I recently expressed to a friend that the whole idea of public blog sharing was foreign and strange to me. He explained that you just need to force yourself to write until blaagin’ becomes second-nature and will come naturally. He told me not worry about the coherence of the text, just to spew out whatever was in my head. This is me doing that.
I hate women. I hate women because I can’t help but love them despite the pain and misery that they inevitably bring me. To quote Hank Moody (David Duchovny) from Californication:
I won’t go down in history, but I will go down on your sister.
Wait – no that wasn’t it. It was this one:
There isn’t a woman that I’ve met that I haven’t fallen in love with, whether for 10 minutes or 10 years.
And I don’t mean falling head over heels every time. In fact that’s never really happened. It’s more like a fascination, an instant desire to discover what drives this woman, what inspires her to be what she is – even if what she is happens to be peg-legged, lazy-eyed, hairy, sleepy-looking pharmacist at the counter of the local Walgreen’s at 3AM on a Saturday night.
Some women are more complicated and take longer to figure out. These are the ones with whom I am most fascinated. This is why I like being in and around San Francisco. The women (and the men, for that matter) defy simple characterization. Setting aside the air of smugness that permeates the city, it’s actually quite a wonderful place.
San Francisco vs. San Jose
This leads me to my next topic. Why, if San Francisco is such a wonderful place, do I reside in this depressing sun-filled strip mall infested suburbia that is San Jose? I’m not sure. It may be due to convenience, proximity to work, etc. More realistically I think it has to do with the crowd phenomenon. Namely, a bunch of my co-workers, in the same situation as me (mid-20s, recent college grads from Toronto, working for a high-tech firm in Silicon Valley), all seemed to settle down in this familiy-oriented place. I couldn’t figure out why this was the case but figured it’s probably not that bad if all my contemporaries are doing it. Wrong.
San Jose, or Man Jose as it is jokingly called, is really only a good place to live if you have kids. Also – rims. If you have 22″ rims and would like to show them off, if makes more sense to live in San Jose. We’re talking complete shitboxes, toasters basically, with rims that probably cost more than the house in which these people live. There’s vain and there’s stupid – this is just retarded. I hate this place.
On a related note, a friend and I have decided to move to the city. We are both tired of living the life of older, more boring men.
Tattoos and Religion
I have decided to get a tattoo. No big deal, I know, in today’s world. The only reason I mention this is that I was “born” Jewish and anyone who gets a tattoo can never be buried in a Jewish cemetary. Now, I put the “born” in quotes because I firmly believe that there is no such thing as a child of any religion. It is unfair to classify any child based on religious belief when they are too young, inexperienced, and naive to understand what it means to believe in a god. I think Richard Dawkins, one of the most articulate atheists of our time, put it best in his book “The god delusion”:
There is no such thing as a Christian child, there is only a child of Christian parents. Whenever you hear the phrase Christian child or Muslim child or Protestant child or Catholic child, the phrase should grate like fingernails on a blackboard
I agree. Forcing a child into the religion of his parents is no better than forcing a street sweeper’s son to become a street sweeper even though he may have aspirations of becoming a doctor or an engineer. It is bully, and a form of child abuse.
So you might say that one reason I am getting this tattoo is to explicitly and permanently express my disdain for religion.
I am thoroughly disgusted with religion in general, and I really have much to say about it. For now I shall digress. More later.