About Nirvanians...

Returning to the subject of women, a favourite subject, i had abandoned, under the duress of a woman feminist (yep. there are.) haunting my messenger with questions containing what she imagined to be cutting to the the very core of the issue. Women and Logic are like beer and ice cream. You can have one or the other.

Well, anyway, there is a rather recently discovered species of women that i want to talk to you about. Their very existence, almost confirmed, has shaken me to the very termite-eaten legs of my favourite armchair. In fact, ..oh wait. I am getting ahead of myself. Let me break this to you gently.

During the course of my intense, back breaking journey of human nature,(happening, as you might imagine, over millions of tankards of refereshing beer) i have chanced upon a truly original species.

We all know the anguish that Gautam Buddha went through, choosing as he was between worldly desires (what he imagined to be worldly in a world that didn't have beer or pizza is beyond me) and an existence free of desire, and hence(apparently), truly existing. Well. He needn't have bothered.

There exists this, thankfully rare, breed of men and women, that bring the two together - (for you slowpokes - Desires and detachment) - in a rather vicous cocktail of personality liquors.

These blokes look like they are swimming on the waves and desires of emotion just like the rest of us. Actually, all they are doing is going through the motions of the above mentioned activities, but in reality are rather securely paddling gently perched comfortably on a bed of detached social outlook.

This is wonderful. Un-understandable as the above paragraph may have sounded, this is a magnificent piece of evolution. Take my word for it.

Let's break this down.

What's the most important thing in the world to you?

How good you think you are.

How do you know how good you are?

From what your mates think how good you are.

(Let's not waste any time on the psychological problems that are supposed to happen here. This is what everyone does. Period.)

How do you know what your mates think of you?

By what they tell you. And for the slightly more intelligent person, the way they tell it.

Now, we all know that mates bullshit you. And they know you know. And you know they know you know. So we repeat the entire process of finding out how good we are by matching our opinions of ourselves with a more objective audience. Until the associative process of self evaluation with an objective observer nullifies the objectivity, either positively or negatively. And you are left with a foetus of an unbiased opinion. You take what you get, and move on to the next. And so on.

Right through this process, we have a few parameters, all centred around one basic fact.

The System treats you the way according to what it thinks of you. If you are a winner, they think you are a winner. Completely unconversely, if the system thinks you are a winner, you become a winner. A chicken and egg classic.

Now, coming to the nub of my post, this back and forth between people adding to or detracting to their worth of themselves, forms an admirable platform for manipulation, and in fact, most of our wiles and wares. What i have discovered is this breed of men and women that do not fall under this basic umbrella of human behaviour.

Your opinion of them slips off their back like water off a seal's back. They like and love as do all of us, but their loves are neutral and impassive. More cerebral than cardiac. Their opinion of one does not change what they feel for them. (If you stop and think, you'll realise how bloody important that one is)

With such a person, you are completely powerless, and in fact, just due to this abnormality, they seem to hold inestimable power over you. There's no way for you to get through to them. or at them. They are calm, unflappable. Truly Nirvanian.

What makes them that way? I don't know.

How can we become like that? No idea.

An orphan blog

This is coming from nowhere. Really.

As i write in today, i wonder about the presumptuousness of it all. The utter arrogance in assuming that the world needs to know what you think. Or feel. On further pondering - not too much; kills brain cells- i am deeply comforted by the fact that most great art (great used in the "great haircut!" sense of the word. My cumbersome pondering might lead you to think otherwise) comes out of a confluence of constipated urges and deep enjoyment of satisfying them. I really doubt Pablo Picasso would have painted, had he known what he could end up as, in deeper shades of tan to reflect museum lights in a more muted way. Then again, he was an artist, and i, loath as i am to say it, am a hustler. What then? Do i do this to relieve my urges and enjoy the satisfaction of the ensuing relief, or do i do this for an audience?

Weighty question, that. Need another beer.