Usually portrayed as the monogamous sex, women are ill-suited
to it. Traditional theories of female passivity have been
abandoned. Females are the aggressors, the initiators of sex.
Far from being more faithful than men, they’re more
promiscuous, bored with the same partner, sexually
voracious, predatory and more likely to objectify a mate.
Her sexuality is as raw and bestial as his. But the animal
urges are strongly denied by society and women themselves.
When they surface, it’s not as a manageable stream, but as
a rushing torrent that will sweep up everything in its way.
“So”, my psychiatrist said. “You’re not discharging the libido.”
I’m a basket-case maker. Isn’t that enough?
What does the analyst do while listening?
“Am I droning on?” Everyone wants to be read.
Have I got problems for you. We must express our selves.
Is there a reward out of me? Suppose I roused you in the process?
Why do we pay attention to others?
Take care! It’s the voice of authority.
If you want my advice I’ll put up with your anxiety.
We live in decadent times. Our civilization is close to collapsing. Yet we sit on our couches watching TV, letting make-believe reality fill the void. The soma of despair.
We’re ruled by a corporate-fascist system maintained by a conformist catering class who round up rebels threatening the status quo. Lobotomies for delinquents.
It’s impossible to see the young gym rats without bursting into laughter. The cultivation of biceps and abs, those vain and preening compulsions, seem fatuous and effeminate.
We live in decadent times. Cyberporn, divorce and oestrogen in our environment are turning us into effete, nihilistic gossip-mongers. Stay glued to celebrity hoardings.
I’m fine living in decadent times, that we’re edging towards another fin de siecle. The artist rejoices when society falls apart.
The United States is Versailles. Our art is decadent, our pastimes frivolous and our intellectuals discuss popular culture.
We have became obsessed with fame, playing celebrity squares, overdosing on sentimental Hollywood melodramas and demanding attention on social media websites.
We have a court culture that would rival Marie Antoinette’s. We relish superficiality, wealth, glamour and a lifestyle of partying and excess. There’s nothing beyond ourselves.
Self-concept is how we think about and evaluate ourselves. To be aware of oneself is to have a concept of oneself. There are three different components:
The view you have of yourself (self-image).
How much value you place on yourself (self-esteem or self-worth).
What you wish you were really like (ideal-self).
A technical term for self-image is self-schema, used by social and cognitive psychologists. There are three different components:
How the individual sees him or herself.
How others see the individual.
How the individual perceives others see him or her.
Everyone puts together an ideal-self. Thoughts and feelings are packaged to create a self-concept.
We construct a fantasy in which we become the person we’d like to be. If we’re that ideal our self-esteem will be enhanced.
Anxiety is the strongest stimulant.
Not fear, nor hate. Anxiety gnaws.
Fear is primitive. Anxiety is its civilised displacement.
Identity is constantly fluid, generating insecurity.
Freeze, flight or fight. Fear is the engine. Panic attacks.
Fear is present. Anxiety apprehends threats.