Whirling Dervish...

The act of twirling in a circle for hours on end by the Whirling Dervishes of Turkey just so that they can feel connected to God astounds me. Jihadists despite what the American press make them out to be are actually struggling with themselves to be closer to God. The first definition of a jihad is the significant inner struggle within a person in relation to religion, beliefs and devotion. All that souped up mumbo jumbo of holy war terrorists is something FOX News lubes their asses with. Point I'm trying to make is I hear all these different terms for all these God fearing people and I too find myself struggling. Mostly because I can't find it deep in my tummy to latch on to such blind faith. My skepticism of a higher power has put me at odds with what surrounds me everyday. Now I am beginning to question my resolve. Not because I now want to start believing, but because I think it is generally good to strive to be accepted into a positive light after death. Generally, most atheists or agnostics feel that if there is a God why does he let all these horrible things happen here on Earth. Since it continues to happen, he therefore does not exist. My whole thing is proof. Sorry, the bible is a book translated from 6 different languages over lets say 1700 years, by men. Too faulty. Torah, Koran same shit. So no words in those good books convince me. I dunno, maybe I am being rash and downright combative, but sorry kids I just can't believe. All I can do is try my hardest every day to wake up and contribute to this universe in a positive way. No other reason other than to try and correct the negativity that seems so prevalent in today's society. Not to get into heaven, or have 70 virgins (which mind you would be nice) or be reincarnated as a goat or a rock star, but to combat that evil that is occurring in Dafur or China or Iraq-Afganistan-Iran-Israel-Palestine blah blah blah. Call me blasphemous, but do it far away from me. I am tired of your bitchin.

The Pit of Dispair...

...would be the East Village. Gone are the cool hipsters/artists, in its place is the dull frat boy and the sorority trash that screw them. I went out with friends Saturday night to the LES and East Village. Granted it was Saturday night, which in itself is such a retarded time to go out in this city, but expected a good time none-the-less. All in all, it was rather dull. It seems the life of the party left right before we got there, because it realized that the party blew chunks. Guys bumping chests, girls sloshing drinks, the trendy bartenders totally disinterested. Everywhere. I was generally amused by the whispers and looks we got by said bunches of people. I assume we looked out of place, or completely shocked by their behavior. By half past midnight it was obvious no matter where we ended up it was all a big fat downer. So what does one do in such situations? Well, I brought the party to us. Well, my apartment actually and what a humdinger it was! Gay boys and the fruit flies that love them, sassy chics and the artsy boys that love them, butch lezzies and the lipsticks that love them, intellectuals and the ones that listen to them. I swear there had to be 40 people in my place and everyone was having a rad time. Draped over the sofas, sitting cross legged on the beds, on the stairs, hanging out the window. Not one copper was called and there wasn't a huge mess to clean up. Made out with this hot chic, while her boyfriend looked lustily on. It was surprisingly easy to misbehave and host at the same time. I would say I would plan another one, but I think it was best that I didn't in the first place. I haven't been terribly spontaneous in a long while and I kinda missed it. Today, I am going to continue my spontaneity and do something completely random. I think I will start by hitting up the Yemeni restaurant down the street. There was some shady characters in there the other day, and by golly I want an adventure!