Sinister: seven hundred and seventy seven times lovelier than anything that I've ever seen

[Will Porter]

So the following is a distillation of some ideas that I've been
fumbling with for a while, and even mentioning in some (other, smaller)
forums, so if they sound familiar, I apologize.
Chapter the first in which Will talks about underpants:
So the other day, I was dressed dully, as being a librarian is wont to
make one do: blue-gray pants, blue and white shirt, gray tie, gray
socks, brown shoes and belt.  Underneath, however, I was equipped with
lime green, polka dotted underpants.  As I was giggling to myself about
the sillyness of my underpants, it struck me: What better expressor of
the flamboyances we keep tucked just below the surface?  Underpants:
the hidden canvas, the scroll tucked neatly around our goodies whose
verse might *just* tell a secret ("But I like you"?  "I'd rather be
wearing bright green dots"? "I didn't expect to get quite this naked
with anyone tonight"?) to someone we want to tell (or otherwise
enlighten) badly enough to shed those clumsy outer pants.  I like that.

Chapter two in which Will talks about kisses (in accordance with
Sinister  post code 374.68y paragraph 3, which requires that I talk
about little else):
1. Inasmuch as 'you' consists exclusively of you, and 'I' consists
utterly of me (or is it I?), then 'us' (we?) is really just a kind of
aggregate of you and I.  Chemically speaking, a mixture and not a
compound.  
2. Kissing, it has been said by someone whose identity I have forgotten
if I ever knew, is the process of getting two people so close to one
another that they cannot see the flaws.
I can't help but see these two as related concepts: is kissing simply
the anatomical juxtaposition or two orbicularis oris muscles in a state
of contraction, or is it something else?  Perhaps a sometimes-casual,
sometimes-feverish attempt to cram simultaneously as much of 'you' into
'I' and 'I' into 'you' as possible, bringing the elements so close 
together as to blur their borders?  Can proximity, generating heat and
burning out impurities like some kind of Bessemer process, result in a
more permanent fusing, an alloy of youandI as distinct from a heap of
you stirred up with a pile of I?  

I always seem to have more questions than answers.

In conclusion, Will's Infinite (or at least extended) Sex Hypothesis
(now, this one has already been scoffed at by a couple of you who knew
me when I was in Texas, including but not limited to the lovely and
talented ree.  However, I refuse to let it go, so I put it forth to the
lot of you for further mockery. Anyway, it might be more of an ideology
than a hypothesis):
Ahem.  The following is based upon the assumption that we are all in
agreement about 3 fundamental things: 1. the notion that sex ends with
the male orgasm is false (see lesbian sex for more details) 2. the 
notion that sex ends with anybody's orgasm is false or at least not 
necessarily true (see those lucky multi-orgasmic bastards for more
details).  3. 'Sex' is not strictly genital-genital contact between a
man and a woman (christ, don't be so provincial).  Anyway, so WIOALESH
follows pretty reasonably (I think): Since there is no discernable
endpoint of sex, it doesn't end at all.  Or at least not all at once. 
Further, since sex is not a particular, explicit activity, but rather a
hazily defined category of activity, once you have entered a state of
sex with a partner, that state doesn't end (or at least it takes a
great deal longer than we currently imagine), rather heretofore
non-sexual activities (like balancing the checkbook--an activity that
could use some sexing up) become sexual in their own right, and all of
your intercourse becomes sexual.  

I always feel a bit silly saying that last part to people.


umm
okay bye

will porter

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