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Greetings from Trinec Czech Republic! I'm in my room at the Hotel Steel, which on the outside looks like a war-torn '70s modern communist building but on the inside has clean functional rooms and great espresso.

I've been in Europe since May 31, all over the place. I spent the first two weeks doing promotion for the new Anthrax record Worship Music (coming in October through Megaforce/RED/Sony....PLUG). Basically traveling from city to city doing interviews and photo shoots.12 hours a day, sometimes 14-16 hour days. Cry for me Suicide Girls!

London, Paris, Madrid, Milan, Helsinki, Stockholm and Oslo. It was a brutal schedule but the reaction to the new songs has been amazing!!!! I have an iPod with the new mixes on it and the writers get to hear them right before they sit down to talk to me. This is the way it's done in the world of stealing music my friends. No more advance CD's.

The instant reactions are great. It really makes me excited for all of you to hear it!!! It really feels like the press/media is hearing the songs the same way I hear them. They can hear all the energy and time and blood and sweat and hard work that we put into this record. The two years we spent writing and then the six months we spent recording were some of the toughest and best times I have ever had in Anthrax and listening back to the finished songs now I can say it was well worth it.

This new record is the best representation of our career that I could ever imagine and our new singer Dan Nelson sounds like he's been with us forever. We're playing the fuck out of these songs and to quote my buddy Patton Oswalt; "Playing them like we're going to jail tomorrow."

Anyway, wait until you hear this record. Worship Music is a fucking great metal record and it will be out on October 12.

After the two weeks of promo we started our summer tour in Estonia. It was our first time in Tallinn and we had a blast!! Found a killer bar called Hell Hunt and we drank a hellish amount of beer! Tried all the local Estonian brews and found them to my liking. My friend Renee offered to take me to a poker room but I was too drunk and thought it would be a bad idea to be playing with hardcore Estonians and Russians drunk.

The show in Estonia was great (even though it was raining really hard) and the new songs went over great. We've been playing three new ones; "Fight'em 'Til You Can't," "New Noise," and "Earth On Hell," and the reactions everywhere have been thrash-fucking-tastic.

We played the Metal Hammer Awards in London and that was a blast as well. Since then we've been in Paris, Luxembourg, Clisson France for Hellfest (which was amazing, best show of the tour so far), Bilbao Spain, Bologna Italy, Lucerne Switzerland (another gem), Zagreb Croatia and now Trinec, a sunny little town, not so much grim as it is plain, right near the Polish border. Somehow amongst all of that I've been eating OK as well.
Meal of the tour was at the Trattoria Marano outside of Bologna. All home-made, all delicious. The mascarpone dessert was the best thing I've ever had for dessert. I'd still be eating and drinking there if it wasn't for this damn tour schedule!

Oh, another highlight...at the Hellfest in France after our show I got to watch Heaven & Hell from the side of the stage and they were incredible. Ronnie Dio is metal perfection. He really is the best singer ever. And, getting to stand so close to Tony Iommi and Geezer Butler is so surreal. I know these guys and have had conversations with them and I know they are just normal guys but they INVENTED HEAVY METAL. It's like standing next to Gods.

That's it for now. More food and booze next time and more tour reports.

And don't forget to WORSHIP MUSIC!!!

Cheers,
Scott

PS RIP MJ. Besides the musical, dance and technical genius of the man, and the influence he's had on four decades of artists, Michael loved Zombies.
Cheers,
Scott

PSS Here's a cool blog from Andy Buchanan, pro photographer and Kiss lover. He's been out here with us.

Image: Hellfest in France. 40,000 maniacs make me fly. Photo by Andy Buchanan.



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Scott Ian is SuicideGirls' monthly Food Coma columnist. Click HERE for more of his musing on sustenance and libations. He plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.

Jillian Vinters, a.k.a. the Lady of the Manners, was fascinated by the darker side of life even as a child, and embraced gothic culture as soon as she was old enough to wield a black eyeliner pencil. A harbinger of good taste, Jillian cared deeply what those is the gothic realm did with their eyeliner pencils. Thus, she became a go-to goth, and has been dishing out advice and tips via her website, Gothic-Charm-School.com, since 1998. Now her essays on the lifestyle and etiquette of the subculture have been compiled into a book, which is beautifully illustrated by Jillian's husband, noted fantasy artist Pete Venters.

In this excerpt Jillian explores one of the scene's biggest clichés, and explains why it's imperative that you don't let the people you care for fall victim to its claws.

Why Friends Don't Let Friends Dress Like The Crow

Ah, The Crow. Long ago, a new comic book appeared. Rendered in black and white, it was a violent, anguished story of lost love, and it was not your typical comic book story. It bracketed nightmarish images of despair and bloody retribution with poetry by Rimbaud and lyrics by The Cure and Joy Division. Word of mouth caused interest in the comic to grow amongst the blackclad types, until it began to seem that all Goths were required to have a copy (along with your tattered paperback of Interview with the Vampire, Sandman comics, dried roses, black boots, white face powder, and assorted eyeliner pencils). But even with the comic's near ubiquitousness amongst Goths, it still seemed like an "insider" sort of thing. If you saw someone reading an issue, you could (kind of) safely assume that the reader shared at least some of your interests and would understand the things you held close to your black romantic heart. This sort of thinking carried over, to a degree, when you saw someone in Crow makeup at a club or convention. Dressing like the Crow almost became a subcultural shorthand indicating a person's interests in other comics, movies, books, and music.

As time went by, the comic gained a higher profile in pop culture and then, lo and behold, the movie was made. And as adaptations go, the movie was pretty good. Brandon Lee did a stunning job, and his death was a tragic loss. But the movie brought the story of The Crow even higher visibility; the subsequent sequels, spin-off comics and novels, and TV show got even more attention. It wasn't a cult-following thing anymore-it suddenly seemed like just about everyone knew about The Crow. Which meant that people who weren't hard-core fans began co-opting the look. That was fine and dandy, for fashion is always about borrowing an idea you like and making it your own. But people weren't just taking inspiration from the imagery and adding it to their look; they were slapping on some whiteface and black lipstick and drawing black triangles around their eyes. Things got to the point where you couldn't go to a Goth club without seeing a flock of Crow-wannabes, most of whom had applied their makeup in a ham-fisted manner. The Crow is one of those classic "insta-Goth" icons, but he has an easier look to copy than Dracula. Almost everyone recognizes it (those who don't probably assume the costumed person is impersonating someone from pro-wrestling or a black metal band), which is why people who want to play tourist and visit one of those "weird clubs with all the freaky people in black" pull on some black jeans, a black Tshirt, and a trench coat, slap on some black and white makeup, and head out, feeling confident that they'll "blend in." They don't. The idea is also being appropriated by people who aren't quite Goth, but SpoOoOKy. That is part of where the clichéd aspect of dressing like the Crow comes from, but there's another layer to the clichés.

Dressing like the Crow is also one of the great starter-Goth traditions; it's pretty much the male equivalent of dressing like Death from the Sandman comics, which almost every fledgling Goth girl does at least once. Again, it's that shortcut to spooooookiness that is the attraction. A pre-formed identity that allows the costumed person to feel not only Dark and Mysterious but as if he is part of an alternative subculture (while all he's really done is broadcast that he isn't as connected to that alternative subculture as he thinks).

Eventually people who settle into the Goth world and feel at home there stop needing those pre-formed identities and masks. They feel comfortable being themselves and not adopting what they thought was a required template. (And then they probably go on to mock other people who are new to the scene and experimenting with appropriating the same subcultural icons. It's a vicious circle, Snarklings.)

Over the years, the Lady of the Manners has gone on and on (and on and on and on and . . .) about how friends don't let friends dress like the Crow. Dressing up like the Crow is considered by most Goths to be trite, overdone, and a bit like holding up a sign that says, "mostly clueless." But you know what? The Lady of the Manners also thinks that if you really, really, really want to dress up like the Crow, you should do it. If that is what makes you happy, if you think that would be the coolest Halloween costume ever for you, then do it. The Lady of the Manners does, however, have two pieces of advice. First: Accept the fact that people will roll their eyes, snicker, laugh, and generally try to make you feel like an idiot. Ignore them. Second: Do the best job you can with the makeup and assembling the costume. Apply the whiteface makeup evenly (over every bit of exposed skin, please, and that includes your ears and neck), and make sure the eyeliner and black streaks are symmetrical. Think long and hard about whether you have the proper physique to wear the costume; it is a sad, harsh fact that nothing becomes an object of ridicule faster than a heavier-set person dressed up as a character previously portrayed by Brandon Lee.

There is nothing wrong with dressing like one of your idols. (TheLady of the Manners dresses a bit like Mary Poppins's evil twin, which garners her some confused looks, so she wouldn't dream of telling someone not to dress like a fictional character.) So sure, go paint your face and put on your trench coat. Wind strips of electrical tape up your arms, even. Just understand that some people will assume you are trying to blend in with a subculture you aren't very informed about. Be prepared for snide looks and eye-rolling from some people, but do not let those snide looks diminish your enjoyment. Instead, smile back in a knowing (and, if you can manage it, faintly condescending) manner and then ignore them.


Excerpt from Gothic Charm-School courtesy of Harper Collins. Text copyright (c) Jillian Venters 2009. Printed with kind permission of Harper Collins and Jillian Venters.

Successful dating is like basketball. It's all about fundamentals (*).

Too many people are looking for a trick or secret weapon to dating success when ninety-five percent of the time, all they need to do is refine the skills they already have. Today we're going to talk about a basic conversational building block (**) called self-disclosure.

I know what you're thinking: How dumb do you have to be to screw up talking? The answer is, you don't have to be dumb at all. Some of the smartest people I know have the most trouble talking to people. This is because they're the type of person who are always trying to "win" a conversation. They want to be the one with the most knowledge or the most trenchant comeback. Many times they are successful. Unfortunately, their prize for these conversational victories is the title of social imbecile. Instead of a blue ribbon, they get a scarlet letter (**).

I have a lot of empathy for those folks. Our culture assumes social ability is somehow innate. The truth is, conversation is a skill that can be learned just like long division or the extended combos in Street Fighter II. But for some of us, these things don't come naturally. We have to work at it.

Which brings us back to self-disclosure, which is to conversation what X-Wing fighters are to the Rebel Alliance -- effective, adaptable, and ubiquitous.

How do you self-disclose? Easy-Peasy. You pick a subject -- ANY subject -- and relate it to yourself by talking about your feelings on the subject. Then you shut your gob and give the other person a chance to talk. Rinse and repeat.

It looks something like this:

Pretty simple, right? The two biggest mistakes people make are lack of emotional content ("Transformers 2 is now in theatres" vs. "I can't believe what those fuckers did to Soundwave.") and not tying the content to themselves ("Many cultures consider suicide a noble ending" vs. "I hate myself and want to die.").

The secret is to talk in the first person. Not only will you sound more confident and expressive, it will help you avoid sounding judgmental, which is the conversational kiss of death. "I'm a fan of good driving" is a far more effective connection-builder than "People should learn to drive" or (God help you) "Your driving sucks."

The important thing to realize about self-disclosure is you aren't talking about yourself for the sake of talking. There's no showing off, defending yourself, or rationalizing. The goal is to lay down how you honestly feel. When you do this, people become more comfortable opening up right back, and in dating, comfort is the name of the game.

Don't believe me?

Good. If you're smart enough to know not to believe everything you read, then you're probably smart enough to realize the best way to find out if something is true is to try it for yourself (***). It's counter-intuitive to accept that the best way to connect with others is by talking about yourself, so a little skepticism is perfectly natural.

Here then is your challenge. Your job is to have a conversation with someone. Over the course of this conversation, you are to learn as much as you can about them using ONLY self-disclosure. You are not allowed to tell them what to do. You are not allowed to ask questions. All you do is a) talk about your own experience and b) listen.

Post your results and questions in the comments section below.


(*) All of which are covered in my book Dating for Shy Guys, available in slush piles of finer Literary Agencies everywhere.

(**) There are a few other basic elements to conversation we'll probably talk about down the road. They are (in rough order of frequency of use): questions, paraphrase, leading, and sexual tension.

(***) I am a trained professional writer. Do not attempt this imagery at home.

(****) Unless you're a twelve-year old child interested in finding out what happens when you jump off the garage roof. At such times, it's nice to have an impressionable younger sibling.


Dan Brodribb is a professional stand-up comic and writer. He is currently working on a book called Dating for Shy Guys. Learn more about him at: danbrodribb.blogspot.com.

Tonight Show sidekick, Star Search host, Publisher's Clearing House pitchman, muscular dystrophy telethon co-host, blooper magnate...Edward Leo Peter McMahon Jr. did it all in over 50 years in the business. Sadly, Ed left this world earlier this morning at the age of 86.

McMahon is, of course, best known for his time as second fiddle (and frequent butt of jokes) to Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show. With a booming "Heeeeeere's Johnny," a bow, and a seat next to Carson's desk, Ed helped put Americans to bed for 30 years until Carson retired in 1992.

McMahon also served as pitchman for a number of companies, including Budweiser, Texas Instruments, and Mercedes-Benz., as well as the aforementioned Publisher's Clearing House. How many of us have cursed Ed's name because we were not already a winner?

During the 2009 Super Bowl, McMahon appeared in a commercial with MC Hammer for Cash4Gold, parodying his own financial troubles that plagued him in his later years.



The tributes from fellow entertainers have already started to surface, further proving McMahon's legacy in Hollywood is everlasting.

David Letterman and Paul Shaffer:

Tonight Show bandleader Doc Severinson:

David Brenner (comedian and frequent Tonight Show guest/guest host):

I disagree. More like Johnny Carson has his sidekick back. And wherever they are, they are together and getting ready to make people laugh again.

McMahon's career has spanned much more than I've touched upon here, but I leave you with some more choice moments.

Rest in peace, Ed.





thefreak has cursed the fact many a time he was born too young to watch Carson in his prime. Gotta love YouTube.

I got two "Ohmygod" moments out of my sports teams over the 2008-09 seasons, both courtesy of my college's squads. One crushed me while the other was a joyful climax, and I'm perversely thankful for both. Yes, I'm still pissed about the loss. But falling short is a chance we all must take whether we follow a tribe of athletes or leave the house in the morning.

The soul-deflating moment came first when my beloved Syracuse basketballers fell to Cleveland State in December. The loss wasn't as bad as how they lost. My side was sluggish throughout and trailed near the end, but they managed to tie the game with a handful of seconds left. And then fate fucked them: a Cleveland Stater took the ensuing inbounds pass and won it at the buzzer with a successful three-quarter court heave.

It's a shot that a basketball-playing cyborg would miss 80 percent of the time, and yet the foe arced it so perfectly that it never touched the rim on its way through. And that made me sad. I found myself involuntarily exclaiming, "Ohmygod," one word, upon the buzzer sounding. I try to avoid spontaneous exclamations, instead working to be disciplined in my outbursts. But my brain and mouth conspired to react as I sunk in my recliner.

Thankfully, I got to shriek the same hasty phrase in a different context when my college's equally beloved lacrosse team came back to snatch this year's championship. They made me stress for it. Down by three with five and a half minutes left, it looked like it was time to analyze their 2010 hopes. The announcers were rightfully discussing how much a presumed victory would mean for their foes, and I was moving through whatever steps it took to get to acceptance.

But my guys didn't quit, which is probably one of those life lessons I should take away from sports. They netted two improbably quick goals to get themselves within one goal of tying. That was just the setup: they scored with about four seconds left in a dramatic endgame sequence where 1) a player stripped the ball from an opponent before 2) a comrade won it back in a miniature scrum and passed it to a teammate who 3) made a behind-the back connection to a buddy upfield who 4) heaved a turnaround pass that 5) deflected off a defender's stick directly into an attackman's cradle.

As for the sixth step, the receiving player dived while shooting desperately; like some sickeningly uplifting Disney flick where my team was the protagonist. It of course went in. "Ohmygod!" Their subsequent overtime win was an anticlimactic formality, although I still walked around with a goofy grin all day.

It was especially nice to see an Orange team triumph, as it put distressing losses from the past out of mind. But even my teams' occasional heartbreaking tendencies have brought me something worthwhile, even if only in retrospect.

Namely, it's bullshit to quit on one's favorite bunch of players even when they provoke hair loss and blood pressure spikes. Sporting events, like everything else on this astoundingly imperfect planet, rarely turn out as desired. But what sustains every fan is the unwavering belief that next season will be better, or at least less crappy.

The only genuine glory comes after suffering, which fans learn through brutal experience. Athletics offer more than a way to keep connected with one's home or alma mater: they're a way to experience triumph, even if it means dealing with truckloads of crap first. Peculiarly and wonderfully, that initial misery actually makes the ensuing wins even more precious. It's easier to appreciate something that's been denied countless times.

For example, giving up on following my college's sports clubs meant I would have missed a laughably ghastly 3-9 football season last year. But, I also wouldn't have gotten to watch the aforementioned basketball team's unimaginably fantastic six-overtime victory during the Big East tournament's quarterfinal this past March. The contest should have lasted around 2 hours but actually took around 3 hours and 45 minutes, and was enthralling for every damn moment.

There are other ways for life junkies to get their fix: one can get an occasional stirring reaction from leisure activities such as music, movies or novels. The difference is that sports are real-time, unscripted theater. Fans never know if they'll get to experience ecstasy before a game's over; they can only hope. In that light, shrieking at astounding volume in either frustration or elation at a television tuned to humans chasing a ball seems life-affirming. It's true even if my neighbors disagree.


Anthony Bialy is SG's no-jocks-required Sweaty Pursuits sports columnist. He follows sports religiously even though he's quite bad at them. He ran cross country and played rugby in college, and was horrid at both. He schedules his life around his favorite NHL team's games, and sadly lists his alma mater winning the NCAA basketball championship as his happiest moment. He likes other things besides sports, too, and requests a minute to think of them.

Members of the LA Derby Dolls will be in the SG Radio studio this Sunday. The LA Derby Dolls are Los Angeles' original women's quad skate, banked track roller derby league. Consisting of four badass teams, Fight Crew, Sirens, Tough Cookies, Varsity Brawlers, the LA Derby Dolls are the hottest thing on four wheels.

Want to check out their high speed, full contact, super sexy, skirts on skates action? Then tune in to SG Radio this Sunday (Indie1031.com / 10 PM til Midnight PST). We'll be giving away 4 paris of tickets to both of their Sunday June 27th bouts (the fun starts at 3 pm @ The Doll Factory in Downtown LA). The lucky winners will also receive Derby Dolls Ts.

For more info on the LA Derby Dolls go to: DerbyDolls.com/LA.

Too embarrassed to talk to your friends about your foot fetish? Not sure when to tell your partner about those, um, nasty genital warts? Need some Gotha Stewart home-ec advice for your next soiree? Not sure how to get your foot in the door of that fab new career you want? I got you covered. Miss Truth Hurts is here to answer all of your love, life, sex, career, and relationship questions. Ask anything. I've been there/done that (except for the warts) and I've dished out advice to readers just like you through the pages of my advice book/lifestyle guide, Cherry Bomb: The Ultimate Guide to Becoming a Better Flirt, a Tougher Chick, and a Hotter Girlfriend, and to Living Life Like a Rock Star.

Send your questions, dilemmas, and conundrums to misstruthhurts@suicidegirls.com.

Alternatively, SG members can send a message via the site to MissTruthHurts.

We won't use your name, just the city you're writing from.


Q: I've been with my boyfriend for just two years and things are slowing down. We don't have sex as much. We don't make-out that often. He doesn't get hard at the mere thought of me like he used to. We just don't seem to have that spark we used to. But, we don't fight. We get along and love each other, it's just that gotten dull and routine.

-Bored in Brooklyn

A: Here's your chemistry lesson for the day: When we embark on a new relationship our brains release endorphins that give us a feeling of being high on love. It's why, when we first hook-up with a new love interest, we want to have sex all the time, get hard or wet at the mere thought of our partners, and our hearts literally skip a beat every time he/she walks in the room. From a biological standpoint, that can't last forever. If you're lucky it'll last around a year, but for most this stage lasts just a few months. Just accept that as fact. The feelings we associate with the first stages of love are merely the result of an endorphin brain bath.

Once the bath runs dry, and this initial stage is over, you'll need to put a little more work in to keep your love life afloat. Instead of wondering why you're not stimulated by the slightest touch or glance, you need to create stimulating situations. It's time to step it up. Maybe he was excited at the sight of you in a tank top and his boxer briefs, but 18 months on that's probably not going to cut it anymore. Try something sexier (lingerie), kinkier (a dominatrix outfit) or go the fantasy route (naughty school girl outfits always do the trick). Put some spontaneity into your bag of tricks. I'm sure he'll get hard if you go down on him while he's driving or offer him a little al fresco fun (though the police may not be so keen on either of these suggestions, a little risk goes a long way). Or try a make-out session in the closet of your home and pretend you're kids playing "7 Minutes in Heaven." Give him a message with a happy ending. Go for a quickie. Do anything new! Mix it up!



Q: My boyfriend cheated on me once early in our relationship. It was technically before we made it exclusive and before we told each other "I love you." I just found out about it now, a year into our relationship. I never mistrusted him before, but now that I found out it's all I can think about. How do I get past this?

-Scorned in San Francisco

A: Technically, you weren't exclusive so it's not cheating. It's as simple as that. Sure, it hurts, but get over it. If you can't forgive him and move on, then get out now. You're going to make yourself and him miserable if you hang onto this forever.



Q: My girlfriend looks like a SuicideGirl and I love her look. She gets dressed up in her sexy little outfits every time we go out and spends hours doing her hair and makeup. But, when it's just her and I, she often wears no makeup and doesn't dress up. It feels like she's putting on a show for everyone else, and doesn't care how she looks around me. Shouldn't she want to impress me too? WTF?

-Pissed in Pomona, Calif.

A: Yeah, I agree to an extent. She should try to look her best for you too. We should never let ourselves go just because we're comfortable in a relationship. That's when bad things happen. But, cut her some slack. Women also want our guys to love us for just us and be okay if we have a day when our hair is in a ponytail and we're in just jeans and a t-shirt. Don't be so superficial, dude! Even glamour girls deserve a day off.



Q: I go to Comic-Con in San Diego in July every year, and every year I dress up. I have a great Spock costume, but this is her first time going and she doesn't want me to dress up. She says she won't go if I dress up. She thinks it's embarrassing. What should I do?

-Cuckoo for Comic-Con in Los Angeles

A: Dump that bitch! How dare she try to take away your fun? It doesn't sound like this girl is a good match for you. Find a girl who will dress up with you and be proud to play Uhura to your Spock.



Carrie Borzillo-Vrenna is Suicide Girls' sex, love, and life advice columnist. She is an entertainment journalist, rock wife, and author of Cherry Bomb: The Ultimate Guide to Becoming a Better Flirt, a Tougher Chick, and a Hotter Girlfriend, and to Living Life Like a Rock Star and Eyewitness Nirvana: The Day-by-Day Chronicle.

www.myspace.com/carrieborzillovrenna
www.carriebv.com

The answer to the question "who would Buddha fuck?" is that he wouldn’t. He left his wife to pursue the deeper Truth of the Universe. Later on she dropped whatever grudge she must have had and became a Buddhist nun. But as far as we know they did not get back together as husband and wife again even after she joined the order.

But, y’see, before Buddha became Buddha he got more ass than a toilet seat. Compared to the founders of most major religions Buddha was the Gene Simmons of the spiritual scene. One of the randiest saviors this planet has ever produced!

Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha-to-be, was born into a royal family and reportedly had quite a harem in his youth. His dad, the king, had a special “chamber of love” built for the boy where the raunchy little tyke spent his days partaking in all kinds of debauchery. According to Lust for Enlightenment by John Stevens, the ever horny prince availed himself of pleasure girls adept at such skills as “war of the tongues,” “kissing the stalk,” “sucking a mango,” “opening the blossom,” as well as sex positions known as "the union of cats," "the pressing of an elephant," "bee buzzing over honey" and, best of all, "the union of three." Sometimes the girls teamed up to perform the yogini chakra in which the salivating Siddhartha made love simultaneously with three, five, seven or nine partners.

Suffice it to say, by the time Buddha gave up sex he’d tried pretty much everything there was to try.

The first Buddhist monks attempted to emulate Buddha’s later life in terms of sex, meaning they usually became celibate.

Later on other Buddhists in the Tantric tradition took a completely different outlook, turning to Buddha's earlier life and trying to make sex into a meditative practice. According to the all-knowing Wikipedia*, “When enacted as enjoined by the tantras, the (sexual) ritual culminates in a sublime experience of infinite awareness, by both participants.” Uh huh. I’m sure it does. I have a couch right over here where we can try it out if you like…

In Zen practice we strive for the balanced state that Dogen called, “Dropping off both body and mind.” People come to this state of balance in a variety of ways. One of the reasons sex is so appealing is that for many people the only time they truly drop off body and mind and enter fully into the present moment is while fucking.

Yet, in spite of what the Tantrics say, I remain unconvinced that sex is a viable path to the Absolute. It’s just too easy to abuse and it’s too potentially emotionally charged of an activity for most people to maintain equilibrium while engaged in it

In medieval Japan a Zen monk named Ikkyu celebrated his own sexual escapades -- which, by the way, he never equated with his Zen practice -- in a series of poems dedicated to bar girls and prostitutes. My favorite goes like this,

He also said of fair Mori, “She is a master of love play. When my jade stalk wilts she can make it sprout.” Yay-yah!

There is clearly no single unified line of thinking when it comes to whether or not Buddhists should fuck. But Puritanism was never part of the Buddhist tradition. Even where celibacy is practiced it is only required of the clergy. There has never been a Buddhist-led movement to suppress sexuality among the general population.

As far as lay people were concerned, Buddha only said that a lay Buddhist man should, "avoid unlawful sexual intercourse. He (should have) no intercourse with girls who are still under the protection of father or mother, brother, sister, or relative; nor with married women, nor female convicts; nor lastly with betrothed girls." We can assume the same advice in modified form was expected to be adhered to by women.

We don’t live in ancient India or medieval Japan, and most of us are not Buddhist monks. But a lot of young people in the West these days are interested in Buddhism. And they’re interested in fucking.

And while ancient Buddhist texts may be able to tell us how the folks who composed them dealt with sex and marriage, they don’t really address the subject of dating at all, since it’s a very modern concept.

I joined one of the Buddhist dating services on the Internet recently, to see what might be going on in there. I’d seen the ads these guys placed in the Buddhist rags with an appealing young couple meditating back to back and thought they were hilarious. I didn’t get too far, though. The “free” site asked me to pay $15 if I wanted to send a message to any of its members. But what I found in my brief excursion was pretty dire.

For starters, it looks like most of the Southern California based women on the site identify their religion not as Buddhism, but as Scientology. I found that a little surprising. Scientologist or not, most of the folks there are looking for the elusive “soul mate.” It’s just such a sad place to visit. So many people wanting something so desperately that even if that something should cross their path they wouldn’t recognize it since they’re so blinded by wanting it. They get so into the mindset of looking for their ideal that the real world becomes a mere shadow.

As Mr. Spock said, “Sometimes having is not so pleasing a thing as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true.”

A lot of the pain we face in life comes down to wanting what we don’t have. Maybe even all of it. Wanting is a function of thought. It’s disconnected from reality. It involves imagining a situation that would be better than the one you have right now and lamenting your current situation for not being like the thing you’ve imagined. Dating sucks**, generally, because we’ve been steeped in a culture that celebrates romantic love as the ultimate pleasure, yet in reality romantic love is an elusive thing that, even when actually experienced, has a lot of aspects that are not anything close to ultimate pleasure.

Zen teacher Shunryu Suzuki, author of Zen Mind Beginner’s Mind, only once gave dating advice. He said, “It’s all right to have as many sex partners as you like, as long as you can remember all of their names.” I think that’s an interesting piece of advice.

He said this at a talk in San Francisco in the late Sixties when free love was all the rage. He knew his audience were not going to turn to celibacy or even get married as Suzuki had three times. And anyhow, he didn’t think it was crucial that they did. But he did think it was crucial that they entered into each relationship with full conscious awareness.

I don’t like to use the word “mindfulness” to describe this kind of awareness because it has been driven into the ground through overuse by people who have no clue what mindfulness means. It does not mean, “thinking about stuff a whole lot.” It means paying full attention with body and mind. It has nothing at all to do with thought. Thought is only an infinitesimally tiny part of what we mean by the word “mind” in Buddhist philosophy.

Casual sex is not the Buddhist way. Which is not to say that sex has to always be a heavy activity fraught with meaning. But it does mean that sex ought to be handled with care. It has a deeper meaning, whether we’re aware of it or not.

A woman told me recently that when a man penetrates her physically she feels like she takes on his karma. That’s not exactly how I’d have stated it. But I believe what she said is true. And the same goes for a man, who also draws energy and karma from his partner. The identical sort of interaction happens between same-sex couples and in multi-partner situations as well, of course. This sort of thing should not be approached casually.

We’ve come too far culturally and historically to need to be very concerned with who the Buddha would fuck. Yet Buddhist philosophy and practice has a lot to tell us about how we can conduct our own sex lives in a conscious and careful manner.

By the way, uh, unicorns!

* This is sarcasm.
** This I know very well, right now.

Brad Warner is the author of Hardcore Zen and Sit Down and Shut Up! and the newest Zen Wrapped in Karma Dipped in Chocolate. He maintains a blog about Buddhist stuff and a MySpace page too. If you're in Southern California and you want to try some Zazen for yourself, he has a group that meets every Saturday in Santa Monica.

Buy the new CD by his band Zero Defex at CD Baby now!