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Tragedy and Rice


Warning: Contains more masturbatory introspection.


Lots of little thought-mice running through my head today.

I worked a little late last night, and by the time I got home and changed, it was time for Navy: NCIS. I rode the bike during the show, which turned out to be a relatively good thing (though I have cramps in my calves today which are a severe bitch), but then they followed it up with another episode of NCIS. I got sucked into TV watching, and didn't do any more corpsing.

Bear in mind that the corpsing allows me to concentrate on one thing, on an artistic thing, for long periods. It's a creative outlet, and it is truly sculpture in a very different medium than say clay or stone. It's like sculpting with liquid, and I find it very... soothing isn't quite the right word, but it's close.
Not doing it made all that energy go into a lot of unfocused thinking. Kinda like brain-surfing.

You see, my brain never shuts off. If I don't keep it occupied, it gust goes willy-nilly into whatever dark recesses it can find and starts to play in the dust.
Sometimes it stirs up interesting things. Most often it just brings up old crap, like some sort of emotional flea market.

Well, last night it did delve, and it brought up a whole swath of disturbing thought on women and what I find attractive.

If you've been following my wallowing, you know about my stripper fetish. It's a kind of light-hearted romp into territory where I don't feel safe, but doing it in a safe way.
Exotic dancing is not a glamorous job. It's also not sexy, and pretty much every stripper that I have known has had to throw up huge walls between themselves and their sexuality in order to function. And it takes a toll. It can royally screw up relationships and leads very easily into addiction.
Another note is that the vast majority of sexworkers that I have had contact with have been sexually abused as children by a close family member or friend.
Combine those things together, and you have the potential for some serious emotional issues. And true to form, the majority of stripper-women that I have known have had really screwed-up lives. I can think of one that didn't.

So why do I like strippers? Aside from great asses?

The theatrics. The performance aspect. To exude sex and sensuality while being completely emotionally divorced from it is a powerful bit of acting.

I find myself drawn to goth babes for the same reason. Goth is all about performance and theatrics, costumes and mindset.
(You may disagree. A lot of Goths will talk about it being a "way of life" and that theatrics are for posers. I say Get Over Yourself. I write bad poetry and like graveyards. That doesn't make me Goth.)

You see, I like creatives. I like women that are interesting and different. I like women that are non-traditional. I like actors, and dancers, and artists who find ways of expressing themselves through non-traditional means.
But the catch-22 is that almost all of these women have some troubling emotional trauma that is providing them with the fodder for their art.

I am drawn to these women like a moth to a flame. And like the moth, I get burned when the flame gets too hot. And I say "never again", and then I see something new and exciting, and I am there again, flitting around and basking in the glory of artistic trauma.

I don't think that every stripper is a creative. I have known a lot of mundane strippers, or at least as mundane as a stripper can be. But I have known a few who had depth and resonance, and carried it over into an ability to express themselves that was nothing short of amazing.

And there are women who take sensuality as a creative outlet. Sensuality and exhibitionism. Earlier when I said that my brain never shuts off-- well, the closest it comes is when I am in the company of a sensual, exhibitionistic woman. I get a serotonin rush that makes weed look like aspirin. And a glorious thing that is indeed. :)

Yes, it means I am easily manipulated. Particularly now, when I am most at risk. It means that I have to remain especially vigilant if I want to keep my identity whole. Assuming that I even have an identity, which at this point is something of a question.

So here's a thought: I am attracted to women who are bad for me.

The crux of this is why they are bad for me-- they shouldn't be-- and what I can do about that. I think it comes down to strentgth and courage, and being able to recognize and stand by my convictions.

Because I know that I'm never going to find an emotionally stable stripper. But it's actually pretty damn likely that I will find a sensual exhibitionist.

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