I went to an all art school, so there are a lot of hippies with purple hair and nose piercings. I would walk around with Hollister or AF jeans and tank-tops while holding a big bottle of protein shake on my hand and everyone thought I was a giant meathead. But when you watch their student work it’s usually no better than mediocre. When I showed my work, even the professors were mind blown. Dressed and looked like a jock, I was actually the hippie in an all hipster school.
I like all-American brands for the same reason I enjoy build muscles. The only way to conquer your fear of what you are not is to thoroughly become it. Being born and raised in Taiwan, everything American seemed so out of my reach. I secretly despised their materialism based ideoloy, but deep down inside I was just jelly as fuck.
In high school I’ve always wanted to bang white cheerleader girls. I remember fapping at the stadium during homecoming pep rally’s. I would use my video camera and secretly zoom in on all the girls’ legs and collect the footage for future “references” on my V8 cassette. I would watch those girls get taken home by shredded football players on Friday nights and feel depressed. I would go home, lock myself in my room, pop in my Britney Spears CD and chat with girls I meet on AOL. I still think one of the reasons why I spend so much time trying to bang girls nowadays is to make up for lost times in high school and college.
I still wear Hollister from time to time because I feel a certain kind of contradiction oscillating within my body…and it gives me this paradoxical space that I can operate in; a kind of freedom to be as fucked up as possible on the inside while appearing as clean cut and normal on the outside. (like my muscles).
It’s not a well kept secret that brands like Hollister and AF is racist and they never have Asian models.
After experimenting with white girls, I think I still prefer asians better. This is just from my own experience, but I think asian girls (especially in Taiwan) are more like blank slates – they are more down to make weirder videos with me because their identities are more translucent and flexible and deep down inside they don’t really know who they are. In a way, white girls in America have more ego – their identities are more fixated, and they are less likely to get out of their comfort zone to become the ‘Other’. But for many asians, they spent their whole life being perceived as an ‘Other’, and it’s much easier to flip into the costumes of other ‘Others’. Seeing a nice ass on an Asian girl is like finding a diamond in a rough. And rareness is always sexy. It’s also stereotypical assumed that asian girls are more prudent and innocent. But seeing an Asian girl that is wild in bed who also has an ass is like holding in your hand a diamond within a diamond. This is why so many white guys have yellow fever. There is nothing more sexy than breaking stereotypes and going against cultural rules and standards. This is why anal sex is appealing to some people and why some girls find it exciting to give blow jobs.
Whenever I go to the mall I would always walk around in Hollister and Abercrombie stores, checking out the young white girls that work there and sniff around the clothes to get baked on teenage hormones. I even spread some display perfumes on my own neck. I would go home when I’m finally high enough to imagine what it would be like to go back to high school now with this body and what I have in my brain now.
You can apply the same idea to a human being. Every man has two aspects; the finite brain and the Infinite Mind (dual/non-dual, relative/Absolute). Your personality, your every thought, emotions and beliefs…even scientific and philosophical doctrines reside in the dualistic realm of the finite brain (inside the Yin/Yang circle), which the Infinite Mind (the space outside the circle) serves as a Witness.
Think of the finite brains as represented by distinct dots on a sheet of paper. The paper represents the infinite/non-local field of awareness that the individual dots merely partakes in and arises from. One can permanently access the Infinite through years of meditation, or briefly, through psychoactive plants and being in flow states during artistic or athletic endeavors. Self-Realization at the highest form is simply recognizing your true nature not as an individual, finite brain/body, but as a Infinite field of awareness that permeates you, me, and the cosmos.
It’s crazy to suspect that some of the most respected scientists and intellectuals today, like Stephen Hawkins and Richard Dawkins never realized their full human potential. They are examples of finite brains pushing themselves to the limit without crossing over to the other dimension. Perhaps they are too intelligent to transcend their own intelligence. The good news is, anybody with half a brain have the capacity to gain access the Infinite mind.
My first pair of Jordans wasn’t even an Air Jordan. It was called Jumpman Pro Strong, worn by Vin Baker on team Jumpman.
Jordan, being the cheeky cunt he was, needed people to carry on his legacy so he could continue to inject his mind into mindless consumers, so he hand selected a few players to represent his Brand. One Sunday afternoon, I went to the mall with my mom after she had finally agreed to buy me a pair of Jordans as a reward for getting into the county youth orchestra.
After purchase, I immediately unboxed them and worn the shoes to my best friend Johnny’s house to look for validations. He knew everything there is to know about shoes and worn the Jordans 12s to school everyday. Because of this, he was the closest thing to a mentor for me during math class. He revealed to me that the shoes I bought were not Jordans but Bakers. WTF? After explaining to me the whole high brow branding concept I felt very sad, confused, and disappointed. I worn it around the house for 2 weeks, looking at my feet in front of the mirror while listening to my Slim Shady LP because I was too ashamed to wear them to school.
Finally Eminem convinced me to not give a fuck, so I rocked them to school. But I felt self conscious and ashamed. Picture a skinny 110 lb Asian kid with hair split from the middle with glasses who sucked at both math and basketball wearing Jordans that were not Jordans. On top of that, my legs were short and those high tops made them appear even shorter. This was when I developed my fetish with calves. Everywhere I go I was examining the anatomical structure of calves and their aesthetic relations with the kinds of shoes and socks people wear. This was the initial training of my perceptual skill and OCD tendencies, which would continue to unfold today as I make videos and sculptures.
Suddenly, the power of the BBC struck me. I noticed how much more graceful, balanced and authentic Jordans look on athletic black people’s high-cut, long, skinny calves, and how pretentiously ugly they looked on Asians. It was like a cringe-worthy pseudo intellectual trying to sound 2deep4u
Two people could lace on the exact same pair of shoes, but on Asians they are beta and on blacks, alpha. This was the first time I came to see the value of all objects to be relative and mind-dependent; there really is no such thing as an objective reality, and that everything was consciousness.
After more analysis on balance, structures, and form, I knew I needed to change not just my body, but my mindset in order to fit in those shoes. I started weight training. I knew I talked about getting into lifting because I wanted to be a cheetah as a small child, but this was just a different line converging to the same ideal to reinforce the circular feedback loop between form and function. I would work hard to build up every part of my body, especially my glute, and except for my calves (I still don’t train them) to make them appear thinner in proportion. I trained my vertical jump to 40 inches standing and surpassed all the black kids in my school who I used to admire in gym class. I lost my virginity, and along the way amped up my knowledge of sneakers and purchased dozens more pair of shoes. By the time I was finally able to wear them freely without the fear of judgements, I had completely lost interest in Jordans.
There is a guided meditation at the 4:15:00 mark. Give it a shot and let us know what you think. I find this exercise the perfect complimentary to bodybuilding. Do this on your off days to stay safe.
I avoid seeing really hot girls. Maybe this is why I don’t watch TV- the overabundance of glamour and beauty really makes me depressed. Whenever I see a model or a celebrity, I try really hard to peel her skin off with my mind; I try to strip away the ideological and the conceptual layer of her being and deal with her in the pre-lingual/biological abstract. I try to think of her as a bundle of neurons, sweat glands, bone marrow and hair. I visualize her DNA and gastric acid; I analyze the inner workings of her organs and the way she defecates. I focus on her various odors, the plaque between her teeth, and the colonies of bacteria on her skin.
Human beings are only skin deep, and underneath the most beautiful super model, there lays a monster comprised of wet clumps of organs, tubes, hunks of bloody meat, lifeless electric impulses, and other repulsive and disgusting dead matter. Despite how we might look on the outside, most of our physical properties and composition are not very attractive.
If God made man in the image of himself, did he also make our INSIDES in the image of Him? One comfortable notion that comes out of this concept and image is that the unattractive and repulsive insides that we all share make us more alike, more heterogeneous, and equal than we otherwise would. If you flip both my below average-looking ex-girlfriend and Marilyn Monroe inside out and place them next to each other, I doubt you would be able to tell the difference between the two. When you consider what most parts of our physical bodies look and feel like, there is a sense of serenity and comfort inknowing that we really are not that much different from each other. Unfortunately, this sense of reassurance is embedded within the hideous and revolting side of our very own nature.
Indeed, our skin is the only organ that holds us together, just barely and scarcely preventing the hideous monsters that reside within us from breaking out of their thin shells. Compare the thickness and overall breadth of our skin to the rest of our bodies that lies underneath. The skin is thin and miniature in comparison. To me, there is a sense of insecurity in knowing that immediately beneath this feeble layer of tissues and cells, there lays wet muscle, distorted arteries and other disgusting organs that make up the majority of who we are as physical beings. Even our thoughts, seemingly so divine, abstract, beautiful and creative are governed by electric impulses and grey matter – simply wet and slimy meat. So when a girl loves me, is she merely in love with my skin and meat? Is that it?
Whenever I date a girl, I’m always be fearful of two things. First, I would be afraid that my skin would fail on me, break down, and the monster that it barely holds would come out and devour, both physically and psychologically, the girl who I am desperately trying to look good for and impress. Secondly, whenever I find a girl attractive, I usually fall for her mind, but the mind is nothing more than the brain. If I am so in love with the beautiful and lovely words she utters the eloquent poems and letters that she composes, should I also be in love with the ultimate source of such beauty and eloquence?
Our beauty is literally only skin deep. But, in perspective, the sense of beauty and satisfaction that we derive from our outside is only illusionary. If you look at the skin under a microscope, you will be shocked at how unaesthetic and repugnant it is. I apologize for taking away your last hope for beauty. Indeed, even the only barrier concealing the hideous monster within us is itself a source of discomfort and disgust when examined upon closer inspection.
If you still don’t find human beings disgusting, let me try to convince you of our monstrosity by mentioning our origins. Remember how Frankenstein was created? His body was sewn up from pieces of flesh and skin of other dead bodies. But was the way he was created any different from the way we were created? Frankenstein is a magnification of our bodies and minds, in a metaphorical sense that point to our very own nature and who we really are. Think of how WE were created and you would come to the conclusion that we are also made up of dead stuff.
The notion of our sentient beings would cease to seem so glamorous if we remind ourselves that the source of our conscious bodies originate from various unaesthetic and dead material. First, there is the sperm and the egg, which is not only extrinsically unattractive, but is intrinsically made up of senseless and mindless organic material. Then there’s the food that your mother ingested and digested to feed you during pregnancy. It’s nothe onthing but dead matter converted into muscle, brain, bones, and organs. What stitches us together is comprised of what was once dead – animal corpses, excrement, and bits and pieces of inorganic matter like dead stars and the primeval soup that is shattered, spread out, and left over by the violent explosion of the Big Bang.
Atoms and particles that reside in our bodies once held residence in the bodies of all sorts of different objects and organisms: When a body dies, worms eat the body, chickens eat the worm, and we would in turn, eat the chickens. So life (as we know it) is not very appealing when examined from the perspective of its origins. We all have our beginnings in materials taken from a host of other repulsive objects. The forces that bring these parts together to form our bodies, consciousness, and, eventually, human beings are nothing but contingent and accidental ones. From this perspective, life is made from the dead, with dead matter swimming and swirling into each other in a meaningless void that is DEAD and LIFELESS.
Ok, let’s zoom out a little bit and focus on our external properties. Forget about the organs, the brain, and all of their origins. You can’t SEE them on a day-to-day basis (unless you are a medical student or a doctor); focus on what you can directly observe. But can you end our sense of anxiety simply by forgetting about the skin that we so heavily depend upon? I don’t think so. Our physical appeals, if they do exist, are fragile and unreliable. Even the most attractive of us feel insecure, anxious, and self-conscious about our appearances from time to time.
Everyone is imperfect in some way. Even if you are not seriously deformed, you worry about what your mate will think of you in the morning, right when your messy self wakes up from a temporary death. You worry about your bad breath, whether your gel is wearing off, and, for girls, whether your makeup is smeared or ruined by external factors beyond your control. The shape of your nose, the sizes of your eyes and ears, the size of your muscles are all exposed and open to criticism, despite the fact that they seem to look acceptable when you checked yourself out in the mirror this morning.
I am going to end with sex here, because I think it is the most monstrous of all human acts and interactions. Sex I think, reveals the most beastly and debased side of us. It is an act that consists of blood, odor, violent penetration, frenzied movements, disturbing psychology, exchange of body fluid, potential spread of disease, unsettling noises, and even death. We must reveal some of our most ugly body parts to the very partners who we desperately try to impress. The imperfections of our bodies that are hidden so well underneath clothes and makeup are as completely exposed during sex. Despite the eroticism of our sexual organs, they are, in any other context, ugly, smelly, and anything but attractive.
We also need to reveal our most primal and debased psychological and emotional side to our partners during sex. The moaning, the way we breathe, the wet and slimy sounds that the vagina makes while it is being violated and penetrated, and the eerie and unsettling “slapping” sounds made by the impact of ferocious humping: all of that would seem downright depraved or sickening in a non-sexual context. It is amazing that our psyches and our minds can filter these monstrous elements out of the erotic picture to allow us to enjoy sex despite its imperfections.
But sometimes our security system breaks down. During sex, we find ourselves thinking, from time to time, “What the fuck am I doing? Who is this monster that I am humping and why is it making such weird noises? NONE OF THIS MAKES SENSE! Why am I relentlessly and repetitively making such absurd back and forth movements? Those are moments when the real penetrates the symbolic; the barriers of language, ideology, illusions, and concepts break down, exposing the good old monstrous sides of our humanity.