Monday, June 19, 2006
Monday, April 03, 2006
(God, yes!)
Ok, the guy in my drive class has a really nice ass. It's round slopes are just perfect for me to put my hands on it. Hopeful I can drive with him soon!
Filled under: Personal
Filled under: Personal
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
I spoke to soon.
It's working!
look at that! Look at that! We can see new post again. :) Below is what was wrong and how to fix it.:
----- Original Message -----
From: "Blogger Support"
To: "{U ******* B ********}"
Sent: Thursday, March 23, 2006 8:08 PM
Subject: Re: [#******] Viewing problems
> Hi there,
>
> Thanks for contacting Blogger Support. Since we cannot always respond
> personally to every message we get, we encourage you to check Blogger
> Help, where you can find answers to many common questions. Here are some
> of the top articles which could help you out:
>
> CHANGES ARE NOT APPEARING ON YOUR BLOG
>
>
> A BLOG IS MISSING FROM YOUR DASHBOARD
> http://help.blogger.com/bin/answer.py?answer=656
>
> HOW TO DELETE A BLOG
> http://help.blogger.com/bin/answer.py?answer=70
>
> THIRD-PARTY ADD-ONS
> http://help.blogger.com/bin/topic.py?topic=40
>
> HELP WITH HTML OR CSS CODE
> http://help.blogger.com/bin/answer.py?answer=1116
>
> If you don't see what you need in these articles, you can use the search
> form in the upper right corner of any Blogger Help page. Be sure also to
> check our Status page and our Known Issues page. These cover many known
> bugs and current operational problems.
>
> BLOGGER STATUS
> http://status.blogger.com/
>
> KNOWN ISSUES
> http://help.blogger.com/bin/answer.py?answer=791
>
> You can also check out our Blogger Help Group, to talk to other users,
ask
> questions, or see if anyone else has had the same issue as you.
>
> BLOGGER HELP GROUP
> http://groups.google.com/group/blogger-help
>
> If your question or problem is not addressed anywhere in our
> documentation, please simply reply to this message and let us know. We
> will help you out as soon as we can. Thanks for your patience.
>
> Sincerely,
> Blogger Support
>
Original Message Follows:
------------------------
From: "Pusher"
Subject: Re: [#*******] Viewing problems
Date: Fri, 24 Mar 2006 07:35:35 -0600
I have done the below and it still don't work
-------------------------------------------
Hi there,
Thanks for writing in. I checked your blog and I noticed that your posts
have been inserted into your template. This creates some fundamental
errors in the publishing process. Please note that there is no need to
insert your posts into the template, because Blogger's template tags (when
in the proper place) will automatically place your posts on your published
page. In this case, you should revert back to a version of your template
that did not contain actual posts in the template. (They should, however,
have the proper Blogger tags.)
If you have not saved an older version of your template, I'm afraid you'll
have to use one of Blogger's default templates if your blog is to publish
correctly. In the meantime, please see Blogger Help for information on
working with Blogger's template tags:
http://help.blogger.com/bin/topic.py?topic=39
Sincerely,
*******
Blogger Support
Filled under: Tech Updates
----- Original Message -----
From: "Blogger Support"
To: "{U ******* B ********}"
Sent: Thursday, March 23, 2006 8:08 PM
Subject: Re: [#******] Viewing problems
> Hi there,
>
> Thanks for contacting Blogger Support. Since we cannot always respond
> personally to every message we get, we encourage you to check Blogger
> Help, where you can find answers to many common questions. Here are some
> of the top articles which could help you out:
>
> CHANGES ARE NOT APPEARING ON YOUR BLOG
>
>
> A BLOG IS MISSING FROM YOUR DASHBOARD
> http://help.blogger.com/bin/answer.py?answer=656
>
> HOW TO DELETE A BLOG
> http://help.blogger.com/bin/answer.py?answer=70
>
> THIRD-PARTY ADD-ONS
> http://help.blogger.com/bin/topic.py?topic=40
>
> HELP WITH HTML OR CSS CODE
> http://help.blogger.com/bin/answer.py?answer=1116
>
> If you don't see what you need in these articles, you can use the search
> form in the upper right corner of any Blogger Help page. Be sure also to
> check our Status page and our Known Issues page. These cover many known
> bugs and current operational problems.
>
> BLOGGER STATUS
> http://status.blogger.com/
>
> KNOWN ISSUES
> http://help.blogger.com/bin/answer.py?answer=791
>
> You can also check out our Blogger Help Group, to talk to other users,
ask
> questions, or see if anyone else has had the same issue as you.
>
> BLOGGER HELP GROUP
> http://groups.google.com/group/blogger-help
>
> If your question or problem is not addressed anywhere in our
> documentation, please simply reply to this message and let us know. We
> will help you out as soon as we can. Thanks for your patience.
>
> Sincerely,
> Blogger Support
>
Original Message Follows:
------------------------
From: "Pusher"
Subject: Re: [#*******] Viewing problems
Date: Fri, 24 Mar 2006 07:35:35 -0600
I have done the below and it still don't work
-------------------------------------------
Hi there,
Thanks for writing in. I checked your blog and I noticed that your posts
have been inserted into your template. This creates some fundamental
errors in the publishing process. Please note that there is no need to
insert your posts into the template, because Blogger's template tags (when
in the proper place) will automatically place your posts on your published
page. In this case, you should revert back to a version of your template
that did not contain actual posts in the template. (They should, however,
have the proper Blogger tags.)
If you have not saved an older version of your template, I'm afraid you'll
have to use one of Blogger's default templates if your blog is to publish
correctly. In the meantime, please see Blogger Help for information on
working with Blogger's template tags:
http://help.blogger.com/bin/topic.py?topic=39
Sincerely,
*******
Blogger Support
Filled under: Tech Updates
Monday, March 27, 2006
Take Free Big Five Personality Test
We learn about the big five in class. It all started with 4 greek terms which got modified into 18,000 terms, then 16. And now five. I have thought of a personality type that does npt fit into the Big Five.
Big Five Test Results |
| Extroversion (46%) medium which suggests you average somewhere in between being assertive and social and being withdrawn and solitary. Accommodation (62%) moderately high which suggests you are, at times, overly kind natured, trusting, and helpful at the expense of your own individual development (martyr complex). Orderliness (36%) moderately low which suggests you are, at times, overly flexible, random, scattered, and fun seeking at the expense of structure, reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment. Emotional Stability (44%) moderately low which suggests you are worrying, insecure, emotional, and anxious. Inquisitiveness (72%) high which suggests you are very intellectual, curious, imaginative but possibly not very practical. |
Filled under: Quizzes Health/mind
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Thursday, March 23, 2006
New lang's ^^
You can now see "My march to hell" in 8 different lang. :)
Ma marche à l'enfer, Il mio procedere ad inferno, Meu março ao inferno, Mi marzo al infierno, Mein März zur Hölle, 地獄への私の行進, 地獄への私の行進, and 나락에 나의 행진.
OooOoooh, he say hell!
Filled under: Updates
Translator code
I just add and translator drop box* last night. I thought I would share the code with all of you. All you have to do to add a translator drop do you your site is:
1) push the "Copy to clipboard" bottom
2) paste code where you want it
3) change all the "http://mymarchtohell.blogspot.com" to http://yoursite.com.
* Translator box powered by http://babelfish.altavista.com
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Unnecessary Censorship
On of Jimmy Kimbell "Unnecessary Censorship" bits. Really one of the better thing about Jimmy Kimbell live. this one includes the words "stop f**k white woman."
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Sad
I miss the guy I am in to. We don't see each other anymore and it's somewhat heart breaking. (more really heart breaking.) I spent most of to day cry in my bed. I had found a guy who like me has must has I like him. And I did nothing about it. I remember some of the times we have been together. These time always seemed to short and un-lasting.
One time I was standing in front of him. He is a tall guy. (Not that that make any different in this short but I always think now great it is that I would have to get on my tepee-toes to kiss him.) So hot green eyed dude is standing in front of me. And this bigger ass smile come across his cute face. I did not know why he was smiling until I look down.
My crock was three inch from his own. And he seem very happy that I was there. Ofcourse the only thing either one of us could said was "you got beef?" So I quick on the most manly way I could I said, "you know I gots the beef."
Filled under: Personal
One time I was standing in front of him. He is a tall guy. (Not that that make any different in this short but I always think now great it is that I would have to get on my tepee-toes to kiss him.) So hot green eyed dude is standing in front of me. And this bigger ass smile come across his cute face. I did not know why he was smiling until I look down.
My crock was three inch from his own. And he seem very happy that I was there. Ofcourse the only thing either one of us could said was "you got beef?" So I quick on the most manly way I could I said, "you know I gots the beef."
Filled under: Personal
My Personality Disordesr
Another test that says I am crazy! If you take it lets me know what you got.
Filled under: Personal Quizzes Health/mind
| Disorder | Rating |
| Paranoid Disorder: | Very High |
| Schizoid Disorder: | High |
| Schizotypal Disorder: | Very High |
| Antisocial Disorder: | High |
| Borderline Disorder: | Very High |
| Histrionic Disorder: | Low |
| Narcissistic Disorder: | High |
| Avoidant Disorder: | Very High |
| Dependent Disorder: | Moderate |
| Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder: | High |
-- Personality Disorder Test - Take It! -- -- Personality Disorders -- | |
Filled under: Personal Quizzes Health/mind
Monday, March 20, 2006
Dawson's Chess
This game is f' hard Dawson's Chess! I play it like 25 time and one once.
Filled under: Commentaries Games
Filled under: Commentaries Games
Kids with guns
So Fucking fun...but sadly true!
Kids with guns - Google Video
Filled under: Commentaries Audio/Movies
Kids with guns - Google Video
Filled under: Commentaries Audio/Movies
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Free Ride? WTF
I just saw the worst tv of all time. Complete with stupid lines and poor acting. Today show was about Bob's colonoscopy. Kill me! Free Ride - Program Details - Yahoo! TV
Filled under: Commentaries
Filled under: Commentaries
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Blogthings - How Boyish or Girlish Are You?
| You Are 60% Boyish and 40% Girlish |
You are pretty evenly split down the middle - a total eunuch. Okay, kidding about the eunuch part. But you do get along with both sexes. You reject traditional gender roles. However, you don't actively fight them. You're just you. You don't try to be what people expect you to be. |
Blogthings - How Boyish or Girlish Are You?
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Papa pingouin
I really can't get enough of this song Papa pingouin. Paroles.net- Papa pingouin (en)
{Refrain:}
Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa, Le Papa, Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa pingouin s'ennuie sur la banquise
Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa, Le Papa, Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa pingouin voudrait faire sa valise
On le sent nerveux
Un peu malheureux
Pas très bien dans ses plumes
Pour se calmer les nerfs
Il plonge dans la mer
Il envie l'oiseau
Qui sent va voir du côté de la lune
Il a des pieds de plomb
Ça le rend grognon . .
{au Refrain}
Sur la neige bleue
Fait des pas douteux
Et glisse sur la glace
On l'entend murmurer
Je veux m'en aller
Très haut dans le ciel
Tout près du soleil
En traversant l'espace
J'ai les ailes d'un oiseau
Je peux voler haut . .
Mais voyons Papa
Pourquoi dis tu ça ?
Tu sais bien que les ailes
Celles des pingouin et des moulins
Ne servent plus à rien
Mais Pourquoi Papa
Aller là bas ?
Ici la vie est belle
Laisse le ciel aux anges et aux saints
Vient Papa ...
{au Refrain}
Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa, Le Papa, Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa pingouin poursuit son joli rêve
Voilà qu'il se prend
Pour un goéland
Il fait de longs voyages
Il descend vers le sud
Jusqu'en Angleterre
Et voici Paris
Et même Napoli
Les rives de Carthage
La méditerranée
Que c'est beau l'été .
Mais voyons Papa
Tu n'y pense pas ?
Tu sais bien que les ailes
Celles des pingouin et des moulins
Ne servent plus à rien
Mais Pourquoi Papa
Aller là bas ?
Ici la vie est belle
Si tu pars tu n'iras pas loin
Reste là Papa . . . . . . .
{au Refrain}
Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa, Le Papa, Le Papa pingouin
Revient de ses chimères
Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa, Le Papa, Le Papa pingouin
Redescend sur la terre
{Le pinguoin:}
Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa, Le Papa, Le Papa pingouin
Adore sa banquise
{Chœurs:}
Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa, Le Papa, Le Papa pingouin
Va brûler sa valise
{Le pinguoin + Chœurs:}
Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa pingouin
Le Papa, Le Papa, Le Papa pingouin
See Pigloo music video: here
Filled under: Audio/Movies Music Commentaries Pictures Lyrics
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Tickle: Tests, Matchmaking and Social Networking
We where doing inkblots in class oneday. And this is what I got.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Pusher, your subconscious mind is driven most by Sexuality
What this means is that when your unconscious mind sees an opportunity to remind you of your sexual desires, it takes full advantage of it. Because of this, things that have very little sexual content or that seem sexually neutral to others, may register as sexually charged to you, at least on an unconscious level.
Your unconscious mind recognizes the value of sexuality. The reason it may do so, is because of a deep-rooted fear of the opposite — living a life that is numb to sexual desire or is turned cold by it. You unconscious mind may be trying to avoid this sexual dullness, and so it reacts by swinging to the opposite extreme, strong sexual desire. By sending you these sexual messages on a regular basis, your unconscious makes sure you don't forget about sex.
If you view your sexual desire with a positive attitude, you can welcome the vitality and strength sexual thoughts can bring into your life. This would allow you to honor the drive your unconscious has chosen to be an important focus for you. It is a message that you are very much alive, and have a great deal of passion to bring to life.
Though your unconscious mind is driven most strongly by Sexuality, there is much more to who you are at your core.
Results from:
Tickle: Tests, Matchmaking and Social Networking
Filled under: Commentaries Quizzes
-------------------------------------------------------------
Pusher, your subconscious mind is driven most by Sexuality
What this means is that when your unconscious mind sees an opportunity to remind you of your sexual desires, it takes full advantage of it. Because of this, things that have very little sexual content or that seem sexually neutral to others, may register as sexually charged to you, at least on an unconscious level.
Your unconscious mind recognizes the value of sexuality. The reason it may do so, is because of a deep-rooted fear of the opposite — living a life that is numb to sexual desire or is turned cold by it. You unconscious mind may be trying to avoid this sexual dullness, and so it reacts by swinging to the opposite extreme, strong sexual desire. By sending you these sexual messages on a regular basis, your unconscious makes sure you don't forget about sex.
If you view your sexual desire with a positive attitude, you can welcome the vitality and strength sexual thoughts can bring into your life. This would allow you to honor the drive your unconscious has chosen to be an important focus for you. It is a message that you are very much alive, and have a great deal of passion to bring to life.
Though your unconscious mind is driven most strongly by Sexuality, there is much more to who you are at your core.
Results from:
Tickle: Tests, Matchmaking and Social Networking
Filled under: Commentaries Quizzes
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Word Cloud
I stole this from Mike's blog. This are word found one my blog.
Make yours here!
Filled under: Commentaries Quizzes
Make yours here!Filled under: Commentaries Quizzes
Sunday, February 19, 2006
The Wacky Fortune Cookie Generator
| Your Fortune Is |
 |
OoOoO..Cold!
Filed under: Quizzes
Some updates...
I have done some updates to the blog. I have add tag or categories to my blog using http://del.icio.us/. Are now I have 16 categorites, including:
Audio/Movies
Commentaries
ebooks
Health/mind
Lyrics
Music
Newgrounds
Personal
Pictures
Poems
Quizes
Quotes
Stories
Tech
Top-Ten-Lists
Updates
I am like to add more as need but this is what there is for now. I have also add some drop manus. Just to clean up the blog. To add a drop menu to your site, try this!
I going to add a filed over html code to my blogs. So, people can find even more great post by me.
Filed under: Updates
Audio/Movies
Commentaries
ebooks
Health/mind
Lyrics
Music
Newgrounds
Personal
Pictures
Poems
Quizes
Quotes
Stories
Tech
Top-Ten-Lists
Updates
I am like to add more as need but this is what there is for now. I have also add some drop manus. Just to clean up the blog. To add a drop menu to your site, try this!
I going to add a filed over html code to my blogs. So, people can find even more great post by me.
Filed under: Updates
Saturday, February 18, 2006
I saw this effect on Deidra's blog and thought I would tell you all how it work. She placed something simlar to the code below in the "title" of her blog.
First of all, there are there types of marquees: Slide, Scroll, and alternate.
Here what the three look like:
There basic html code for the three are:
.marquee. Scroll ./marquee.
.marquee behavior="slide". slide ./marquee.
.marquee behavior="alternate". alternate ./marquee.
Now, there three other behivors you can add:
scrolldelay="90" (90 is default, makes it slower.)
scrollamount="6" (6 is default, makes it move across the screen, faster or slower.)
align="Left" (Left is default, can also be "align="Left" " or align="middle")
Here are some ex. of this to get together:
.marquee scrolldelay="180".marquee scroll./marquee.
.marquee scrolldelay="90".marquee scroll./marquee.
.marquee scrollamount="6" scrolldelay="90".marquee scroll./marquee.
.marquee scrollamount="6" scrolldelay="1".marquee scroll./marquee.
Remeber that the . are <> in html. And also that this sometime takes practics to get it to work.
Filed under: Commentaries Tech
First of all, there are there types of marquees: Slide, Scroll, and alternate.
Here what the three look like:
There basic html code for the three are:
.marquee. Scroll ./marquee.
.marquee behavior="slide". slide ./marquee.
.marquee behavior="alternate". alternate ./marquee.
Now, there three other behivors you can add:
scrolldelay="90" (90 is default, makes it slower.)
scrollamount="6" (6 is default, makes it move across the screen, faster or slower.)
align="Left" (Left is default, can also be "align="Left" " or align="middle")
Here are some ex. of this to get together:
.marquee scrolldelay="180".marquee scroll./marquee.
.marquee scrolldelay="90".marquee scroll./marquee.
.marquee scrollamount="6" scrolldelay="90".marquee scroll./marquee.
.marquee scrollamount="6" scrolldelay="1".marquee scroll./marquee.
Remeber that the . are <> in html. And also that this sometime takes practics to get it to work.
Filed under: Commentaries Tech
Friday, February 17, 2006
Boy & Gill
This is a short story I wrote for my english. It not my best, but it's not my worst, eather.
"Yo, Yo home G", coming from no where.
"I thought I told you to stop calling me that Gill." Coming from a boy half gill's size.
Gill ofcourse replied, "My little G, needs to sinerely chill."
"Gill your the whites person I know, and the only reason you call me "G" is because I am...Lord, why do I put up with him?"
"'ight, that's stright! Gill wont call G dog "G" any more."
"What are you now? Some gay football play?"
"Gill thinks tat football is the sh'nic! And what those players do on there free time is thier own biznic. All 'ight! proclamed Gill.
"I thought you said the only way to would watch football was if there wife's where cherrleading."
"That 'ingt, Gill loves football player's striper wifes posing as cheerleaders."
The boy said smiling,"You what if the football's huband dress up has cheerleaders to?"
"Dam, G dog you ruin everything." Said gill red in the face.
Filed under: Stories
"Yo, Yo home G", coming from no where.
"I thought I told you to stop calling me that Gill." Coming from a boy half gill's size.
Gill ofcourse replied, "My little G, needs to sinerely chill."
"Gill your the whites person I know, and the only reason you call me "G" is because I am...Lord, why do I put up with him?"
"'ight, that's stright! Gill wont call G dog "G" any more."
"What are you now? Some gay football play?"
"Gill thinks tat football is the sh'nic! And what those players do on there free time is thier own biznic. All 'ight! proclamed Gill.
"I thought you said the only way to would watch football was if there wife's where cherrleading."
"That 'ingt, Gill loves football player's striper wifes posing as cheerleaders."
The boy said smiling,"You what if the football's huband dress up has cheerleaders to?"
"Dam, G dog you ruin everything." Said gill red in the face.
Filed under: Stories
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Bush cuts research on AIDS!
Washington Blade Online:
"In all, 91 people died of avian flu between 2003 and Feb. 13, 2006, according to the World Health Organization. There are no known cases of bird flu being transmitted from human to human, and no known cases of humans becoming infected from eating chicken or other poultry; only those in direct contact with the infected birds appear so far at risk.
During the same period, 9.1 million people were infected with HIV and AIDS, according to UN AIDS and the U.S. Department of Health & Human Services.
Now, President Bush has proposed cutting $15 million in AIDS research at the National Institutes of Health, while increasing funds for studying avian flu and bio-terrorism."
Filed under: Commentaries
"In all, 91 people died of avian flu between 2003 and Feb. 13, 2006, according to the World Health Organization. There are no known cases of bird flu being transmitted from human to human, and no known cases of humans becoming infected from eating chicken or other poultry; only those in direct contact with the infected birds appear so far at risk.
During the same period, 9.1 million people were infected with HIV and AIDS, according to UN AIDS and the U.S. Department of Health & Human Services.
Now, President Bush has proposed cutting $15 million in AIDS research at the National Institutes of Health, while increasing funds for studying avian flu and bio-terrorism."
Filed under: Commentaries
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
What "PROF. SIGMUND FREUD, LL.D" thought of homos and bi people?
This is good but a little wordy. From what I can get. Freud believe like Havelock Ellis in three class of homo. Frued stated this to be (a) absolutely inverted, (b) amphigenously inverted, and (c) occasionally inverted. An invert of couse being a homo. Enjoy!
Form "THREE CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE THEORY OF SEX"
A. Inversion
The Behavior of Inverts.—The above-mentioned persons behave in many ways quite differently.
(a) They are absolutely inverted; i.e., their sexual object must be always of the same sex, while the opposite sex can never be to them an object of sexual longing, but leaves them indifferent or may even evoke sexual repugnance. As men they are unable, on account of this repugnance, to perform the normal sexual act or miss all pleasure in its performance.
(b) They are amphigenously inverted (psychosexually hermaphroditic); i.e., their sexual object may belong indifferently to either the same or to the other sex. The inversion lacks the character of exclusiveness.
(c) They are occasionally inverted; i.e., under certain external conditions, chief among which are the inaccessibility of the normal sexual object and initiation, they are able to take as the sexual object a person of the same sex and thus find sexual gratification.
The inverted also manifest a manifold behavior in their judgment about the peculiarities of their sexual impulse. Some take the inversion as a matter of course, just as the normal person does regarding his libido, firmly demanding the same rights as the normal. Others, however, strive against the fact of their inversion and perceive in it a morbid compulsion.[4]
Other variations concern the relations of time. The characteristics of the inversion in any individual may date back as far as his memory goes, or they may become manifest to him at a definite period before or after puberty.[5] The character is either retained throughout life, or it occasionally recedes or represents an episode on the road to normal development. A periodical fluctuation between the normal and the inverted sexual object has also been observed. Of special interest are those cases in which the libido changes, taking on the character of inversion after a painful experience with the normal sexual object.
These different categories of variation generally exist independently of one another. In the most extreme cases it can regularly be assumed that the inversion has existed at all times and that the person feels contented with his peculiar state.
Many authors will hesitate to gather into a unit all the cases enumerated here and will prefer to emphasize the differences rather than the common characters of these groups, a view which corresponds with their preferred judgment of inversions. But no matter what divisions may be set up, it cannot be overlooked that all transitions are abundantly met with, so that the formation of a series would seem to impose itself.
Conception of Inversion.—The first attention bestowed upon inversion gave rise to the conception that it was a congenital sign of nervous degeneration. This harmonized with the fact that doctors first met it among the nervous, or among persons giving such an impression. There are two elements which should be considered independently in this conception: the congenitality, and the degeneration.
Degeneration.—This term degeneration is open to the objections which may be urged against the promiscuous use of this word in general. It has in fact become customary to designate all morbid manifestations not of traumatic or infectious origin as degenerative. Indeed, Magnan's classification of degenerates makes it possible that the highest general configuration of nervous accomplishment need not exclude the application of the concept of degeneration. Under the circumstances, it is a question what use and what new content the judgment of "degeneration" still possesses. It would seem more appropriate not to speak of degeneration: (1) Where there are not many marked deviations from the normal; (2) where the capacity for working and living do not in general appear markedly impaired.[6]
That the inverted are not degenerates in this qualified sense can be seen from the following facts:
1. The inversion is found among persons who otherwise show no marked deviation from the normal.
2. It is found also among persons whose capabilities are not disturbed, who on the contrary are distinguished by especially high intellectual development and ethical culture.[7]
3. If one disregards the patients of one's own practice and strives to comprehend a wider field of experience, he will in two directions encounter facts which will prevent him from assuming inversions as a degenerative sign.
(a) It must be considered that inversion was a frequent manifestation among the ancient nations at the height of their culture. It was an institution endowed with important functions. (b) It is found to be unusually prevalent among savages and primitive races, whereas the term degeneration is generally limited to higher civilization (I. Bloch). Even among the most civilized nations of Europe, climate and race have a most powerful influence on the distribution of, and attitude toward, inversion.[8]
Innateness.—Only for the first and most extreme class of inverts, as can be imagined, has innateness been claimed, and this from their own assurance that at no time in their life has their sexual impulse followed a different course. The fact of the existence of two other classes, especially of the third, is difficult to reconcile with the assumption of its being congenital. Hence, the propensity of those holding this view to separate the group of absolute inverts from the others results in the abandonment of the general conception of inversion. Accordingly in a number of cases the inversion would be of a congenital character, while in others it might originate from other causes.
In contradistinction to this conception is that which assumes inversion to be an acquired character of the sexual impulse. It is based on the following facts. (1) In many inverts (even absolute ones) an early affective sexual impression can be demonstrated, as a result of which the homosexual inclination developed. (2) In many others outer influences of a promoting and inhibiting nature can be demonstrated, which in earlier or later life led to a fixation of the inversion—among which are exclusive relations with the same sex, companionship in war, detention in prison, dangers of hetero-sexual intercourse, celibacy, sexual weakness, etc. (3) Hypnotic suggestion may remove the inversion, which would be surprising in that of a congenital character.
In view of all this, the existence of congenital inversion can certainly be questioned. The objection may be made to it that a more accurate examination of those claimed to be congenitally inverted will probably show that the direction of the libido was determined by a definite experience of early childhood, which has not been retained in the conscious memory of the person, but which can be brought back to memory by proper influences (Havelock Ellis). According to that author inversion can be designated only as a frequent variation of the sexual impulse which may be determined by a number of external circumstances of life.
The apparent certainty thus reached is, however, overthrown by the retort that manifestly there are many persons who have experienced even in their early youth those very sexual influences, such as seduction, mutual onanism, without becoming inverts, or without constantly remaining so. Hence, one is forced to assume that the alternatives congenital and acquired are either incomplete or do not cover the circumstances present in inversions.
Explanation of Inversion.—The nature of inversion is explained neither by the assumption that it is congenital nor that it is acquired. In the first case, we need to be told what there is in it of the congenital, unless we are satisfied with the roughest explanation, namely, that a person brings along a congenital sexual impulse connected with a definite sexual object. In the second case it is a question whether the manifold accidental influences suffice to explain the acquisition unless there is something in the individual to meet them half way. The negation of this last factor is inadmissible according to our former conclusions.
The Relation of Bisexuality.—Since the time of Frank Lydston, Kiernan, and Chevalier, a new series of ideas has been introduced for the explanation of the possibility of sexual inversion. This contains a new contradiction to the popular belief which assumes that a human being is either a man or a woman. Science shows cases in which the sexual characteristics appear blurred and thus the sexual distinction is made difficult, especially on an anatomical basis. The genitals of such persons unite the male and female characteristics (hermaphroditism). In rare cases both parts of the sexual apparatus are well developed (true hermaphroditism), but usually both are stunted.[9]
The importance of these abnormalities lies in the fact that they unexpectedly facilitate the understanding of the normal formation. A certain degree of anatomical hermaphroditism really belongs to the normal. In no normally formed male or female are traces of the apparatus of the other sex lacking; these either continue functionless as rudimentary organs, or they are transformed for the purpose of assuming other functions.
The conception which we gather from this long known anatomical fact is the original predisposition to bisexuality, which in the course of development has changed to monosexuality, leaving slight remnants of the stunted sex.
It was natural to transfer this conception to the psychic sphere and to conceive the inversion in its aberrations as an expression of psychic hermaphroditism. In order to bring the question to a decision, it was only necessary to have one other circumstance, viz., a regular concurrence of the inversion with the psychic and somatic signs of hermaphroditism.
But this second expectation was not realized. The relations between the assumed psychical and the demonstrable anatomical androgyny should never be conceived as being so close. There is frequently found in the inverted a diminution of the sexual impulse (H. Ellis) and a slight anatomical stunting of the organs. This, however, is found frequently but by no means regularly or preponderately. Thus we must recognize that inversion and somatic hermaphroditism are totally independent of each other.
Great importance has also been attached to the so-called secondary and tertiary sex characters and their aggregate occurrence in the inverted has been emphasized (H. Ellis). There is much truth in this but it should not be forgotten that the secondary and tertiary sex characteristics very frequently manifest themselves in the other sex, thus indicating androgyny without, however, involving changes in the sexual object in the sense of an inversion.
Psychic hermaphroditism would gain in substantiality if parallel with the inversion of the sexual object there should be at least a change in the other psychic qualities, such as in the impulses and distinguishing traits characteristic of the other sex. But such inversion of character can be expected with some regularity only in inverted women; in men the most perfect psychic manliness may be united with the inversion. If one firmly adheres to the hypothesis of a psychic hermaphroditism, one must add that in certain spheres its manifestations allow the recognition of only a very slight contrary determination. The same also holds true in the somatic androgyny. According to Halban, the appearance of individual stunted organs and secondary sex characters are quite independent of each other.[10]
A spokesman of the masculine inverts stated the bisexual theory in its crudest form in the following words: "It is a female brain in a male body." But we do not know the characteristics of a "female brain." The substitution of the anatomical for the psychological is as frivolous as it is unjustified. The tentative explanation by v. Krafft-Ebing seems to be more precisely formulated than that of Ulrich but does not essentially differ from it. v. Krafft-Ebing thinks that the bisexual predisposition gives to the individual male and female brain centers as well as somatic sexual organs. These centers develop first towards puberty mostly under the influence of the independent sex glands. We can, however, say the same of the male and female "centers" as of the male and female brains; and, moreover, we do not even know whether we can assume for the sexual functions separate brain locations ("centers") such as we may assume for language.
After this discussion, two notions, at all events, persist; first, that a bisexual predisposition is to be presumed for the inversion also, only we do not know of what it consists beyond the anatomical formations; and, second, that we are dealing with disturbances which are experienced by the sexual impulse during its development.[11]
The Sexual Object of Inverts.—The theory of psychic hermaphroditism presupposed that the sexual object of the inverted is the reverse of the normal. The inverted man, like the woman, succumbs to the charms emanating from manly qualities of body and mind; he feels himself like a woman and seeks a man.
But however true this may be for a great number of inverts, it by no means indicates the general character of inversion. There is no doubt that a great part of the male inverted have retained the psychic character of virility, that proportionately they show but little of the secondary characters of the other sex, and that they really look for real feminine psychic features in their sexual object. If that were not so it would be incomprehensible why masculine prostitution, in offering itself to inverts, copies in all its exterior, to-day as in antiquity, the dress and attitudes of woman. This imitation would otherwise be an insult to the ideal of the inverts. Among the Greeks, where the most manly men were found among inverts, it is quite obvious that it was not the masculine character of the boy which kindled the love of man, but it was his physical resemblance to woman as well as his feminine psychic qualities, such as shyness, demureness, and the need of instruction and help. As soon as the boy himself became a man he ceased to be a sexual object for men and in turn became a lover of boys. The sexual object in this case as in many others is therefore not of the like sex, but it unites both sex characters, a compromise between the impulses striving for the man and for the woman, but firmly conditioned by the masculinity of body (the genitals).[12]
The conditions in the woman are more definite; here the active inverts, with special frequency, show the somatic and psychic characters of man and desire femininity in their sexual object; though even here greater variation will be found on more intimate investigation.
The Sexual Aim of Inverts.—The important fact to bear in mind is that no uniformity of the sexual aim can be attributed to inversion. Intercourse per anum in men by no means goes with inversion; masturbation is just as frequently the exclusive aim; and the limitation of the sexual aim to mere effusion of feelings is here even more frequent than in hetero-sexual love. In women, too, the sexual aims of the inverted are manifold, among which contact with the mucous membrane of the mouth seems to be preferred.
Conclusion.—Though from the material on hand we are by no means in a position satisfactorily to explain the origin of inversion, we can say that through this investigation we have obtained an insight which can become of greater significance to us than the solution of the above problem. Our attention is called to the fact that we have assumed a too close connection between the sexual impulse and the sexual object. The experience gained from the so called abnormal cases teaches us that a connection exists between the sexual impulse and the sexual object which we are in danger of overlooking in the uniformity of normal states where the impulse seems to bring with it the object. We are thus instructed to separate this connection between the impulse and the object. The sexual impulse is probably entirely independent of its object and is not originated by the stimuli proceeding from the object.
Filed under: Commentaries Health/mind
Form "THREE CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE THEORY OF SEX"
A. Inversion
The Behavior of Inverts.—The above-mentioned persons behave in many ways quite differently.
(a) They are absolutely inverted; i.e., their sexual object must be always of the same sex, while the opposite sex can never be to them an object of sexual longing, but leaves them indifferent or may even evoke sexual repugnance. As men they are unable, on account of this repugnance, to perform the normal sexual act or miss all pleasure in its performance.
(b) They are amphigenously inverted (psychosexually hermaphroditic); i.e., their sexual object may belong indifferently to either the same or to the other sex. The inversion lacks the character of exclusiveness.
(c) They are occasionally inverted; i.e., under certain external conditions, chief among which are the inaccessibility of the normal sexual object and initiation, they are able to take as the sexual object a person of the same sex and thus find sexual gratification.
The inverted also manifest a manifold behavior in their judgment about the peculiarities of their sexual impulse. Some take the inversion as a matter of course, just as the normal person does regarding his libido, firmly demanding the same rights as the normal. Others, however, strive against the fact of their inversion and perceive in it a morbid compulsion.[4]
Other variations concern the relations of time. The characteristics of the inversion in any individual may date back as far as his memory goes, or they may become manifest to him at a definite period before or after puberty.[5] The character is either retained throughout life, or it occasionally recedes or represents an episode on the road to normal development. A periodical fluctuation between the normal and the inverted sexual object has also been observed. Of special interest are those cases in which the libido changes, taking on the character of inversion after a painful experience with the normal sexual object.
These different categories of variation generally exist independently of one another. In the most extreme cases it can regularly be assumed that the inversion has existed at all times and that the person feels contented with his peculiar state.
Many authors will hesitate to gather into a unit all the cases enumerated here and will prefer to emphasize the differences rather than the common characters of these groups, a view which corresponds with their preferred judgment of inversions. But no matter what divisions may be set up, it cannot be overlooked that all transitions are abundantly met with, so that the formation of a series would seem to impose itself.
Conception of Inversion.—The first attention bestowed upon inversion gave rise to the conception that it was a congenital sign of nervous degeneration. This harmonized with the fact that doctors first met it among the nervous, or among persons giving such an impression. There are two elements which should be considered independently in this conception: the congenitality, and the degeneration.
Degeneration.—This term degeneration is open to the objections which may be urged against the promiscuous use of this word in general. It has in fact become customary to designate all morbid manifestations not of traumatic or infectious origin as degenerative. Indeed, Magnan's classification of degenerates makes it possible that the highest general configuration of nervous accomplishment need not exclude the application of the concept of degeneration. Under the circumstances, it is a question what use and what new content the judgment of "degeneration" still possesses. It would seem more appropriate not to speak of degeneration: (1) Where there are not many marked deviations from the normal; (2) where the capacity for working and living do not in general appear markedly impaired.[6]
That the inverted are not degenerates in this qualified sense can be seen from the following facts:
1. The inversion is found among persons who otherwise show no marked deviation from the normal.
2. It is found also among persons whose capabilities are not disturbed, who on the contrary are distinguished by especially high intellectual development and ethical culture.[7]
3. If one disregards the patients of one's own practice and strives to comprehend a wider field of experience, he will in two directions encounter facts which will prevent him from assuming inversions as a degenerative sign.
(a) It must be considered that inversion was a frequent manifestation among the ancient nations at the height of their culture. It was an institution endowed with important functions. (b) It is found to be unusually prevalent among savages and primitive races, whereas the term degeneration is generally limited to higher civilization (I. Bloch). Even among the most civilized nations of Europe, climate and race have a most powerful influence on the distribution of, and attitude toward, inversion.[8]
Innateness.—Only for the first and most extreme class of inverts, as can be imagined, has innateness been claimed, and this from their own assurance that at no time in their life has their sexual impulse followed a different course. The fact of the existence of two other classes, especially of the third, is difficult to reconcile with the assumption of its being congenital. Hence, the propensity of those holding this view to separate the group of absolute inverts from the others results in the abandonment of the general conception of inversion. Accordingly in a number of cases the inversion would be of a congenital character, while in others it might originate from other causes.
In contradistinction to this conception is that which assumes inversion to be an acquired character of the sexual impulse. It is based on the following facts. (1) In many inverts (even absolute ones) an early affective sexual impression can be demonstrated, as a result of which the homosexual inclination developed. (2) In many others outer influences of a promoting and inhibiting nature can be demonstrated, which in earlier or later life led to a fixation of the inversion—among which are exclusive relations with the same sex, companionship in war, detention in prison, dangers of hetero-sexual intercourse, celibacy, sexual weakness, etc. (3) Hypnotic suggestion may remove the inversion, which would be surprising in that of a congenital character.
In view of all this, the existence of congenital inversion can certainly be questioned. The objection may be made to it that a more accurate examination of those claimed to be congenitally inverted will probably show that the direction of the libido was determined by a definite experience of early childhood, which has not been retained in the conscious memory of the person, but which can be brought back to memory by proper influences (Havelock Ellis). According to that author inversion can be designated only as a frequent variation of the sexual impulse which may be determined by a number of external circumstances of life.
The apparent certainty thus reached is, however, overthrown by the retort that manifestly there are many persons who have experienced even in their early youth those very sexual influences, such as seduction, mutual onanism, without becoming inverts, or without constantly remaining so. Hence, one is forced to assume that the alternatives congenital and acquired are either incomplete or do not cover the circumstances present in inversions.
Explanation of Inversion.—The nature of inversion is explained neither by the assumption that it is congenital nor that it is acquired. In the first case, we need to be told what there is in it of the congenital, unless we are satisfied with the roughest explanation, namely, that a person brings along a congenital sexual impulse connected with a definite sexual object. In the second case it is a question whether the manifold accidental influences suffice to explain the acquisition unless there is something in the individual to meet them half way. The negation of this last factor is inadmissible according to our former conclusions.
The Relation of Bisexuality.—Since the time of Frank Lydston, Kiernan, and Chevalier, a new series of ideas has been introduced for the explanation of the possibility of sexual inversion. This contains a new contradiction to the popular belief which assumes that a human being is either a man or a woman. Science shows cases in which the sexual characteristics appear blurred and thus the sexual distinction is made difficult, especially on an anatomical basis. The genitals of such persons unite the male and female characteristics (hermaphroditism). In rare cases both parts of the sexual apparatus are well developed (true hermaphroditism), but usually both are stunted.[9]
The importance of these abnormalities lies in the fact that they unexpectedly facilitate the understanding of the normal formation. A certain degree of anatomical hermaphroditism really belongs to the normal. In no normally formed male or female are traces of the apparatus of the other sex lacking; these either continue functionless as rudimentary organs, or they are transformed for the purpose of assuming other functions.
The conception which we gather from this long known anatomical fact is the original predisposition to bisexuality, which in the course of development has changed to monosexuality, leaving slight remnants of the stunted sex.
It was natural to transfer this conception to the psychic sphere and to conceive the inversion in its aberrations as an expression of psychic hermaphroditism. In order to bring the question to a decision, it was only necessary to have one other circumstance, viz., a regular concurrence of the inversion with the psychic and somatic signs of hermaphroditism.
But this second expectation was not realized. The relations between the assumed psychical and the demonstrable anatomical androgyny should never be conceived as being so close. There is frequently found in the inverted a diminution of the sexual impulse (H. Ellis) and a slight anatomical stunting of the organs. This, however, is found frequently but by no means regularly or preponderately. Thus we must recognize that inversion and somatic hermaphroditism are totally independent of each other.
Great importance has also been attached to the so-called secondary and tertiary sex characters and their aggregate occurrence in the inverted has been emphasized (H. Ellis). There is much truth in this but it should not be forgotten that the secondary and tertiary sex characteristics very frequently manifest themselves in the other sex, thus indicating androgyny without, however, involving changes in the sexual object in the sense of an inversion.
Psychic hermaphroditism would gain in substantiality if parallel with the inversion of the sexual object there should be at least a change in the other psychic qualities, such as in the impulses and distinguishing traits characteristic of the other sex. But such inversion of character can be expected with some regularity only in inverted women; in men the most perfect psychic manliness may be united with the inversion. If one firmly adheres to the hypothesis of a psychic hermaphroditism, one must add that in certain spheres its manifestations allow the recognition of only a very slight contrary determination. The same also holds true in the somatic androgyny. According to Halban, the appearance of individual stunted organs and secondary sex characters are quite independent of each other.[10]
A spokesman of the masculine inverts stated the bisexual theory in its crudest form in the following words: "It is a female brain in a male body." But we do not know the characteristics of a "female brain." The substitution of the anatomical for the psychological is as frivolous as it is unjustified. The tentative explanation by v. Krafft-Ebing seems to be more precisely formulated than that of Ulrich but does not essentially differ from it. v. Krafft-Ebing thinks that the bisexual predisposition gives to the individual male and female brain centers as well as somatic sexual organs. These centers develop first towards puberty mostly under the influence of the independent sex glands. We can, however, say the same of the male and female "centers" as of the male and female brains; and, moreover, we do not even know whether we can assume for the sexual functions separate brain locations ("centers") such as we may assume for language.
After this discussion, two notions, at all events, persist; first, that a bisexual predisposition is to be presumed for the inversion also, only we do not know of what it consists beyond the anatomical formations; and, second, that we are dealing with disturbances which are experienced by the sexual impulse during its development.[11]
The Sexual Object of Inverts.—The theory of psychic hermaphroditism presupposed that the sexual object of the inverted is the reverse of the normal. The inverted man, like the woman, succumbs to the charms emanating from manly qualities of body and mind; he feels himself like a woman and seeks a man.
But however true this may be for a great number of inverts, it by no means indicates the general character of inversion. There is no doubt that a great part of the male inverted have retained the psychic character of virility, that proportionately they show but little of the secondary characters of the other sex, and that they really look for real feminine psychic features in their sexual object. If that were not so it would be incomprehensible why masculine prostitution, in offering itself to inverts, copies in all its exterior, to-day as in antiquity, the dress and attitudes of woman. This imitation would otherwise be an insult to the ideal of the inverts. Among the Greeks, where the most manly men were found among inverts, it is quite obvious that it was not the masculine character of the boy which kindled the love of man, but it was his physical resemblance to woman as well as his feminine psychic qualities, such as shyness, demureness, and the need of instruction and help. As soon as the boy himself became a man he ceased to be a sexual object for men and in turn became a lover of boys. The sexual object in this case as in many others is therefore not of the like sex, but it unites both sex characters, a compromise between the impulses striving for the man and for the woman, but firmly conditioned by the masculinity of body (the genitals).[12]
The conditions in the woman are more definite; here the active inverts, with special frequency, show the somatic and psychic characters of man and desire femininity in their sexual object; though even here greater variation will be found on more intimate investigation.
The Sexual Aim of Inverts.—The important fact to bear in mind is that no uniformity of the sexual aim can be attributed to inversion. Intercourse per anum in men by no means goes with inversion; masturbation is just as frequently the exclusive aim; and the limitation of the sexual aim to mere effusion of feelings is here even more frequent than in hetero-sexual love. In women, too, the sexual aims of the inverted are manifold, among which contact with the mucous membrane of the mouth seems to be preferred.
Conclusion.—Though from the material on hand we are by no means in a position satisfactorily to explain the origin of inversion, we can say that through this investigation we have obtained an insight which can become of greater significance to us than the solution of the above problem. Our attention is called to the fact that we have assumed a too close connection between the sexual impulse and the sexual object. The experience gained from the so called abnormal cases teaches us that a connection exists between the sexual impulse and the sexual object which we are in danger of overlooking in the uniformity of normal states where the impulse seems to bring with it the object. We are thus instructed to separate this connection between the impulse and the object. The sexual impulse is probably entirely independent of its object and is not originated by the stimuli proceeding from the object.
Filed under: Commentaries Health/mind
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
What Does Your Candy Heart Say?
| Your Candy Heart Says "Marry Me" |
 For you, love is serious business. You don't take dating lightly. And even if you haven't met the right person, getting married is something you expect to do soon. Your ideal Valentine's Day date: a romantic picnic in the park Your flirting style: subtle and calculating What turns you off: short term flings Why you're hot: you're a hopeless romantic with each new relationship |
Just something for V. day. "Your flirting style: subtle and calculating" this is true. "Why you're hot: you're a hopeless romantic with each new relationship" this is very true!
Monday, February 13, 2006
Pusher: definition
Found this at Hana site, while test out blogger's webring: Hana Askren: definition
Pusher -- [noun]: A level headed person who always makes the wrong decision 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com |
The guy I want -- [adjective]: Like in nature to a kangaroo 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com |
Sunday, February 12, 2006
1984 by G. Orwell
I have just start read this. It's a really good book! So, I found the first chapter on online from my reads. I am hope to post some of my short story, soon.
Tools*:
NINETEEN EIGHTY-FOUR
George Orwell
Chapter I
It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him.
The hallway smelt of boiled cabbage and old rag mats. At one end of it a coloured poster, too large for indoor display, had been tacked to the wall. It depicted simply an enormous face, more than a metre wide: the face of a man of about forty-five, with a heavy black moustache and ruggedly handsome features. Winston made for the stairs. It was no use trying the lift. Even at the best of times it was seldom working, and at present the electric current was cut off during daylight hours. It was part of the economy drive in preparation for Hate Week. The flat was seven flights up, and Winston, who was thirty-nine and had a varicose ulcer above his right ankle, went slowly, resting several times on the way. On each landing, opposite the lift-shaft, the poster with the enormous face gazed from the wall. It was one of those pictures which are so contrived that the eyes follow you about when you move. BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, the caption beneath it ran.
Inside the flat a fruity voice was reading out a list of figures which had something to do with the production of pig-iron. The voice came from an oblong metal plaque like a dulled mirror which formed part of the surface of the right-hand wall. Winston turned a switch and the voice sank somewhat, though the words were still distinguishable. The instrument (the telescreen, it was called) could be dimmed, but there was no way of shutting it off completely. He moved over to the window: a smallish, frail figure, the meagreness of his body merely emphasized by the blue overalls which were the uniform of the party. His hair was very fair, his face naturally sanguine, his skin roughened by coarse soap and blunt razor blades and the cold of the winter that had just ended. Outside, even through the shut window-pane, the world looked cold. Down in the street little eddies of wind were whirling dust and torn paper into spirals, and though the sun was shining and the sky a harsh blue, there seemed to be no colour in anything, except the posters that were plastered everywhere. The blackmoustachio'd face gazed down from every commanding corner. There was one on the house-front immediately opposite. BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, the caption said, while the dark eyes looked deep into Winston's own. Down at street level another poster, torn at one corner, flapped fitfully in the wind, alternately covering and uncovering the single word INGSOC. In the far distance a helicopter skimmed down between the roofs, hovered for an instant like a bluebottle, and darted away again with a curving flight. It was the police patrol, snooping into people's windows. The patrols did not matter, however. Only the Thought Police mattered.
Behind Winston's back the voice from the telescreen was still babbling away about pig-iron and the overfulfilment of the Ninth Three-Year Plan. The telescreen received and transmitted simultaneously. Any sound that Winston made, above the level of a very low whisper, would be picked up by it, moreover, so long as he remained within the field of vision which the metal plaque commanded, he could be seen as well as heard. There was of course no way of knowing whether you were being watched at any given moment. How often, or on what system, the Thought Police plugged in on any individual wire was guesswork. It was even conceivable that they watched everybody all the time. But at any rate they could plug in your wire whenever they wanted to. You had to live — did live, from habit that became instinct - in the assumption that every sound you made was overheard, and, except in darkness, every movement scrutinized.
Winston kept his back turned to the telescreen. It was safer, though, as he well knew, even a back can be revealing. A kilometre away the Ministry of Truth, his place of work, towered vast and white above the grimy landscape. This, he thought with a sort of vague distaste - this was London, chief city of Airstrip One, itself the third most populous of the provinces of Oceania. He tried to squeeze out some childhood memory that should tell him whether London had always been quite like this. Were there always these vistas of rotting nineteenth-century houses, their sides shored up with baulks of timber, their windows patched with cardboard and their roofs with corrugated iron, their crazy garden walls sagging in all directions? And the bombed sites where the plaster dust swirled in the air and the willow-herb straggled over the heaps of rubble; and the places where the bombs had cleared a larger patch and there had sprung up sordid colonies of wooden dwellings like chicken-houses? But it was no use, he couldn't remember: nothing remained of his childhood except a series of bright-lit tableaux occurring against no background and mostly unintelligible.
The Ministry of Truth - Minitrue, in Newspeak - was startlingly different from any other object in sight. It was an enormous pyramidal structure of glittering white concrete, soaring up, terrace after terrace, 300 metres into the air. From where Winston stood it was just possible to read, picked out on its white face in elegant lettering, the three slogans of the Party :
WAR IS PEACE
FREEDOM IS SLAVERY
IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH
The Ministry of Truth contained, it was said, three thousand rooms above ground level, and corresponding ramifications below. Scattered about London there were just three other buildings of similar appearance and size. So completely did they dwarf the surrounding architecture that from the roof of Victory Mansions you could see all four of them simultaneously. They were the homes of the four Ministries between which the entire apparatus of government was divided. The Ministry of Truth, which concerned itself with news, entertainment, education, and the fine arts. The Ministry of Peace, which concerned itself with war. The Ministry of Love, which maintained law and order. And the Ministry of Plenty, which was responsible for economic affairs. Their names, in Newspeak: Minitrue, Minipax, Miniluv, and Miniplenty.
The Ministry of Love was the really frightening one. There were no windows in it at all. Winston had never been inside the Ministry of Love, nor within half a kilometre of it. It was a place impossible to enter except on official business, and then only by penetrating through a maze of barbed-wire entanglements, steel doors, and hidden machine-gun nests. Even the streets leading up to its outer barriers were roamed by gorilla-faced guards in black uniforms, armed with jointed truncheons.
Winston turned round abruptly. He had set his features into the expression of quiet optimism which it was advisable to wear when facing the telescreen. He crossed the room into the tiny kitchen. By leaving the Ministry at this time of day he had sacrificed his lunch in the canteen, and he was aware that there was no food in the kitchen except a hunk of dark-coloured bread which had got to be saved for tomorrow's breakfast. He took down from the shelf a bottle of colourless liquid with a plain white label marked VICTORY GIN. It gave off a sickly, oily smell, as of Chinese rice-spirit. Winston poured out nearly a teacupful, nerved himself for a shock, and gulped it down like a dose of medicine.
Instantly his face turned scarlet and the water ran out of his eyes. The stuff was like nitric acid, and moreover, in swallowing it one had the sensation of being hit on the back of the head with a rubber club. The next moment, however, the burning in his belly died down and the world began to look more cheerful. He took a cigarette from a crumpled packet marked VICTORY CIGARETTES and incautiously held it upright, whereupon the tobacco fell out on to the floor. With the next he was more successful. He went back to the living-room and sat down at a small table that stood to the left of the telescreen. From the table drawer he took out a penholder, a bottle of ink, and a thick, quarto-sized blank book with a red back and a marbled cover. For some reason the telescreen in the living-room was in an unusual position. Instead of being placed, as was normal, in the end wall, where it could command the whole room, it was in the longer wall, opposite the window. To one side of it there was a shallow alcove in which Winston was now sitting, and which, when the flats were built, had probably been intended to hold bookshelves. By sitting in the alcove, and keeping well back, Winston was able to remain outside the range of the telescreen, so far as sight went. He could be heard, of course, but so long as he stayed in his present position he could not be seen. It was partly the unusual geography of the room that had suggested to him the thing that he was now about to do.
But it had also been suggested by the book that he had just taken out of the drawer. It was a peculiarly beautiful book. Its smooth creamy paper, a little yellowed by age, was of a kind that had not been manufactured for at least forty years past. He could guess, however, that the book was much older than that. He had seen it lying in the window of a frowsy little junk-shop in a slummy quarter of the town ( just what quarter he did not now remember ) and had been stricken immediately by an overwhelming desire to possess it. Party members were supposed not to go into ordinary shops ( - dealing on the free market - , it was called), but the rule was not strictly kept, because there were various things, such as shoelaces and razor blades, which it was impossible to get hold of in any other way. He had given a quick glance up and down the street and then had slipped inside and bought the book for two dollars fifty. At the time he was not conscious of wanting it for any particular purpose. He had carried it guiltily home in his briefcase. Even with nothing written in it, it was a compromising possession. The thing that he was about to do was to open a diary. This was not illegal (nothing was illegal, since there were no longer any laws), but if detected it was reasonably certain that it would be punished by death, or at least by twenty-five years in a forced-labour camp. Winston fitted a nib into the penholder and sucked it to get the grease off. The pen was an archaic instrument, seldom used even for signatures, and he had procured one, furtively and with some difficulty, simply because of a feeling that the beautiful creamy paper deserved to be written on with a real nib instead of being scratched with an ink-pencil. Actually he was not used to writing by hand. Apart from very short notes, it was usual to dictate everything into the speak-write which was of course impossible for his present purpose. He dipped the pen into the ink and then faltered for just a second. A tremor had gone through his bowels. To mark the paper was the decisive act.In small clumsy letters he wrote: April 4th, 1984.
He sat back. A sense of complete helplessness had descended upon him. To begin with, he did not know with any certainty that this was 1984. It must be round about that date, since he was fairly sure that his age was thirty-nine, and he believed that he had been born in 1944 or 1945; but it was never possible nowadays to pin down any date within a year or two. For whom, it suddenly occurred to him to wonder, was he writing this diary? For the future, for the unborn. His mind hovered for a moment round the doubtful date on the page, and then fetched up with a bump against the Newspeak word doublethink. For the first time the magnitude of what he had undertaken came home to him. How could you communicate with the future? It was of its nature impossible. Either the future would resemble the present, in which case it would not listen to him: or it would be different from it, and his predicament would be meaningless. For some time he sat gazing stupidly at the paper. The telescreen had changed over to strident military music. It was curious that he seemed not merely to have lost the power of expressing himself, but even to have forgotten what it was that he had originally intended to say. For weeks past he had been making ready for this moment, and it had never crossed his mind that anything would be needed except courage. The actual writing would be easy. All he had to do was to transfer to paper the interminable restless monologue that had been running inside his head, literally for years. At this moment, however, even the monologue had dried up. Moreover his varicose ulcer had begun itching unbearably. He dared not scratch it, because if he did so it always became inflamed. The seconds were ticking by. He was conscious of nothing except the blankness of the page in front of him, the itching of the skin above his ankle, the blaring of the music, and a slight booziness caused by the gin. Suddenly he began writing in sheer panic, only imperfectly aware of what he was setting down. His small but childish handwriting straggled up and down the page, shedding first its capital letters and finally even its full stops:
Tools*:
- Free Text-to-speech reader (SayzMe)
- Free natural voices TTS, in 29 language
NINETEEN EIGHTY-FOUR
George Orwell
Chapter I
It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him.
The hallway smelt of boiled cabbage and old rag mats. At one end of it a coloured poster, too large for indoor display, had been tacked to the wall. It depicted simply an enormous face, more than a metre wide: the face of a man of about forty-five, with a heavy black moustache and ruggedly handsome features. Winston made for the stairs. It was no use trying the lift. Even at the best of times it was seldom working, and at present the electric current was cut off during daylight hours. It was part of the economy drive in preparation for Hate Week. The flat was seven flights up, and Winston, who was thirty-nine and had a varicose ulcer above his right ankle, went slowly, resting several times on the way. On each landing, opposite the lift-shaft, the poster with the enormous face gazed from the wall. It was one of those pictures which are so contrived that the eyes follow you about when you move. BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, the caption beneath it ran.
Inside the flat a fruity voice was reading out a list of figures which had something to do with the production of pig-iron. The voice came from an oblong metal plaque like a dulled mirror which formed part of the surface of the right-hand wall. Winston turned a switch and the voice sank somewhat, though the words were still distinguishable. The instrument (the telescreen, it was called) could be dimmed, but there was no way of shutting it off completely. He moved over to the window: a smallish, frail figure, the meagreness of his body merely emphasized by the blue overalls which were the uniform of the party. His hair was very fair, his face naturally sanguine, his skin roughened by coarse soap and blunt razor blades and the cold of the winter that had just ended. Outside, even through the shut window-pane, the world looked cold. Down in the street little eddies of wind were whirling dust and torn paper into spirals, and though the sun was shining and the sky a harsh blue, there seemed to be no colour in anything, except the posters that were plastered everywhere. The blackmoustachio'd face gazed down from every commanding corner. There was one on the house-front immediately opposite. BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, the caption said, while the dark eyes looked deep into Winston's own. Down at street level another poster, torn at one corner, flapped fitfully in the wind, alternately covering and uncovering the single word INGSOC. In the far distance a helicopter skimmed down between the roofs, hovered for an instant like a bluebottle, and darted away again with a curving flight. It was the police patrol, snooping into people's windows. The patrols did not matter, however. Only the Thought Police mattered.
Behind Winston's back the voice from the telescreen was still babbling away about pig-iron and the overfulfilment of the Ninth Three-Year Plan. The telescreen received and transmitted simultaneously. Any sound that Winston made, above the level of a very low whisper, would be picked up by it, moreover, so long as he remained within the field of vision which the metal plaque commanded, he could be seen as well as heard. There was of course no way of knowing whether you were being watched at any given moment. How often, or on what system, the Thought Police plugged in on any individual wire was guesswork. It was even conceivable that they watched everybody all the time. But at any rate they could plug in your wire whenever they wanted to. You had to live — did live, from habit that became instinct - in the assumption that every sound you made was overheard, and, except in darkness, every movement scrutinized.
Winston kept his back turned to the telescreen. It was safer, though, as he well knew, even a back can be revealing. A kilometre away the Ministry of Truth, his place of work, towered vast and white above the grimy landscape. This, he thought with a sort of vague distaste - this was London, chief city of Airstrip One, itself the third most populous of the provinces of Oceania. He tried to squeeze out some childhood memory that should tell him whether London had always been quite like this. Were there always these vistas of rotting nineteenth-century houses, their sides shored up with baulks of timber, their windows patched with cardboard and their roofs with corrugated iron, their crazy garden walls sagging in all directions? And the bombed sites where the plaster dust swirled in the air and the willow-herb straggled over the heaps of rubble; and the places where the bombs had cleared a larger patch and there had sprung up sordid colonies of wooden dwellings like chicken-houses? But it was no use, he couldn't remember: nothing remained of his childhood except a series of bright-lit tableaux occurring against no background and mostly unintelligible.
The Ministry of Truth - Minitrue, in Newspeak - was startlingly different from any other object in sight. It was an enormous pyramidal structure of glittering white concrete, soaring up, terrace after terrace, 300 metres into the air. From where Winston stood it was just possible to read, picked out on its white face in elegant lettering, the three slogans of the Party :
WAR IS PEACE
FREEDOM IS SLAVERY
IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH
The Ministry of Truth contained, it was said, three thousand rooms above ground level, and corresponding ramifications below. Scattered about London there were just three other buildings of similar appearance and size. So completely did they dwarf the surrounding architecture that from the roof of Victory Mansions you could see all four of them simultaneously. They were the homes of the four Ministries between which the entire apparatus of government was divided. The Ministry of Truth, which concerned itself with news, entertainment, education, and the fine arts. The Ministry of Peace, which concerned itself with war. The Ministry of Love, which maintained law and order. And the Ministry of Plenty, which was responsible for economic affairs. Their names, in Newspeak: Minitrue, Minipax, Miniluv, and Miniplenty.
The Ministry of Love was the really frightening one. There were no windows in it at all. Winston had never been inside the Ministry of Love, nor within half a kilometre of it. It was a place impossible to enter except on official business, and then only by penetrating through a maze of barbed-wire entanglements, steel doors, and hidden machine-gun nests. Even the streets leading up to its outer barriers were roamed by gorilla-faced guards in black uniforms, armed with jointed truncheons.
Winston turned round abruptly. He had set his features into the expression of quiet optimism which it was advisable to wear when facing the telescreen. He crossed the room into the tiny kitchen. By leaving the Ministry at this time of day he had sacrificed his lunch in the canteen, and he was aware that there was no food in the kitchen except a hunk of dark-coloured bread which had got to be saved for tomorrow's breakfast. He took down from the shelf a bottle of colourless liquid with a plain white label marked VICTORY GIN. It gave off a sickly, oily smell, as of Chinese rice-spirit. Winston poured out nearly a teacupful, nerved himself for a shock, and gulped it down like a dose of medicine.
Instantly his face turned scarlet and the water ran out of his eyes. The stuff was like nitric acid, and moreover, in swallowing it one had the sensation of being hit on the back of the head with a rubber club. The next moment, however, the burning in his belly died down and the world began to look more cheerful. He took a cigarette from a crumpled packet marked VICTORY CIGARETTES and incautiously held it upright, whereupon the tobacco fell out on to the floor. With the next he was more successful. He went back to the living-room and sat down at a small table that stood to the left of the telescreen. From the table drawer he took out a penholder, a bottle of ink, and a thick, quarto-sized blank book with a red back and a marbled cover. For some reason the telescreen in the living-room was in an unusual position. Instead of being placed, as was normal, in the end wall, where it could command the whole room, it was in the longer wall, opposite the window. To one side of it there was a shallow alcove in which Winston was now sitting, and which, when the flats were built, had probably been intended to hold bookshelves. By sitting in the alcove, and keeping well back, Winston was able to remain outside the range of the telescreen, so far as sight went. He could be heard, of course, but so long as he stayed in his present position he could not be seen. It was partly the unusual geography of the room that had suggested to him the thing that he was now about to do.
But it had also been suggested by the book that he had just taken out of the drawer. It was a peculiarly beautiful book. Its smooth creamy paper, a little yellowed by age, was of a kind that had not been manufactured for at least forty years past. He could guess, however, that the book was much older than that. He had seen it lying in the window of a frowsy little junk-shop in a slummy quarter of the town ( just what quarter he did not now remember ) and had been stricken immediately by an overwhelming desire to possess it. Party members were supposed not to go into ordinary shops ( - dealing on the free market - , it was called), but the rule was not strictly kept, because there were various things, such as shoelaces and razor blades, which it was impossible to get hold of in any other way. He had given a quick glance up and down the street and then had slipped inside and bought the book for two dollars fifty. At the time he was not conscious of wanting it for any particular purpose. He had carried it guiltily home in his briefcase. Even with nothing written in it, it was a compromising possession. The thing that he was about to do was to open a diary. This was not illegal (nothing was illegal, since there were no longer any laws), but if detected it was reasonably certain that it would be punished by death, or at least by twenty-five years in a forced-labour camp. Winston fitted a nib into the penholder and sucked it to get the grease off. The pen was an archaic instrument, seldom used even for signatures, and he had procured one, furtively and with some difficulty, simply because of a feeling that the beautiful creamy paper deserved to be written on with a real nib instead of being scratched with an ink-pencil. Actually he was not used to writing by hand. Apart from very short notes, it was usual to dictate everything into the speak-write which was of course impossible for his present purpose. He dipped the pen into the ink and then faltered for just a second. A tremor had gone through his bowels. To mark the paper was the decisive act.In small clumsy letters he wrote: April 4th, 1984.
He sat back. A sense of complete helplessness had descended upon him. To begin with, he did not know with any certainty that this was 1984. It must be round about that date, since he was fairly sure that his age was thirty-nine, and he believed that he had been born in 1944 or 1945; but it was never possible nowadays to pin down any date within a year or two. For whom, it suddenly occurred to him to wonder, was he writing this diary? For the future, for the unborn. His mind hovered for a moment round the doubtful date on the page, and then fetched up with a bump against the Newspeak word doublethink. For the first time the magnitude of what he had undertaken came home to him. How could you communicate with the future? It was of its nature impossible. Either the future would resemble the present, in which case it would not listen to him: or it would be different from it, and his predicament would be meaningless. For some time he sat gazing stupidly at the paper. The telescreen had changed over to strident military music. It was curious that he seemed not merely to have lost the power of expressing himself, but even to have forgotten what it was that he had originally intended to say. For weeks past he had been making ready for this moment, and it had never crossed his mind that anything would be needed except courage. The actual writing would be easy. All he had to do was to transfer to paper the interminable restless monologue that had been running inside his head, literally for years. At this moment, however, even the monologue had dried up. Moreover his varicose ulcer had begun itching unbearably. He dared not scratch it, because if he did so it always became inflamed. The seconds were ticking by. He was conscious of nothing except the blankness of the page in front of him, the itching of the skin above his ankle, the blaring of the music, and a slight booziness caused by the gin. Suddenly he began writing in sheer panic, only imperfectly aware of what he was setting down. His small but childish handwriting straggled up and down the page, shedding first its capital letters and finally even its full stops:
April 4th, 1984. Last night to the flicks. All war films. One very good one of a ship full of refugees being bombed somewhere in the Mediterranean. Audience much amused by shots of a great huge fat man trying to swim away with a helicopter after him, first you saw him wallowing along in the water like a porpoise, then you saw him through the helicopters gunsights, then he was full of holes and the sea round him turned pink and he sank as suddenly as though the holes had let in the water, audience shouting with laughter when he sank. then you saw a lifeboat full of children with a helicopter hovering over it. there was a middle-aged woman might have been a jewess sitting up in the bow with a little boy about three years old in her arms. little boy screaming with fright and hiding his head between her breasts as if he was trying to burrow right into her and the woman putting her arms round him and comforting him although she was blue with fright herself, all the time covering him up as much as possible as if she thought her arms could keep the bullets off him. then the helicopter planted a 20 kilo bomb in among them terrific flash and the boat went all to matchwood. then there was a wonderful shot of a child's arm going up up up right up into the air a helicopter with a camera in its nose must have followed it up and there was a lot of applause from the party seats but a woman down in the prole part of the house suddenly started kicking up a fuss and shouting they didnt oughter of showed it not in front of kids they didnt it aint right not in front of kids it aint until the police turned her turned her out i dont suppose anything happened to her nobody cares what the proles say typical prole reaction they never.
Winston stopped writing, partly because he was suffering from cramp. He did not know what had made him pour out this stream of rubbish. But the curious thing was that while he was doing so a totally different memory had clarified itself in his mind, to the point where he almost felt equal to writing it down. It was, he now realized, because of this other incident that he had suddenly decided to come home and begin the diary today. It had happened that morning at the Ministry, if anything so nebulous could be said to happen. It was nearly eleven hundred, and in the Records Department, where Winston worked, they were dragging the chairs out of the cubicles and grouping them in the centre of the hall opposite the big telescreen, in preparation for the Two Minutes Hate. Winston was just taking his place in one of the middle rows when two people whom he knew by sight, but had never spoken to, came unexpectedly into the room. One of them was a girl whom he often passed in the corridors. He did not know her name, but he knew that she worked in the Fiction Department. Presumably - since he had sometimes seen her with oily hands and carrying a spanner - she had some mechanical job on one of the novel-writing machines. She was a bold-looking girl, of about twenty-seven, with thick hair, a freckled face, and swift, athletic movements. A narrow scarlet sash, emblem of the Junior Anti-Sex League, was wound several times round the waist of her overalls, just tightly enough to bring out the shapeliness of her hips. Winston had disliked her from the very first moment of seeing her. He knew the reason. It was because of the atmosphere of hockey-fields and cold baths and community hikes and general clean-mindedness which she managed to carry about with her. He disliked nearly all women, and especially the young and pretty ones. It was always the women, and above all the young ones, who were the most bigoted adherents of the Party, the swallowers of slogans, the amateur spies and nosers-out of unorthodoxy. But this particular girl gave him the impression of being more dangerous than most. Once when they passed in the corridor she gave him a quick sidelong glance which seemed to pierce right into him and for a moment had filled him with black terror. The idea had even crossed his mind that she might be an agent of the Thought Police. That, it was true, was very unlikely. Still, he continued to feel a peculiar uneasiness, which had fear mixed up in it as well as hostility, whenever she was anywhere near him.
The other person was a man named O'Brien, a member of the Inner Party and holder of some post so important and remote that Winston had only a dim idea of its nature. A momentary hush passed over the group of people round the chairs as they saw the black overalls of an Inner Party member approaching. O'Brien was a large, burly man with a thick neck and a coarse, humorous, brutal face. In spite of his formidable appearance he had a certain charm of manner. He had a trick of resettling his spectacles on his nose which was curiously disarming - in some indefinable way, curiously civilized. It was a gesture which, if anyone had still thought in such terms, might have recalled an eighteenth-century nobleman offering his snuffbox. Winston had seen O'Brien perhaps a dozen times in almost as many years. He felt deeply drawn to him, and not solely because he was intrigued by the contrast between O'Brien's urbane manner and his prize-fighter's physique. Much more it was because of a secretly held belief - or perhaps not even a belief, merely a hope - that O'Brien's political orthodoxy was not perfect. Something in his face suggested it irresistibly. And again, perhaps it was not even unorthodoxy that was written in his face, but simply intelligence. But at any rate he had the appearance of being a person that you could talk to if somehow you could cheat the telescreen and get him alone. Winston had never made the smallest effort to verify this guess: indeed, there was no way of doing so. At this moment O'Brien glanced at his wrist-watch, saw that it was nearly eleven hundred, and evidently decided to stay in the Records Department until the Two Minutes Hate was over. He took a chair in the same row as Winston, a couple of places away. A small, sandy-haired woman who worked in the next cubicle to Winston was between them. The girl with dark hair was sitting immediately behind.
The next moment a hideous, grinding speech, as of some monstrous machine running without oil, burst from the big telescreen at the end of the room. It was a noise that set one's teeth on edge and bristled the hair at the back of one's neck. The Hate had started. As usual, the face of Emmanuel Goldstein, the Enemy of the People, had flashed on to the screen. There were hisses here and there among the audience. The little sandy-haired woman gave a squeak of mingled fear and disgust. Goldstein was the renegade and backslider who once, long ago (how long ago, nobody quite remembered), had been one of the leading figures of the Party, almost on a level with Big Brother himself, and then had engaged in counter-revolutionary activities, had been condemned to death, and had mysteriously escaped and disappeared. The programmes of the Two Minutes Hate varied from day to day, but there was none in which Goldstein was not the principal figure. He was the primal traitor, the earliest defiler of the Party's purity. All subsequent crimes against the Party, all treacheries, acts of sabotage, heresies, deviations, sprang directly out of his teaching. Somewhere or other he was still alive and hatching his conspiracies: perhaps somewhere beyond the sea, under the protection of his foreign paymasters, perhaps even - so it was occasionally rumoured - in some hiding-place in Oceania itself.
Winston's diaphragm was constricted. He could never see the face of Goldstein without a painful mixture of emotions. It was a lean Jewish face, with a great fuzzy aureole of white hair and a small goatee beard - a clever face, and yet somehow inherently despicable, with a kind of senile silliness in the long thin nose, near the end of which a pair of spectacles was perched. It resembled the face of a sheep, and the voice, too, had a sheep-like quality. Goldstein was delivering his usual venomous attack upon the doctrines of the Party - an attack so exaggerated and perverse that a child should have been able to see through it, and yet just plausible enough to fill one with an alarmed feeling that other people, less level-headed than oneself, might be taken in by it. He was abusing Big Brother, he was denouncing the dictatorship of the Party, he was demanding the immediate conclusion of peace with Eurasia, he was advocating freedom of speech, freedom of the Press, freedom of assembly, freedom of thought, he was crying hysterically that the revolution had been betrayed - and all this in rapid polysyllabic speech which was a sort of parody of the habitual style of the orators of the Party, and even contained Newspeak words: more Newspeak words, indeed, than any Party member would normally use in real life. And all the while, lest one should be in any doubt as to the reality which Goldstein's specious claptrap covered, behind his head on the telescreen there marched the endless columns of the Eurasian army - row after row of solid-looking men with expressionless Asiatic faces, who swam up to the surface of the screen and vanished, to be replaced by others exactly similar. The dull rhythmic tramp of the soldiers - boots formed the background to Goldstein's bleating voice.
Before the Hate had proceeded for thirty seconds, uncontrollable exclamations of rage were breaking out from half the people in the room. The self-satisfied sheep-like face on the screen, and the terrifying power of the Eurasian army behind it, were too much to be borne: besides, the sight or even the thought of Goldstein produced fear and anger automatically. He was an object of hatred more constant than either Eurasia or Eastasia, since when Oceania was at war with one of these Powers it was generally at peace with the other. But what was strange was that although Goldstein was hated and despised by everybody, although every day and a thousand times a day, on platforms, on the telescreen, in newspapers, in books, his theories were refuted, smashed, ridiculed, held up to the general gaze for the pitiful rubbish that they were - in spite of all this, his influence never seemed to grow less. Always there were fresh dupes waiting to be seduced by him. A day never passed when spies and saboteurs acting under his directions were not unmasked by the Thought Police. He was the commander of a vast shadowy army, an underground network of conspirators dedicated to the overthrow of the State. The Brotherhood, its name was supposed to be. There were also whispered stories of a terrible book, a compendium of all the heresies, of which Goldstein was the author and which circulated clandestinely here and there. It was a book without a title. People referred to it, if at all, simply as the book. But one knew of such things only through vague rumours. Neither the Brotherhood nor the book was a subject that any ordinary Party member would mention if there was a way of avoiding it.
In its second minute the Hate rose to a frenzy. People were leaping up and down in their places and shouting at the tops of their voices in an effort to drown the maddening bleating voice that came from the screen. The little sandy-haired woman had turned bright pink, and her mouth was opening and shutting like that of a landed fish. Even O'Brien's heavy face was flushed. He was sitting very straight in his chair, his powerful chest swelling and quivering as though he were standing up to the assault of a wave. The dark-haired girl behind Winston had begun crying out - Swine! Swine! Swine! - and suddenly she picked up a heavy Newspeak dictionary and flung it at the screen. It struck Goldstein's nose and bounced off; the voice continued inexorably. In a lucid moment Winston found that he was shouting with the others and kicking his heel violently against the rung of his chair. The horrible thing about the Two Minutes Hate was not that one was obliged to act a part, but, on the contrary, that it was impossible to avoid joining in. Within thirty seconds any pretence was always unnecessary. A hideous ecstasy of fear and vindictiveness, a desire to kill, to torture, to smash faces in with a sledge-hammer, seemed to flow through the whole group of people like an electric current, turning one even against one's will into a grimacing, screaming lunatic. And yet the rage that one felt was an abstract, undirected emotion which could be switched from one object to another like the flame of a blowlamp. Thus, at one moment Winston's hatred was not turned against Goldstein at all, but, on the contrary, against Big Brother, the Party, and the Thought Police; and at such moments his heart went out to the lonely, derided heretic on the screen, sole guardian of truth and sanity in a world of lies. And yet the very next instant he was at one with the people about him, and all that was said of Goldstein seemed to him to be true. At those moments his secret loathing of Big Brother changed into adoration, and Big Brother seemed to tower up, an invincible, fearless protector, standing like a rock against the hordes of Asia, and Goldstein, in spite of his isolation, his helplessness, and the doubt that hung about his very existence, seemed like some sinister enchanter, capable by the mere power of his voice of wrecking the structure of civilization.
It was even possible, at moments, to switch one's hatred this way or that by a voluntary act. Suddenly, by the sort of violent effort with which one wrenches one's head away from the pillow in a nightmare, Winston succeeded in transferring his hatred from the face on the screen to the dark-haired girl behind him. Vivid, beautiful hallucinations flashed through his mind. He would flog her to death with a rubber truncheon. He would tie her naked to a stake and shoot her full of arrows like Saint Sebastian. He would ravish her and cut her throat at the moment of climax. Better than before, moreover, he realized why it was that he hated her. He hated her because she was young and pretty and sexless, because he wanted to go to bed with her and would never do so, because round her sweet supple waist, which seemed to ask you to encircle it with your arm, there was only the odious scarlet sash, aggressive symbol of chastity.
The Hate rose to its climax. The voice of Goldstein had become an actual sheep's bleat, and for an instant the face changed into that of a sheep. Then the sheep-face melted into the figure of a Eurasian soldier who seemed to be advancing, huge and terrible, his sub-machine gun roaring, and seeming to spring out of the surface of the screen, so that some of the people in the front row actually flinched backwards in their seats. But in the same moment, drawing a deep sigh of relief from everybody, the hostile figure melted into the face of Big Brother, black-haired, black-moustachio'd, full of power and mysterious calm, and so vast that it almost filled up the screen. Nobody heard what Big Brother was saying. It was merely a few words of encouragement, the sort of words that are uttered in the din of battle, not distinguishable individually but restoring confidence by the fact of being spoken. Then the face of Big Brother faded away again, and instead the three slogans of the Party stood out in bold capitals:
WAR IS PEACE
FREEDOM IS SLAVERY
IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH
But the face of Big Brother seemed to persist for several seconds on the screen, as though the impact that it had made on everyone’s eyeballs was too vivid to wear off immediately. The little sandy-haired woman had flung herself forward over the back of the chair in front of her. With a tremulous murmur that sounded like - My Saviour! - she extended her arms towards the screen. Then she buried her face in her hands. It was apparent that she was uttering a prayer. At this moment the entire group of people broke into a deep, slow, rhythmical chant of - B-B!....B-B!....' - over and over again, very slowly, with a long pause between the first 'B - and the second-a heavy, murmurous sound, somehow curiously savage, in the background of which one seemed to hear the stamp of naked feet and the throbbing of tom-toms. For perhaps as much as thirty seconds they kept it up. It was a refrain that was often heard in moments of overwhelming emotion. Partly it was a sort of hymn to the wisdom and majesty of Big Brother, but still more it was an act of self-hypnosis, a deliberate drowning of consciousness by means of rhythmic noise. Winston's entrails seemed to grow cold. In the Two Minutes Hate he could not help sharing in the general delirium, but this sub-human chanting of - B-B!....B-B! ' always filled him with horror. Of course he chanted with the rest: it was impossible to do otherwise. To dissemble your feelings, to control your face, to do what everyone else was doing, was an instinctive reaction. But there was a space of a couple of seconds during which the expression of his eyes might conceivably have betrayed him. And it was exactly at this moment that the significant thing happened - if, indeed, it did happen.
Momentarily he caught O'Brien's eye. O'Brien had stood up. He had taken off his spectacles and was in the act of resettling them on his nose with his characteristic gesture. But there was a fraction of a second when their eyes met, and for as long as it took to happen Winston knew - yes, he knew! - that O'Brien was thinking the same thing as himself. An unmistakable message had passed. It was as though their two minds had opened and the thoughts were flowing from one into the other through their eyes. " I am with you, -" O'Brien seemed to be saying to him. " I know precisely what you are feeling. I know all about your contempt, your hatred, your disgust. But don't worry, I am on your side! " And then the flash of intelligence was gone, and O'Brien's face was as inscrutable as everybody else's.
That was all, and he was already uncertain whether it had happened. Such incidents never had any sequel. All that they did was to keep alive in him the belief, or hope, that others besides himself were the enemies of the Party. Perhaps the rumours of vast underground conspiracies were true after all - perhaps the Brotherhood really existed! It was impossible, in spite of the endless arrests and confessions and executions, to be sure that the Brotherhood was not simply a myth. Some days he believed in it, some days not. There was no evidence, only fleeting glimpses that might mean anything or nothing: snatches of overheard conversation, faint scribbles on lavatory walls - once, even, when two strangers met, a small movement of the hand which had looked as though it might be a signal of recognition. It was all guesswork: very likely he had imagined everything. He had gone back to his cubicle without looking at O'Brien again. The idea of following up their momentary contact hardly crossed his mind. It would have been inconceivably dangerous even if he had known how to set about doing it. For a second, two seconds, they had exchanged an equivocal glance, and that was the end of the story. But even that was a memorable event, in the locked loneliness in which one had to live. Winston roused himself and sat up straighter. He let out a belch. The gin was rising from his stomach. His eyes re-focused on the page. He discovered that while he sat helplessly musing he had also been writing, as though by automatic action. And it was no longer the same cramped, awkward handwriting as before. His pen had slid voluptuously over the smooth paper, printing in large neat capitals -
DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER
DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER
DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER
DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER
over and over again, filling half a page.
He could not help feeling a twinge of panic. It was absurd, since the writing of those particular words was not more dangerous than the initial act of opening the diary, but for a moment he was tempted to tear out the spoiled pages and abandon the enterprise altogether.
He did not do so, however, because he knew that it was useless. Whether he wrote DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER, or whether he refrained from writing it, made no difference. Whether he went on with the diary, or whether he did not go on with it, made no difference. The Thought Police would get him just the same. He had committed - would still have committed, even if he had never set pen to paper - the essential crime that contained all others in itself. Thoughtcrime, they called it. Thoughtcrime was not a thing that could be concealed for ever. You might dodge successfully for a while, even for years, but sooner or later they were bound to get you.
It was always at night - the arrests invariably happened at night. The sudden jerk out of sleep, the rough hand shaking your shoulder, the lights glaring in your eyes, the ring of hard faces round the bed. In the vast majority of cases there was no trial, no report of the arrest. People simply disappeared, always during the night. Your name was removed from the registers, every record of everything you had ever done was wiped out, your one-time existence was denied and then forgotten. You were abolished, annihilated: vapourized was the usual word. For a moment he was seized by a kind of hysteria. He began writing in a hurried untidy scrawl:
theyll shoot me i don't care theyll shoot me in the back of the neck i dont care down with big brother they always shoot you in the back of the neck i dont care down with big brother -
He sat back in his chair, slightly ashamed of himself, and laid down the pen. The next moment he started violently. There was a knocking at the door. Already! He sat as still as a mouse, in the futile hope that whoever it was might go away after a single attempt. But no, the knocking was repeated. The worst thing of all would be to delay. His heart was thumping like a drum, but his face, from long habit, was probably expressionless. He got up and moved heavily towards the door.
Read on: chapter 2
e-book for http://www.liferesearchuniversal.com/
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Artwork
I was eyeing nettie's blog and saw her pictures. So, I want to show you all some of the things I have done. The picture to the right was orginally done my a friend of mine. I add the flame and blue back drop.
These where images I made for an online game I played.
This is one of my favorites. It has an army fill to it.
Friday, February 10, 2006
SEXUAL INVERSION
This is Havelock Ellis definition form Homosexuality in there class. Note I do full agree with class "C" but H. Ellis "Studies of Psyhology of Sex" are really page turns!
From volume 2 of "Studies of Psyhology of Sex":
SEXUAL INVERSION
"In the years I was a member of a public school, I saw and heard a good deal of homosexuality, though till my last two years I did not understand its meaning. As a prefect, I discussed with other prefects the methods of checking it, and of punishing it when detected. My own observations, supported by those of others, led me to think that the fault of the usual method of dealing with homosexuality in schools is that it regards all school homosexualists as being in one class together, and has only one way of dealing with them—the birch for a first offense, expulsion for a second. Now, I think we may distinguish three classes of school homosexualists:—
"(a) A very small number who are probably radically inverted, and who do not scruple to sacrifice young and innocent boys to their passions. These, and these only, are a real moral danger to others, and I believe them to be rare.
"(b) Boys of various ages who, having been initiated into the passive part in their young days, continue practices of an active or passive kind; but only with boys already known to be homosexualists; they draw the line at corrupting fresh victims. This class realize more or less what they are about, but cannot be called a danger to the morals of pure boys.
"(c) Young boys who, whether in the development of their own physical nature, or by the instruction of older boys of the class (a), find out the pleasures of masturbation or intercrural connection. (I never heard of a case of pedicatio at my school, and only once of fellatio, which was attempted on a quite young boy, who complained to his house master, and the offender was expelled). Boys in this class have probably little or no idea of what sexual morality means, and can hardly be accused of a moral offense at all.
"I submit that these three classes should receive quite different treatment. Expulsion may occasionally be necessary for class (a), but the few who belong to this class are usually too cunning to get caught. It used to be notorious at school that it was almost always the wrong people who got dropped on. I do not think a boy in the other two classes should ever be expelled, and even when expulsion is unavoidable, it should, if possible, be deferred till the end of the term, so as to make it indistinguishable from an ordinary departure. After all, there is no reason to ruin a boy's prospects because he is a little beast at sixteen; there are very few hopeless incorrigibles at that age.
"As regards the other two classes, I should begin by giving boys very much fuller enlightenment on sexual subjects than is usually done, before they go to a public school at all. Either a boy is pitchforked into the place in utter innocence and ignorance, and yields to temptations to do things which he vaguely, if at all, realizes are wrong, and that only because a puzzling sort of instinct tells him so; or else he is given just enough information to whet his curiosity, usually in the shape of warnings against certain apparently harmless bodily acts, which he not unnaturally tries out of curiosity, and finds them very pleasant. It may be undesirable that a boy should have full knowledge, at the time he goes to school, but it is more undesirable that he should go with a burning curiosity, or a total ignorance on the subject. I am convinced that much might be done in the way of prevention if boys were told more, and allowed to be open. Much of the pleasure of sexual talk among boys I believe to be due to the spurious interest aroused by the fact that it is forbidden fruit, and involves risk if caught. It seems to me that frankness is far more moral than suggestion. I would not 'expurgate' school editions of great authors; the frank obscenity of parts of Shakespeare is far less immoral than the prurient prudishness which declines to print it, but numbers the lines in such a way that the boy can go home and look up the omitted passage in a complete edition, with a distinct sense of guilt, which is where the harm comes in."
Cheak out "SEXUAL INVERSION" by Havelock Ellis
Look at other free e-books by Havelock Ellis
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From volume 2 of "Studies of Psyhology of Sex":
SEXUAL INVERSION
"In the years I was a member of a public school, I saw and heard a good deal of homosexuality, though till my last two years I did not understand its meaning. As a prefect, I discussed with other prefects the methods of checking it, and of punishing it when detected. My own observations, supported by those of others, led me to think that the fault of the usual method of dealing with homosexuality in schools is that it regards all school homosexualists as being in one class together, and has only one way of dealing with them—the birch for a first offense, expulsion for a second. Now, I think we may distinguish three classes of school homosexualists:—
"(a) A very small number who are probably radically inverted, and who do not scruple to sacrifice young and innocent boys to their passions. These, and these only, are a real moral danger to others, and I believe them to be rare.
"(b) Boys of various ages who, having been initiated into the passive part in their young days, continue practices of an active or passive kind; but only with boys already known to be homosexualists; they draw the line at corrupting fresh victims. This class realize more or less what they are about, but cannot be called a danger to the morals of pure boys.
"(c) Young boys who, whether in the development of their own physical nature, or by the instruction of older boys of the class (a), find out the pleasures of masturbation or intercrural connection. (I never heard of a case of pedicatio at my school, and only once of fellatio, which was attempted on a quite young boy, who complained to his house master, and the offender was expelled). Boys in this class have probably little or no idea of what sexual morality means, and can hardly be accused of a moral offense at all.
"I submit that these three classes should receive quite different treatment. Expulsion may occasionally be necessary for class (a), but the few who belong to this class are usually too cunning to get caught. It used to be notorious at school that it was almost always the wrong people who got dropped on. I do not think a boy in the other two classes should ever be expelled, and even when expulsion is unavoidable, it should, if possible, be deferred till the end of the term, so as to make it indistinguishable from an ordinary departure. After all, there is no reason to ruin a boy's prospects because he is a little beast at sixteen; there are very few hopeless incorrigibles at that age.
"As regards the other two classes, I should begin by giving boys very much fuller enlightenment on sexual subjects than is usually done, before they go to a public school at all. Either a boy is pitchforked into the place in utter innocence and ignorance, and yields to temptations to do things which he vaguely, if at all, realizes are wrong, and that only because a puzzling sort of instinct tells him so; or else he is given just enough information to whet his curiosity, usually in the shape of warnings against certain apparently harmless bodily acts, which he not unnaturally tries out of curiosity, and finds them very pleasant. It may be undesirable that a boy should have full knowledge, at the time he goes to school, but it is more undesirable that he should go with a burning curiosity, or a total ignorance on the subject. I am convinced that much might be done in the way of prevention if boys were told more, and allowed to be open. Much of the pleasure of sexual talk among boys I believe to be due to the spurious interest aroused by the fact that it is forbidden fruit, and involves risk if caught. It seems to me that frankness is far more moral than suggestion. I would not 'expurgate' school editions of great authors; the frank obscenity of parts of Shakespeare is far less immoral than the prurient prudishness which declines to print it, but numbers the lines in such a way that the boy can go home and look up the omitted passage in a complete edition, with a distinct sense of guilt, which is where the harm comes in."
Cheak out "SEXUAL INVERSION" by Havelock Ellis
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Thursday, February 09, 2006
Alice et june by indochine
This is so good had to share it. I got this for the site below:
Translated Version of http://www.blogg.org/blog-22537-date-2005-11-12-billet-239952.html
Et 1, 2, 3 Alice est née au pays des cauchemars
Je voudrais juste la rassurer
Et 1, 2, 3 Alice est tombée dans un trou noir
Je pourrais peut être la sauver
Mais qu'est ce qu'on a fait de mal ?
Je n'me rappelle de rien
Il y a beaucoup trop de monde autour de moi
Alice ne te retourne pas
Ouhou ouh ouh
Et 1, 2, 3 Alice est née dans un endroit Un endroit qu'il ne fallait pas
Et 1, 2, 3 Alice au pays des étoiles
Il était une fois quelqu'un comme moi
Mais si tu me vois, je crois que tu grandiras
Et 1, 2, 3 Jésus Christ est tellement mort pour rien
J'espère que tout ira bien
Ouhou ouh ouh
Mais c'est qu'ici il n'y a plus de place
Pour qu'elle puisse grandir d'avantage
Elle n'avait juste qu'un ennui
C'est de comprendre les jours de pluie
Mais je suis là
Ouhou ouh ouh
Et 1, 2, 3 Alice est née au pays des cauchemars
Je voudrais juste la rassurer
Et 1, 2, 3 Alice est tombée dans un trou noir
Je pourrais peut être la sauver
You can hear the song here:
http://fr.music.yahoo.com/ar-17998885---Indochine
Filed under: Music Commentaries Lyrics
Translated Version of http://www.blogg.org/blog-22537-date-2005-11-12-billet-239952.html
Et 1, 2, 3 Alice est née au pays des cauchemars
Je voudrais juste la rassurer
Et 1, 2, 3 Alice est tombée dans un trou noir
Je pourrais peut être la sauver
Mais qu'est ce qu'on a fait de mal ?
Je n'me rappelle de rien
Il y a beaucoup trop de monde autour de moi
Alice ne te retourne pas
Ouhou ouh ouh
Et 1, 2, 3 Alice est née dans un endroit Un endroit qu'il ne fallait pas
Et 1, 2, 3 Alice au pays des étoiles
Il était une fois quelqu'un comme moi
Mais si tu me vois, je crois que tu grandiras
Et 1, 2, 3 Jésus Christ est tellement mort pour rien
J'espère que tout ira bien
Ouhou ouh ouh
Mais c'est qu'ici il n'y a plus de place
Pour qu'elle puisse grandir d'avantage
Elle n'avait juste qu'un ennui
C'est de comprendre les jours de pluie
Mais je suis là
Ouhou ouh ouh
Et 1, 2, 3 Alice est née au pays des cauchemars
Je voudrais juste la rassurer
Et 1, 2, 3 Alice est tombée dans un trou noir
Je pourrais peut être la sauver
You can hear the song here:
http://fr.music.yahoo.com/ar-17998885---Indochine
Filed under: Music Commentaries Lyrics
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