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People.
What the world needs now is Love, sweet Love. Good thing it's springtime.
Because the ladies are looking goooooood! So good.
And for some reason, this year little Gabriel has the worst "Spring
I" ever!
No, not the "spring eye." Although yes, it does involve my "eyes,"
"springing" to ogle at women during springtime: but more so.
For I understand my true intention. In fact it's the "I" that
springs forth, that "I" which is my existence. At least on the
subconscious level, I must mate and reproduce with every girl out there,
sowing my demon seed with every variation of women in or out of heat.
Oh, the rites of spring!
But I need to calm down a bit, because this "Spring I" seems
worse and more intense than usual. And in general, I take pride in controlling
myself, in treating people like people, not staring at easy cleavage-
not ogling women like an animal at the meat market, drooling.
So what's the deal? Why so intense?
Well, Me forgets that in fact, I'm a dude like every other dude. I do
ogle at the beginning of summer, but only with practice can I focus attention
straight ahead, not at passing skirt / leg / flirtations.
But why do I now stare at every woman, even the Uglies?
And that is the rub. I'm inside my apartment working all day, barely getting
out for a stroll. I'm not in an office, taking coffee breaks, checking
out (no harassing) the co-workers in their cute, new, spring outfits.
I'm insulated from pheromones. So, when I finally do make it out, "Spring
I" is twice as bad, I stare at any woman; old, young, deranged, eating
out of garbage cans, no matter. Crazy.
And it's even crazier for in fact I have a nice lady out there. Sure,
she's in Miami for a few more days, and away as I gaze at passing fancies,
but in general, we're Golden.
To reference fellow blogger and friend, Mike G, she picked me up early
and intensely at the beginning of "Boyfriend Season." I am now
hers and she is now mine. The early chick gets this worm.
So what is there to do? Can I really focus on my love and myself this
spring, with such an intense "Spring I" in effect? Will Chica
see me stare at others and get mad? Can I control myself, now that I'm
getting older and even more in need of sexual conquests before my chromosomes
degenerate?
Maybe I need to blind myself? Something tragic like,...well, like all
those Greek and Shakespearean tragedies...and that book "Wise Blood."
See, if I blind myself, I will be reborn in spirit, no longer staring
at women, I'll focus on my Soul, not caught up in instant gratification.
But wait a minute. It's the Spring "I" (not the spring "eye").
Its only visual because that is our agreed upon primary sense in society.
But the "I" will always wonder in need to spread the before-mentioned
seed to ensure my immortality through different mothers and therefore
breeds of Gabriel.
I'll end up blinding myself, but then my ears will kick in. I'll think
I'm happy with my baby, because no other women can distract me visually,
but then slowly I'll focus in on sexy voices- soft, full, hard, thin.
Each woman will be just an objectified voice, luring me back into the
before-before mentioned sexuality. And I'll again be a slave to the need
for variety to ensure my lineage's survival as I link up with as many
women as possible with different genetic traits: oh Springtime, oh Evolution!
Yup, and so I'll have to deafen myself. And you know what? I'll slowly
find me smelling different women smelling so nicely….and so forth
until I shut down the olfactory- but then it's afflicting me tactilely
with handshakes and so forth and so on....and what of the five senses
are left? No sense?
Reminds me of a story…
_________________________________________
Who can recall the last time Paul didn't have an operation to fix his
problems?
His feet hurt- remove the bunions.
His teeth hurt- root canal.
His bones hurt- calcium injection.
His surgery injuries hurt- sugar-coated skin grafts.
I told Paul by phone the other day, "Enough!" He said he didn't
like my tone and would soon have his ears removed. I told him to refrain,
he said he couldn't take the pain and left it at that.
I saw Paul by the market last Tuesday. No ears. All the "arty girls"
thought this a double-love Van Gogh man-move. I knew Paul couldn't hear,
so I began to clear the groupies misconceptions. But to me they paid no
heed and wouldn't listen. It was as if Paul, now Concierge to the Hotel
of the Spiritual, convinced through his actions (not intentions) that
life with physical hearing only hindered the spirits growth.
He never actually said this. But even I began to believe his message to
be, "Deafen yourself to the external world! Remove the incessant
vibrating capabilities of your eardrum beats- be gone with aural sensations.
And in the place, the 'quiet tidal noise of the soul,' like an ocean,
will lull you into the ever-present but invisible Everything that surrounds
at all times. Quiet yourself........."
And now?
I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have
no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears.
I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have
no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears.
I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have
no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears.
I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have
no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears.
I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears. I have no ears.[B]
GABRIEL CAPLAN
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untitled
by grandguignol
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