Where the Concrete Ends

…the way that our civilization currently exists, it relies on perpetual violence, to all forms of life. And there’s no getting around that, it just… it does. Um, and shorter showers, and energy efficiency, and riding your fucking bike, it’s not gonna change anything. It’s not gonna change that the people in power are insane and they will continue to use violence to take what other people will not freely give to them. So I think everyone just needs to think about where they stand on that, and that’s what these songs are about, is the feelings that that kinda… the whole conundrum inspires. And uh, I know that you hear those things that are kinda preachy, and people act like they have the answers, I don’t have the answers, we need to have a discussion together to come up with the answers, so we need to feel comfortable expressing that yes, we live in a culture of rape and violence. What do we do about that?

- 03/28/2012 (via marcopolio)

There is a great line from a Canadian lumberman. “When I look at trees, I see dollar bills.” That’s the problem right there. ‘When I look at women I see orifices.’ ‘When I look at gay men I see threats to my own masculinity.’ When you put this stereotype over the top of the person, including non-humans, then you are incapable of seeing the person. If you perceive trees as dollar bills, you are going to treat them as dollar bills. If you perceive women as orifices, you are going to treat them as orifices. If you perceive trees as trees you’ll treat them differently, and if you perceive this particular tree as this particular tree, and that particular tree as that particular tree, you’ll treat them differently still. That’s one of the things that I think ties all of these issues together is this incapacity to perceive the other as other.

You could not have factory farming if you perceived the cows as individuals, the chickens as individuals. That is not to say that one could never kill an individual, human or nonhuman. I’m also not saying that you have to perceive everyone as individuals at every moment because if you do you go insane. You can’t keep all that information in your psyche at the same time. The point is to attempt, in so far as possible, to be aware of when I am treating the other as an object and when I’m treating them as a subject. To not pretend that simply because I can’t conceive of them as a subject at this moment, because I’m so busy with other things, that that actually makes them an object.

- Derrick Jensen (via paradiseoroblivion)

paradiseoroblivion

- http://bit.ly/X1Lpkc

Sex is not a goddamn performance.

Sex should feel as natural as drinking water.

It should not require confidence.

Sex should happen, because the moment is ripe.

Ripening lips, ripening labia, ripening cock, ripening pupils, ripening state of being. Ripe and augmented and brimming. Your energy goes to your pumping heart, then to every external nerve, then to theirs, on fire.

You bask, roll, play in it. You sigh, moan, laugh.

It’s not about being “good in bed.”

It’s about being happy.

One should never worry if they’re doing it “correctly.” Sex is not factual. I don’t want your cookie-cutter sex, I don’t want your meticulously crafted, calculated, fool-proof fuck. I don’t want a show. I want you. Let your instincts, urges and whims define that. It’s enough.

What do most girls like? Forget about it. Statistics are meaningless when there’s only one. Hello, here’s me. Here’s you.

Don’t worry about taking it too slow. We got time. We got infinite rhythms, combinations, possibilities. Explore each fuck. Take our time. We can do a different one later.

Don’t worry about making me come. I’m here. Right where I want to be.

I am overwhelmed by wanting; you don’t have to convince me. I want you because I like you. So don’t put on a front. Don’t taint this.

I’m frustrated—it’s just authenticity I want.

It’s originality.

It’s passion.

It’s joy.

Don’t say that something I like is ugly. Don’t compare yourself to the rest. You will live and die with and within your experiences like everyone else. If someone thinks you are amazing, they are not wrong. Their universe is as real as any other; it is forged through perception.

I don’t care if you accidentally slammed my head into the wall, if you slipped out, if my arm cracked, if the delightful pressure of your wet lips on my anything made a silly sound. There is no right way and no wrong way.

“Good in bed,” what.

You’re good in my bed. I’m pleased you’re there. I feel it suits you.

Shove your technique. Let your memory swallow it. Fuck me like you’d fuck me, fuck me like you feel.

This isn’t a test.

- via skwyrtle from reddit. (via nikolaiolivier)