Christmas is almost here again, and yet we are in one of the strangest times we have ever been. At least it is the strangest time that I have been a part of so far.
Lock downs are happening all over the world and right before Christmas with no ending in sight. People are wearing masks while doing their holiday shopping. Apparently the government is thinking about handing out some more money to us peons. Thanks Big Daddy, may I have another?
Don’t let the masks and the lock downs bring you down. Don’t let politicians and others who don’t have your best interests at heart, tell you what to do. Do what you must. Do whatever it is that you must do for you and yours.
Don’t let those that would, break your holiday spirit. Don’t let them break your spirit, period. Stand where you must stand. Sit where you must sit. And fight where you must fight. Know what hill you are willing to die on.
I’ve been active on Twitter and other forms of social media in a “serious capacity” for over two years now. I have a love/hate relationship when it comes to Twitter. On one hand, it’s where I’ve met some seriously incredible people. Smart, funny, knowledgeable, you name it. It also happens to be my best medium for putting my “message” out there. This blog, at least at the time of this writing, has only about 120 or so followers. I’ve been writing on here since October of 2016. I’ve got over 2000 followers on Twitter. Nothing to brag about and I’m honestly not trying to cultivate followers, I just want my message to be heard. Twitter is where it is at for me, at least for the time being.
That being said, the “hate” part of Twitter for me is the buffoonery and absolute stupidity that I see on a day to day basis. Guys LARPing about “saving the west,” “semen retention,” “whamen bad,” “orange man bad,” “degeneracy (whatever that means) bad.”
I came on to Twitter originally to learn, and learn I have. My more immediate goals with that platform is to connect with people and develop real life relationships with those people. I’ve succeeded so far. The part that I worry about occasionally is that I may in fact be creating an echo chamber for myself.
I’m all for intelligent conversations and discourse. I’m all for being able to agree to disagree. There are plenty of people that I follow that I don’t agree with them on everything. At least when we have a disagreement, it is civil and we still respect one another. No name calling and flipping out needed.
When I go to learn something, I start with what I don’t know and I “chunk down” until I can get to the most basic components of whatever it is that I’m trying to learn. Once I’ve figured out those basic components I tend to “chunk up” to a more broad picture that involves a lot more context and nuance. For me, that’s where I get to apply whatever it is that I have learned and put it to use.
At the highest and most useless “level,” there are people on Twitter.
The next level down, for me, is Time Wasters and Everybody Else. You can continue to “chunk down” if you want, I know I did, at least awhile ago, but now I’m good with this particular category.
I don’t care what your political bent is. I don’t care what religion you follow. I don’t care what you identify as. I don’t care about your sex or your gender, or anything else of that nature.
What I care about is: Are you a Time Waster? Are you going to waste my time with stupid shit? Are you saying stupid shit on the internet? Are you inviting me to join your circle jerk or are you saying something of substance that I might find useful, even if I disagree with it or you?
Can you teach me something about making YouTube videos? Can you show me something on a musical instrument? Can you paint or draw? Do you know how to write? Are you good with women? Or are you going to tell me that I shouldn’t be getting laid because I’m short? Are you going to give me worthless information like, “Just take her to the dance, man. And wear shoes! Not sneakers!”
Are you going to talk to me about giving yourself an enema and how you’re betting serious money on an election? Are you going to talk about “spirit cooking” and the illuminati? Are you going to spout off about how the Mormon’s and Islam is going to save the west?
Are you going to start off your theory, argument, thesis, diatribe, or rant with “As a Real Man” and hope that your weak statement can be bolstered by guilt and shame?
If so, that’s okay. You are a Time Waster. You are wasting my time. My time is my most precious commodity. I have less going forward than I do behind me. It’s the one commodity that I can’t get more of and I can’t get back any that I have spent or lost. In many ways, it’s actually finite because at some point in the future I’m going to stop breathing and I’ll be dead.
I don’t mind shit posting. Hell, I do that the most on Twitter. Twitter is where I go to relax if I can. Twitter is where I can “let my hair down” and just “hang out.” Twitter is my bar at the moment. It’s where I go to have a few drinks and talk shit with my friends. It’s not where I go to have my time wasted. It’s not where I go to get lectures from 24 year old’s on “How To Be An Alpha Male.” Dude, shut the fuck up and sit down, you’re giving me a headache.
It’s not where I go to learn about honor and virtue. Those things mean different things to everybody who encounters them. It’s not where I go to learn about religion and which one is supposedly the best. I don’t give a fuck.
I go to learn new skills not how to be a better LARPer.
When I get on Twitter my day consists of reading my DM’s, scrolling my time line, automatically muting “promoted tweets” aka ads (because fuck those) replying to people that I feel like replying to, writing an occasional tweet, and then muting time wasters. Why mute instead of block? Because fuck them, that’s why. I don’t need them knowing I blocked them so that they can parade it around to their fellow idiots. The only people I block is my ex-wife and those that are a real special kind of stupid. So if I have blocked you on Twitter, odds are pretty good you are not my ex-wife. Unless you are.
Now this isn’t hard science backed up by sources and facts, but in my experience I will say that at least 70% of people on Twitter are time wasters. The other 30% is everybody else and so I’m very careful about who and what I follow. If that builds me an echo chamber, then so be it I guess. At least it won’t waste my time.
Whatever you choose to do with your time is on you. Spend it on whatever you want. Waste it however you want if that’s what you want to do. Or realize that your time is finite and you can’t get more of it and you can’t get it back and so maybe put it to better use instead of guilt and shaming people into your point of view. If your assertion is really that strong it should be able to stand on its own without guilt or shame tactics. It should be able to speak for itself. Think before you tweet. Don’t be a time waster.
Or go ahead and be a time waster. I’ll figure out for myself really fast if you are and you’ll be screaming into the void from there on out.
It’s one of my most favorite words in the dictionary. The word evokes so many things for me. From breasts dripping with sweat, the smell of sex, hot breath on your neck, nails scratching blood trails down your back, to eyes rolling in the back of your head orgasms, to her pussy grinding against my hand, my face, my crotch.
Desire is a dive bar that serves cheap booze and the smell of stale cigarettes is in the air. It’s the smell of sweat and the heat of bodies packed together, grinding, grazing, pushing and pulling towards one another. Desire is a beer bottle sliding on a guitar neck as the band plays the blues. Desire is the devil tempting me.
To quote Ronnie James Dio on Heaven and Hell: “There’s a big black shape looking up at me. He says I know where you ought to be! Come with me and I’ll give you, Desire. But first, you’ve got to burn, burn, burn, burn in fire!”
Desire is when she will drive two hours each way to come and fuck you. When she will get out of her car, throw herself against you, put her tongue in your mouth and you can taste the coffee and her need for you, and when she wraps her arms tightly around you and throws a leg around yours for good measure.
Desire is her walking through your door, climbing the stairs while stripping out of her shirt, dropping it on the staircase, unclasping her bra, and asking you, “Where’s your bedroom?” All while she hasn’t missed a step or a stride. Desire is the sweat in her hair as you pull it and the sweat on her breasts as you lick them.
Desire is her putting her arms around you while you are cooking bacon at the stove and she unbuttons your pants and sticks her hands down inside and grabs your cock and starts stroking you.
Desire is when you turn around and she drops to her knees in front of you, pulls your cock out of your pants and begins to suck. Desire is seeing her drooling while she is sucking your cock at the stove. Desire is when she pulls you from the stove and you absently turn it off so you don’t burn the house down and she is stripping, walking backwards to the bedroom as you pull your shirt off.
Desire is when you pull her pants and her panties down in one smooth fluid motion and she grinds her ass against your crotch and the juice from her pussy drips down onto the floor because she is so wet.
Desire is when she is breathless and can only whisper, “Fuck me. Fuck me now.”
Desire is when you are straddling her and she is gripping your cock and guiding you inside of her and she doesn’t care that you aren’t wearing a condom and she doesn’t care if you come inside her. That’s how bad she wants you.
Desire is when you come inside her and she screams and groans as you come and she comes too.
Desire is forbidden, taboo. Desire is carnal and naughty and earthly and smelly and messy and sweaty. Desire is salivating and salty and silly and funny sometimes too.
Desire is hot and exciting and wordless and breathless and sometimes it can be wrong but it feels so right and you do it and you want to keep doing it and when you’re done you want to do it again. Desire can move mountains and destroy civilizations. Desire is all that is holy and all that is sacrilege. Desire is heaven and hell.
Desire is biting and choking and bloody and sweet and tender sometimes.
Desire is about feeling and emotions. Desire is what is always tickling at the back of your mind.
Desire is a connection.
Desire is not a thesis. Desire is not an essay. Desire isn’t a set of variables that can be controlled for, not really. Desire isn’t an algorithm. Desire isn’t a computer simulation or a program. Desire isn’t a course on gumroad.
Desire isn’t logical or about logic. Desire isn’t contrived in a vacuum or in a laboratory setting. Desire isn’t rational. Desire isn’t about investment.
Desire just IS.
Desire is a fire. A burning. A need. A longing. A hunger.
Desire isn’t an equation to be solved for.
You can whisper desire. You can beg with desire. Desire will make you shudder and bring you to your knees.
You can write poetry about it. You can write and sing songs about it. You can play an instrument to it and harness it.
You can’t bottle it and put stock and credit into it.
Desire is the devil on your shoulder whispering to you to do all the things you want to do.
Desire is delicious.
Desire cannot be held in your hand and quantified and labeled and put in a jar on your shelf.
Desire cannot be negotiated. Desire cannot be “worked on.”
Desire cannot be controlled for and owned.
Desire is evocative. Desire isn’t sanitized and boring.
Rob Says 
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