Lust & Philosophy (ch. 6): “In the town center lawn is a crazy quilt of motley freaks smoking pot and playing guitar”

Meanwhile Joe hasn’t bothered me much over the car theft. To pontificate about it would have the effect of trivializing his carefully compiled list of my lesser crimes. The harangues take place every three weeks or so, after a buildup of hostile silence. I never know what he is angry about until the harangue begins, but whatever it is, it always concerns the same petty infractions. They are permanently registered on a yellow pad of legal paper, the list filling up more and more of the pad over the years, so he can flip through the pages to remind me how many instances of the same infraction were previously committed, dates recorded in the margins. Nothing is ever forgotten or forgiven. Here he bares his Jesuit fangs: the pad of paper is my soul, with many-layered sin written all over it.

Let’s take the sole remaining bruised and wrinkled apple sitting in the back of the refrigerator in its clear plastic bag aerated with holes. The bag has been there for months. I have admittedly eaten most of the apples. My mother also ate a few. The last one stays there for the taking. Joe deliberately refrains from eating any of the apples, so the crummy little apple never gets eaten. But it doesn’t matter. It’s the point that counts.

Advanced love

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

I once asked my composition students, who were writing about the topic of marriage and monogamy, what love was, and none could give me a satisfactory answer. In fact they couldn’t give me any answer at all. This was after they had read a notorious essay by Katherine Anne Porter, “The Necessary Enemy.” In Porter’s nasty logic, the stronger the love, the stronger the hate. You both go into marriage with very high expectations of love and commitment. Your love gets off to a great start, but there is a growing, inexorable gap between the ideal and the reality. It’s not the fault of either of you; the gap is just there. Nobody told you about the gap.

Newsex. A play in one act

Players: Bonnet (female), Research (female), Torch (male), Acorn (male), Dildo (male), Doolittle (male), Abigail (female), Horny (male), Casanova (female), Areola (female), Orange (female), Eyeball (male), Uranus (female)

Time: The future

Place: Newsex Sexual Re-Education Camp, Esalen, capital of the Liberated California Republic

Apron stage, surrounded on three sides by the audience. Upstage is a 4-person camping tent, with the door of the tent facing forward obliquely. The hour of dusk is evoked by the recorded sound of crickets and a shady-grove backdrop with artificial grass turf placed along the stage surface. The lights dim gradually in the course of the opening scene until the theater is dark, except for a small flashlight suspended inside the tent from its roof. Playing on the tent surface are the silhouettes of four actors inside who can be made out to be engaging in massage; they are visible as well to those in the audience with a direct view into the tent through its door or the tent windows. Reggae music plays softly in the background and continues during the opening scene, with the volume lowered further once the play begins so as not to interfere with the actors’ speech. Marijuana or hashish smoke wafts over audience.

ACORN and TORCH sit among the audience in the front row within sightline of the tent’s interior. They have been chatting. The audience becomes aware that they are actors in the play only after the lights have begun to dim and they get a spotlight.

TORCH  To call her a bitch would be an understatement. She really is a fucking sadist. It’s not for nothing she does Advanced Sado-Masochism Training. You know what Dildo told me she put him through yesterday in Level Three? They were doing these “erotic wit” sessions as part of so-called Sexual Humor Training.