O Freunde, nicht diese Töne!
Some folks commented that yesterday’s entry was a bit of a downer. For this I cannot apologize. I am committed to bringing you a human experience rather than some utopian dream. With so many self-serving fools out there attempting to blow smoke up our collective asses, I can only promise to keep it real. If what I write can be considered masturbatory fuel, it only serves this purpose coincidentally, as sex is simply another point of entry along the intermittently painful continuum of human experience. Many people seem to think this life of erotic experimentation can or should be easy. Or else they think it’s impossible, and it’s simply not worth going there. All have been lied to, led terribly astray by the distorted figure of human sexuality in the funhouse mirror of conventional wisdom. This is why there are so few among us who have truly sucked at the folds of freedom’s sweet, dripping labia and lived to tell the tale. To loosely quote Henry Miller, this is not erotica. This is libel, slander, defamation of character. This is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in the face of Art, a kick in the pants to God, Man, Destiny, Time, Love, Beauty. I am going to sing for you, a little off key perhaps, but I will sing.
I compared notes with the dirty whore yesterday as she blogged for twenty four hours straight. This unburdening of my soul, coupled with last night’s return to that by now infamous naked loft party in Brooklyn, renewed my faith in my project. In the true spirit of Ludwig Van, we’ll permit the key of D major to triumph over its brooding sibling. We’ll let a newfound spirit of optimism part the gloomy heavens and cast its rays upon us. And so, for a time, the dark interlude is concluded and we return to our regularly scheduled programming.
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