27.04.2010 - 4:39 p.m.

I'm here again as can be evidenced by the appearance of new words currently lighting up your screen, acetylcholinase kineticologically creating electro-protonic residue triggering more acetylcholinasical activity in your cortex, IN YOUR CORTEX.

Suck it up noobs

anywho, i know i said end of the summer but that was just a projection based on unknowables, as it turns out i've got time on my hands and words backing up in my brian, i've already forgotten some of the words and not typing is making me antsy, and there are somethings that can't go into a book.

The reason for my sabbatical was my beloved J, who got a tumour in her throat at the start of this year, not bad for a young, non-smoking light drinker, just proves that life's a cunt with really shitty odds, with luck like this i'm due a meteorite on (through) the head sometime in 2012. There's plenty of people who deserve cancer, how come it ends up in the most undeserving people ? Tumour was successfully excised and she's gradually recovering, the next thrilling instalment involves six intense weeks of radiotherapy and then the rest of the summer to recover.

I'm glad we've got BUPA at work, i'm also glad work have given me as much time out/off as necessary to do stuff, i'm not taking the piss (hence i'm back at work and filling my time here) and everyone's happy, we're both especially glad that her work have extended her full sick pay from 3 to 6 months, the employers attitude is the most important aspect, the fact that both of us are well respected in our roles means we've secured a lot of slack, and we're eternally greatful.

Back on track again, so i better unload some bilious bile, todays target of shit is once again fashion which seems to have a bottomless reserve of things which piss me off.

I wear two flavours of t-shirt, those with whimsical, obscure, pop-culture referenced images sourced from the interwebs and plain, there is no inbetween. Having had my one plain black v-neck gone missing (presumed eaten by the dryerbeast) and required on my body because i was accompanying J and being presented to her work place / cow-orkers and she wanted me looking as sexy as possible; i sallied forth to tesco to buy another, not a big ask, plain black v-neck t-shirt ? Oh teh woes that followed were probably in part due to my hunger=irritability but also because evil Dr Fashion had struck again. It seems that this year you can't buy plain v-neck t-shirts, you have to buy them with a fake button-up bit at the front, complete with decorative buttons* to give the impression that if necessary you could button up to the neck, but because you're so cool you leave it unbuttoned.

I tried to find a picture but predictably their website doesn't actually feature the products they sell in store, but what this boils down to is - impotent decorative shit on mens clothing, which then leads to questions about the very nature of what it is to be a man.

I like being a man, i've embraced the zen of manliness and follow the path with a cheery attitude (when not swearing heavily), the zen male remains detached and impassive, an unmoved observer to the ever changing currents of life, the epitome of the confident alpha male. Of course this doesn't mean he should be distant and uncaring, the balancing act involves the inner strength from knowing that the trivial things don't matter, the knowledge that isolation does not necessarily bring loneliness, and the confidence that whatever happens (and i mean whatever in the broadest possible sense) he will steer a path through the chaos while retaining his dignity and enacting policies protecting himself and his loved ones no matter what actions they require, and the whole time - not advertising the fact, not shouting about how hard you are or how many birds you've fucked, that's just vulgar self publicity and the mark of the dreadfully insecure.

A part of this means not participating in transitional fads of any kind and fashion in general and pointless decoration in particular is a definite no, clothing must be functional first, fit for purpose and not emblazoned with 'brand names'. Having brand names typed across your arse implies that you're desperately seeking approval from other people smeared with similar brand names, this smacks of cronyism plus a desperate need to pay over the odds for poorly constructed garments.

If you're seeking external approval through the medium of clothing then you're not a man, at best you're wavering from the true path but it's also possible you're a style conscious man or a bit light on your loafers. Now there's nothing wrong with being gay, if you're well into brands and fashion it allows you to immerse yourself completely and really compete with women on an equal playing field, but this is clearly not an option for the male seeking inner peace with the zeitgeist of his gender. On a side note, the title 'Traditional Man' does not equate to the Zen Male, this misnomer has been knocking round for years and is a constant source of irritation, activities associated with Traditional Men include (but are not limited to) :

wife beating
drinking heavily, preferentially in the company of other men
fixation with sport
gobbing on the pavement
picking fights with strangers

These are traits which are historically seen to be associated with excessive maleness but are actually heading away down the scale from the Zen Male pinnacle for various reasons i may go into another time, if i can be bothered.

All this doesn't mean that you don't have to buy branded clothing, but the reason to buy it should be rooted in the need for something to fit a certain niche not because of who made it, i had a niche requiring a pair of casual olive drab coloured trousers, this niche was filled with a pair of end-of-line-factory-sale Diesel, it could have been a pair of end-of-line-factory-sale olive drab trousers from DKNY, but the Diesel hang better on me, sold, thankyou, and i paid less than half the rrp.

A couple of nights ago the boy noticed a pair of 501's hanging up in our room and was astounded (really actually shocked) that i should own them because "sven doesn't know ANYTHING about fashion", because he's young and foolish but mainly because he's a teenager at school and is still hung up on fashion = popularity. The zen male knows with 100% assurance that he does not need to be popular, he doesn't even really need clothes per se, sacking cut to the rough shape of culottes would suffice (if a bit chafey), clothes are only there to keep you warm and a safe distance from public nudity charges, the fact that we have such choice does not mean we should start spending three figures on Armani when an equivalent pair will be one sixth the price and last five times as long

and not have a stupid imperial eagle, in metal, the size of a dead fruit bat riveted across the back of them.

gay

This bit i've just been reminded about by my cow-orker and may not be a very popular choice, but at least it's consistant. Tattoos. Tats are not part of the zen male armoury, tattoos are by definition decorative, unless they have a very specific role in stopping you being killed by a gang or deactivating ancient curses (real ones, not made up pretend wiccan airy-fairy bollx) thus having a celtic band around your upper arm does not make you more male, it makes you a bit of a poncy twat "ooo look at me aren't i hard, i've got part of my body coloured in, do you like it, well do you, come'on girls 'ave a feel" The zen male sees that only the insecure try to change or jazz up their body's appearance with drawings, the walker of the true path already knows he is perfect without modification.

I was recently witness to an episode involving a man and a tub of mango flavoured body butter, no, not like that you bunch of pervs, and in tandem with the decorative buttons topic is what inspired this rant. There are circumstances involved but none of them are extenuating, the only course of action is for this specimen to relinquish any man cards he might have on his person and live life as a failed netherman (which he pretty much does already).

He has dry skin problems, possibly psoriasis i'm not sure, and in the face of entrenched medical issues the zen male is allowed to treat the problem head on, to stoically live with the pain and discomfort is not 'manly' it's stupid and will have the same effect if you avoid and procrastinate which is cowardly and the end result of both courses of action leads to exacerbation of the issue and possibly hospitalisation which is never a good thing, however the way you go about treating this is the indicator. Neutral and unscented products are available, a fraction of the price and will work as well as anything, there is absolutely no situation where a man needs to smell like a mango, really, none at all. If a man wants to smell like a mango he should eat a mango, in line with stories about pineapple this may even leave a mango taint in his bodily fluids for eager ladies to discern in the heat of the moment, a bonus if you will, but that is as far as it goes.

The rise of the 'metrosexual' as trumpeted by the filthy bugle of the media seems to have given some men the thought that they can go out and spend girly amounts of money on overblown cosmetic products in the belief that it will make them more attractive. The unpalatable news is that if you're are not already attractive, either generally or to one woman in particular, then cosmetics will not help, and further more you're now sucked into the same insecurity mill that's been pulling in women for decades (or possibly centuries) and it will pummel money out of you for silky smooth snake oil that leaves you feeling refreshed like a summer shower of jasmine and camomille. If you are attractive, either to one or many, then you will be attractive despite what is draped over you, or painted on your body, be it animal furs or cardboard or mud. Metrosexual is just a way for wealthy or misguided men to indulge their gay side without actually coming out, hence its popularity with footballers.

There you have it, look over your male friends, look for the preening and poncing, the selfishness and the vapid self congratulation, see these traits and know the truth. Similarly, the direct opposite of these traits does not implicitly imply the paragon of zen male, from inside the male gender the demarcations between zen and holy-shit-not-zen are clear.

For girls it might be harder to see our zen struggle in a holistic sense (and i imagine you've got your own equivalent female thing going on, there's certainly been a lot of books published on the subject) although you'll experience the negative aspects of the failure to achieve the zen male path with every twat who's ever fucked you over or failed to fuck you properly because he's too in love with himself and his self-created persona to effectively impart happiness to you as you so richly deserve, and you do deserve, he's just a moron.

*Decorative buttons have been pretty much ubiquitous in womens fashion over the last year, i've seen woollen shruggy-jacket things bearing two decorative buttons the size of dinner plates, unless they're also bullet proof i can only think this is a plot by the global button producing mega-corporations to shift all their reject stock "on noes due to issues with scaling on our CAD machine we've accidentally produced four million ten inch buttons, what will we do...."

Many people (J included) find buttons to be creepy and disturbing, this phobia is not as rare as you might think, a button with purpose (small and holding together a shirt placket) are ok to a point, decorative buttons (giant or otherwise) however, well, you might as well have a great big fucking tarantula sat on your shoulder, we don't allow decorative buttons in our house, for a girl this makes buying light jackets quite a chore and in the current button-frenzy, finding anything half decent for a smart urban professional lady requires serious legwork.