I find that I’ve become more attracted to unconventional beauty lately. Well, that’s not to say that my past propensities have been completely traditional. Aaron thinks that my whole speech impediment thing is just me trying to be a unique person. I’m not really insulted by this (even though I’d normally be, especially since I have a great respect for Aaron’s opinions) simply because I think that if he had any…interesting tastes, he’d understand.

I once had a discussion with Trolley about the fact that almost any type of fetish made sense to me — hair, lolicon, necrophilia, rape, scatology, plucked chickens — except for foot fetishes. I mean, most of these all have very deep-rooted psychological justifications. Sex with animals, for example, may turn someone on due to feelings of dominance over an animal, or a belief that they are making something feel blissful pleasure (perhaps as a compensation for insecurity in being able to pleasure someone). Most any sort of fantasy can be relatively easily justified.

Aaron and I were even able to find a justification for bad teeth fetishes, which is an interesting idea since I know so many people who can’t stand crooked teeth. He knows people who only date others who are “less attractive” than them, and we take this as a sign that these people may be insecure about their looks, and are turned on when viewed as the more attractive person in the couple. Of course, this can be related to any sort of “flaw” that may be found in someone.

I once knew a girl who was turned on by guys using calculators, and I can easily relate this to my “girls wearing glasses” proclivity, insofar as being extremely attracted to intelligence, both being a sort of physical (albeit possibly societal) manifestation of an intangible thing.

Feet, however, I can only justify when related to the tribal tradition of feet-forehead touching. Subordination is represented in the younger people touching the feet of the elders with their foreheads. Perhaps someone may be attracted to the fact that they are brought to the level of the toe sucking, similar to the idea of dominance. It’s hard for me to even see foot fetishes on a basic physical level, which is easily done for breasts or waists, etc. unless one considers the impact of society on what people find attractive.

I can just see all the hits I’m going to get from interesting search strings now.

Most of my propensities can be easily explained, although I get various odd reactions when people find out, and most are either laughing too hard or too weirded out to allow an explanation. Speech impediments are something I just can’t seem to justify, although such an ineffable thing has allowed me to more easily accept the quirks of other peoples tastes.

So there’s this girl who works at Folio and she wears glasses and turtlenecks and is there whenever I buy something and I doubt other guys would find her as attractive as I do.

I bit my lip subconsciously today, and only realized when I looked away.

Before heading over to Babylon for the Dwarves concert, Iain and I stopped into Record Runner to see if there were any albums worth buying. I found the Dreamtheater concert DVD for $26 and was about to purchase it before realizing that I’d have no place to put it during the concert. I also found out that The Dears have a new album out which I must consider purchasing. I later discovered that they will be performing in two days at the same place, another thing needing consideration.

The concert was great. I didn’t know any of the opening acts (Sack Lunch, Maximum R&R, and the Riptides), but they weren’t very good anyway. I never knew how tiny Babylon is and was surprised to find airplane seats and couches scattered around the large room. The size made for an intimate atmosphere and comfortable viewing, even for vertically challenged people such as myself.

While Iain and I waited for things to get set up, we pondered the things that would look odd at a punk show. Being Asian was the first thing that we came up with, although I did see one Asian girl and one person of African decent there in a crush of Caucasian faces. We agreed that someone with an iPod or recordable MiniDisc player would stand out from superfluity alone. One thing we couldn’t figure out was the poplutation of gay punks compared to gay non-punks. I joked about whether the more dominant male punk would make fun of his effeminate, emo listening boyfriend.

There were some Dwarves shirts and CDs available for purchase, but nothing I would consider wearing. Two thongs with the skull and cross boners logo were spread out on the table in a rather embarrassing way. Even a Blood Guts & Pussy shirt was there, and we were surprised to find that it lacked a single shirt pocket.

When the Dwarves came on, there was no sign of HEWHOCANNOTBENAMED, much to our disappointment, although I suppose it was better for the crowd of all-ages. The drummer and two guitarists we didn’t recognize, although one of them came on with sunglasses and a stocking over his head while the other went skins. Blag entered with a sleeveless “Slut.” shirt sans gloves or wig (come to think of it, I haven’t seen him ever wearing a shirt with sleeves).

Then there was Tazzie.

She came on wearing a dark purple-blue dress shirt with a sequined nurses mask. Her dark brown hair covered her entire face and at times she seemed like Cousin It playing bass. Partially through the set she took off her mask, unbuttoned her shirt half-way to reveal a lacy black demi, and flooded her hair behind her right ear when she got too hot.

It’s obvious that every member of the band has a good time on stage. Blag body surfs and is generally charged enough to keep the pit energized, just as the legends go. The guitarists all scream at the top of their lungs while hitting out the fast paced Dwarves tunes. Even the drummer is lost in a furious frenzy of adrenaline. But Tazzy rocks the fuck out. She gets so into the music that she rarely looks up from her guitar, her eyes half-closed most of the time. She spasmodically bangs her head at each beat and each aggressive bass line. It’s almost as if she’s experiencing an implosive surge of energy while she has a look of quiet concentration on her face as the rest of the band waxes chaotic around her. I’ve never seen a more attractive instrumentalist.

Plenty of great hairstyles were in the crowd, although some were rather shabbily done. The best one was someone sporting a pink mohawk with a razor thin center strip extending more than a foot outwards.

The entire set lasted more than thirty minutes, which must be a Dwarves record, and surprised us since we were expecting anything from three to fifteen minutes. Now I’ll be looking forward to the upcoming AFI concert, and possible Dears concert. Walking home on the bare city streets was nice and peaceful, away from the constant stream of noise and people. It was a good way to end off a tiring evening.

What is it about a speech impediment that is so fucking sexy? I think part of the appeal is that it has the same attractiveness as an accent, except an impediment extends beyond the exoticness that an accent can offer. Maybe there’s the (sub)conscious detection of a weakness involved that draws me, the way high heels are suppose to make girls look like they’re fleeing when the calves are contracted.

I can’t imagine anyone being embarrassed about such a beautiful thing. Lisps, stutters, stammers, slurs, tics; anything can make me melt. If a girl would speak, I could listen all day without uttering a word. Even the strength of the impediment is of no consequence. I’m in awe, from the subtleness of a lazy tongue, to the harshness of an overactive genioglossus.

How can I even speak about something as gorgeous as a unique, flawed, extraordinary articulation?

I can’t.

There’s something about a girl that apologizes. It’s like it makes her more human. I’ve always been one who likes girls who have their off days, instead of looking like a million bucks all the time. I guess it lets me know that they aren’t just superficial all the time, that they know that looks aren’t always important.

But when a girl apologizes, man. It turns me on. They know that they’re flawed in a way, and they have the “consciousness” to understand it.

It shows that they’ve reached the third level of understanding, as outlined below, the first level being complete ignorance, and the fourth level being complete enlightenment:

1. I don’t know that I don’t know
2. I don’t know that I know
3. I know that I don’t know
4. I know that I know

Not only does apologizing show that one is at a certain level of self-awareness, it shows that one is mature enough to admit this to oneself. And, as we know, maturity is fucking hot.

It’s the admitting to oneself that I find is much harder for people. So many people that I run into have such closed minds that they refuse to believe anything that goes against what they’ve believed for most of their lives. Sometimes, when one admits one was wrong, it invalidates a huge chunk of ones life and worldview. It’s a hard thing to do, and it takes strength, open-mindedness, and intelligence.

Of course, apologizing is nothing without change, without learning. Someone who learns greatly from their mistakes, and who isn’t afraid of making them for the sake of learning, is just amazing.

It all adds up; almost everything that I look for in a girl is encapsulated in one simple act of apologizing. It certainly makes things much simpler.

Yet more complicated at the same time.