Okay so the top one is a meme which I stole from Lazy Nazi, a young Hindu gamer on facebook and the second one is a list of ways in which marriage happens in the bible. As you can see, neither looks particularly edifying from a female perspective, and basically you are to be regarded as little more than a hole for sticking their bits into.
So, we ask ourselves, what would we want with any of these arrangements, particularly if we had also had our genitals mutilated?
The answer that most of Asia seems to have come up with is that the alternative is much, much worse. I don’t live there, however, so I would frankly rather spend time with the cats or writing amusing things for Wolfe and Boris.
I said to someone fairly recently regarding the Wolfe thing that it is a love thing, it doesn’t have to be a sex thing, so it didn’t really matter all that much since he was in a different country and our initial flirtation was kind of fleeting anyway. We are just a bit intense, which is why neither of us particularly want to look at or speak to one another.
I wouldn’t want to be wifelet number 51 or whatever and I wouldn’t want him to give up his lifestyle. You don’t get much more affectionate than that.
Anyway, getting away from all these ideas of people as possessions and attachment, which inevitably, as the Buddhists say, leads to misery, what is left? If, according to my Hindu friend, love is a black and white chapati compared with a full banquet if you don’t bother with anyone, why on earth would you want to bother with anyone?
This question is something I am pondering whilst working on Little Shiva’s chair. I had a very angry day of sewing today, during job number three, and between wondering how on earth I am going to render a Chinese gold Indian, I pondered why someone who has no intention of doing anything about his feelings seems to want to squirm in misery on his own for months on end?
Naturally, having spent several years doing just that when it came to Wolfe, I am inclined to imagine that it is a voyage of self discovery. This person probably struggles with actual emotions or being touched in any way in much the same way I did, having been asleep for some time before meeting Wolfe.
I don’t have time for it any more than he did, so it is going to get us nowhere fast. The sooner the dude accepts his bitter little life with his bitter little wife the better, to be honest. At least his meals will be in colour, apparently. The Gods prefer you to marry by arrangement than have feelings of any kind. Feelings are, apparently, for barbarians.
I can see the value in this. It helps to maintain societal roles. In theory it means that women are to accept doing the typing for an underqualified, untalented moron on the basis that he can afford kids and a wife, whilst she struggles to pay her bills unless she has sold her yoni to the nearest bidder, whether he is worthwhile or not. I am sure this is fabulous if you happen to have a penis.
It isn’t the way I would choose to live, but unlike the people who like this sort of thing, I have actually experienced life. If I hadn’t I might feel differently.
Anyway, the chair is going well, and I am adding an extra third or so to the basic sculpt so the struggle now, involving architectural salvage and a skip around the retro furniture stores, is finding a base to support something that will ultimately be very heavy once it is beaded and gilded. It is quite a weight already, and that is just wool.
Nicer problems to have. I wouldn’t waste five minutes on a person that didn’t care about me these days. I’m done with cowards and stupid people.