The Compostual Existentialist

Wordpress flavour with added crunchy bits


Explanation….more frank than a French bank

I was raised a catholic, I went to catholic schools, I was an alter boy  many moons ago and I also used to sing in church choirs. That was until I was about 14 when I started to question authority and started on my own quest of spiritual enlightenment  (ie reading about Islam, Judaism,  Aleister Crowley, dabbling with the occult, developing a fascination in alternative philosophies etc) and exploring my sexuality. However, there was a sort of “Dont talk about sex” unspoken and unwritten rule in our house and often when there were scenes of a sexual nature on the TV there would be uncomfortable shufflings of newspapers and distracted room gazing. This might come as a surprise to some people but I suppose my folks grew up in a similar environment where sex was not discussed or whatever and the Catholic faith of my mother mixed with the Welsh Baptist ideals of my father reinforced this.

My “spiritual transition” occured during puberty, which as many boys will tell you is a fascinating time. Learning about your body, girls and things. I went to an all boys school so had little contact with the opposite sex so some sexual exploration with the same sex was inevitable. This, according to the catholic faith, is immoral, of course this is NOT a view I hold today; I have thoroughly came to terms with my bisexuallity and don’t really have any hangups about the religious connotations. Of course wanking was part and parcel of the whole growing up thing. I mean what kid didnt? I could have got a gold medal for wanking if it was an Olympic event (people must have been able to tell because I still hear “Look at that wanker” and calls of “Wanker!” directed at me in public places :-\….) , however on “completion” this mysterious pang of guilt would nestle in the back of my mind and the feeling that long dead people where watching, dissapprovingly. The Catholic brainwashing I’d had during my childhood was taking effect.

After I had left home, I of course developed further. Meeting girls. Having sex (OMG Yes!! out of wedlock!!). Wanking. Meeting men. Having sex. etc. I was quite promiscuous in my youth…mainly due to the long periods of no sexual activity so I made the most of what I had when I could. The pangs of guilt long passed and buried in a filing cabinet labled BIN in the back of my mind. I met my wife at the height of this period of promiscuity and had fantastic sex and fell in love and shared our alternate ideals.

However, recently periods of sexual activity have been …..shall I say…..low….mainly because of health problems but also because of both of us being too tired to do anything in the evenings after work. I’d stopped wanking many years ago as there was plenty of sex on tap and I felt that there was no need to do so. However because of the lapse in sexual activity my wife and I got “out of sync” as it where and when I was in the mood she wouldnt be, when she was in the mood I wouldnt be either, this coupled together with “super fast internet porn” meant we where both returning to manual methods of gratification.

Well guess what? Somehow I became a bit….prudish. In a weird way. I mean I can witter on about sex and naughtiness for hours and hours (in the right company). I’ve done and seen sexual things that some people can only fantasise about. But I found that porn does nothing for me anymore (when I was a kid I had the schools library of wank mags until a bigger boy beat me up and stole them off me), and the my wife merely mentioning of sexual things causes me to giggle like a little school kid and blush. Worse still, masturbation, now brings huge stabs of guilt and tends to be done in secret. So that died a death a few years ago.

So imagine how I felt when my wife came home from work the other day with a Rampant Rabbit Vibrator!

Pleased? yes
Shocked? no
Horrified? No
Confused?…..a little bit
Jealous? a soupcon
uncomfortable….yeah
embarrased? **nods coyly**

Dont get me wrong. Now I know its not a threat to me. She has needs as much as I do. We are both adults that are not ashamed to see each others nakedness. We do still have sex.  I’m pleased for her. She had the bravery to do something I’d been trying to do for years (I promised her one many moons ago. I just didnt have the courage to walk into a sex shop and ask for a vibrator). But like I said, I’ve not become completely prudish. I’ll talk about the size of cocks with anyone, I’ll even discuss the pros and cons of swinging, the sexual pleasure you can get from marmite and parsnips*…but not with my intimate partner! Well, I will, but I get…..embarrased….and go all coy.

Maybe I’m scared she might not approve. Maybe the conditioning (Thou shalt not do sexual things) has resurfaced. I dont like feeling the way I do. I want to feel like a sex god again, the way I used to feel. Gah…I dont know what point Im trying to make, reading back on this the little voice in the back of my head says “Dont be a silly gnome, you’ve just written a load of hairy bollocks” But hey, this LJ thing has really helped me get my head around big issues that have been bugging me recently. (you might think polls about marmite is just me being silly, but its important to me!! honest**). Maybe you have some questions that can help me question myself…..maybe you dont….maybe you’re reading this and thinking “Wanker!”…..maybe its maybeleen…..maybe its necrotisingfascitus…..

*= may be lies
**= may be just flattery

Advertisements


Poverty Corner and grannies – A whinge

Sometimes I can be a complete snob.

Sorry. But I can be. I dont mean to be. I think its something to do with my upbringing. (I’m the true heir to the throne of England you know*)

Anyway, I was reading on another journal about how people tend to swarm when they see or hear the words “FREE” and “FOOD” and gorge themselves silly. Anyway, it brought to mind a phenomenon in Supermarkets in Liverpool [I don’t have that much experience of supermarkets out of the city I live in only because when I go away the last thing I want to do is grocery shopping, unless of course its at Waitrose but thats understandable]. So feel free to let me know if this is just a localised thing.

Anywotsits, in the supermarkets I’ve been to they tend to have two places, one in a chiller cabinet and one in an ordinary shelf where the supermarket tries to flog off its damaged or close to sell by date but still edible/usable stock for well below the price. You know what I mean it usually turns out to be something that you would never eat anyway like badger paté or kipper cordial or marmite or something.

Example:-

Pristene packets of sliced ham say £2.00 compared to dog eared, shiney slimey ham that someone got from the deli counter then left amongst the cereals for 10p

At certain times of day you can see swarms of pensioners, students and bargain hunters congregating around these parts of the supermarket awaiting the arrival of the next batch of soiled goods.

Now I’m not saying its a bad thing, it isn’t, when I was unemployed I would battle my way through the throngs to get my crushed shortbread biscuits, I’m just pointing out what an amusing sight it is to see hordes of grannies fighting over unpleasant looking duck liver paté for 10p. It’s as if all human decency and manners go out of the window as hair is pulled, groins are elbowed and toes trod on. I suppose after all we are all just animals in a base and primal way.

While Im on the subject of grannies. I dont know whether its the same in the states (you’ll notice I have this fascination with cultural differences which one day I may expand on), but is it me or are pensioners today inconsiderate, rude and ill-mannered?

When I was a kid :-

Grannies :- Awww hasnt he got lovely curly hair. Awww bless. Have some sweeties!
Me :- thankyou

Now:-

Grannies:- Out of the way!
Me:- oooof!

Pensioners today seem to be very rude, they push to the front of queues, hit you with their walking sticks, smell of wee and never smile. They never say “Thank you deary” anymore, nor do they ask “Would you like some sweeties?”. They don’t even have blue rinses, drink tea or bake biscuits.

Whereas pensioners less than 20 years ago were lovely sweet dears with blue hair. They would let you get on the bus first, (or at least offer to which you would politely say “No after you” and you would help them on the bus), they’d invite you in for cups of tea and biscuits, talk about the war and share tales of their youth (Normally starting with the immortal phrase “In my day…”). They would smell of lavender or brut 33, smile with big false teeth smiles and ruffle your curly hair (if you were as unfortunate as me to have curly hair).

When did it go wrong?? I used to hear the cry “Kids today!” but more and more so these days I hear “Pensioners today! They have no manners!!”

My grandparents taught me manners and how to be polite (along with my parents of course), my gran taught me to be the gentleman I am today (I still hold open doors for people of all ages though I tend to let them go in ungrateful peoples faces if they dont say thankyou) and my grandparents were lovely old people full of joy and spirit. Yet it appears that some of todays are being stripped of decency and being taught the ways of the world by rude, obnoxious, piss-smelling biddies…..is it no wonder theres few polite people in the world??….

*= May not be true


Metric v Imperial

The Today program on BBC Radio 4 had an interesting article this morning about how the UK still works in imperial (yards, pounds, inches etc) despite moves by the European Parliament to put us in line with the rest of the world using metric (centimetres, grams etc).

Click here for several centimetres of diatribe