Empty Days

Friday, February 20, 2004



All aboard

I've oft been tempted to blog some on subjects of rabidly sexual nature and given the mess this venting place of mine has become lately I don't see why I wouldn't.

This may induce severe confusion in some readers, but after all - what do I care, really.

Here is something I just found and I must say - it describes so amply what I might have said myself that I'd rather cite it as is:
50 Things That Made Me What I Am

[...]The very second I saw a drawing by Tom of Finland I was riveted and electrified --- and awakened. From the very first instant my eyes fell on it, I recognized that it connected with and expressed an elementary part of my sexual personality. I wonder how many other gay men have had the same experience - hundreds of thousands, I would guess. For many immersion in Tom's fantasies of exaggerated masculinity (with physiques equally impossible and arousing) represents the extent to which they enter the world of leather sex; for others they are a first step to their real-life enactment. Either way, for me there was no element of incomprehension, no gradual corruption by insidious sadomasochistic seduction --- as much as anything was already there, waiting in the dark of my psyche to be illuminated, this was. Some years later I came across the ideas that particular "circuits" in the brain are already connected -- genetically or in the earliest period of life -- and spring into life when the switch is thrown. It was a description I immediately connected with my experience of Tom of Finland.
...
Indeed, it has always been a mark of Tom's impact on me (and a comment on those processes of adoption and elaboration) that the erotic charge of Tom's drawings has neither dimmed over the years, nor lost its edge with repeated viewings and autoerotic utilisations. I remember very well the first Tom drawing I saw, and it excites me as much now as on that day back in 1975 (even though much of the Tom's most intense work had not yet been produced then). What a reassurance (albeit of the most ironic description) of the endurance without diminution of those internalised images that speak most completely to our sexual drives, and so keep love alive.[...]
This articulate tribute comes from a gay blog. I am neither gay nor a man. Nevertheless this reflects me so exactly I have to wonder who the hell I might have been in that hypothetical "previous life" of mine. Not that I spend too much time getting all puzzled and perplexed over it - whatever comes to you naturally gotta be the real thing.

Pity this blogger forgot Marquis de Sade though - that other towering icon of hardcore. Personally I discovered Sade way before I ran into ToF and his bikes and boots and severe gay obsessions. The truth is - the pure-gay part is really without importance. It's a construct. Sade shows you how this is nothing but - where it all comes from, and where it all goes. To and from hell, of course, as we imagine it.

Stephen King (yes, I've never read one book of his but I saw an interview with the guy and found him perfectly fascinating) once said that the sexual subconscious is like a boiler-room full of big burly guys tossing and punching about. Not that it's a verbatim quote but that was the gist of it - and it couldn't be truer. There are untold reserves of violence concealed deep inside most of us, nice decent people. And it does sip through in the most surreptitious ways sometimes. The sexual outlet for this is perhaps the least harmful - so you may love your children instead of fucking them, or trying to dominate them, or being a bitch or a sod with strangers.

In other words, it's not what you get to see that does you in, it's what you want to be because you already are - just that.





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