I am beautiful (181 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by shandythetopdog (View user info) at 2009-10-24 15:45:37 EDT
I am beautiful
because Earth is beautiful
and I am part of Earth
Trees, birdies, bodies of water, expanses of sky, rocks, sand dune vegetation, buildings, blankets, matchboxes, plates, tables, dogs, blades of green grass, me, dragon flies, shrubs, etc
Not to mention the beautiful things beyond Earth, of which I am also a part, such as satellites, stars, moons, galaxies, universes, etc
Not to mention thoughts and feelings and invisible waves and vibrations etc, which also exist and are beautiful and of which I am also a part
Because I am beautiful, I walk tall, with my chin up, like Eric Banna in the film Troy. I have calm liquid eyes that enjoy and reflect the beauty around me, of which I am a part. I walk tall with my chin up, loose and relaxed, like a king, and my liquid eyes enjoy and reflect without any qualms at all the beauty of the cleavages women often display, even at primary school fund raising fetes. Without any qualms I look at their smooth soft breasts and become sexually aroused. And when I say sexually aroused, I do not mean that I have furtive smutty thoughts. I mean that blood flows rapidly into my penis and various other enjoyable and arousing physiological changes take place in my body in a very natural manner.
When I say how beautiful I - as an element of the universe etc - am, I should point out that unfortunately I am often not aware of this.
In fact, I rarely walk tall with my chin up like Eric Banna in Troy. Usually I slouch around with my chin down. Usually, it's not just a case of being unaware that I am part of, that I in fact AM, the beautiful universe. It's worse than that. Usually, I actually feel like I am separate to everything around me. Divorced from it. Not belonging. A ghastly outsider. So when I see the cleavages on display, I don't look at them openly. I don't get truly sexually aroused. I look at them furtively, and think furtive smutty thoughts, with my chin down, alone and separated from everything.
Sometimes though, I should repeat, I really DO prance around like walt fucking whitman. Like a dog.
Sometimes I really am as pretty as the healthy green leaves of the shrubs in my charming neighbour's pretty garden. As pretty as the scarlet colour of her lingerie, which I glimpsed frequently the other day through her loose overalls while I helped her with the mulching in her pretty garden.
I was a bit hesitant about admiring her scarlet lingerie too openly, I must admit. Likewise her other alluring features. But I suppose sometimes a bit of reserve and restraint is not a bad thing.
Just because each of the billions of tadpoles of sperm I have produced each contains infinite universes of infinite beauty and variety, and just because each of these tadpoles - in common with my other bodily excretions such as 'my' shit and 'my' piss - provides symbolic and actual evidence of my connection and oneness with everything outside my body, and just because my neighbor's scarlet lingerie no doubt contains similar wonders, including breasts, that is no reason to get carried away and surrender all self-control.
Or maybe it is?
That's not to say I need to start in with the barbaric yawping whenever the mood takes me. But the words 'self-control' do have a slightly sinister air, don't you think?
And the word 'surrender' is somehow very appealing.
Somehow effortless.
User Reviews
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2009-10-24 15:52:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
What's Shandy been using that's four feet tall, tapers from eight inches at the base to three inches in diameter at the top, is made of brightly colored glass, partially filled with apple juice, and sounds like a bell?
BONG!!!!!