In defense of ecstasy.
It’s like a saccharine dream, it’s like understanding a Jackson Pollock, a quest into the known, rediscovering innocence. It gives you a tribal feeling, a sense of community, a release, a vista outside of the self, being fully human, being more alive than you’ve ever been, immersed, engaged.
It’s like skydiving without actually skydiving. It’s like waking up, even though you’ve been awake the whole time.
You get right to the heart of an empathetic, human experience. Connecting with people is easy and there is an absence of judgment, fear, small-talk, social stigma. It’s almost like a highway past all the bullshit small talk you spend during the first few weeks of getting to know someone. Because you’ve connected with someone so fast and so deeply, it’s easier to become friends with them quickly and on a personal level.
Touch feels amazing – every sensation is dialed up to 11 in terms of how pleasurable it feels, and how electric that touch is.
Some senses arrive in waves – smells break into their component parts, which arrive in sequence rather than together.
More abstractly, there’s the sense that the intuitive side of your brain takes over. You appreciate and understand things from the holistic perspective. You just ‘get it.’ All of ‘it’. The same way you might just ‘get’ a particular piece of music you like or a paragraph in your favorite book.
The visceral: you bask in the moment, liberated from the need or ability to rationally understand your enjoyment: you only know that it is there and it is all powerful – more authentic than most of the things you’ve done in your life. You don’t feel happy, you are happy.
We want the whole world to know about this feeling. We wish everyone would try it. Bliss, Euphoria, Heaven, joy, better than sex, better than heroin. E is not a drug, its a state of mind, it’s a dimension into the godhead, a glance of pure freedom, a trip into the visceral, the allowed.
Always be drunk.
The great imperative!
In order not to feel
Time’s horrid fardel
bruise your shoulders,
grinding you into the earth,
Get drunk and stay that way.
On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever.
But get drunk.
And if you sometimes happen to wake up
on the porches of a palace,
in the green grass of a ditch,
in the dismal loneliness of your own room,
your drunkenness gone or disappearing,
ask the wind,
ask everything that flees,
everything that groans
everything that speaks,
ask what time it is;
and the wind,
will answer you:
“Time to get drunk!
Don’t be martyred slaves of Time,
On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!”
It’s difficult being different in Pakistan. It’s difficult everywhere, but it’s a whole new freakshow here, where everyone strives to fit in the mold. Growing up is synonymous with becoming like everyone else. If your opinions aren’t as backwards and outdated as everyone else’s, and you haven’t grown to be a cynical, monotonous fuck, then you, dear sir or madam, are immature. You don’t belong in the real world. More than that, you are blasphemous. Unholy. You could even get killed for it. Just ask Qandeel Baluch.
Not saying Qandeel Baluch is the epitome of brilliance and genius. The girl was what she was, not trying to make her out to have a greater agenda, or a mastermind who was secretly trying to give us all a message (like fucking Dumbledore). No, she wanted money, and videos was how she could make it. What should make us all ashamed (well, not me. I was always supportive of her.) You should though. All you men and women shaming her on her videos or telling her ‘you’ll pray for her’, trying to overcompensate for your small penises or lack of any objective moral code of your own) is that we allowed a girl making videos to become an icon for free speech and women empowerment. Why the fuck did we even create such a situation that a girl expressing herself became a fucking revolutionary act? How the hell are we so intolerant that a woman dancing becomes an act of her risking her life, an act which makes the blood of fuckboys and shitgirls boil?
Let me tell you why this wasn’t just a fucking case of thievery and murder. Why Qandeel Baluch (probably unwittingly) is a feminist icon. It’s because you, all you disco mullahs and jeans-wearing mullanis, made her into one. If we lived in a liberal society, a woman dancing on a camera wouldn’t have been a big deal. People would’ve ignored her if she was boring and focused on their girlfriends or wives or boyfriends or husbands, or fans of classical dance might’ve appreciated her (lol, who am I kidding). A woman exercising her freedom and expression wouldn’t have been a sensation because she’s doing whatever the hell she wants and not hurting anybody, the way it should be. If that offends your moral sensibilities, fuck you. I don’t get offended by your burkini or whatever the fuck that is, so you should shut the hell up. I pray (to the Lord of Light) that one day, people like Qandeel Baluch aren’t feminist icons, because Qandeel Baluchs wouldn’t be murdered or threatened. Qandeel Baluchs wouldn’t be targeted or shamed. A woman’s body wouldn’t become a vessel through which people base their morality on. And the act of dancing won’t be feminist anymore, because you wouldn’t be risking your life for doing it.
“His pill was kicking in, and the music, which he had had a resistance to, was getting into him from all sides, surging through his body in waves, defining his emotions. Before it had seemed jerky and disjointed, it was pushing and pulling at him, irritating him. Now he as going with it, his body bubbling and flowing in all ways to the roaring bass-lines and the tearing dub plates. All the joy of love for everything good was in him, though he could see all the bad things in Britain, in fact this twentieth century urban blues music defined and illustrated them more sharply than ever. Yet he wasn’t scared and he wasn’t down about it: he could see what needed to be done to get away from them. It was the party: he felt that you had to party, you had to party.”
Dry, raw, witty, clever, drôle, sly, satirical, conceptual, radical, humourous, hilarious, angry, absurd, obscene, effortless, postmodern, funny, feminist, subtle, poignant, light, in-your-face, offensive, amusing, bemusing, simplistic, sardonic, sophomoric, crude, bawdy, bodily, tragic, comic.