I Like Freud

This sexy, fucked-up, bearded, cigar-smoking man is often misrepresented, maligned, or just straight-out dissed by yes-man intellectuals like myself in contemporary social/psychological discourse. His theories are apparently grossly generalizing and archaic in our fragmented world.

But I like the guy. I like the allegory of his theories. I think, that despite the holes that can be punched all over them, that they work. Yes, they are grossly generalizing. People are grossly general. And generic. And the reason that stereotypes/generalizations are so hurtful is that they are generally true on some level, and no man likes to be reduced to the lowest common denominator of his flesh... that thing that is fear, laziness, and the sad bits of humanity all bundled together in his guts. But some things work. People act out in different ways because of their problems with their father, mother... and people are intrinsically sexual from the moment they arrive on the planet. Sex is talking, breathing, being on this earth with others. Intrinsically it plays into every interaction we have, I think. It is up to us to expand our definitions of "sexuality" and what that word means, besides the taboo elements that have titilated us for thousands of years.

This is of course coming from someone who has read like one of Frued's books, and basically little to nothing else in the field of psychology.

But even Camille Paglia (gotta love her too) would stand up for our freaky Austrian friend. She says that Freud is interesting and vital less for his ideas specifically than for the way he formulates them. I could be wrong (but let's just say here that I am not afraid to be), but it seems that for non sequitur nature of his stuff, his is a very practical, rudimentary psychology. I found reading Civilization and Its Discontents that his theories were rather applicable. They made sense to me. Perhaps because I find that I think in a similar way. Often working from both ends of the equation to make sense of something that I know to be true.

It's like prayer to me. I personally have a mysticism that is an amalgam of Christianity, Buddhism, Physics, Zen and some other crap all juiced to form a turbo-blast concentrate. I of course, am often harangued when I mention that I was raised as a Christian, and would still call myself one to anyone to whom I had no time to explain the intricacies of the above. Yeah, I freaken love Jesus. God! And I don't think that gays and lesbians are going to hell, and I have never repented for the women I have slept with or any episodes of fornication, drug abuse or swearing, cause I think that both the G-man and son (I just pictured them as Sanford and Son. Wouldn't that be great? If you got to heaven, and Redd Foxx was there, waddling around...?) could give two shits about that stuff. But all of that is a digression to say that what will always keep me near these roots is prayer. I can't not believe in all of these things. I can't let go of that Biblical foundation. Because prayer works. It works for me, and continues to do so. And so, I have to fill in the parts of the equation on this side of the equals sign, because I know that the end result of prayer is that it works.

Just like huge chunks of Freud do in explaining the world to me. When you meet someone who is anal retentive, or has an oral fixation, you can't help but know that that is exactly what it is. Sure, you could get more intricate, but really, all you need to know is, "Anal retentive."

And I got on that topic of discussion only because I was just in the bathroom, and had that thing again, where, since I was baking the post-lunch loaf, while at work, I wanted to do the courtesy flush. But I was commanded to wrench my head down between my legs to have a look at my poo before letting it go free. Why is that? I mean, how often do you flush your poo/pee away without looking at it? Not very. If I were to lose my sight, I would be OBSESSED with this. I have to check out my logs before I let them float down the river. Perhaps this is not Freud, but more of a physiological thing that helps to keep people alive. You can tell a lot about your health by looking at your shit, and when you see that it's looking weird (it's green, grey, mis-formed, bloody) you know shit is not right inside of you. Of course, sometimes it just comes out in the shape of a heart, or 14 inches long, or spells out the word "CAT" in your toilet bowl, like a big bowl of Alaphabets cereal. And then it's just funny.

But in my head, I thought. Thank God for Freud. Otherwise I would have thought my need to check out my scat was weird.

And now, to the outdoors, to satisfy my oral fixation
(and for anyone that has a problem with me smoking, send me some dick and maybe I'll quit)