confessions of a relapsed nihilist

Having lost the Dalai Lama, I've really kind of gone downhill. I'm always cycling up and down, I guess that's nothing new. But this particular existential dilemma has been knocked into double overtime by the sudden loss of one of my spiritual anchors, one of the few pillars of light which had, until now, helped balance out the forces of darkness constantly fighting it out in the gladiator arena of my mind.

Merriam Webster Online defines nihilism as follows:

nihilism

Main Entry: ni·hil·ism
Pronunciation: 'nI-(h)&-"li-z&m, 'nE-
Function: noun
Etymology: German Nihilismus, from Latin nihil nothing -- more at NIL
1 a : a viewpoint that traditional values and beliefs are unfounded and that existence is senseless and useless b : a doctrine that denies any objective ground of truth and especially of moral truths

That's exactly where I'm at right now. I think it all gelled for me yesterday on Sauvie Island with SK, sitting in the filthy, hot sand on the bank of a polluted river with a bunch of scantilly clad, white americans with tacky tattoos and cigarettes and coolers of beer, letting their kids swim in the city's toxic run-off, listening to SK read a story from Vanity Fair magazine about the idea that the blowjob is the classic, american sex act.

What?

Yes. The blowjob has been analyzed and a full-length book has been written about it's particularly american contribution to the world's sex life. The blowjob? Really? I mean, I'm no prude and I don't have any bad feelings about blowjobs as one fun thing one person can do for another person, but to say that the blowjob is America's signature sex act is to say, "In America, we like our women on their knees, doing all the work and having none of the orgasms." Fuck that.

As SK read the article, I felt an overall despair of humanity coalesce within me and I imagined the relief I would feel in that moment to see a giant bunker-buster bomb falling out of the sky and exploding nearby, destroying me and everyone else around me. That's disturbing. In my new state of bitterness, I offered that America's real signature sex act is fucking the rest of the world up the ass. SK, levelheaded as she is, reminded me that this sentiment was pretty unfair because it takes a sex act that is precious and important to a lot of people (anal sex) and makes it into the ultimate humiliation. True enough, true enough. SK, then, picking up some of my bitterness, explained that the *real* ultimate American sex act is the shameful, puritanical fanaticism that fuels a range of sexual pathologies from abstinence campaigns to gang rapes and pedophilia. Amen. Then, for good measure, she added that this puritanical-fanaticism has left many American men so confused and clueless, they have "no fucking idea what to do with their fucking cocks, take it from someone who knows."

Wow.

So, I love SK, but hate the world. The issue of sex was just a catalyst, the futility of every human endeavor and the cruelty behind so much human interaction has been bubbling up in my consciousness for awhile and now, after losing the Dalai Lama, I no longer even have a human face to connect to something loving and uplifting. There's not much point to anything. However, I have made a big pot of chili and an apple crisp for SK. Until I can come up with anything better, the only value in life right now is creating happiness within the smallest circle: me and SK. Starting in the mouth and moving to the belly. Wish me luck.