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| keith truesdell, frank dileo, blogs, literary, eaton centre, humourous, abusive, discuss, creem magazine, mercury, stage, pacific northwest, chow, | At church everything was keith phipps bland and wooden. No stained glass depiction of Jesus being whipped, no red paint made to look like blood on the hands and feet of a flesh-colored statue crucified alongside the alter. It was a world keith phipps without shame, without fear of divine retribution or even the immediate threat keith phipps of physical pain. No urgency, no forbidden fruit. A world that believed in perfection, black and white dichotomies, existence without shades of gray. Practical. Sterile. Dull. So let's talk men for a moment. Men and the desire for chaos and pain. Now, I hope you'll excuse this politically correct generalization, but it seems to me pretty much a phenomenon of privilege to sit around all day glorifying anguish. That the bullshit about Dionysus affirming life by being torn to shreds is easy to swallow if the closest you've ever come to being ripped apart is a titillating jaunt to the principal's office (or, shall we say, spending your youth at Schulpforta and your young adulthood being lauded by the big dicks of Leipzig?) |
Best Mature Paysites
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| The new house was spacious; you and your brother each got your own room. But there were no children playing on the street, no kids-only places to escape the silence at night when your pacific northwest father came home. And at school there was no danger, no seventh grade teacher who was rumored to beat her students with the Bible when they were bad, no girls pacific northwest who were willing to climb through a narrow window to a basement room and pull down their pants. The classrooms were carpeted, and there was what was known as a tracking system. You were grouped with a bunch of nerds, while your brother had classes with the kids who didn't do their work and mouthed off. Of course even they'd have been the best-behaved children in the school back in Boston. The teachers had master's degrees instead of habits-your father was thrilled. No praying at school, no religion book describing the fourteen Ways of the Cross and how guilty you should feel. |
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