The Phenomenology of Fucking
What I don’t understand about
literature is when a writer uses
the expression ‘We made love
all night long’ what do they
mean by love? Were his/her
imagined representations
banging away hammer
& tongs for eight/ten hours
or were there interludes-
quietly kissing,
cuddling & administering
the occasional hand job?
This is a legitimate question
especially for those seeking to establish a more credible
& profound understanding
of fucking in literature-
the squeaky bed
the bent fuck
the spent gold on the ground.
This takes us forward to Marquis
de Sade. While in prison in
1785 he created the character
of Duc de Blangis. In his youth
the Duc had been known to
ejaculate as often as 18 times a
day and once successfully
wagered that he could take it
up the ass by 55 different men
in succession.
Was this magnificent novel the direct result of penile servitude or
the sado-masochistic by-product of Sade’s obscene imagination?
*
The editor of Quagmire is dumbfounded, ‘I can’t publish this shit-
you don’t seem to instruct, delight or moralise- you merely
write profanities- what is your point anyway?’
I pitch him the old arguments:
A work of Art is autonomous, a self-contained entity.
The artist needs to create freely and not be a slave to subject matter.
Art’s function is to challenge the hypocrisy & lies of conventional ways of thinking.
Art needs only to be judged in terms of its aesthetic value… & so on.
He asks cynically, critically, ‘Now what might some of this criteria be based on-
the number of bonks you describe & the length & circumference of private parts?’
‘I think you’re starting to get up my fucking ass now’, I phallocentrically add.
Horror Sleaze Trash 