realizations

- image: woman, in form only, body and face changing as if a mirage.
- idea: female-as-sexual-selector is false. for one to idealize the other is to lose self identity in pursuit of a poisonous illusion. both individuals are responsible for protecting themselves, physically and "psychically", from the omnipresent danger that either partner can hide their true selves until it is too late.

i have saved myself by instinct twice so far. time to learn this lesson firmly and remember it.

more later.

impatience.

in the stairwell during a break in lecture. we climb the stairs to a secluded landing two floors above the lecture hall. she pushes me against the wall, her eyes are clouded with an intensity that seems to spread throughout her whole body, transforming her entire posture. her breathing is shallow and quick, causing her voice to take on a slightly higher pitch. her words tumble out in a fast, unpremeditated rhythm.

she draws closer as i gaze quietly at her, lips slightly parted and knowing what will come next. she seems fully intent on having her way with me, enacting a real version of the emails that we have been sending back and forth... naturally, though, i am going to make her suffer a bit for it. i pull her close, then lightly push her away and start to quiz her about her boyfriend with laughter in my voice. she denies that they are actually a couple, saying that they've been seeing each other "off and on for a couple of months". a lie.

you said before that he was hot... do you like him?, i ask in a soft, singsong voice... "yes, but he's not as hot as you," she breathes. thank you, i reply, almost as if yawning. after a few minutes of distracting her from our reason for coming to this hidden place, gently allowing her mind to reassert control over her emotions, i unceremoniously walk away, leaving her hot, bothered and a little bit dumbfounded.

she hasn't shown me why i should take her from her boyfriend, so i won't. if she has a problem with that? i don't care. unexpectedly, i have become dispassionate... without attachment to the outcome, the process becomes clearer, though definitely not any simpler.

fascinating that a person will act from a basis of emotion, and only afterward explain their actions in a way that aligns with their imagined sense of self. from the beginning, i knew that she intended to test me and find out if i was "new boyfriend material". i'm not, not for her, not right now. hence, the game began with an ambiguous phrase. before she could resist, she was indirectly asking for more. at that moment, one strong reinforcing response allowed her to express herself fully, without conscious interference. only afterward did she have to face the consequences of an action that caused dissonance with her desire to appear modest and "good"...

in everyday life, this happens all the time. habits are hard to break; the average person often speaks without thinking; emotions, memories, desires come upon us before we can comprehend their causes. so our inadequate mental apparatus is forced to clean up the mess, explaining "i just changed my mind" or blaming fate. in the case of having been lead astray by one's own desire, the victimized self needs deniability -- "it was his fault; he made me feel that way."

she wrote me an email later that night, explaining that she wanted nothing more than to know my mind, my "soul", as she put it. the amazing part of this is that she may actually be sincere in her reframing of the situation -- she doesn't even know what came over her because her conscious mind was not involved in the decision. after the fact, however, all kinds of mental gymnastics are performed to re-mold and re-sequence events to fit with "who she is"... although, in light of her actions, she is clearly not a single consistent personality, but a complex of sometimes conflicting elements, each with its own agenda.

the question, then, is threefold:

• how do these emergent facets of personality manifest in our daily lives,
• how "conscious", or volitionally aware, are we of them,
• how are our unconscious motivations intentionally manipulated by others?

having studied for a few years, the sequential nature of this process only now begins to reveal itself. in earlier days, i may have referred to it as "hacking"... but this software exists inside the minds of every person alive today.

the real question, then: who needs computers?

a garrison of square black letters stand sentinel against white signboard, the sidewalk buttressed by sawhorse barricades and yellow tape. "please do not cross this line. a movie is being filmed..."

production assistants stand in phalanx position, each wielding a clipboard, a haggard, bored look and a somewhat unconvincing authoritarian air as they patrol the intersection. should anyone display the audacity to set foot across the threshold, they are sternly warned. the street is cleared of pedestrians, as everyone crowds around at a twenty foot remove from the four corners facing the improvised set.

we are too far away to see exactly what happens, but after about ten minutes, the p.a.'s begin to relay orders down the street. shouting in unison, they signal their readiness for the impending event. moments later, the intersection erupts in a cacophony of steel colliding against steel and tires squealing against pavement. after about a minute of dimly visible but clearly audible mayhem, the take is complete and action ends.

people are still not allowed to cross the intersection, however, and are beginning to ask questions about the delay. the production assistants nearby offer no explanation, instead maintaining a truculent silence other than warning us to stay in place "for safety".

across the street, the corner is likewise cleared of anyone not involved in the shoot. among the crew members milling about, a young man wearing a black jacket and nondescript beige pants turns the corner, apparently lost in thought. after taking a few steps, he stops and takes a sip of coffee from a distinctly bland styrofoam cup. for the first few minutes, no one notices him, and rightly so -- aside from being a few inches above average height, his appearance is resolutely unspectactular. if not for numerous close-ups taken during the previous movie whose sequel is unfolding in today's crash scene, his face would be completely anonymous.

the production assistants- turned- pedestrian- traffic- coordinators whose day began at four a.m. this morning give us the signal. we are free to go, passing through the intersection under their watchful gaze lest we disturb the wreckage and debris so artfully strewn about. the ordinary-looking thirtysomething year old assumes a slightly hunched, almost bashful disposition, shyly acknowledging the crowd of fans and admires who pause to pay homage to a movie star as they go about their everyday affairs.

audio: l'arc en ciel . anemone

no apologies, old man. this is far too amusing not to record. besides, perhaps one day you'll remember these moments and think, "i wrote this bollocks?"

and she's enjoying it too, judging from her responses.


...ballet boots... taut calves and thighs, straining to be freed from
their glistening black encasements, boots laced tightly to provide the illusion
of function when their real purpose is something else entirely.

Bleary eyes slowly focusing on the blackboard... only to find reality
quickly supplanted once more by images unfolding in brief bursts of subconscious
communication with the deeper, darker parts of the mind.

A slight stirring below brings him back to the present, and a rather unappealing
debate about illicit substances being used as medicine...

From the corner of his eye, he unintentionally begins to take in the sight of
the sometimes-cute-sometimes-not redhead sitting nearby... no, she becomes transparent
as his imagination reveals a vision of the curvaceous, dreamy brunette a few seats over
who also seems lost in a bit of covert reverie. I wonder whose film she's starring in,
he asks himself with a bemused half-grin. More images splash across the pages of
his improvised sensual screenplay... hands behind her back, held there, breath visibly
incited to a quick, heated rhythm... her eyes closed as she is told that they must be
at all times unless given permission to do otherwise... so close, the heat from their
bodies driving her slightly mad... mad for the whispering kiss that lightly dances
across her lips and then is so cruelly taken away... always so deliciously close that
she can taste it... worth risking an equally stimulating punishment should she choose to
break his playfully impossible rules.

Rising from his seat, he quietly moves across the short distance to the door,
intent upon finding a breath of fresh air outside. After all, he didn't come
to lecture in order to think about his classmates...

motion: garbage . cherry lips (uncensored)

as you listen to your breathing, you can feel the movements of your body, in your rib cage, your abdomen, your posture. you can take in a full, natural breath, then let it go, completely and easily. you may notice your breathing as it becomes more settled, deeper, calmer. inhaling again, slowly and fully... then you can you allow yourself to let go of any tension as you exhale, feeling more and more relaxed as you listen to the rhythm of your breathing...

the surroundings were not entirely ideal, but the relatively soft lighting and warmth of the room worked to our advantage. the small restaurant was nearly empty except for the small group of friends at the bar. we had not seen each other for quite some time, and had become engaged in a conversation that took an unusually psychological turn. she mentioned a few issues that had been bothering her recently, including anxiety and panic attacks.

the first aspect of taking control of an issue can sometimes be re-creating the problem itself. in an everyday tone, the suggestion was made that she remember how it felt to experience the onset of anxiety -- physical manifestations, i.e. tightness in the chest, rapid breathing, etc.

it was all too easy for here to recall those sensations.

after lightly touching her on the right knee and shifting her thoughts back to the comfort of the present, an explanation followed that she had actually not been in any danger at all -- that she had actually created the experience herself.

next, she experienced the onset of anxiety again; this time, after entering the anxiety state, she became aware of her body in that mental context and at each step, was able to fully consider the fact that she was both the same, relaxed person as before, and the person creating her own sensations and thoughts at this particular moment.

the last step was to give her the opportunity to unravel the moment by simply becoming conscious of her breath. as she became more aware of her breathing pattern, it was only a question of pointing out the connected nature of her posture, and the feeling of what happens when the breath becomes steady, even, and relaxed. as the body relaxed, so did the mind.

the most interesting part of the experience was that she could so easily be guided to feel a fully "real" physiological state -- a stress/panic response -- while sitting in a completely unrelated environment, with friends in a safe place. it was only a light induction, of course, lasting only about two minutes to move her into the altered state and then about five minutes to bring her back. and the language patterns felt so natural that she began to exhibit signs of suggestibility almost immediately...

an unintentional, and exciting experiment. a first step.