Monday, 6 October 2014

The Average Protocol

There are a lot of things that I do to excess. There are also a lot of things that I don't do enough of. Like a lot of human beings I tend to get lazy around things that actually need to get done. For example I get slothful around polishing my shoes, indolent around reading the myriad books I still have to read and decidedly languid for updating my blogs.

I exercise but tend to cry off on doing the regimented stuff that will keep me supple such as yoga or even basic stretching. I tend to leave the washing up as long as I can and sometimes have to close the washing machine door with my foot as I have dawdled so long on actually doing the dirty laundry.

Life has been for me, for a very long time, a way of "trying not to do shit."

However, one thing I've realised is that many of the things I do are done to effectively dampen down any urges towards pleasure that I might have. Like cutting cocaine with Ajax and flour, if you dilute your pleasures then you crave them less in the times that you don't have them, meaning that when you finally do achieve them, they mean much less.


A habit I have is to read spoilers on the Internet for TV shows I find too gut wrenchingly awesome yet emotionally draining to sit through. Last time this happened was with the season 6 finale of SONS OF ANARCHY. I simply COULDN'T take the anticipation and the nail biting

Another is that if I buy 5 jelly bean cookies from Tesco (seriously addictive treat) I tend to wolf all of them in about 5 minutes or less, as I don't have the patience to take my time.

Last week I bought over 150 Marvel Conan the Barbarian comics for £15 from a charity shop in town. I spent an hour putting them in number order...and haven't read any yet.

I have the final book in Conn Iggulden's Genghis Khan series, a set of books that I think are wonderful...and I haven't read it in weeks.

I got Sky TV recently....and watch maybe 3 programmes a week on it.

Bottom line is that by subconsciously rationing my pleasure I was making certain that I couldn't be disappointed. If you constantly receive "average" then you are happy with "excellent" but not that bothered if it doesn't come because you are rarely getting "piss poor".

My latest book THE SUNDER OF THE OCTAGON has been well received by the people that have read it. I spent over 2 years putting it together, basically because I believed on a very instinctive level that if I blitzed writing it and people hated it (or were even indifferent), then I'd be crushed. By taking my time I was doing it gently, like a sports therapist with an athlete's stubborn limbs so the end result was neither good nor bad, but simply "there." It didn't disappoint, it didn't elate, it jsut existed in a nice state of mundanity.

Only reason any of this has become apparent is that I recently stopped wanking. I was a "one a day" man and without realising it, this habit effectively nulled any real desire to go out and actually find a sexual partner. By dampening down the urge to fuck someone, I wouldn't be disappointed if I didn't get any.

Emotions are coming to the fore that I wasnt' aware of that aren't simply connected to "Phwooar! Look at the tits on that!!!" but because, like a newly clean heroin addict, I have started to feel emotion for real and not some mundane half life based on accepting greyness and the mundane in order to avoid actually risking getting disappointed, hurt or lost.

But unlike a heroin addict, my addiction was for drugs that put cotton wool on my pleasure senses, not on those that heightened them.

Time to clean up.

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