Source unknown – Ace, Joy and Erica (2008)
As a general rule: I don’t post images shot in color and subsequently desaturated. I’m making an exception with this because it’s literally a thousand times better than the low contrast, optically flat and unappealing original image.
Also, I really try not to post excerpts from shitty corporate porn often. I’ve noted the source here as unknown simply because this image has been licensed and relicensed so often, I really have no idea who the original author even is.
So with two strikes against it and the fact that even if the desaturation restores some desparately needed depth and contrast, it is still a compositional shit show–why the hell am I posting this?
Well, not unlike labeling oneself an anarchist unfairly welcomes correlation with Caucasian crust punk wannabe layabouts who smoke too much weed and have a less than nuanced appreciation for Bob Marley, I feel that the credo sex, drugs and rock n roll gets a similar bad rap by association.
That such a ready-made comparison exists is politically expedient. Thoughtful practice of anarchism is a threat to power structures in a way that few other -isms manage and sex, drugs and rock n roll as a baseline system of belief/motivating factor is similarly if not more dangerous because all three independently or amplified in combination have a proven track record of demonstrating to the individual the extent and degree to which learned limitations are bullshit.
I guess my point is that there is only so much you can to to push your own limitations. It’s like tickling–I can’t tickle myself, someone else is required for that.I know in my own experience that although best orgasm I’ve achieved through masturbation is only slightly better than the worst orgasm I’ve ever experienced during sex. You know what you’re going to do before you do it and you know what you like… there’s nothing unexpected about it. Whereas someone else can tease, cajole, surprise and push your body towards amazing experiences you never knew were possible.
And something with which I am preoccupied is the limitation of how much is too much, is too sensitive really a thing? In my experience, the answers are nothing and no, respectively. But I feel like I haven’t considered all the options and when I die, I don’t want to wonder if I was wrong I want to know with certainty that I was wrong or that as I suspect, I was right.
I think at the root of it that encapsulates my fascination with group sex in the face of the fact that I am a misanthrope with pronounced anti-social tendencies.