The cost of doing things

For many years now I've been conducting my life far away from the common experience of humanity.

I certainly mean "the common experience of humanity today", understanding both terms rather widely, certainly widest common discourse ever employs them. "Humanity" here doesn't limit itself in the manner it'd limit itself were anyone else using it, we're not discussing an immediate socioeconomic group in extreme physical proximity, we're not even talking of "The Country", or English speakers, or white people. Humanity in instant usage includes indistinct failed louts throughout the globe, from wanna-be Arab princes to commercialized fake blackⁱ fake gangsters and from supposed Asian crowned heads to everyone else. It is, literally and properly deployed the label for every single Homo sapiens alive today -- while "today" itself is not limited in time to mere moments, or weeks, or years. It certainly stretches back as far as socialism's last war, this "today" extends like a drop of dribbling pitch over close to a century by now.

This considerable distance is not coincidentalⁱⁱ. It's not happenstance, it's not something that merely "happened", it's nothing like simply accidental occurence, to be perhaps approached statisticaly. It is on the contrary quite deliberately constructed, proceeding from disjunct fundamentals and carried through on the strength of principled difference all the way -- a long, long way, truly the furthest things ever were apart in this present age of distinctions without substantial difference, of married gaysⁱⁱⁱ and "alternative" apparel for "alternative" "cultures" down at the mall. Granted that most things clamoured, claimed, pretended-to in socialism are quite a distance apart from the natural constructions the nominative conventions seem to imply -- nothing's less democratic than "popular democracy", nothing's less like actual science than the cvasi-religious pseudo-scientific misery "America runs on", nothing's less like empathy than the faux grammars of socialist "empathy" and so following ; yet all these necessary differences, arising as they inavoidably do from insistent practice of indolent stupidity upon unyielding phenomenology, infinitely large as they in fact and most factually are, nevertheless stand infinitely smaller than the difference between what we do, in my harem, and what you do, outside of it. Granted that a conception of layered infinities is not necessarily accessible, especially to the mind educated in socialism's absurdist manner by socialism's natural byproducts, but stoop to consider that natural numbers, meaning 0, 1, 2, 3 etcetera are, while being infinitely abundant, not nearly as infinitely abundant as real numbers, meaning 0.131457 and 0.(3) aka 1/3 and so forth -- because were you to write out one under the other all these last numbers, you could then go through the list, and for each line at its index select a different digit to compose a number not encountered on the list. Infinities such that one doesn't fit into the other can (and do in fact) exist, which is the case here : as infinite the distance between socialism's bread and actual bread, nevertheless infinitely moreso the distance between what we do, and what you can even conceive of doing.^iv

Yes, the girls are raped -- in the sense that I rape them -- on the regular, almost to the exclusion of "normal"^v sexual relations ; yes they are beaten -- in the sense that I beat them -- as often as "need be", a need eminently etic^vi consideration. Those are mere instruments, however ; what those instruments produce, what those instruments are even for is particular, peculiar, specific repersonalization. Let's make here space for some quotes, reaching us reported from almost one century ago :

"You got a whore Blood. Please don't kick me any more. I'm your little dog. I'll do anything you say. I love you, Pretty Daddy."

[...]

"All right Daddy, anything you say."

[...]

"Daddy, I'm a big girl now. No nickel-slick bastard can steal me from you. I ‘you-know-what' you, and always will. Honey, I just want to be your little dog and make you a million dollars.

[...]

"Daddy, please don't misunderstand me. I like a little slapping around before my man does it to me. Please don't be as cruel as you were last night. You might kill me."

How about that! Can you take s'more ? Well why the hell not then, here's some more :

"No Daddy, I dig everything. You can wire me if something turns up I don't dig. Daddy, I am so proud of you. You are so clever and strong. I feel so safe being your girl. I'm gonna be a star for you."

And now let's get back to... yesterday, practically. Each and every day, might as well be yesterday.

what the fuck do you mean your existence's for anything besides and beyond furthering mine.

On this narrow yet perhaps sufficient basis we can proceed to understand each other, or at the very least try^vii. The harem is no more a sexual arrangement than marriage is. Sure, teenagers, sexually frustrated teenagers might regard marital bliss as a principally sexual item ; to them it would be (though if they were married they'd cease being themselves, id est sexually frustrated teenagers). Nevertheless, the function of marriage is to dispose of the children socially.^viii The harem's quite similarily deemed a sexual arrangement by sexually frustrated adults, but its function is very much also disposing of the matter of progeny. That harem progeniture is not "children", certainly not offspring in the biological sense, that accretion rather than parturition is the means of enlarging the family merely underscore the afore-discussed matters of infinities. Yes contemporary marriage is infinitely less, hystrionically, ludicrously less than what the word seems to promise somehow vaguely, on the strength of historic record ; nevertheless the harem's infinitely more, mindblowingly, absurdly more than marriage ever was, ever could have been or ever could be. Similarily the beatings : decoded by the barbarians outside the gates as some kind of experiential sensualism they may of course be that, but au dela of that, beyond that they are actually the building blocks of education, of harmonious development of the self, harmonious specifically because constrained. Between the flowering of "submission-domination" called a harem, infinitely, structurally fractally infinitely more than your notion of marriage, and bondage-masochism that's infinitely, structurally fractally infinitely more than your academic experience we have then the basis laid out for contemplating the costs of doing things.

The sink^ix must be emptied of dirty dishes, such that if I (for instance) feel like refreshing the hummingbirds' feed I don't have to dump colibri-licked water over plates and cutlery we use. This means the girls, especially the newer ones, spend a lot of time labouring, over the sink or otherwise, lists upon lists of chores. All this obviously comes at a cost to them. They do this not at a time of their choosing, but at timings chosen for them by other occurences, which is another cost -- perhaps a greater cost than the foregoing, in any case different. The dishes must be done well, which means a bevy of things tested in various ways. Items have to be in their place, arbitrarily defined perhaps but sanctified through practice because if they aren't they can't be found. This has a cost : each and every time one's done^x with something that one's stuck taking some extra steps, mentally, and pedicularily, moving their arms about moreso or otherwise than they might've otherwise had. Yet if you move the grater out of place it's now moved out of the knowledge of a number of people, who all have to individually and independently find it again. It's just not worth their time, and this has some important implications far reaching in "unexpected" places -- my girls, my slavegirls make much better computer programmers than the sexually frustrated teenagers and adults silently envying my domestic arrangements, because my slaves understand things, and are trained to respect things spurious boyhood's bereft of^xi.

Ultimately, minute practicalities aside, broad considerations aside, ultimately the cost of living for another is the self-sacrifice it implies, the abandonment of childish hopes and dreams, illusions all. Such abandonment as in all times and places, for all societies and in all cultures always stood as the mark of adulthood.^xii In that life in the harem forces the slavegirls into something else than they'd have otherwise been, drifting on their own, is ultimately the proof that the harem works as a way of life ; whether it works well or it works poorly is a quantitative consideration completely disjunct from the purely qualitative issue of whether it works at all (a bar which, however low it may be set, nevertheless stands much too high for a surprising lot of alleged institutions and other social objects).

Very essentializedly, in adolescentine terminology of goffy origins, "quod me nutrit me destruit" and all that, the cost of doing things is the giving of the self away. This naive generality, however banal, endures for as long as one keeps it carefully high up above the waters, away and afar from any kind of life experience (much like the raisin endures as a raisin only so long as it doesn't touch the ocean). Should one deem the buying of a car as the abandonment of all the other cars one could have, putatively, bought... then indeed the cost of living is the losing of the self.

The problem here is this : she for whom living comes at that sort of a cost indeed had no self in the first place. There wasn't anything there to begin with, hence the "concern" ; which is why my phrase so often is, "take off your clothes and let's see what you're made of." It readily distinguishes the little girls from the big girls specifically on those lines : after a certain age the mind starts to intuit the substance it's stuck squeezing through the succession of needle eyes the world's made of.

It wouldn't be proper to say then that the cost of doing things is not there for the slavegirls of the man doing things. Certainly, it's there, it could be discussed in an infinity of words. Perhaps not even all that small an infinity, but that's besides the point : there's such a thing as a cost worth paying, and of all examples of costs worth paying one could come up with the slavegirls' case stands, I believe, pre-eminent. The lottery ticket that's guaranteed to yield a million selling for fifty bucks still has a cost -- those fifty bucks ; it therefore also has a ROI, computable, scalar : 2`000`000%. That's not so much ; seven digits fail to impress in context. A girl recounted for us the story of her step-mother, for decades romantic partner of her widowed father (though daintily not the decades a working man with three small children could really have used a much less "romantic" partner), who blocked college access for her though she'd have qualified on academic merits through the (very typically neosocialist) venue of making so much money as to bar the step-daughter from any kind of aid while also refusing to advance any money on any terms. It blew my mind, the girl is diligent, determined, intelligent -- why forego the opportunity ? Yes, paying for some snotty little bitch's college is a cost, certainly, as a factual matter o' factuality reaching for the checkbook's a cost. Not doing that, though, is also a cost ; calling it "cost of opportunity" doesn't make it magically any less a cost. Each opportunity taken costs whatever it may cost, but every opportunity missed... what, shall we all agree it dun exist ? We don't agree, whatever you thenceforth do among yourselves it'll never amount to "we all agree". The girl going to the gym to build a negress ass "because race is a purely cultural construct" is certainly feeling the burn of that cost, upon the very ass in question. The girl that doesn't, though ? What's she got to show for having saved on that cost ?

A life uninvested's little more than "a different way" to look upon a life wasted ; out of the possible investments of female life I deem^xiii slavery further above childbearing than "a career" is beneath childbearing much in the same way seven's above three further than two's below it -- though in all fairness it must be pointed out that "a career"^xiv is about as universally available as pregnancy, whereas slavery is such vanishingly rare an opportunity it barely justifies mention in any statistical discussion of the human herd.

But leaving aside the costs for the slavegirls -- just how fucking hard the self-obvious "if you ever get half a chance to join MP's harem, fucking jump!" can be already -- the costs to the Master are... well... I have to maintain discipline, of course. I may feel like being nice to a girl all I want, if she's fucking up she's got to have the harshness she requires, and this despite, in spite even, of whatever it may be she says. Every time their true and gushing love takes a second seat to the politicking innate in the female brain, as it most definitely will, my own inclinations and desires have to take a second seat in turn. Maybe I was just sitting down to what was promising to be a pleasant meal -- but now we'll have to have screaming, breakings of things and lashings of delicious, lovably delicious girly flesh. Because there's no moratorium, there's no respite. Whenever they decide to test, and they will decide, oh how they'll decide... the answers must come, and they must come correctly. It is, I daresay, more challenging than anything man may encounter in this life, nor is it a lifestyle open to "perfecting" oneself, to "learning". Mastery is either there or is not, like grace exactly, it can't be learned anymore than flight can be learned, or heroism. If you're born with wings you'll fly before you speak ; and if not there's no amount of speaking that'll do anything worth the mention.

Yet I do not repent me, for all the discipline, and all the chores, and all the beatings and all the selflessness, harshly enforced and joyously given, not alternately but simultaneously both, yield something. The reason you can't do things is debt -- can't go out because the dishes aren't done, can't decide what to order in the restaurant because the girls aren't trained on when or how to speak, and you can't take the time to do it on the spot (although you should -- or rather, although I would) because it won't be done before the restaurant closes, and you'd like to eat. Nothing can ever be done for something else that should've been done before being in the way, a complex, elaborate tower of impossibility of itself constructed, recreated, early if monumental tombstone preceding birth, inherited as a birthright. It's free, you know.

The millstone you were born with, the crushing weight around your neck, the ill fated bird already your tombstone... it was free. It's always free. It was free all along. Nothing to do with freedom, of course, the weight's not that kind of free. Gratis, ars gratia artis for me an' your grave via gratis for you -- fair enough a split, wouldn't you say.

It reach'd the Ship,
It split the bay,
The Ship went down like lead.

1. Niggers in America have about as little to do with negritude as HeLa has to do with humanity.

   Look it up, it's a term of art. Aww, you never heard "negritude" before, woe-o-noes, such arbiter through reason of all things that are or may be. What else, prythee, you thought a few tens of millions of "black" people whose ancestors the past fifteen generations are a good quarter white count as actual black people because... why ? Because you personally ain't ever seen any others ? Dorks.

   Quick, quick, better get "offended" instead. It'll be way the fuck easier on your pea-brains than reading source material in French, or anything else. [↩]

2. As it could be in the case of a putative or fictitiously concrete group of "desert island" inhabitants. [↩]
3. What the fuck faggot is one that'd actually want to be married "just like square folks" ? Nobody even read Genet, let alone understand anything from his life's work & experience, huh! [↩]
4. A matter not merely produced through theoretical deduction, but very much verified in practice with some regularity. [↩]
5. Meaning "otherwise", however dubious that pretense to normality may be anthropologically. [↩]
6. As opposed, deliberately and intentionally opposed to emic. [↩]
7. I have to speak for both of us, both you and me, for the same reason the veterinarian has to speak for both the doctor and the patient : you're not actually blessed with speech. Not smart enough, not advanced enough, not cultured or intelligent enough to speak for yourself, you wallow at the mercy of better men ; but worry not, for I am confident I can do much better a job speaking for you than you could ever hope to manage yourself. Ain't truth a bitch! And besides, whenever it's not me it's someone else, speaking for you I mean. I certainly am doing a much better job than any of them. [↩]
8. That's what it's for, forcing French husbands to accept their wife-of-record's production irrespective of any considerations (but not forcing the wife to accept the husband's own), forcing US husbands to sign checks, allocating an address where minors are to be returned by the police if found in the way -- all these functions supplanted meanwhile in practice by autonomized mechanisms originally designed to enforce marriage itself that meanwhile became autonomous, leaving the supposed institution far behind, in the dubious dust of irrelevancy. [↩]
9. There's in fact multiple kitchen sinks as there's multiple fridges etcerera, found in multiple locations scattered throughout and used according to integrated rules which don't admit equivalency as a principle ; but I'm trying, Ringo, I'm trying to speak in terms you might follow through familiarity, and thus we'll be talking of "the sink". [↩]
10. Excluding, of course, me. In my particular case the obligation stands reflected : each time one of the slavegirls runs across something I've upset they're to right it, and this includes, indistinctly, used dishes I rarely bother to take to a sink or crying sisters I've most mercilessly laid into, or anything else. I say indistinctly not because there isn't a difference between the dishes and the dishwashers, but because the distinction that difference implies is not always made. This subsidiarily means that a slavegirl must be capable to at least in principle conceptualize herself as indistinct from a fork, which carries its own cost as it blocks certain ideologies both commonly encountered and among the barbarians popular. [↩]
11. And in turn these simple facts, experienced in fact as simple facts allow me to correctly decode and interpret offensive over-reach by inept bois pretending to be me without either the substance or the structure to even infinitesimally satisfy. However supported by a combine of irresponsible idiots they may be it is still wrong, in the strictest moral sense wrong. Both purporting to be wearing my crown without actually being me and gathering around a veal so gilt to worship a hollow idol borne of misunderstood convenience are not mere mistakes, but actual wrongs (the difference between the two, if you're curious, is that the sufferer of a mere mistake is unknown, but the sufferer of an actual wrong is always, inescapably always the author). [↩]
12. Pantsuitism's ambiguously difficult relationship with maturity drives an absolute, blind, rabid rejection of the foregoing facts of life, at the very least inasmuch it regards anyone but white males. [↩]
13. On the basis of experience, ample and far reaching such that it's not open to impeachment by bumbling nobodies, doers of nothing from nowhere. [↩]
14. A well informed reader (such as I've well despaired of encountering in practice, but as a theoretical possibility let's say) could point out to Lene Hau, or her career-daughter Naomi Shauna Ginsberg (before protesting "linguistic abuse" reflect that usage of "afiliation" would have passed unnoticed) as examples of careerism overwhelming maternity under whatever standard. I have no objection to this, nor is observing that "waves will on occasion stand taller than mountains" much concern to the theory of gravity. Indeed they will, as indeed they have ; and what of it ?

    A reader well versed in Trilema could point out to the boobate, and that reader well versed's welcome to answer : is the career in the past satisfactorily sufficient justification ? I'm not saying it is or it isn't (like I didn't say there, I'm too smart for that). I say what I say and then whoever wishes to object has to say something of their own, there's no such thing available as the uncommitted objection. An old woman walks into a bar, "I was the tennis champion of the world". Yes ? That ?

    Things rarely work out like you thought they will "because they must", you know ? [↩]