A girl needs to be disciplined on a regular basis. If you don’t discipline her, she will eventually become too unruly, and make your life miserable. A female’s natural moody bitchiness is something alien to the male psyche, and a good way to combat that bitchiness is through a sheer display of raw, masculine power. Although most women in the modern world have been conditioned to think this is somehow “sexist” or “demeaning”, in fact it is something they secretly and longingly desire: to feel, even submit to, the strength and power of an uninhibited man. I know this to be true from own personal experiences with various lovers, as well what I have heard and read from others.
As has often been said on here, but can never be said too often, spanking is one of the best methods of discipline. I highly recommend this practice for those seeking to be in good, healthy relationships. And for those of you who just want to enjoy a little kink, spanking is a good way to start. A woman’s ass was made to be spanked, spanked hard, and spanked often.
My own personal preference is that after she has received her punishment, her discipline for whatever acts of bitchiness she has deigned to subject me to, she will then receive a nice reward, and a nice fuck.
It was only a few years ago that I first heard this song from the great British band of the 1960’s, The Kinks. After I heard it I was astounded, not only at how good a song it is, but of the fact that I had NEVER heard it before. I was wondering if other people have heard this, or was I just somehow singularly misfortunate enough simply to have never heard it. The song was produced sometime in the late sixties, and I believed first appeared on a Kinks compilation album, Sunny Afternoon, in 1967. They had written the song earlier, but for some reason decided not to put it in one of those albums. There is also another version of this song by the Chocolate Watch Band, a West Cost psychedelic band from the same era.
The version above is live, which I think is superior to the studio version, although that is good too. What I particularly enjoy about this song are the nice movements, the heavy, blues riffs and rhythms mixed with some gentle melodies. And the lyrics are priceless too. After all, who does not want to NOT be like everybody else?
All in all it is a great song that I wish I had discovered years ago, but am now happy to have discovered it in the past few years. The Kinks truly had some amazing music.
W.B Yeats was one of, if perhaps not the finest, poets of the modern world. His verse is a nice mixture of more traditional English rhymes and rhythms with a more contemporary flexibility. His themes and imagery are always haunting and spiritual. Like all good poets, his verse possesses a gentle music that underlies and supports the words and sense. I came across this poem recently on another blog, and thought I should post it here. A good poem is always worth posting.
The Second Coming
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
As I have often stated, one of my favorite artists is the great Italian Renaissance painter, Raphael. Once considered one of the greatest painters, if not the greatest painter of all time, he fell out of favor in the twentieth century. The abstract modernism popular with so much of the art of the last century, with all its nihilistic themes, was in complete contrast to the calm, harmonious classicism of Raphael’s works. The result was Raphael’s critical demise. And yet, for whatever strange reasons, I have always found Raphael’s works inherently pleasing and beautiful, even uplifting, and most modern art completely repulsive and depressing. This has been true my entire life, from the time I first became interested in art in my teens.
The above painting is St. George and the Dragon (ca. 1506). St. George is traditionally the patron saint of England, and one of his exploits was killing a dragon. Of course, chivalrous knights slaying dragons is de rigueur in most medieval legends. Still, what I enjoy about this particular work is its heroic yet harmonious atmosphere: George is slaying the dragon, yet he seems to be doing so effortlessly. His horse is reared in an epic fashion, with an expression that is almost Homeric, while the demure maiden watches coyly in the background. This could quickly become maudlin, yet in the hands of a master like Raphael, the work seems to tap into the great tradition of heroic narratives, both spoken and painted. Since I also enjoy the great epic poetry of Greece and Rome, namely Homer and Vergil, this painting by Raphael is a great visual representation of what both those two ancient poets achieved in their verse.
This painting is found in the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC, along with a few other of Raphael’s works. One cannot fully appreciate a great work of art without being face to face with it, and one of my fondest memories is appreciating this piece one day in an empty room in the National Gallery. It is actually quite a small painting, but I was able to get quite close to it, and study the details without any distractions. Such moments are always nice when it comes to enjoying good art.
I love beauty in all its forms, and this painting definitely exudes beauty. There is something about works like this which simply soothe the soul.
Recently I have been exploring the world of blues music. Although I have always enjoyed blues based rock music, such as Led Zeppelin, Cream, or Jimi Hendrix, I never fully appreciated the roots of such music: they all ultimately are derived from the blues. The blues are a unique creation of American culture. Born out of the black folk music of the deep south, the Mississippi delta region, and later the big city experiences of Chicago and Detroit, the blues are the foundation of pretty much most of all contemporary, popular music. Rock does not exist without the blues; neither does jazz, reggae, hip hop or other forms of modern music.
What I enjoy most about the blues, beyond the sheer pleasure of the music itself, is the down to earth, realistic nature of the songs. They are about real life: love, death, lack of money, betrayal, fucking, drinking, and all the other hardships of life. And of course there is no one in American society who can speak better about hardship than black Americans, especially those who sang the blues music in the early twentieth century from Mississippi. There is the ancient myths associated with blues music too, such as the legend that Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil at the crossroads. To this day, blues, and all blues based music, are still considered by many to be the devil’s music. Religious types still condemn them, as well as rock, as being degenerate. Yet it is precisely this degeneracy that I enjoy in such music. In short, the blues are messy, just as sex and love and life is messy. It is life, stripped down from all its artifices and pretension, and distilled to what is essential, what often drives us along the our different paths. I always enjoy exploring what lies behind the socially acceptable veneer of our society, to see the reality of how people actually live and think and behave, the lies and deceits and hypocrisies in which so many people are trapped. How many affairs are going on out there? How much money is being stolen? How much desperation exists? How many children are not actually the children of those poor, ignorant, cuckolded husbands, but the lovers of their bored girlfriends and housewives? Such scandalous situations, such comical desperation of those consumed by desire, is an endless source of blues music. Such music speaks well to a completely jaded cynic such as myself. I love it.
A lot of peoples wanna know, “what is the blues?”…I hear a lot of peoples sayin, “the blues, the blues”, but I’m gonna tell what the blues is. When you ain’t got no money, you got the blues, when you ain’t got no money to pay your house rent, you still got the blues…A lot of people talking about “I don’t like no blues” but when you ain’t got no money and can’t pay your house rent and can’t buy you no food, you damn sure got the blues. If you ain’t got no money, you got the blues, cause you thinking evil…that’s right, anytime you thinking evil you thinking about the blues…Howlin Wolf.
The above clip is an old film of Howlin Wolf. Born out of the Mississippi Delta experience, and later part of the Chicago blues scene, he became one of the great inspirations for the British blues bands such as the Rolling Stones, Cream, and Led Zeppelin. I had never really heard his music before until recently, but now, after having heard it, I can only appreciate how much more powerful this older music was than the completely fabricated and mass produced, corporate junk that passes this day for most popular music. Justin Bieber or Howlin Wolf? There is simply no comparison.
As I have often written here, the sight of feminine beauty soothes the soul. I will never really understand why so many people are so hostile to female nudity and the depiction of such things in art, photography and even literature. It cannot be stated too often that artistic representations of the female form are as old as mankind itself; we only need to look at some statues of the ancient fertility cult goddesses to see this. It is all quite primal and basic to our survival: the female form embodies the transmission of human life for every and all generations. Men fundamentally desire women for this reason. Then, in our desire to be creative, our need to recreate the world around us, we create images of feminine beauty in whatever medium we have access to, whether sculpture, painting, photography or writing. This has been true in all cultures throughout the world from the beginning of time.
I find the above image to be quite beautiful. Some would find it pornographic. I praise it as something artistic. Others would call it smut and evil. Yet look at it. There is nothing gross or crude here; the atmosphere is fine and gentle, with a soft contrast between light and shade, all enhancing the delicate and sinuous form of her body. We see enough of her to appreciate her wonderful beauty, and yet enough is still hidden to spark our imagination. Rather than simply being a crude depiction, some sort of spread eagle pussy shot you might see in a more base publication, it is rather a delightful yet deeply erotic expression of feminine beauty.
In the West, Sunday is typically a day for religious worship. And yet so much of religion is hostile to eroticism, as if it were something evil and alien to our nature. I don’t see spirituality this way. To me, what is evil is the denial of our very basic desires as humans for sexual expression, whether it be with another person or through art. To try and suppress such expressions can only lead to neurosis and destructive behavior, not only for the individual, but for broader society as a whole. Spirituality and sexuality are as intimately linked as man and God, or the body and the soul. To me, a celebration of feminine beauty, as one type of the many beautiful things in the world, is a celebration of the power and mystery of God’s eternal creation of life.
When does the time come for old rock stars to hang it up? I can only assume that Mick Jagger dyes his hair. He is approaching seventy. Should a man approaching seventy be singing songs that are geared towards the sexual experiences and desires of someone in their twenties? Or prancing about the stage? I wonder if he reaches 80 and is still touring with the Stones if he will need a walker? The Stones are truly one of the great bands of all time, but I wonder, when is it time for them to fold up shop? They just finished their latest U.S tour. Or are they simply too iconic to ever quit? After all, they recently made over twenty million dollars in just a few shows. If so, if the crowds still enjoy seeing them, perhaps their next songs should be about viagra and adult diapers.
I believe it was Johnny Ramone who said that a man should no longer perform rock songs after forty. Even Robert Plant has said that he does not want to be prancing about the stage as if he were still some teen idol. There is just something undignified about it.
As far a great rock stars/musicians who have aged gracefully, and who have stated their desire not to fall into absurdity of trying to be perpetually twenty, Eric Clapton fits the bill. Also, I find a lot of the blue musicians, especially of the older school, kept their dignity well into an advanced age, while still being able to sing great songs about the sexual and seedier side of life. Howlin Wolf is a good example.
Then again, there is just something inherent in those old blues musicians, many unknown and mostly African-American from the Mississippi Delta region or Chicago, that spoke of a dignity and bad ass attitude born out of true suffering and life long deprivations. Living in an broader society that was basically hostile to you because of your skin color has that effect on people. This makes their music, and their characters, endlessly fascinating. It is an essence born out of the American experience that their later and much more famous and financially successful imitators, like the Rolling Stones, can never really achieve.