What am I trying to express other than an obsession with adult entertainment? I should be finished writing my book sometime this week, then editing… and I’ll file it away with all my “other” titles. One’s Art Is Another’s Disgust.
Monday, April 20, 2020
Log 294 ~One’s Art Is Another’s Disgust~
Hundred And Thirty-Third Rule
I AM a Billionaire right now, and that’s great. If anything, like the song, goes, “Hire eight bodyguards that love to beat up assholes.” Except those “people” would be a lot of pretty girls. No, I’m not one of those “incel” losers, and I hate how I always end up sounding like Trump having to explain what I mean. SIGH first and foremost, women are the most beautiful creatures on the planet Earth. Okay, next to My Dæmon, of course. Everything I want and do in my life comes back to that, women.
So last night, I was talking about The Eve of a Cherry,” my novel. If you knew how many days I’ve spent first on the novella and then expanding it. I keep saying I can’t let anyone read it. It won’t make money, so why bother. It feeds my rank soul. What good is it, though. I don’t have the writing chops of S. Wolf, Todd Michaels, definitely not Skye Warren or Tillie Cole. Right now, I’m thinking more of Lily White, who wrote The Five and The Director. We’re talking snuff films “ravishment” fantasies, sex for drugs, and everything in-between. That stuff gets to me Madam Justice, it makes me feel alive. I can’t watch comedy for the sake of STUPIDITY. No toilet humor. Anything with mistaken identity or twins… well, that isn’t adult entertainment, but the funny stuff turns me off, without fail.
“THEY” talk about beauty being in the eye of the beholder, but I refuse to be blind. For a few weeks now, I’ve been arguing with myself over the idea of “Doublethink,” you know, from 1984. My kid is the perfect example of that, he can be a demonic little asshat, but I love him like pancakes, always and forever. I would fight anyone, though, that says anything wrong about him. Look, everyone is entitled to their opinion. Still, it’s the concept that everything I find amazing is looked at as putrid, perverted, or petrifying. One more reason I put women in everything. Only here I am nearing the end of my story, and as Jigsaw would put it, there will be blood. The Coronavirus (COVID-19) is running rampant, and I’m upset that there are no zombies. People are willing to die for some “beautiful” world I can’t see. Our American Dreams, my such art, One’s Art Is Another’s Disgust.
I Will Have No Fear