Anti-Oughtiplus Sex
Halfpast hush, window rainrattled, the lampwick whispering made a little sun of her undone cuff. May I? Me: aye: wristward, thurstward, tictactile, hisher pulse and the twobeat beast becoming, tictactile. Grab!tation: now a conjugal third.
[He’s barely grabbed her wrist?! At this pace, we’ll need a second issue for the left breast. Cut the “tictactile”; you can’t time slow reader … but you sure can measure word count! I have eight pages, and one of them is reserved for a Pabst Blue Ribbon ad (now there’s indulgence! Hooch, not words, m’boy.)]
His mouth neared hers under the eye of Ought (for all our actions are judged by Him?), starchcollared, kantankerous, apriapriest of the can’tigorical impervertative, conducting an inchquisition with the ruler of heaven. She, inconveniently a posteriori, declined his declension by kissing the other, lesser, sexier man into the indicative. Habeas corpus! Corpus delecti!
[Name the men each part references. With two men and too much Latin, I can’t tell who gets the tongue. Cut the little God question; He has His own book. Tell the dick cop to knock, and have him double check his ruler twice. I once met a guy who measured his rod from the back of his neck. If God grades like that, I want my math tests back!]
The room uncounted: rain quicksilvered, pipes groanpsalmed, wick sootgold hallelujahed. Five fingers found, grounded five; ten attempted the last fastening and encountered the Brastille, final bastion of the proper tied. Thesis, antithesis, synthease! She laughed: Ribellion!
[Keep him losing to the bra; trim the bits that make me lose the sentence. I like seeing him sweat, but I shouldn’t need a map to find the tits.]
Their lips adjourned; their case did not. Her cuff reclasped, his hand released its hold, he holding nothing against her. Her May must retain mayn’t, his holding its let go, their concurrence the right to differ. Could they come apart without coming undone, or did each conjunction convey an estate in fee simple flesh?
[I need to know when they fucked. If they didn’t, give him a sock to find while she gets dressed.]
Proposition: Desire is production, of potential and the real, rather than lack. No Lacan’tian holeyghost haunting the organon, no private privation awaiting its plug in saviour. Deleuzionally speaking, there is no hole to be made whole; there is a factory, and the sheets have entered the means of reproduction.
[His dick has a job now? Great, just great. It sleeps all day, stands up for three minutes, and leaves a mess for someone else. I bet his dad got it the job. Give it a tiny desk, but make it pay for the tightie whities.]
Demonstration: Two bodies are an assemblagestalt, not an indivisible One, nor One consuming the Other into an I.O.Uterus. No Hegelateral merger, no adverse copossession. To increase freedom is a joyful composition; to decrease either’s is a hostile takeover by the phallustate.
[Do his balls count as one, two, zero? They just hang around and agree with the dick. And if he (He?) starts counting sperm, tell him we do not have that kind of space.]
Scholium: Ought prejudged the kiss by a Good existing before goodness, apriorganizing the lips before their meeting could unmake His categories. Neither kiss nor lip is in itself good or bad: only encounters, judged by their power to act. Immanence, not Hymenence; a conatus, not a can’t us. Quod erot desirandum.
[Cut this in half; my dick is soft again.]
Ought thus unrobed. Beneath the robe: a conference lanyard, publish or perish the thought. Desire had produced a paper, a generously endowed chair, a funded inaugural intercourse on emancipation. When the bodies petitioned for a say in their citation, he denounced consentorship and claimed academic freedominion.
[He got a grant to watch people fuck? I got thrown out of a hotel for that, and I had a room key. Anyways, we’ll run it as a joint piece. Put my name first.]