If we’re not creating art, I’m not co-creating with you.
If we’re not coming together in multi-color and, traveling into another dimension, I’m staying put and putting my foot down. No, thanks, you’re not coming in.
If we’re not transcending space and time then what’s the point, really?
My expectations aren’t high. They’re intergalactic.
If I’m not getting high off this experience, if this isn’t euphoric, then I’ll just have another coffee, thanks. I got it.
I want exquisite rapture…
or nothing at all.
Everything.
Every terrible horror that’s ever knawed to you – eaten you from the inside out, made holes in you so deep, you fear the burrows twist and spiral for eternity. That unstoppable sadness – underscoring it all.
And every greatness you’ve ever achieved. All the impossible triumphs you’ve conquered and climaxed. The things they said you couldn’t and wouldn’t do and that you did anyway. That you did. All that.
Because if you’re not bringing all that, why bother? I’m bored already. Next!
I’m not interested in anything less than everything you have.
Your past, your future, every lifetime, every timeline and I want it together right…. now.
I want your vitality, your humanity, your virality, your compassion, and your pleasure.
Every unspoken desire, tell me with your body.
Speak with your thighs and your trapezius, Zeus, and your tongue. Speak in silence to me. Repeat the stories I love the most.
That’s how I like it. Just like that.
And if you don’t know what I’m talking about or “This never happens I swear” or “We can work on it” or “I promise, I’ll get better at this”, or you haven’t studied women’s anatomy, or just aren’t very good, just leave. Seriously get up and get the fuck out.
I won’t waste another millisecond with a hint of average, basic, he’s just nervous – sex.
So if you’re more into the power of coercing someone’s no into a yes and then a game of pretending she won’t but she will then yes you’ll find my yes terrifying. I’m not trading it or bargaining with it to use as an act of exchange or leverage.
Sex isn’t my power.
It’s my pleasure.
Something I get to share when I choose. When it’s worth it. For pleasure’s sake on pleasure’s terms.
And our pleasure is more than a performance. It’s our full aliveness – beyond our hum-drum humanness. It’s us as the artists. That’s the full experience I want to have with you.
It can’t be less. And it can always be more.
We Do Fucking Art.
***
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