There is always that vacant moment admix the torpid passions of lustful bodies, which signs the death warrant of all desire; usually the girl, at some strategic point, spits out the magic word: “do you have a condom?” “you know we should…maybe” etc…(although it sounds better in French, from a Brigitte Bardot pouting 18 year old…Hi Melanie) at that point everything vanishes, the looks, the beauty, and the soft tanned skin in the sand…The spirit of attraction becomes like everything else, a mere transaction, plasticized fluids in a plastic life, or in Kant’s words ”to dispose over oneself as over a thing and to make of oneself a thing on which another satisfies his appetite, just as he satisfies his hunger upon a steak”.
Steak indeed…how is it possible that in the admixture of two ravishing pulses (which have no other ulterior motive than their immanent laws of attraction) reason/economy pops up its ugly head: admix the Dionysian frenzy, in the maelstrom of desire, a bureaucrat appears and demands his dues: all the accounts have to be in order before one proceeds to the next phase…at that point I usually give up, and kiss Her to death, as opposed to the little death and the big death…on this occasion, I left my Schopenhauerian pathos behind, Melanie enticed me further amidst the sand and moon…and all in good measure I flowed externally: full of protein, good for the skin and hair…jolly good! Economy is restored after all…I must admit it would be a sorry affair to see the luscious youth skin of the Melanies of this world corrupted by the viral…
Melanie was merely beautiful by sunlight; she was divinely sublime by moonlight…her deep pool eyes immersed all the stars above... and she looked whitely divine pearling Bukkake of reflected moonlight…none of us would want to die for that, would we?
