TMI: Society's Curse of Too Much Information

Where this piece comes from:  Upon being asked to dinner, I found myself in an internal debate--to creep or not to creep?  This is the answer to that question.

TMI:  Society's Curse of Too Much Information

Through the act of creeping, it's very easy to get to know people through Facebook, blogs, Twitter, etc...  However, how true to reality is the information filed under "Five Things I Couldn't Live Without"?  I find social media and the internet a little off putting in regard to socializing.  

This isn't due to the content.  This isn't due to my hate of internet shorthand and text inundated with grammatical errors. But rather I hate how easily information about someone is available.  It kills the mystery of the individual.  Why get to know someone when all their thoughts, emotions, work history, and life is posted online on a web page?  As curious as that internet version of someone is, I'd much rather hear all that from you. 

Through cyber stalking socializing, almost everyone with internet can find out anyone's favorite sushi joint, turn offs, and what they were doing in 1982.  It turns me on to know that there are some folks that don't use Facebook, Twitter, or much anything social networky.  These individuals preserve the enigma of who they are, and can control who and what knows anything about them and their thoughts. 

Frankly, I wonder how the people who fall into celebrity cope.  With enough Googling, I'm sure we could find out James Franco's favorite flavor of ice cream.  With everything to know about this echelon of people available with a few strokes of the keyboard, what happens to the mystery of this lucky slice of the population? 

Socially speaking, shouldn't an individual be able to cling to the mystery of himself as any other human being does?  It blows that that facet of humanity is denied privacy by having every career move and sneeze documented.  Certainly, this awesome for fans.  It's different in the case of politicians, as they need to be scrutinized and made transparent.  However, those who fall into the light because of their talent to entertain a population...let them hold their personhood close and reveal as much or as little as they want. 

When everyone and anyone can know everything about you, what do you have left to share?  Perhaps you find yourself in awkward situations where the people you meet remember and know more about you than even you do.

You line up a particularly awesome anecdote to share with someone you're trying to get to know, and it anticlimactically is cut short with "Oh, I read that story already somewhere."  So much for sharing a piece of yourself when the internet has enabled another to do so already.  Although this has never happened to me personally because (let's be real) I'm very much a nobody, this situation falls within the realm of possibility for many others. 

I want to get to know you.  Not the perfectly aligned, triple spell checked Facebook statuses that still manage to have errors.  Fuck that.

Tell me the unedited, on the fly with good eye contact stories about yourself.  Gesticulate, inflect, waggle your eyebrows.  Let's unravel the mystery of who you are, who I am, and who the fuck anyone is in person.  It's better than spending hours scouring Facebook, Wikipedia, or IMDB to get to know someone. 

Tell me the story of you by you. 

Give it to me raw.

Will Post Wednesday...But for now the Significance of Funny Stories

I could never do stand up comedy, but I would just love to have a venue to tell funny stories.  Perhaps one of my favorite tropes in literature is the bard.  The bard is the keeper of stories and histories.  This tradition is preserved and maintained by telling stories and the like in a way to maintain interest and continue the diffusion of stories through generations.  Rather than having the responsibility of preserving history, I like to plant stories that will be retold because they're funny.  Comedy is something I try to weave into my story telling and my blog posts.  Making someone laugh or even smile is such an easy and small thing to do, so why not do it? 

I'll leave you with this--an example of wordplay and humor from the movie Clue.  It's shit like this I hope to include in future projects.

Yes, it's based on a board game.  And yes, it's still bloody hilarious to this day.

Love,
Hermia

P.S.  Normal blog post on Wednesday.  Love your faces.

Live Long and Wank On

Where This Piece Came From:  Often times I close my cam show with something quippy.  The go-to one liner is "Live long and wank on".  This piece came about after really considering what that phrase meant to me and to those who consume porn.  I thought rather arduously about whether or not I would post this piece, as it is about pornography.  This blog is dedicated to creative nonfiction and I didn't want to bring any porn biz here.  However upon reading and rereading this piece, it's message needs to be posted.  So, enjoy Live Long and Wank On.

Live Long and Wank On

Porn is an amazing way of getting to know yourself and lose yourself at the same time.  Strange as it may sound, I remember enjoying pornography a lot more as a teenager than I do as an adult.  I believe that what we find sexy, especially in the case of fetishes, awakens through exposure.  Hell, I didn't realize I was attracted to women just as I'm attracted to men until I saw a pair of the rather sexualized and perky tits of Kate Winslet in Titanic when I was seven.  Although watching Jack draw her like one of his French girls wasn't explicitly pornography, it was explicitly adult content.  It was also, indubitably deposited into my spankbank. 

It's know that there is a great camp of men and women, probably mostly women, who rally against the usage and distribution of pornography; however, it's usage is a safe and private way to understand your own desires and kinks.  The knowledge and understanding of which can lead you to more honest and hopefully orgasmic experiences.

Now comes the tougher part of this conversation--the good, the bad, and the perverted outcomes to pornography usage.  And to be perfectly clear, the usage I'm commenting on is the stimulation of one's own meat stick or land clam--masturbation.  The good that may come out of using porn is for the individual release.  Physiological, psychological, and perhaps even emotional release.  That release may mandate the usage of socks, tissues, or vibrating devices, but it's positive.  Not only does orgasms make people happy, but oftentimes post-O folks have a radiant glow about them.  But how does the usage of porn benefit the overall population?  Other than multiplying the amount of sexually gratified people in the population, porn benefits the overall population by providing a sexual outlet to those how can't or don't want to have sex.  Frankly, people masturbate for a myriad of reasons.  All sorts of folks masturbate.  It doesn't matter if you're young, old, married, single, divorced, or a cat.  You have probably wanted to or have masturbated.  

It's funny because as a teenager I heard from all the parents that too many people are having sex.  As an adult, I look around and I see a lot of people not having sex.  A lot of those people are in my cam room.  And believe me,  most all of them want to, but can't for lack of social environment, time, or money.  Kidding on the last. 

Pornography is the oasis during a dry spell of sex.

Now for those who wank it to the more deviant of pornography.  And by this I mean pornography that falls at least one standard deviation from basic boy girl, d in the v stuff.  Let's pretend one standard deviation is anal, and two is DP, and three is a donkey show with tentacles.  It's a truth worth mentioning that everyone's palates varies.  Some may be perfectly content with vanilla boy girl porn with missionary and perhaps even a cream pie if you're feeling frisky.  But some may desire BDSM, SPH, group sex, bukkake, incest, or even 2-girls-1-cup caliber kink.  Many people may turn their noses away in disgust, but these folks have the kinks and desires they have. 

Why completely defame an entire industry, in which all parties are willingfully partaking in creating content that you or anyone can enjoy?  Why completely cast hate and disgust on those viewers of nastier porn?

Because masturbating is a goddamn right, and there is an entire industry founded on the expression of that right.  As long as someone has physical access to the skin flapping between their legs, they are able to deliver unto themselves waves of visceral pleasure.  The  honest truth of porn is that like anything that causes or inspires pleasure--it's an escape.  Just as video games, books, fantasy football, or Netflix can be an escape from stress, work, life, or anything of the sort.  Who is anyone to judge anyone else's desire to watch horribly rated content, be it a television show or a live streaming sexfest?  Limiting someone's choice in pornography would be the equivalent of limiting someone's lurid imagination.  Just because their isn't porn of an athletic Asian doing squats in athletic, though crotchless shorts, doesn't mean you're not going to now imagine it and not touch yourself.

In regard to the perverted outcomes of the usage of pornography, those who judge need to ask themselves a question:  Who is anyone hurting by masturbating cumming for the umpteenth time alone in a closed environment to whatever content suits his or her fancy?  You'll realize that no one is being harmed by masturbation.  If you're a spouse, girl friend, boy friend, or partner of someone and you find yourself repulsed or betrayed by your partner masturbating to porn, fuck you.

How dare you try to control every fantastical thought any individual may have?  I often fantasize about eating ice cream while eating cake.  Does that mean I love cake less?  Fuck no. 

It's really none of anyone's business as to what anyone else is masturbating to.  It's all personal choice. So I say to you, as I often say to close my cam room...

Live long and wank on.

We Are Millennials and We Are Fucked

Note to the Readers:  I promise I'll eventually write positive pieces, but for now my focus is on real shit.  Throughout my years writing for fun, I've found it easier to relay a message through the darker shades of reality. 



We Are Millennials and We Are Fucked

I'm a child of the 90's.  The bar for education, success, and being unique was set high.  We were told that we were all special.  By having that label thrust upon us like ice cream pressed onto a lactose intolerant bulimic, we had a need to be special.  Because of this need we deem it fit to bumpersticker, tag, and hashtag to set ourselves apart meanwhilst categorizing ourselves further and farther.  The music our youths is the angsty, yet kitschy pop stylings of I'm different; I'm a nerd; I'm a hipster with a chorus of No one understands me. 

Our printed media--such as magazines--are rife with advice on how to live your life.  Glossy guides of How to navigate life without exploring outside of the socially accepted deviations of behavior for dummies.  You can be unique, but not so unique as to shatter politically correct and prescribed labels.  We try at something that comes to us naturally, being different is a inherent given.  We lose ourselves by imitating what the world is projecting we should be. 

We drown in sea of media minutia mired in sexual active and mature pseudo-models of reality.  We were going through puberty while TV teens were played by some approaching the mid-life crises.  From this messages were mixed and standards were perverted.  No wonder so many of us grew up styling ourselves as 13 going on a slutty 30.  The media spat out our get--The Millennials.

Welcome to The Euphemistic Minister: Ramblings on Life, Meatsacks, and Self-Deprecation

A Nervous Writer with Shaky Promises

            I've been nervously awaiting this day for a while.  Upon seeing that I had 2001 followers on Twitter, my heart sank to my groin faster than a body in a river.  There has been a problem that I have promised myself that would be resolved--that is to set a posting schedule. This problem only exists because creative writing is very much like taking a shit. 

            At times, I wonder if I'll die if I don't get it all out.  In other instances, I'm flush with impatience as this thing, whatever it maybe, perches and stews deep inside my bowels rather than flowing freely.  Creativity is a tempestuous wretch, quite irregular. 

           

            Thus I find myself without a clue as to setting a posting schedule.

            However, it would be supremely shitty of me not to insure some regularity to posting.  Luckily, the beautiful thing of it is that I already have a few pieces that are worth nitpicking.  Know that I will give you guys a glimpse of the editing process and the neuroses à la déjà vu. 

            Know that even if I don't have something hot off the high lady's presses, you'll have something to consume and mull over.

            I want to shoot for the stars and promise three blogs a week, but I'm ever the realist.  Below is very real realigned text made to seem as if it is official by the format.  It is not, but it's the best I can do.  As close to a promise as I can cyberly commit to my readers.  

I,      Hermia Li (aka Mia Li/Your Mother's Lover)    , promise to post on THE EUPHEMISTIC MINISTER BLOG on every HUMPDAY.  However if the post is to potently piss poor, fuck it and find something at least INCITEFUL to share.

Now, folks, all two of you who read this dribble.  Please regard the following as my fucking word, and promises I plan on keeping.  Because things such as your word should still matter.

·       I will do my best to be not too wretchedly high to write

·       I will document this strange and fascinating world, and our perplexing species

·       I will reflect on my own personal impressions from the strange and fascinating world to weave stories others can lose themselves in

·       I will fuck your mother all night long

·       I will not take myself too seriously

·       I will take my posting rather seriously

           In a nutshell, I'm going to be writing about the shit I see in myself and the modern animal, which is humanity.  I write most confidently about what I know.  And I've lived enough, fucked enough, and breathed enough to say humans are interesting animals.  Let's flesh out those peculiarities and see what narrative is shat out. 

Enjoy THE EUPHEMISTIC MINISTER.

Pardon the Shoddy Editing

http://vimeo.com/22153739

Oldie, but goodie?  Perhaps that was presumptuous.  

H

First Installation for Poem Series "Danger"

I'm starting a new series of poems titled "Danger".  This series will explore the dangers of the human mind and conundrums of navigating interpersonal/innerpersonal waters.

This first piece speaks on the power of desire and how it has an insidious effect to those feel that emotion.

Note that these pieces will be rough outlines and will be revisited in the future.

Love,
Hermia

Danger (I)

What is more dangerous than desire?

Desire is the heat the moves men and women to their knees to plead

with heavy lidded eyes, and bodies even

heavier with want.

Heavy with neglect.

Heavy with hopes of maybes, somedays, and just wait for it.

Desire is the sighs and shifting of bodies and smiles

burnt behind your eyelids.

It rushes blood away from your head,

leaving you bereft of reason and, at times, dignity.

Is desire the beast that needs taming, domestication, and perhaps discipline?

Or is it the only thing keeping you from completely drowning in self-deprecation?

Why Language is so Fucking Sexy

Today, I'm not posting a short creative writing piece for your folks, but rather explaining a particular fetish of mine.  Socially, sexually, and intellectually, I absolutely crave gentlemen and ladies who wield language like Zorro's sword.  Being able to splice together smooth sounding sentences to articulate a succinct yet sublime thought makes the panties drop. 

Weavers of worlds from words, also known as, great story-tellers are on my list of mind/body boner inducing "tropes".  These gents know how to bring sequence of events together in a captivating and intriguing way.  Plot points are hit like the hi-hat in an upbeat jazz jam.  Gesticulations marry with articulations and enunciations of setting, dialoague, and enrapturous narrative.  These gents are unafraid to play with their voice and visage during a tale.  They may be usually very quiet, unassuming, and outwardly not the type.  But perhaps these modern day bards might surprise the right crowd. 

This may be a gross assumption, but I don't believe the vast majority of the adult population writes recreationally or professionally.  The majority of jobs held don't exactly require great writing or language skills.  Certainly, national language reading comprehension may be necessary for the day to day.  Yet, I highly doubt that a great majority of adults take the time to sit and write the complexities of their personal thoughts day to day.  Surely, they may speak to a friend, partner, or spouse about how their day went and comment about current news.  But how frequently do they think of the world at large, humanity, morality, and other tenuous ideas that float in the minutia of daydreams and write or speak about it?  How frequently do you?

The majority of the population probably doesn't explicitly recognize the usage of alliteration, simile, metaphor, and other facets of the language.  I believe that most all folks recognize the beautiful and horrible usages of language and are able to differentiate.  Being able to identify those modes of rhetoric and figurative language may definitely enhance someone's usage and application of language.  Ergo making them deliciously and intelligently attractive.

As comedically golden as a perfectly executed pick-up line may be, it doesn't quite equate to what I call an eavesdropping erection.  This is purely an intellectual arousal because I get turned on by the speech and not the looks.  This has happened to me in restaurants, bars, airports, and wherever people generally have conversations.  When I hear someone say something like-minded and in a way that is very sexily articulated, my interest is indeed piqued.  It makes me want to listen to that person more.  Note that the name eavesdropping erection really reveals how little human interaction I have in real life.  Curiouser and curiouser.

Hope you enjoyed the spiel.  I promise to write tomorrow evening after the shoot.

Love,
Hermia

Meatsack

What Inspired This Piece:  Oddly enough, I have Twitter to thank for this piece.  Someone was curious about my strange euphemism for the body.  I usually refer to the human body as a meatsack.  Meatsack--for the visceral imagery, and acknowledgement of human fragility.

Meatsack

Meatsack.  That is the appropriate and adequate term I prefer when talking about the human body.  Forget things like maintaining 34-26-36 measurements and consuming delicious slices of cake.  This thing that I'm in, that you're in, and that all human beings have is quite simply a meatsack.

It may be hard to think of it that way especially nowadays, and particularly in the first world.  Outside of surgery, we never really see our insides on the outside in the day-to-day.  However, imagine living in a place in which bombs rain from the sky more frequently than precipitation... The day to day just may then have many more insides on the outside. 

That sort of environment doesn't let its population forget the fragility of the human body.  Also, by extension the fragility of the human condition.

In this day and age we are sunk into a world obsessed with the outward appearance of the body.  Beautification, plastic surgery, make up, chic high-fashion--all facets of the same obsession with the aesthetic.  We are paying more attention to the aesthetics, meanwhile we forget the viscera, the fragility, and the strength of the human body.  We wrap ourselves up in kempt clothes, and perfectly coiffed hair to distance ourselves from the nudity of being an animal.  We are civilized.  We are dressed.  We are forgetting the capabilities our bodies have.

The vast majority of the population probably doesn't regularly exercise and maintain a proportionate height to body fat percent ratio.  The standards of aesthetics are high.  Few genetically lucky and hard working individuals ever achieve this, and so whoever remains may slip into obesity.  When pushed and trained and well maintained, the human body is capable of animal feats.  Surprising, when we belong to Kingdom Animalia.  

As awesome as the power the human body may have to harness, there still is the fact that human life is just too easily snuffed out.  A hairline fracture could eventually lead to a brain aneurysm.  A trip to the dentist could be the catalyst to a deathly infection.  A papercut may evolve into a CDC nightmare.  Our bodies and the mechanisms within them are susceptible to an endless list of diseases.  Single celled organisms can easily snuff out swathes of humanity. 

Although there is often great uproar from the concerned and squeamish about violence portrayed in media, there is an upside.  It reminds humanity of how delicate and easily stabable, shootable, burnable, assaultable the human body is.  We've seen it in grisley YouTube videos, documentaries on genocides, and perhaps unluckily in the real world.  We are but pieces of so much meat to carry us through are awesome lives.

Don't suddenly turn agoraphobic and shutter yourself into your 1 BD/1 BTH, but rather accept and acknowledge it.  Protect your body by honing it into a sinewy machine.  Nourish it--And by God, carry it with dignity and some awareness. 

I am above all things...A Hypocrite

As pessimistic as I may be, hidden somewhere deep is a kid who is an optimist.  

It's important to know when to jump perspectives and be grateful.

I Reach for Poetry in Light and Shadows: Interview III

A Note From the Writer:

As a teenager, filled to burst with angst, I found great solace in writing.  Solace in angsty, melodramatic, great sweeps of equally macabre and florid vocabulary-pocked poetry.  I feel a little guilty about this, but also know that this is a faze that a lot of writers have.  

Luckily, I eventually saw the sun and introduced a little bit of color into my wardrobe.  Unfortunately because of life becoming happier, that well of human rage dried.  Suddenly, poetry became elusive or cheap through newly budding teenage romances and precarious optimism. 

That well of darker human emotion became much harder to tap.  But for all my smiles and pastel lingerie, I'm a cold pessimist.  I haven't written poetry in so long, but I know that through the weather of life there will always be a dark cloud somewhere down the horizon. 

See how easy it was to get pessimistic?  Imagery, metaphor, and all that good shit.

This piece was my attempt to capture the conflicting emotions of a romantic relationship kinda sorta on the rocks.  The vagueness of kinda sorta is that gray area in a relationship when you both feel something so vastly beyond the scope of human emotion. 

As grand as that may be, you're not quite sure if the gravity of this force (love, whatever that may be) is any longer doing you any good.

Enjoy.

Where This Piece Came From:
I originally wrote this when I was in college.  My first real relationship just ended.  However upon cutting out the only good part of the original to share with you folks, my Muse decided other things.  A new poem was shit out of her sweet ass.

Here is the newest and less bullshitty "Interview III".

Interview III

Can you describe for me the exchange?

Two lions on opposite sides of a watering hole.  Eyes watching the other’s every movement.  Shoulders tense and hind legs ready to fight or flee at a moment’s notice.  Fight, flee, or fuck. 

They take two steps away--

water hanging in drops to their muzzle. 

Flee, slowly.  Deny the potential.  At opposite crests looking down at the mirrored water the gaze is broken. 

They part.

We had watched this from afar.

From what perspective?

Too close to the situation to tell you a thing, but I learned one thing.

What was it that you learned from this?

We are just animals coping with the world.

Was that the last you ever saw each other?

No.  I see him every time I look in the mirror. 

We humans have a strange way of impressing each other.

Thank You, Norton Anthologies

I have been rather rude. 

I've stumbled into this preoccupation or hobby called blogging.  Because of the Internet I'm literally connection to the entire world. 

Now we, whomever ends up reading this and whomever I end up reading, following, friending, etc..., are part of a community.  And this is where I get to the point of this blog.

I'm obsessed with sharing stories. The Bard trope is my favorite.  Through stories we can empathize, laugh, cry, curse, and learn together.  Another reason why I love stories is because I'm an English nut with a raging creative erection.  How else would I weave my love of story telling and the manipulation of the English language together?

A blog was the perfect answer.

So this is my space for you folks out there who feel as any human feels. 

I'm going to ramble and say things like "Sorry, this story is about dead babies," and "Yes, I love furry things like the retard from Of Mice and Men," but it's for you guys.

Find entertainment, boredom, love, hate, stalker tendencies, and strange fictional righteousness boners in my stories.  My only goal is to create some emotional experience in the fellow meatbags of the world. 

However, please bear with me those who don't like the following and ever growing list of potentially annoying English major mannerisms:

·       Stream of consciousness writing

·       Tangents

·       Experimentation with language

·       Inconsistency with Grammar because I'm human

·       Poetry

·       Usage of literary elements, rhetoric, satire, and your mother

The list could go on for a while.  My love for the English language is not a love so much as an obsession. 

The human experience is amazing from an observer's and artist's perspective.  And from that an infinite amount of realities are borne from raw sensory data of the world around you.  

Realities that exist in Family Guyesque tangents.  Slivers of comedy, drama, horror coloring your day in day-dreamed thoughts. 

Take these seeds of potential and nuture them into this--a blog.

I hope you guys enjoy this joy ride as much as I may.  Analyze that fellow English nerds!

Love,

Mia Hermia