Echo

When someone dependent on porn experiences or witnesses something that has the emotional/spiritual passion to it, be that from watching a movie, glimpsing it between two strangers or within his or her own personal experience, it’ll probably make this person feel somewhat uncomfortable because there’s an emotional rawness to it that’s scary. There are various causes but the bottom line is that something hurts them when it comes to sex. When someone “needs” porn (in that, they are extremely uncomfortable with the idea of not having porn immediately available), it definitely denotes problems related to sex and sexual intimacy, but also indicates a defensive ploy to protect an emotional wound. Just as with drugs and alcohol, I really worry about people who use porn to detach their emotions from sex or realistic relations with the opposite sex. It makes it much more difficult to be able to relate to someone from the opposite sex in a realistic and satisfying way. People who use porn to numb themselves will find it very difficult to relate in a healthy fashion. Because they already have an emotional/psychological issue but have dealt with it in the worst possible fashion, they will only attract experiences or people that actually hurt them. They’re really shooting themselves in the foot. I would even bet money that if people did a psych survey, they would find that a high percentage of people who need control in their lives also watch porn or have issues with sex. For some reason, sex is problematic for the control freak.

Yes, the road, like countries and corporations and gay porn sites, is ruled by assholes. It seems like every day, something happens that makes you wish you had a gat in your glove compartment that you could pull out and wave around, if only in hopes of making an offensive driver wet himself just a tiny bit into his tan, suede, manually-adjustable seat. Just a tiny bit. Is that so wrong?

But let’s face an undeniable fact. We all do assholic things when we drive. No one is innocent. Hell, I bet if Jesus had a license and had to brave the streets of Los Angeles, he might be prone to, every now and then, accidentally cutting off an SUV-driving heathen or two while busting through two lanes of traffic to pull a screeching right into the Del Taco drive-thru. Who says it’s not possible?

My point is, it’s so easy to fall victim to road rage because driving is impersonal. We’re all in our cars, and have no idea who the other people around us are. They’re just machines to us. Big, poorly-directed, braking-too-early, not-running-yellows-when-they-should-be-freakin’-flooring-it machines. And it’s easy to hate a machine.

But imagine this…you’re driving in your car. Your day’s starting out dandy cuz your 18 year old college gymnast girlfriend who only wants sex with no strings attached, woke you up with a mindblowing hummer and you’re all rosy and glowing and your head’s buzzin’ from the quart of steaming coffee tucked between your legs. You’ve managed to hit every single green light on your way to work and the DJ at your favorite radio station has had a heart attack and collapsed with the door to his booth locked so you’re favorite song, REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight This Feeling” has been on repeat for the last twenty minutes. So you’re singing along in that high-pitch voice you get when you’re in a really good mood, thinking about rainbows and puppies and butterflies against blue skies, when SOME MUTHERFUCKER IN A SHITTY OLD VAN damn near takes off your bumper when he swerves into your lane. You’re SO FUCKING PISSED that you can’t even find the horn. Then your steaming thermos of coffee tips over and floods your crotch, napalming your pubes through your new white cargos. You hit the gas and swerve into the next lane intent on having some WORDS with this ma’fucker. AND YOU ARE GONNA HAVE SOME WORDS WITH THIS MA’FUCKER! As you pull up to the offending van, murder boiling in your veins, you realize to your chagrin that the driver is no other than Sister Bonita of St. Joseph’s who taught you music back when you were a wee tot and once donated a kidney to your beloved Auntie May when she was on her last legs. Sister Bonita, about 90 years old and just about swimming in her nun’s habit, is driving a van full of bug-eyed special ed kids who are waving at you happily and feverishly through the windows. Sister Bonita notices you staring, and offers a kind smile. So what are you gonna do, tough guy?

Right. Nothing. Probably smile back and feel a little bit embarrassed. Because when you realized that the car that offended you is another PERSON, possibly someone you like and respect, then it’s so much easier to be tolerant and forgiving and suppress that road rage.

1015 Santa Monica Building Memo
Date: January 30, 2004
From: 3am Wanderer
To: Hot English Guy Who’s At Least 10 Years Older Than Me

Dear Hot English Guy Who’s At Least 10 Years Older Than Me But Sometimes Rides The Elevator And Small Talks About Being Used To Colder Weather But Liking It Out Here And Has A Really Nice Smile And No Wedding Ring,

We ride the elevator together sometimes. And you always small talk about the weather. I’m the Asian girl who mumbles to herself. And compulsively presses every button.

I think you’re cute. In a, at-least-10-years-older-than-me kind of way, not in a I-want-to-go-out-and-go-through-all-the-tedious-first-date-formalities-before-taking-you-back-to-my-place-for-crazy-raunchy-sex-that-may-include-my-suggesting-that-we-turn-on-the-video-camera-in-the-corner-of-my-bedroom-but-that-i’ll-probably-just-turn-on-when-you’re-in-the-bathroom-and-then-lie-about-because-I-don’t-want-you-asking-for-a-copy-of-it kind of way.

I like to look at you. In a he’s-really-cute-in-an-at-least-10-years-older-than-me kind of way, not in a I-wonder-what-he’s-wearing-underneath-those-jeans-and-if-it’s-leopard-print-or-crotchless-and-how-hard-would-it-be-to-remove-that-undergarment-with-my-teeth-as-I-writhe-my-rear-end-to-Donna-Summer’s-Love-To-Love-You-Baby kind of way.

I notice that lately, you’ve been standing in the hall outside my window and chatting with coworkers. I would like to suggest that you do more of that. If it’s helpful, I’ll be happy to put some tape down to mark your spot in front of my window so you know exactly where to stand in order for me to get the best candid view of you without reconfiguring my work station or straining my neck. Please let me know.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Kind Regards,

i’ll tell you about a vision i had:

they came to take away the body
and everything in there was lush green
except for this one shadow that slashed across
the right side of the room
driving a wedge through everything it was
and everything it thought it could be
and no one ever reached out a hand to touch it
to verify if it was even really there

i’ve seen a lot of ghosts
(we all have, haven’t we?)