Showing posts with label taylor swift. Show all posts
Showing posts with label taylor swift. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

I Stole Your Boyfriend

Taylor Swift brought something up in the September (2014) issue of Rolling Stone that really made me think. I will bring this to bear down below. Uh, the rest of the article was pretty mindless and useless; I guess Katy Perry and she are enemies... OK.
T. S. sheds some light on why some girls are so horrible, but first some thoughts.
Visually, women are portrayed pretty much consistently in magazines, television, film, wherever; let us say: in media. Definitely: it is any woman's prerogative to be portrayed however she likes. Some women (Lena Dunham) think that women in general are "creating a sexual persona for the male gaze" (what a cool sentence; she is so good with words; I was a fan of the first two seasons of GIRLS; emphasis mine). You can't blame people for thinking that that is what's going on; it seems obvious. That whole idea: men are bullying women into doing what we want, á la evil 60's Mad Men. Wasn't it women who fought to wear less clothes though, to be "free" to be more sexually expressive?
I know men. We can't tell the difference between a size two and a size zero. Most of us are quite OK with a size six. Size twelve? Bring it on. Men will like anything on a magazine cover. So why do we get blamed for the extremism? We don't look at models and think, If only she was two sizes smaller. It's easier to blame others. My inkling is that women want to be skinnier because other women are skinnier. They wear less and less because so-and-so is wearing less and less. They wanna be this way or that way because other girls are that way and they perceive that other women are stealing all the attention from men or can if they so choose. What do you think? Men are guilty of all sorts of things, but for now we speak on the feminine. And who are all those nasty, evil marketing executives? Could they be women?
THANK GOD NOT ALL WOMEN ARE THIS WAY.
What is this attitude that women seem to foster all about? Is it the female human nature of competition for the alpha male or status? Could, would, is it possible Taylor Swift has some insight into the matter?
(Granted: sex sells, but isn't it obvious that at any time in history if you put a naked body in front of people they will look?)
This brings me to the lovely, blonde-ly Taylor Swift and her easy going insight. I'll let her speak for herself, being the strong woman that she is:
"When your number-one goal is getting a boyfriend, you're more inclined to see a beautiful girl and think, 'Oh, she's gonna get that hot guy I wish I was dating' ... But when you're not boyfriend-shopping, you're able to step back and see other girls who are killing it and think, 'God, I want to be around her.'"
That's awesome and how women should treat each other. There would be less ferocity, animalism, and women would look out for each other more often, instead of ... instead of ... being so MEAN to each other.
To be certain, women don't have to be boyfriend-shopping; they can just want the attention. This sheds alotta light on this issue. It's this huge, unstoppable, nasty competition (perhaps nature) thing; and some girls are worse than others. (Note: just because some things are nature, it doesn't necessarily mean they are OK.)
We all want attention, to some extent, surely. Men and women want it in different ways. Women seem to be perpetuating the extremism that they absurdly strive for and the "freedom" of nudity and sexual expression. Personally, I think sexual expression (male and female) is out of control and has been since forever.
Yes: some girls are far worse than others, and bullocks that they aren't doing it on purpose. They prowl around, taking as their own endless fads and looks and dispositions trying to get whatever guy. And why? To steal a boyfriend? To steal a girlfriend and be gay for a day to cause a stir (wow, she's so crazy and scandalous—BORING)?To be able to say, I stole your boyfriend? To sate the insatiable in them: to prove they can do it to themselves and whoever is looking, to get attention, to falsely validate themselves. Maybe that is it.
And these girls they look at themselves prettily in the mirror, so pretty they look, so proud they are of themselves in their solitude (alone, alone, alone) where they fancy that no one in the world understands them (except for their next target) and they glory in their evil conquests: "I stole your boyfriend." And sometimes all they can do is try. They do this to their neighbors, other girls, usually nicer girls. They are mean. And it's just not cool. It's just not cool.
They are usurpers, lacking character (and who knows what else) and we should feel sorry for them. Are these the same girls that are always so proudly confessing that most of their friends are guys, as if it is something impressive? "I just don't get along with other girls. They're catty and mean and they suck." Or are those the good girls that have been marginalized? Not all girls are that way, so that is doubtful. They're just one of the guys, ha. I don't know. It's just not cool. Whoever they are, they should focus on the good, cool things in other girls and try to get along. Can't we all just get along? Ha. It's just not cool.
Why so hateful? I guess it's more important to get attention —how boring.
YOU are just not cool.
None of this is to mention the ugly side of the male species. And, hey, what do I know? Maybe I'm way off here. Anyway, I'm the most wretched of the most wretched and need more help than confused mean girls. God speed you, may God help you prosper.

Written, Typen by My Father


Thursday, November 29, 2012

Pugilistic

I had been blacked out until just now.  I don't even remember the music I had come out to.  I think it was probably the Batman Begins theme song by Hans Zimmer.  Anyway, I became un-blacked out when...

"Hey champ!  You're a prizefighter!  Don't forget your training!"  My coach was yelling loud as fuck at me, and I looked around.  I was bouncing up and down and hitting my gloves together.  I was facing my opponent who was on the other side of the ring.

Oh shit.  What am I doing?  Why the fuck do I get myself into these damned things.  I thought the same thing every fight.  Fuck it.  I looked around the arena, but it was too dark to see anything.  I looked at my opponent.  What's up, little bitch?

"Hey!  Don't forget your training!"

I turned around and leaned toward my coach, "Hey!  I think I'm just gonna rush in and beat him in the first round!"

"No!  Hey!  You stupid motherfucker!  Hey..."

I turned back around and ignored the coach.  I continued bouncing, biting my mouthpiece, and staring at my opponent.  I didn't care anymore.  I didn't want to fight anymore.  I wanted to get this fight over with.  I never wanted to fight again.  Ever.  Like, ever.

So, I braced myself.  My coach's voice faded away.  I would rush in and use all my energy in the first round.  This motherfucker wouldn't know what hit him.

I remembered something.  I looked nearly, around the seats around the ring.  There she was: Taylor Swift.  I waved at her.  She blew me a kiss.

I immediately forgot her.  I went up to my opponent.  We smashed gloves and went back to our corners.  It was almost time.  It was time.

BING! BING!

I rushed forward.  I blocked my left and threw a wild, hard right hook that smashed into my opponents head.  The crowd went wild.  Everybody was standing up yelling, and telling me what to do next.  They were like absolutely insane, caged animals--like monkeys mixed with hyenas that had absolutely lost their minds.

I covered my right, and with all my might I threw eight jabs into the other pugilist's face.  A couple of them made it through, and it seemed as if he was about to turn around and ask his coach what to do about me.  I decided I was done, so I would use all my force on my next two punches.  The crowd was roaring, and I was certain I wouldn't make it out of the arena alive.

I used my whole fucking body.  Covering both sides, I cocked to the right and threw the hardest, biggest, strongest body shot I could imagine and that I had ever thrown.  My opponent's body was jolted, buckled, and he looked as if he was going to fall.  He was slightly leaning toward me, not knowing what to do with his hands and arms.  Within a millisecond we caught eyes, and our souls spoke to one another.  As you know, souls operate in a different space/time world.

"Your eyes are full of fire," my opponent said.

"It's not because of you.  Your eyes are full of fear and confusion.  You look like you're about to drop out," we were being cordial.

"Yes... well... you kind of blindsided me.  We had been studying your tapes, and you have never fought like this.  It's as if you're absolutely mad... like the audience here."

"It's just that I'm done fighting.  I never want to fight again.  Like, ever."

"I see.  Well fucking-a.  You caught me off guard, but I should have been ready for anything."

"You'll have plenty of fights yet.  As for me, I am done.  I'm going to walk off into the sunset with Taylor Swift over there.  Did you see her?  Did you bring a date?  I hope you don't feel embarrassed.  I've been the champ for a long time now.  There's no shame in losing to me.  Hell, there's no shame in losing to anyone.  Fighting is crazy."

"Yes, I saw your Taylor Swift over there.  She looks great.  Yes, I brought a Victoria's Secret model.  She's not that famous yet, but her name is Doutzen Kroes."

"Oh ya.  I know her.  She's hot as fuck."

"Why are your eyes full of fire?"

"I don't know."

"Shall we get on with this?"

"Sure.  Thanks for being my last fight mate."

"No problem."

I threw an insane liver punch.  It was as if my left became a viper and a scorpion at the same time.  The other pugilist's eyes went dark, and then they went white, and then they closed.  I stepped out of the way and down he went, and he would not get up before the count of ten.

I went to my corner.  I waited.  The fight was over.  The crowd swarmed into the ring, but I didn't care about anything anymore.  I didn't even put on the promotional t-shirt.  I stood there motionless, with my stupid arms hanging down, with my stupid hands with stupid gloves on.

Oh well.  I thought, and I just looked around, like a confused man--a pugilist.  Taylor Swift joined my side

The fight was over.

Finally, I wasn't fighting anymore.  I took a long walk.