I’m totally at Ease with myself can’t you tell? Maybe not... Repitition is a good thing with respect to design. Keep in mind repetition with variation is interesting, without variation repetition can become monotonous. So I’m all for repetition. And so on and so forth. Also, I can think of a couple of people, mad about indie music and really, really hardworking!

The study also calls into question your intelligence (or lack thereof)? For example: If you're a fan of Beyonce, then you're probably kind of dumb. (I actually appreciate ‘some’ of her music, not all.) Just thought you'd like to know. Also, Madonna and Aerosmith listeners aren't the brightest lights on the Christmas tree either, so, if you're one of those, don't apply for Jeopardy. Ah now it’s all clear to me why they rejected me from appearing on the show. Just put on your headphones and accept the hard fact that there are some things - well, actually, many things - that you will never understand. The sooner you realize that, the happier you will be.

You see, a CalTech student named Virgil Griffith conducted a highly scientific study about how music tastes correlate with intelligence. By highly scientific, I mean he figured out college students' favorite music by looking at their Facebook profiles and compared that data to a college population's overall S.A.T. scores.

The New Yorker broke it down like this: Students who listened to pop stars like Beyonce and Lil Wayne are stupider than students who listen to Bob Dylan, Counting Crows, or Beethoven....
The list is an excellent instrument of provocation, especially because it seems a little, well, racist, or at least classist....

Interestingly enough, Billy Joel has the fifteenth-smartest preference population (average S.A.T. score of 1147), while jazz (that's right -- the entire genre) has the one-hundred-and-twenty-seventh (average S.A.T. score of 946). Led Zeppelin beats Weezer, and Weezer beats Ben Harper. The top three: Beethoven, Sufjan Stevens, and Counting Crows (hey, no one ever said that intelligence was the same thing as good taste). The bottom three: Beyonce, Lil Wayne, et al (hey, no one ever said intelligence was the same as popular success).

Griffith reveals the results of his research which includes a handy chart in which you can evaluate how smart you,your friends and family are.

However I totally agree with Lawrence Lessig (law professor at Stanford and Internet evangelist) that the music industry must find itself another leg to stand on, because the sharing of music on the Internet is the future and not even an army of lawyers will be able to stop it.

My own music tastes are very eclectic, so the chart tells me that I am simultaneously smart and dumb, which must be some kind of achievement in and of itself. Moreover if you are on this page reading this entry surely by now you might have figured this out. The music playing at the bottom of this page did not appear there by osmosis, I put it there.

The study doesn't really reveal what it means that I am obsessed with Prince (excuse me - I mean "SYMBOL"), but I can make assumptions. I'm kind of a stupid romantic kinky sexy pervert. But you see? I realize that; therefore, I am happy.

What about you?

Postscript...I'm going to download some Opera and Classical music this evening.

Sleepy Hallow

It's unbelievable that anyone over 12 participates in the garbage tradition of Halloween. All it means at this age is a weekend of costume parties. Somehow everyone forgets that costume parties sucked all year round. Having a costume party on a day where kids get dressed up too will not change things. A good party is a good party, and a bad party is a bad party, regardless of how bogus people are dressed. Wearing fake teeth and red food coloring doesn't miraculously make you an interesting person. Every single Halloween party I went to, all I could do was look around at everyone with fake blood on them and think "God I wish that was real." If only it really were Freddy Kruger in the living room, he'd hack everyone to pieces and it would be entertaining. Wearing a costume is nothing more than an opportunity for cheap compliments. They go rent a Cinderella costume, enter the party, and everyone says, "Wow, I love your costume!" This, for some reason, flatters people. Weren't you listening? They love the costume, not you. You aren't the costume. They are not complimenting you. Whenever I ask someone why they dress up, the only thing they say is, "Because it's fun." Yeah, getting cheap free praise from drunken people generally is fun. Asshole. Too bad it's all fake. Nobody actually cares. No compliment on Halloween is ever genuine. The only reason they're saying, "Nice fish nets" is so that you will then, in turn, look at their costume and give whatever dumb positive statement comes to mind. Halloween should be renamed to "Self-conscious Day." These people have no idea what's going on. They put on a costume that looks ridiculous, and they know they look ridiculous. And they think that wherever they go, everyone around is watching them. But every person is wearing something equally ridiculous, so they feel the same. Everyone is in constant state of thinking they're being watched by people who think they're being watched. Nobody pays attention to anything anyone else says or does because the social phobia is knee deep and compounded beyond reason. Thank god someone dressed up as a serial killer and brought a long knife that I take and hack through the dense clouds of insecurity to find the door. And the people who aren't dressed up feel equally or more self-conscious. They think everyone around is watching them and thinking, "Why didn't that loser dress up? Has she no respect for tradition?" And by the time everyone is drunk enough to finally get over their self-reflective bashful paranoia of "Oh my, this princess outfit is so cute but so silly I wonder who's looking at me," they're far too trashed to do anything besides puke all over the gown and return it the next day so that in 365 days, another generation of slut-skank can pick it out and go, "Hmm, I wonder why this spot has a green stain. I'll take it." Thank hell it's November and these people can go back to feeling worthless and insecure again. Fuck Halloween. Fuck costumes. Double-fuck those dress up and think they’re kool because it’s Halloween. I wonder if they called “Hollowhead” day it would catch on and people would still dress up? Odds are they would.

Go the F*&k to Sleep

I started thinking today about how little sleep I've actually had since returning from Europe a week ago. So I've been telling everyone who calls and say... "Hey Jas you wanna do something tonight?" ..."Hell no I am freaking tired man". I mean who really gives a rats ass if I'm actually tired? I'll tell you... No one cares. Conclusion: the best cure for insomnia is to stop trying to impress people with how little you sleep, and get some f*cking sleep because you know you can, because you don't actually have insomnia. You just think it's cool to have this fashionable disorder that makes you tired all the time.
I don't understand how sleep deprivation has become such a hip and fashionable lifestyle. I hear people bragging about it all the time. "Girl, I'm so tired. I haven't slept for like.. 78 hours straight." La la la

PERFECTION!

  I do believe I've found the secret to a perfect relationship – have four lovers! Fabulous!

Now I’ve been thinking (which could be viewed as a dangerous thing) sharing my life with one other man is too much for me to cope with. When my boyfriend of four glorious months dumped me I figured it all out.

So last night just as I was about drift off to la-la-land, I climbed under the duvet with my eyes wide open I began dreaming. Dreaming that I had four - yes, four - of my dream lovers in bed with me.

Why be alone? Why settle for being with one man? I am no longer interested in being a one-man woman...far from it. My complex love life has somehow been mind-boggling tangle of complicated bullshit with men. Hey: "Guess what? The best part about the deal is I don't have deal with them one at a time. They can hash it out amongst themselves. I'll just deflower a lot of guys." As if. I heard real men like dirty girls in bed, so I'm going practice being a real dirty. To hell with charm school. Little did my mother know she was wasting my father’s hard earned money, because all I learnt in charm school was how to charm men out of their underpants and straight into my bed. So today it goes something to this effect...

"Baby I find that the more I love, the greater my capacity to extend love. When I care for someone, I want my lover to share me with someone else to show how open-minded couple we are. And what a loving trusting relationship we have. Because you realize it's unnatural to expect one woman to be able to give you everything your heart needs."

And share I do. Currently I'm seeing seven people at the same time. Tiring? Stressful? Not as far as I'm concerned. Why devote my time with one guy when I can have seven. Wait wait wait...It's eight because I think messing with your Ex counts. So that number has just jumped to eight. Besides why have a boyfriend when I can do as many as I want including my Ex. Think about it. No don't it's a messed up thing.

It was just the other day when I spotted a gorgeous stranger walking down the street. I just knew I had to be with that person. (After all I've been single for a few months since splitting with my former, my ego is slightly bruised) so I nervously stopped my car and introduced myself and then said: Can I give you a drive? Get in. He jumped in. He shook my hand, bat his eyelashes, ran his hand through is hair. I could tell he was one of those touchy-feely types. After the pleasantries I cut –to - the - chase “Hey yah wanna fuck?” I have a few minutes before I write my exam…. He was way too hot and I didn't want to forsake the other seven in my harem, so I took a pass. Next time it won't be so...

It's an unusual set-up, but one which works for all concerned. I know it seems strange to most people, but I don't believe monogamous relationships are natural. Why love one guy or girl and get your heart ripped out of it's packaging? Why.

Maybe this is will provide a fascinating insight into the extraordinary world of, the practice of being in more than one intimate relationship at a time with full consent on all sides. Unlike polygamy - which refers to multiple marriages, and usually involves several wives sharing one man. For the record I’m not marrying anyone.

So you might be reading this, and thinking the situation may seem like a potential breeding ground for resentment and jealousy. But I’m talking about cerebral, attractive, classy, hot horny horny men. [Roll eyes]I insist there is no rivalry. None whatsoever.

No one believes me when I say arguments never crop up, but they don't. If anyone felt jealous, we'd talk it through. I have one rule: NO fighting. If someone feels left out, they must say so. That way we can change things."

Love is one woman, four men and a bed built for five .A one-to-one relationship wouldn't work for me. At least not anymore. This arrangement makes me happy. Sex with a man is like a big showy thunderstorm. But these days sex with myself is like an ocean - there's a depth and subtlety that doesn't exist with anyone else." I can't imagine life any other way.

IN THE GRAND SCHEME OF THINGS

Who are we? Why are we here? Funny how just because we're capable of asking the question, we assume there's an answer. We are a self aware chemical reaction. We replicate, therefore we are. We have been growing unstopped to date, thanks to the diversity we've enjoyed. This is despite irregular culling of entire species - bombardment from space by the irregular comets and asteroids that frequent our solar system. In fact, life at our level may never have happened but for this culling... But I digress.

NO MORE DRUNK ENTRIES HERE...

Seriously 99% of the entries were made while I was...
1. Peeved at me ex-lover
2. Really peeveed at the lack of social justice in this world
3. Disturbed by something I saw or read thoughout the day
4. Happy with my sweetheart ex-lover
5. Some assignment I may have received a lower than my expected average score
6. Missing my ex-lover so I ranted
7. Was feeling sentimental about some silly thing like my ex-lover
8.  Ruined my dinner while making an entry so I got rotten about  my diner being burnt and forced an entry
9. Had love with my ex-lover felt happy and decided to fuck someones eyes by writing about it
10.Came home from an evening of total ridiculous fun with the girls and guess what....yup! wrote about it
11. My friend decides to check out and I get all ornery, irrtitable, and pissed off because I just cannot attend a funeral in New York, because I have exams to write next week and I need to focus focus focus. [roll eyes] but I just can't with all the things happening around me....
12. Because I was too happy to share with the world that I was slightly inebriated and the allure of it just really couldn't help myself
13. Was hungry and didn't know what to make so instead I made an entry
14. Because I really was missing him so I called and wanted to share this overwhelming  happiness with y'all
15.  Too intoxicated to remember even why I was making an entry

The short of this is I am not going to make anymore entries after having had one too many glasses of wine. It's not fun. It looks like someone threw up all over my screen but its seems others have taken a keen interest in what I have to say.

Philosophical Me

Once again, my little mind has wandered off from reality and into the realm of self-thought. So, I’ve been thinking a lot while people around me assume that I’m daydreaming.

Hahaha! Not true! I don’t daydream, I just think a lot.

Questions without answers, answers without knowing which is true and what not. Dilemma, dilemma, my constant friend… I think I need to make up my mind soon.

Studying has been awefully boring this semester. I was so bored in with some of the reading that I played with musical notes in my head.

Check this out: BORED TO DEATH  - rearranged -; HATED RED BOOT

See how bored I am? Yeah, you get the picture.