WHO’S IN THE ROOM WHEN YOU’RE ALL ALONE?

You’re all alone in your room – but not for long. Who’s being conjured up by your dirty little mind when your hand goes southbound?

Fantasy is fascinating. What if you could see what people think about, like a cartoon scroll above someone’s head? Not the Warner Brother’s version of steaks and pork chops with S-swirls rising off them. But, naked women, brick sh*thouse truck drivers, nuns, whores, and next door neighbors. And what if you threw a party, and everyone came with their cast of c*m inducing characters? Would you simply have to double your recipe for guacamole? Or change the venue to an airplane hanger?

The subconscious is never linear. It rarely plays out like a porn movie, following the journey of a single character, or even three. It is a slave to your genitalia and genitalia has ADD. At least mine does: abducted by men in parking lot, taken to their seedy house, they watch me while dining on TV dinners on those little fold out TV trays. CUT. Man and woman with no heads. She does him, he does me, NO. He does her while I watch. CUT. My man’s chest. CUT. Close up of his pierced nipple. CUT. It’s like the Viewfinder I had as a child. The Washington Monument replaced by turgid man. The Grand Canyon: an emptied swimming pool, filled with shirtless skateboarding teens. Click. Click. Click. Click.

When I was a child, I used to fix on one teen heartthrob. It was more story-like. There were no other band members, just heartthrob and me. Talking. Kissing. Then my mind would go into a blur of sexual bliss. I wasn’t quite sure what adults did, or what little girls did with teen heart throbs, but it was romantic and erotic. And polar opposite to my adult fantasies – he had a head, but no body. The way those teen idols were depicted on magazine covers back in the day. One massive heartthrob head, with ragged edges, as if crudely decapitated with a child’s blunt scissors.

Now, my fantasy world is much more complicated. After years of fantasy f*cking the same old standard fare, am I bored, always having to up the stakes? Or is my frenzied slide show more of a reflection of the bombardment of images, video, brain force feed that plaques/delights us all?


But hey, whatever it takes. Just empty your mind, and let them all come in.