contrebasse
My new beloved is lying in my bedroom, awaiting my touch. She is 26" wide at the hips, 17.5" deep between her fholes. Unlike a real girl, she exists pretty much for me to use as I please. Somehow, this inspires me to care for her the more scrupulously. Tomorrow I will start shopping for humidifiers to keep her surfaces from warping.
Disturbing metaphor to one side, this is not unrelated to erotic creativity. I'm imagining that in coming weeks, whenever I have the impulse to touch myself while thinking about a woman, I will get up & make sounds come out of the resonating body I purchased earlier today. I will find the melody which connotes exactly the feelings I experience as I watch a vagina open, the contrapuntal harmony symbolic of two boys who love each other & worship the same woman, the chord whose resonances capture the rapport, commonly referred to as arousal, between tenderness, aggression, trepidation and gratitude, the progression that speaks of the release of tension when one chooses to surrender to one's lover. Because music is connotative, unlike the denotative language that has been my primary means of artistic expression in the decade(?!?) since last there was a contrebasse in my chamber, I can find these expressions without frightening the listener, depressing myself, and generally putting too fine a point on everything. It is somehow easier to ask, "Does this sound like what I'm feeling?" than it is to ask, "Are these the right words?"
Disturbing metaphor to one side, this is not unrelated to erotic creativity. I'm imagining that in coming weeks, whenever I have the impulse to touch myself while thinking about a woman, I will get up & make sounds come out of the resonating body I purchased earlier today. I will find the melody which connotes exactly the feelings I experience as I watch a vagina open, the contrapuntal harmony symbolic of two boys who love each other & worship the same woman, the chord whose resonances capture the rapport, commonly referred to as arousal, between tenderness, aggression, trepidation and gratitude, the progression that speaks of the release of tension when one chooses to surrender to one's lover. Because music is connotative, unlike the denotative language that has been my primary means of artistic expression in the decade(?!?) since last there was a contrebasse in my chamber, I can find these expressions without frightening the listener, depressing myself, and generally putting too fine a point on everything. It is somehow easier to ask, "Does this sound like what I'm feeling?" than it is to ask, "Are these the right words?"