Poison Cup

I have been walking around in a mindless haze for the past week, and this haze usually leads me in two directions: a Dvd store or a restaurant. A last minute Dvd store pit-stop meant that I could not wait to get back home and view my newly-obtained copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. It also meant that on my way home I could not fully appreciate the fact that the foreign gent standing next to me in line at Subway ordered a whole-wheat bread 'green' sandwich: pickles, lettuce, cucumbers, capsicum, olive oil and vinegar...no meat, no 'coloured veggies'. Culinary racism, my friends....just the newest brand - we in Pakiland- have to offer for your frightful reception.

Once I was home, I gave express instructions to both Karamat and Fauzia that I was 'not to be disturbed' under ANY circumstances, suicide bombings be damned. All celluloid rituals honoured only to realize that the Boy Who Lived, having beaten off dementors in Little Whinging would pave way for three buxom blonds in the nude getting it on with two bald not-so-gentle-men. I shall admit, this is not the first time I have ever watched porn, but barring that one event with a group of girlfriends, slightly inebriated, and watching Caligula much critically, it came as a surprise. I admit that I was intrigued and I still am.

After watching the 'doings' of the caricatures on screen for about twenty more minutes a thought occurred to me - I do not claim that this particular cerebral insight was in any way original, only that it was apt - "The average man actually gets turned on by this," I thought to myself. Pornography is one of the largest industries in the world... so if what turns on the average man actually puts off the average woman, where does that leave us in the Mars-Venus debacle? Hell with 'us' where does that leave me? I acknowledge that I have no right to speak on behalf of my sex at large. This odd thought led to another one, Why is it that women consider sex a gateway to seeking love and men consider falling or pretending to fall in love as an inroad to having sex? A colossal ontological screw up this is: I mean how are two people supposed to meet across parallels if they are moving in opposite directions?

I was asking a friend the 'Love vs Sex' question, and he mentioned quite candidly that 'philosophically speaking' (and he tends to speak in that particular vein) one had nothing to do with the other. This friend claims often that he doesn't believe in emotion, so according to him 'love' was basically the prelude emotional justification people needed to proffer in order to have sex. I asked him if -by proxy- he was endorsing perversion and he told me that he wasn't. He was just endorsing a biological need without linking it to an emotional one and WHY do we need to moralize biology?!

"You know what your problem is ?!"

Dude, If I had a paisa for the number of times I have been asked about my awareness to my alleged problem, Fulbright would no longer need to be a consideration!

"...you want to rely on your head and heart simultaneously. It just isn't done, if you appreciate the arguments you read in philosophy then do away with this flowers and Ever After shit, and if you can't then do away with logic completely. The middle route will kill you."

“But what happened to balance and all that Jazz?"

"That's just dogmatic shit, doled out by idiots who don't have the balls to do either, so they need to justify not choosing. You can either look for doe-eyed romantic love and 'settle' for being female, fitting in with all that entails -the good and bad stereotypes, because you cant change what the word 'female' means or those that define it - or you can be your mind, independent, alone and fulfill basic bodily needs by remaining true to your brain instead of societal latitudes."

"But 'logic' dictates that I have both organs, semi-functional. Heart and Head, if both exist then it is 'illogical' to assume that I can pick one over the other."

"No cowardice dictates that you cannot do so, not logic. Don't trivialize logic"
....Never this twain does meet, but it did get me thinking.

I mean Aristotle once branded Man as a 'rational animal'. Assuming that the only thing separating Man from other Animals was "rationality", or higher brain function. How many of us really exercise any semblance of higher brain function... and by this I do not mean people who are 'brilliant' or bordering 'genius', only people who reason rather then react in any given situation. The average, uneducated man or woman is ruled by his/her body, the body tells him/her whether he/she is hungry and he/she verbalizes it. The body tells him/her that he/she is horny and he/she action-alizes it. No thought...which perhaps is why most men in this country seem unable to look at a woman without scratching their genitals and why most women take offence to compliments pertaining to their appearance even though the latter is generally crafted to solicit admiration and/or lust. If I were to take my friends advice, or Aristotle's, then a rational version of self should consider these men and women only in the context of socialized mammals and not humanize them at all. The male dog licks his balls when a female in heat crosses its path...where is the difference, in principle?

In matters of Love - because - regardless of logic or mindful of it- I insist on believing that Love is more than the combined sum of Hormones, Pheromones, Estrogen and Testosterone ... where does the head make an appearance, or does it not do so at all?

Similarly in matters or sex, where does the heart raise a curtain?

Linguistically we refer to the heart as an organ and the mind as a muscle...what does this tell us? The heart performs its duties as the devoted servant regulating our life force day in-day out, waiting for the scraps of attention we may or may not throw its way ... while the mind sits and revels in the affection we shower upon it as we take it out for a spin and feather it with constant attention, only then does it perform and even so per chance and choice. Kind of like the 'Dance with the one that brought you debacle'... is it better to love someone or be loved?

Allegorically the mind would be the best looking boy in class, the one you sit at your desk and imagine playing with your hair while you act the blatantly obsequious devotee as the geeky, sweet guy with six-inch-thick frames in lieu of your heart, lurks in the shadows and offers to carry your books to class every morning.

My favourite song of late, has been 'Poison Cup' by M Ward. It doesn't proffer much hope for my predicament or my organ-muscle battle, but it offers a good enough rhyme to romanticize the narrative:

One, One or two won't do
‘Cause I want it all
And a sip
A sip or a spoonful won't do
No, I want it all

She said "If Love, If Love Is a Poison Cup'
Then drink it up
‘Cause a sip
Or a spoonful won't do
Won't do nothing for you
Except mess you up"