So, you want to read the pornography. We have reached that point in the story and it is written. And yet, I'm not sure I am ready to tell that. It is deeply personal and I am not sure that I am the actor to tell it. I am not very good at pornography, I don't think. Very good pornography should excite prurient interests, I have heard that before. So what is prurient interest? If prurient is an over-interest in sex, then who of us can escape that? Perhaps the better definition is the interest in degrading or unhealthy sex. For sex is as natural as rain. All life engages in open sexual conduct except humans. We hide our sex. We use the word prurient as if it thinking immoderately of sex is somehow strange when the more basic the form of live, the more virulent the sex drive. I do not see sex as inherently evil and therefor I do not know that I can write of it that way.
It is misunderstood like narcissism. You might think I do not care about others, do not understand love. In that you are wrong. I believe I feel love deeper than you. And so I feel sex deeper if it is with someone I love. I have feelings just like everyone else.
And narcissism is so necessary to mankind. Imagine 3 cave men. One is loved by all because he is kind and compassionate, another is smart and he uses a stick to ward off animals and is loved. But the narcissist, he sees the stick and is envious, he believes himself capable of something more so he sharpens the stick, or perhaps he has the kind man sharpen it for him. Who is the most important one in the group?
You want to look at this as if it is something wrong, but you don't understand. I had been in love with this girl without sex for so long that it was an anti-prurient relationship. The sex had been buried in the name of friendship. And when it was exposed to light, it was as if lithium were exposed to air, it spontaneously combustive. But that is not a strong enough comparison, together we were so much more than we were apart, it was like the critical mass of uranium was reached. It was an explosion when we touched and those parts of our bodies which instinctively craved the act of reproduction were not a tool for us, but we were at tool for them.
I don't know that I should tell you, unless you ask for it what happened, so ask if you want to hear. Otherwise, I can go on with other parts of the story. For when this next part happens it is the end of summer. Oil is still pouring into the gulf. On news networks there is a constant feed showing the almost sexual picture of this hole ejecting masses of black crude under pressure and nearby a device spraying the corexit 9500 directly into the stream. No it is not sexual, it is obscene. There is nothing beautiful in it, the oil itself might have a beauty, but the overall picture is of the act of a natural oil seep being turned into something evil, depraved. It had become such a background of life that it hardly made any difference.
I was so close to the end of my rope on things that I was as near terminal, and therefore as near totally free as anyone alive. But being terminal means dying and I was in terrible pain. The pain was only absent when the girl and I spoke together, or in those brief moments we had shared together.
I had no idea we would consummate our relationship. Did I want it, I wanted to run away with her. I knew my destiny, were I to have one, was intimately tied to her, for she was the sun and I was nothing more than a rock in her orbit.
So I turned to public spirit. The historical view of public spirit is be so devoted to the public welfare so as to become famous in ones lifetime. Machiavali held that society itself depended on the virtue of voters and much of my political writing seemed to follow this, trying to wake voters from the lethargy that led to a tyrannical government. In the words of Machiavali, in a battle of fortune vs virtue, that when fortune wins, tyranny results and I railed against the tyranny that was so obvious around me.
But I still had the disease and it is a disease in its way. It would one day cause me to give up on my one chance for love and happiness. Could she have cured me? I am not sure, because, for reasons you will learn, she chose to let the disease run away with me. I could, perhaps, have been great in my own time, I could perhaps have become a writer, but I was not strong enough alone to cure myself, I did not know I was ill, and she...well, that will come later and you will have to judge for yourself.
So what do you say, do you want to hear the sexual part or not?
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