mama always said life is like a big fat blow job

this is so absolutely kickass awesome that i had to share it. you ready?

my life sucks!!!

it sucks! isn't that great?! i mean like phantasmagoric, orgasmic, mind-blowing SUCKAGE!! my life sucks! it absolutely sucks!

i cannot contain my blinding excitement like a cosmic blast of kundalini lightning from the top of my cute and adorable head down to my funky, pink-and-glitter polished toes.

so i'm sitting here having my weekly conversation with mr. brezsny when he suddenly up and tells me, "if you choose to become a practitioner of pronoia, your life will suck. it has to suck."

and i was like WTF?

"let me explain," he said. "as you cultivate the arts of gathering and bestowing the blessings that the universe is always conspiring to send your way, your life will suck in the best senses of the word."

"first, your life will suck in the same way that you use a straw to compel a thick milk shake to disobey gravity and squirt into your mouth. metaphorical translation: you'll work hard to pull toward you the resources you need, perhaps even exerting yourself with a force that goes against the natural flow."

hard work, determination, and an excited sense of anticipation of sweet and creamy rewards are the inspiration i use to draw toward me those things i truly want in life, as stated in my heart's resume: to reside in happy, healthy, and functional surroundings which offer greatest potential for my freedom and well-being with the most room for personal growth. and i suppose i've gone against the natural flow. pop nihilism, as mr. brezsny calls it, is nothing more than the same Dry Cynical Infrastructure of the Evil Trickster Phallocrats which boasts all the geometrical symmetry of a constipated nazi general. HA!

but what do i keep saying? cynicism is NOT insight! sticking feathers up your butt does NOT make you a chicken! love, peace, and beauty, man! be a revolutionary freedom fighter! a macho feminist! a chivalrous rock star! go out and marry yourself, kick your own ass, and float rubber duckies and lotus flowers at the sacred pool of the Menstrual Temple of the Funky Grail! give yourself a good, hard poke in the third eye and go find a sacred cow to tip while singing the hokey pokey naked with native american war paint smeared all over you!

FIND your FUNK, dammit! go against all the laws of the phallocratic nations of humankind and fucking LISTEN to the orgiastic cries of the freakin' cosmos, already! then you'll have all the sweet rewards of your life sucking great big gobs of milkshake into your life like an ice cream party in your mouth.

"your pronoiac life will suck in a second way," he said, "like a powerful vacuum cleaner that inhales dirt from the floor and makes it disappear. you will have a sixth sense about getting rid of messes that are contaminating your clarity."

now, since last year when i told *axe* to go away, i've been cleaning out the shit in my life that's contaminating not only my clarity, but contaminating every part of me like some Hazmat nightmare. but i remember a post that the lovely and splendoriffic boho mom wrote about boogie woogie feng-shui and how once the inertia's going, the momentum just builds until you find yourself in a frenzy of clutter-tossing and feng shui fiesta. but it's so true! once i got started, it only got easier until now i've got the hang of it and it doesn't really feel like work. not only that, but it's like magic.

like remember in mary poppins when she's with the children singing about spoonfuls of sugar and all that, and at one point all they have to do is look or point at the mess and it gets itself gone? yeah, it's like that. contaminants get rid of themselves, the whole world is shinier, customers are more polite, co-workers are more understanding, stupid ex-boyfriends email out of the blue to say i'm still wonderful and they were total jackasses. obstacles that don't move themselves out of my way with a, "begging pardon, miss!" instead happily show me the secret to conquering them. letting go is now as easy as, well, just opening up my hand and letting go. the more chi and magic and sparkly funk i foster, the more i can contain. the more i give, the more i find.

he went on. "here's a third interpretation: once you commit yourself to the art of pronoia, you will most likely develop an unusually dynamic form of receptivity. whether you're a man or woman, you'll be like a macho male with a willful intention to be like a welcoming female. as a result, you'll be regularly sucked into succulent opportunities you would never have come upon if you had let your pop nihilistic conditioning continue to dominate you. your openness to uplifting adventures will make it easier for serendipitous miracles to find you and draw you in."

oh, this one's too freaking easy. i'm the type of person that's middle-of-the-road when it comes to New Ideas vs. Tradition. i love tradition. i'm mexican, after all, and a huge part of me still believes the woman belongs in the kitchen, showing love means walking a half-step behind your man, and a clean and happy home is a reflection of a woman's integrity. y'know, all that mrs. cleaver crap. not that i'm not open to new modes of living, because honestly, my dad rules the kitchen and he is my guru. and it totally rocks! i also believe in equality in all things, communication always, and him taking his turn washing the dang dishes.

but i'm also open and receptive to new things. hell, this blog is all about exploration of the new, the fantastic, and the crazywhacked funkywild world of pronoia in which nothing is as it seems and everything is what it's not.

i find myself sucked into succulent opportunities i never would have found had i allowed my phallocratic propaganda machine programming continue to rule me. i'd never have been open to finding *m*, never have been willing to shed all my armor and just been vulnerable enough to experience the orgasmic wowness that happened when i let him in. already i've shared countless events with him that i've never experienced before, whether alone or with someone else. those are his, and his alone. he's my uplifting adventure and serendipitous miracle that happened simply because i was willing to let it happen.

that's so freaking awesome.

"let's take one more poetic leap of faith as we meditate on the metaphor," mr. brezsny finished up. "as you devote yourself to the art of making yourself available, your life will suck in the way that movements of the mouth and lips and tongue during close encounters with intimate partners stimulate pleasurable feelings."

oh dear Funky Cosmic Jiggy Snake, my life is as awesome as a freaking BLOW JOB!!

c'mon. put down the cynicism and take the feathers out of your butt. dreams are not crocks of shit. our bodies are the crude matter that contains our second-generation star stuff selves in the same way dreams are the crude matter that contain the larger and more ephemeral presence of Hope. so take pronoia with both hands --it's really easy!!!-- and get ready for the universe to shower you with blessings. get ready for sweet and ice creamy parties in your mouth, boogie-woogie feng-shui, serendipitious miracles, and life that sucks like oral sex, baby, yeah!