I’m going to try to make this short and sweet, just like me. Productivity is almost a lie. Check it out: all of our lives, we’re pushed to be productive. It’s the only way to be if we’re to consider ourselves successful by any means. Procrastination, laziness, and being idle are considered paths to failure. Presently, quite a few friends online and off have been talking about productivity, ambition, motivation and the like. Some left-brained, some are right-brained, some are readers, some are painters, and some beat the rhythm with their bones. Allow this brief digression:
What is success?
“Success is wealth, and never being without an abundance of it. Success is a good job, a family of my own, raising a kid to become someone. Success is a nice and expensive car, watch, house, shoe and suit collection. Success is living in a neighborhood surrounded by others that have the same number of variable mutual funds, stocks and bonds, and a rare wine collection. Success is not having to live around those people. Success is education. Success is happiness.”
What is failure?
“Failure is being poor. Poverty is the epitome of failure. Without money, you have nothing. Sure, you can go to church and praise Jesus/Allah/Prince Siddhāttha/etc and live a righteous life, but in the end, you’ziz still a broke crakkka/nigga/spigga/chigga. Thusly, a FAILURE! You can’t read? Fail! Depression is failure.”
Now back on point – why or how is productivity which leads to success “almost” a lie? Well, there is a form of productivity, which in my opinion (the only opinion that matters), that leads to the only kind of success worth achieving. Doing The Do, humping, scrogging, porking, romping, shagging, rutting, making it, homebase, leap-frogging without jumping over, scratchin’, mixin’, making soup, funk wumping, making babies (without actually making the babies), pole fishing, hop scotching, freak dancing, backing it up, pushing it in, splittin’, taxin’, waxin’, maxin’, getting “paid”, laying, monkey loving, rose poking, riding the skin canoe to Tuna Town, slap boxing, back slamming, keeping it really-real, anti-abstinencing it, motion of the ocean – I can go on for days, but I’ll be kind and stop here.
The act of having sex is the be all and the end all of everything. Sex is the only success. I don’t know how else to put it, except to say, if a man were to live a long and full life, a life considered successful by every other means, minus marriage and children, still he’d be considered a failure by most. I say “most” because we do have those pesky, overly PC people amongst us.
Now, what keeps most people from acknowledging this fact comes in the forms of religion, upbringing, and the fact that sex is still a taboo subject – a trifecta of willing ignorance. Without these hang ups in the way, like for many of us who don’t have them, the brief moments of meaningful, sexual pleasure help to erase all of life’s sorrows – meaning every other second of the day when we’re not having sex.
After some reflection, keeping this post short and sweet is not possible.
To be continued…