The straight woman is unsatisfied with straight studio porn. She wants to get off to something in which the actors actually emote and show passion beyond canned moans from the women and, at best, vacant grunts from the men. She turns to gay porn. She knows it’s not “for her,” but neither was the straight porn, and at least the actors look like they’re enjoying themselves. And for a short while she is satiated by Sean Cody et al, but she runs into the same problems she had to begin with. She was not looking at sex but a simulacrum of sex, trapped in Plato’s cave. Unsatisfied, she turned to vintage gay porn, harkening to a time when most gay bars still had darkrooms and reliably smelled of piss and Amyl Nitrite. Here was the real thing, in all its animalistic passion. But she still couldn’t immerse herself in the fantasy. She wanted the media to engage with her own imagination and meet her half-way, rather than having it spoonfed to her onscreen. She turned to yaoi, with its elongated figures reminiscent of mannerist portraiture, then bara, including hardcore BDSM scenes. But the tactile sensations depicted in the pages didn’t do justice to their real life counterparts. She turned deeper into her own imagination, this time reading erotica. No, not the poolside paperbacks sold at Barnes and Noble. The good shit. Why then, was she still not satisfied? She dug deeper, searching for the true meaning of eroticism. She studied the psychoanalysis of Freud, the cultural criticism of Susan Sontag, the feminist poetry of Audre Lorde. She took vacation time and flew to Europe, starting at the caves of Lascaux to explore the human urge to create, then traversed the Camino de Santiago on foot, along the way meeting a 56 year old carpenter from Burgos named Andrés, with whom she had an explosive affair. They both knew it couldn’t last, which made them cherish each other’s touch all the more. Upon flying home, she gave up. If her search for true eroticism never bore fruit this whole time, why would it now? It would take years before she stumbled upon the answer by pure happenstance: dubstep.
“ummm you know the writer only included that because they have a FETISH right?” is always so funny to me as a disparaging comment, because imagine if people spoke that way about nonsexual interests. “the lord of the rings? didnt the author only write that because he was interested in linguistics? thanks, i’ll pass” “yeah, i used to love spongebob as a kid, but i can never see it the same after finding out stephen hillenburg is a marine biologist :/”
everything i make comes from my perverse desires, and sometimes they’re sexual in nature (like calculators) and sometimes they’re not (like sex)
I hope every 19 year old is ok eventually I’m so fucking serious. If you’re 19 stay safe out there it’ll be ok love you
btw this doesn’t apply when my university campus gets crowded and there’s nowhere for me to sit down and eat. I hope every freshman drops out and goes home
Qilik are the most phenotypically diverse sophont and have a massive degree of variation in coloration and feathering across and within populations. This is partly due to being composed of at least three ancestral species and multiple subspecies (mostly interfertile and widely hybridized), partly due to their extremely wide range and often isolated populations, and partly due to the significance of color and display features in mate selection (and varying and ever-changing cultural conventions of attractiveness).
(A few here display body modifications, namely clipped brow feathers and selective plucking. The most vivid orange and pink shades require carotenoid pigments derived from the diet)
Okay, but why can’t we have sunken pits for people to sit around an groove in anymore?
conversation pits, my beloved.
You can still have one if you have a backhoe and are brave.
In concept I love these. In practice I am going to forget it’s there and break my neck the moment anything is on my mind other than carefully watching my every step in my own home which is just not a concern I am naturally conditioned to have
That’s why my conversation pit will be full of gelatine
9th doctor you have to stop. your doc martens too classic. your leather jacket too cunt. your buzzcut too perfect. your swag is too lesbian…9th doctor they’ll kill you.
