Posted on September 17, 2005 at 23:13:46.
Anti-I.2: Derangement of the senses
By M Satai
ANTI-I.2
Derangement of the senses
1. Sexual abstinence to the point of mania, overt hysteria, absurd deviancies. The method of choice, I find, for breaking down “human” identity and short-circuiting all so-called normal human drives. Is it possible that there is no such thing as a “normal” human sexual development, just as there is no such thing as a human being? That we are, by virtue of our very “anti-nature”, by virtue of our status as a “sick animal” a collection of polymorphous perversities? What if the commonplace fascination with books collecting human sexual perversities were not so much an expression of curiosity by the sexually “normal” regarding sexual anomalies, but an indirect confession of complicity?
What if sexual “normalcy,” like so much else, were nothing but “human” propaganda?
To find out may not be a matter of lowering inhibitions, but of heightening them to the point of near-insanity, to the point of a sexual appetite nothing short of utter openness to the ecstatic savagery of an orgasmic self-destruction, a shattering egocalypse. One would then be driven beyond the human confines of economic survival sex to the outlands of prey/predation sex, the rapelands littered with lacerated beauties under three blue Saturns swimming in clouds of blood.
The ultimate expression of this “sacred” abstinence is nothing short of a self-castration. One might imagine anything in these red moments of wild despair, whipping oneself (or one’s surrogate) onward through the erotic stations of a crucifixion towards an orgasm that never comes--unimaginable penetrations and humiliations, acts of sadism and masochism involving anything and everything from switchblades to space shuttles to mothers-in-law, situations and partners and dialogues so alien that they have never been formulated before…and that ought therefore to be regarded as clues, as footprints of the ultra-dimensional IT that passes through one at the moment of egoasmic collapse.
Sex, in these moments, is revealed not to be about reproduction at all…but to be the formula for an explosive fuel whose purpose is a catastrophic self-destruction--a deconstruction of erotically suicidal proportions: a necrotic ground zero.
In this “abandoned” place, this zero-ground, a temporary chapel of erotic immolations might be built at the point of collapse complete with crucifixes, gallows, firing squad walls, etc.
Only when the world, touching me at any point along the borderline between any part of itself and my super-sensitized flesh, provokes an orgasmic shudder through my brain that triggers the four horsemen of perversion…only then can I be said to have known something of the true state of “human” sexuality by virtue of having opened myself to the rape of anything at all, the rape of the Other, an alien rape.
One must finally be able to say: “No perversion is alien to me.”
At this blue omega moment one achieves pornocalypse: the total rupture of everything with everything that allows the tidal flow from forced abstinence to the nuclear expenditure of total abandon. (What faceless thing comes howling out of that white fire?) And the “senses,” such as they may be, are completely swept away from the epicenter of a mess destruction where one used to stand like a contagious lunar desert formed by what the moon might leave behind if the moon were to crash into New York City.
To maintain this impossible state, this excruciatingly delicious frustration, for as long as “humanly” possible…and, eventually, to the absolute point of no return and blast-off velocity…is the goal, is the birth, is the revelation: the derangement.
One must have an orgasm from which one never returns.