Κυριακή, 15 Ιουνίου 2014

The art of pretending you are good at something, by Don Juan deMarco



Let me fuck you with my words,
Let me insert my literary-apparatuses, metaphorical-sextoys, butt plug-analogies into your every orifice
Let me put my scripta manent in your eyes, and your ears, and your mouth, and your butt
Watch me insert my text's structural planning in your urethra
as I shove my disgustingly unexpected similes inside your nostrils
Feel the heat, as I sexily pile my notebook scribbles in your welcoming uterus, while masterfully fisting your hungry vagina with my purposely idiotic, multi-contradictory, pseudo-philosophical syllogisms.

Let me fuck you with my words,
for I am a fucking Eunich,
and I have no fucking flesh,
My body was never created,
My body exists in my mind,
Or my mind doesn't exist at all, either (I was never convinced about the truth-value of the statement of Existence; I am a son of dearest Berkeley).

Let me fuck you with my words,
Let me make your thingy feel tinglish in all the wrong ways,
with my innovative, self-referential, double-inverted meanings and post-obsession with wordplay 
(Call me Daniel Handler, cause I will handle my lexis inside your womb till you cum for me B{> )
Let me/slap you/in the cock/with my philological/references/to ancient/texts 1
Let me thrust in your brain with my wordy shlong till we both cum inside it (but then you have to wipe it on your own, because I have... to do something)
Let me lavishly massage your wor(l)d-view into a new place
Let me make you think with your brain-dick (yeah... that's a thing).

Let me fuck you with my words,
Let me scrupulously spread my vocabulary-jizz on your legs as if it was butter on toast
Let me sprinkle the outcomes of our linguistic sexing all over your nipples like-glitter-on-a-Glam-rocker!
Let me fist you in the mouth with my soFISTication!
And ,Oh God, let me dry-hump your fucking Conarium to the point that I ejaculate my flamboyant imagery as a rainbow-coloured cum, on the middle of your fucking dividio [If this is too complicated, I basically mean that you reading my words will make you feel as if being colourfully bukake-d on both your mind and matter at the same time] [Oh yeah].

Let me fuck you with my words,
To be sure, all of this is mostly mental, but, come-on! "purely mental" is not a thing, if your brain thinks your body feels and the difference is miniscule
And, also
,reader,
have you ever had a literary orgasm before?
Oh trust me, it's good
[Try Oscar Wilde, you will never need a vibrator again. 
Try Shakespeare in a critical edition; admit it, your pelvis is palpitating even at the thought of it
And if you like looooong, steamy, tantric sex, read Dylan Thomas, you sexy beast! The man took two months to write and re-re-re-re-re-re-re-edit-write two 8-word verses; that's endurance for ya!
Those were the wordy lover-boys of the mind
And you can find many many many more in all the strangest places (thank Satan!).

Let me fuck you with my words,
No, I do not mean  "sweet love",
who gives a fuck about sweet love, seriously,
what are you, a Disney princess?
I mean hard, ugly, bruisy, dirty, nasty fuck
fucking your brain like the world is ending and you have met someone from Craigslist to spend your last day Armageddon-fucking!

B{> I can give you multiple word-gasms B{>,
My words can have so many levels of meaning and irony and post-irony, in form, and sense*, and reference*, that the spasms of your orgasming brain will last for hours (and you will probably need to be re-hydrated afterwards)
My words are so sexy,
they can leave you pregnant (regardless of gender)
You think only rock-stars have groupies?
Have you ever MET a good poet?
Do you think Bukowski started writing for the pusseh like every teenage metalhead does with the electric guitar?
OF course he didn't! Are you a fucking idiot?
What kind of question is that?
But if you ever see ANY of Camus' s photographs on the front cover of his books, the look on his eyes is synonym to a T-shirt saying "I FUCKED EVERYONE BECAUSE THEY LIKED MY WRITING, AND I AM HAPPY FOR IT".

Let me fuck you with my words
Let me bone you with muh prose
Let me ball you in the face with my arguments
Let me make you feel like you shat your fucking pants and lllove it.




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1. Leviticus 1,234










*referring to the Philosophy of Language terms by Frege or Russell, goes either way here

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