Tuesday, June 4, 2013




              I have been having a little trouble with the human
psyche, meaning my own psyche.
         I have a lot of bad habits and I`m not going to blame
my psyche for that - well,  maybe just a little bit. I`m sure
you all know that I drink a bit. But that`s not a problem,
unless I run out of liquor. Ha! Ha! 
          No, drinking`s not a problem for me -
unless I go outside and start climbing things
-like church towers - and ringing the cathedral bells 
in the middle of the night and waking up the whole town.
         I also have a little problem with mania.
I get a little worked up sometimes . Mania
can make  me think I`m more important
than I am. The word maniac comes from
people who have a little problem
with mania.
        Try mixing 3 parts mania with 7 parts
rye whiskey, you get some fool standing
on top of a bell tower in the middle of the
night - ringing the bells and shouting, 
And laughing wildly, waving a knife at
the stars...  he`s going to attract
some negative attention.
           It`s the sort of thing you can do
when you`re deep in the bush, but it`s not
recommended activity when you`re smack
dab in the middle of  a Small City on the Bay.
Nope, you find yourself in jail pretty quick.
And this has happened to me. It has happened
more than once.
            I am also affected by the cycles
of the moon.  When the moon is full,
I find myself jumping out of bed and pacing,
and I don`t know why I`m pacing.. until I
look out my window and see the full
moon hanging there in the sky.  staring
me in the face.
             At such times the moon almost
seems to be humming - no, it`s not a hum.
It`s a high frequency sound like the snap
and crackle of electricity.  An electrical pull,
a magnetic pull at the tides.
The word, "lunatic" comes from lunacy - madness an excessive involvement with the cycles of the moon.
        In the bush, nobody cares. Nobody
hears you except the dogs and they don`t
mind. It`s a beautiful thing to hear the howling
of the dogs under a waxing moon.. across
a calm lake.
         The dogs` howls echo along the shoreline
and my howls echo against the rocks across
the lake and come back to me.  All the howls
come back to me.

          But I`m getting a little off subject.  Ho! Ho!
          "What you mean `subject`, white man, you
trying to get smart with me?!!?

          I`ve figured something out. I`m not that different
from anybody else. And that`s a great comfort.
I`ve been fascinated by whippings and spankings
and the infliction of pain for pleasure - but so are
a lot of other folks! I`ve noticed that men, when 
they get older, their head going white and growing
paunches, I see a lot of such men involved in
S&M. I was thinking it`s good to see some converts.
          I was mentioning this to a friend of mine,
who  happens to be a dominatrix... that I was
glad to see so many old guys are involved in the
         She said, "They`re not involved in the fetish,
you fool!" she said, "They`re gettin` old and they
have to beg for sex!"

        This leads me to the problems I`ve been
having with the psyche - my own psyche.
         On the one hand,  I`ve done all this work
with the Nag Hammadi gospels. At times
like that I feel  I`m in the midst of
something pretty holy -  and I know there`s
truth to it, so that`s fine with me.
         On the other hand I`m involved in
S&M - the joys of dominance and submission -
 the wondrous joy of giving all your power
over to another person. To tell the truth,
that act of kneeling feels pretty holy, too.
          And the feelings of being sadistic -
well, that`s a whole lot of fun, as well.
When I hit someone`s buttocks with 
a cane or a tawse, I love to see them squirm. 
It makes me hot when they try to get away 
from the pain they need. 
                       (And the pain they deserve).

            OK, so here`s the dilemma -this
 problem I have with this  split
in the psyche, I`m getting more comfortable
with the paradox but still it messes with my mind
             Our  whole society has a problem with
this split. This is why we have so many
preachers crowing out the spirit like a rooster
on  Sunday mornings.  Then creeping along
on their hands and knees to stare at a naked
woman`s buttocks through  one-way
glass  in the evenings. Preachers full of pills, 
and whacking off like  monkeys at the zoo ... 
peeking up over the edge of a counter to get 
a secret glimpse of her fulsome curves.
           This would be funny and it is funny,
 but because this is the kind of thinking that
 gave rise to the witch trials - it`s a serious
matter, too.
           Hey, I like to crawl and grovel and beg
as much as the next person, and I guess
the older I get the more begging and grovelling
I`ll have to do just to get close to a woman.
           That`s all great fun, and you gotta remember,
we`re playing with the lusts and barriers
involved with the source of life here. So
even though we mock this stuff in our society,
we`re playing with some earthy and holy realities
here, too - in the pursuit of sex and insemination.
 I like that word, "INSEMINATION". I like it
very much.

              So this is the problem I`m dealing
with... how do I write about both sides of this
split at the same time?
               I`m thinking about doing a sister
blog to "Roving Reporter Rants" and calling
it, "THE WHIP AND THE CROSS" or maybe
               I can`t get advertising revenue
from Google if I keep writing about the entire
waterfront of human aspirations and emotions.
               I guess I have to go to some
adult site and find a host for this nasty Roving
Reporter stuff.  But you all know,  I`m only
talking about the truth, the whole truth...
                Women know these truths better than
men. Because for centuries they have had to deal
with both extremes of men`s behaviour... acting all
holy and then begging for sex.
                 Women see the humour and the hypocrisy
in it. We men would prefer not to discuss it,
because our dignity`s involved.
                  Our precious dignity! To hell with it!
 After going to jail a number of times, and after 
singing the blues on stage for years...who has time 
for this phony dignity?
                   I still take myself too seriously. I admit it.
And I`ve had plenty of "holy" moments.  But I wouldn`t
mind getting down on my knees right now,  and doing a little begging myself.



           I`d like to know by what percentage  the witch burnings and the horrors of the Spanish Inquisition could have been reduced -  if men had started whipping themselves instead of blaming women for their own personal neuroses. 
        This way - punishment and honesty - perhaps  we could reduce the  split in the  psyche.
        The division deep within through which men  are obsessed with the flesh and at the same time 
hate the flesh.
            When we`re feeling really guilty, it`s easier 
to blame someone else rather than admit responsibility.
         In the old days, when men got away from all this lusting and hating for a little while, they were sure they were going to hell. So they got on their knees and prayed for forgiveness.
    At the same time  they strung up the women who had forced them to have such evil thoughts!


                                           Respectfully submitted, R.R.
                                           "Discard nothing, everything
                                            may serve"                     
                                            Punishment is forgiveness.
                                             Carpe Diem

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