Archives for posts with tag: sexual obsession

God in London – SMML 6

After John had bought the silicone mask from Dean – the mask that showed the face of a fat white guy – he stumbled out of the garage into the streets of London. Dean’s basement studio was close to Piccadilly circus and John could not get the scent out of his nose. He ran into St. James Church, found a seat, and stared at the glass windows.

“What is happening with me”, he thought. “Honestly, I am becoming a maniac because of this urge to find this woman, and you just sit there, do nothing, and wait.” He looked at the shape of the man in the glass window, sitting on a chair, with arms wide open, observing him calm and knowingly. “What are you doing with me? What do you want from me? It is completely impossible to find this person – unless the Argentinian police finds me – completely impossible. And you asshole just sit there, watch my misery and enjoy, or what? You can’t be true. I do not even understand what you want me to do in this very minute. You know exactly what is going to happen. You know exactly, how my future is going to look like – you asshole, on your chair, with your arms balancing the whole universe – why do you not just tell me what the heck is going to happen? Why do you not just tell me?” John took a deep breath. He slowly calmed down, folded his hands and started to pray: “You asshole. Sorry for this. Here I am…I am in your hands. At the end you murder me. I simply do not understand this… and if you murder me… why the heck do you need to torture me – torture me with the desire to find this woman and put myself onto her, into her, penetrate her, with my tongue, my fingers, and my cock. This is completely ridiculous. It does not make any sense. I am getting insane.”

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Sex in London – SMMGL 5

“My name is Leila Schmitt”, said Leila and looked the Argentinian police man into the eyes to read what was on his mind. He took notes. An attractive man, she thought- oh no – stop it!
“I was there, three days ago, in the morning, when Mister Ribeiro was killed. I did not see who killed him, I was in the bathroom.”, she said.
“What was your relationship with Mister Ribeiro?”, the police man asked.
“Well, nothing. I mean, just sex”, said Leila.
The policeman stopped talking notes and looked at Leila.
“I am not a professional”, Leila said.
I am always to bloody direct, she thought – this guy now sees my long blond hair, my short skirt, and of course, he thinks that I am an escort girl. Silence in the little room. The guy cleared his throat.
“So, what is your profession?”, the police man asked after a little while with his Argentinian accent.
“I am investment banker, working in London”, she said and watched his sparkling dark eyes, his sportive body, while he ran with his hand through his black hair and took notes.
Do you want to get laid here on the table, in the police office, right now? – she thought and smiled – without saying a word.

Later in the evening, after the interrogation at the police station, she met him, Giovanni, for a drink and tango – and sex. He turned out to be a passionate and hot lover. She got dressed, and made her way to the airport before he woke up. On the flight back to London, she repeated her lines “I did not see who killed him.” – and thought “Oh yes, I saw him – I saw the killer – and this endless coolness when he closed the door of the balcony and moved over the balustrades with the smoothness of a cat.” Leila asked the blond and assiduous steward to come over and serve her a couple of drinks – until she felt high.

 

Sex in London – SMML 4

3 days later, John was back in London. It was a rainy, windy day and John visited his friend – or almost friend, Dean- who was a master in manufacturing silicone bodies, silicone masks, silicone toys, basically silicone everything. It was over ten years back when John landed by accident in Dean’s basement studio and discovered the ingeniously artistic pieces of work. Dean, back then, still studied economy and worked in the evenings as entertainer, doing card tricks in bars.

“This must be an incredible fat man” – John said to Dean, who showed him a new piece, a pale, heavy face of an unhealthy, German executive manager, with bald head, probably a wife and grown-up kids at home, somehow dissatisfied with life, just going on and on without exactly knowing, why, sometimes using escort ladies to work off masochistic desires – or not even having the balls to letting this out – just masturbating in the toilet of his company with a guilty conscience when everyone else was already out.
“Yes, this is Heiner”, said Dean and grinned broadly, “I can make you a fat-suit again for your body to fit Heiner’s face.” – “No, no, no, never again”, said John, “I hate these fat-suits, I had it once, simply hell. Never again. I tell you – you’d rather make this face thinner, or…” – Dean interrupted him with a loud laughter – “I know, man. Whatever you need these costumes for – I do not know… but here you go.” He took off fat-Heiner’s face from the rack – and underneath the first mask, another deceptively realistic human face turned up. “Sweet”, said John and looked at a thinner version of Heiner’s face, “this is still one of the most unsexy men I have every seen, exactly what I need.”

When John pulled the mask over his face, he suddenly had the flashback from himself lying in the room in Buenos Aires, three days ago, and smelling the scent of something that incredibly turned him-on. “Shit. I cannot jerk off again”, he thought, “I was sex maniac in the last 36 hours, a complete lecher, just thought it was over…”
“Man, what is happening!?” – Dean shook John’s arm. “Are you alright, pal? You look like you wanna kill someone.”

Let me quickly review my reading and entertainment with Chad Harbach ‘s US-bestseller “The art of fielding.”

Get ready. The first 20 pages I thought the story was going to be boring, but then it started off:

While Henry, the gifted, pale, thin baseball talent plays in perfection (in the beginning of the story), after 20 pages he starts to fail as hell. His college roommate, Owen, smashed by one of Henry’s ricochet shots into the face needs  to be taken to hospital. There, Owen’s mother falls in love with the president of the college. The president falls in love with Owen. Henry’s best friend, Schwartzy, falls in love with Pella, the daughter of the president. In the meanwhile, the president and Owen are having a sexual and intellectual love affair and Henry and Schwartzy start to fight  with each other. The daughter of the president start to fight with Schwartzy as well. Henry moves in with the daughter of the president, sleeps with her and becomes anorexic…

At the end, one of them is dead:

  • Owen or
  • The president or
  • The president’s daughter or
  • Schwartzy or
  • Henry ?

I won’t tell.

However, the remaining four will, drunk and at night, exhume the dead body and sink it in the lake in front of the college.

Wow! What a story.

My personal remark: the chaos of erotic interplay and love circles reminded me of “Reigen” (“La Ronde” by Arthur Schnitzler). The language is very light and readable, it has an entertaining flow and flashy affinity with the writing of genius David Foster Wallace. (However, much less chaotic than Wallace’s style!)

So, do not be afraid that “The art of fielding” has 500 pages!
You’ll get through it very quickly.

Enjoy reading!

Today let me briefly recall the (rather short) novel written by Gabriel García Márquez.

It is lovely and poetic. From my perspective it tells a story about human judgement, love…

For you was I born, for you do I have life, for you will I die, for you am I now dying

…weakness, the fear of people who seem to be different (people claim that the small girl, Maria, is possessed by the devil)…

Sometimes we attribute certain things we do not understand to the demon, not thinking they may be things of God that we do not understand.

…the love despite of any fear

Do not allow me to forget yo

…and faith:

What is essential, therefore, is not that you no longer believe, but that God continues to believe in you.

However, at the end the human failure wins over. The 32-years old priest, Cayetano, who loves the little girl does not dare to completely conquer his fear and fails to save her. She dies due to the exorcist’s treatment.

I like the poetic style by Márquez when he writes about feelings. For me it is quite terrifying that this type of stigmatization was nothing special in the end of the 18th century, when this story takes place.

Crazy people are not crazy if one accepts their reasoning

Maybe it is even more terrifying that there are still very rigid forms of government, societies and groups of human people who like to stigmatize. Maybe our human brain just likes to stigmatize? What do you think?

However, apart from these political or psychological questions which came into my mind while reading, this novel is a light, short, enjoyable and poetic narration about love, fear and faith.

Enjoy reading!

Can we prove that god is alive? Well, in 1986, John Updike published a story (Roger’s Version) in which Dave, an evangelical graduate student, believes that he can do it. He wants to prove god’s existence with computer science.

Here my personal relation to this book: Actually, I had never planned to read it. I had even never even heard about it. However, this day in autumn I went home from work (university) and had spent the whole day thinking about the chaotic nature of the world. My research is on chaotic flow, the so-called turbulence, which we can see outside of the window in the chaotic gusts of the wind, for example.

Only a few hundred of meters from home, there lay this book on the ground, besides the path that I walked. It lay on the back and was tattered. The first word on the open page was “turbulent.” I was stuck. It was something on “turbulence of which the chaotic nature cannot be computed”.

Well, on the next day, I went to the library to get the book. I have to admit: Updike had quite a profound idea as backbone of his drama. No, I am not referring to the sexual desires, he is writing about (as always). (In this case the protagonist is Roger Lambert, a theology professor in his fifties, who becomes involved with his niece Verna.) No, instead I am talking about the student, Dale, who wants to analyze as much empirical data as he can get until he finds the hand of god. Finally, in the very moment, when the hand of god appears in the data – the computer crashes down. The student almost gets crazy and finally stops his attempts to prove the existence of god.

By the way, the theology professor also becomes obsessed with the thought that Dale is having an affair with the professor’s wife, Esther.

Actually, I think that Updike was on the track of the fiddler’s paradise and philosophy of science. From my perspective he treats the question: How can we know what we know by data-analysis? Maybe you have an answer…

Enjoy reading!