Super Size Me

I have found some writing on my computer that bears further reading. I presented this on New Year’s Eve, 2007 at Stuart Purves’ house in Sydney It was received poorly on that occasion. I am reminded often, by people who were there, of how poor a writer I am, how embarrassed I should have been and that I should stick to sculpture. You know who you are. I still can't see it..

Super Size Me.

Important to end the year with a big climax. The question on everyone’s lips is, “Why is David’s penis so small?” It is a topic raised with never an explanation offered. I am here to say, happy to say that I know the answer.

Michelangelo knew the bigger the penis the more emphasis would be removed from the body. With David the penis as it stands is compacted into the body which allows the beauty of the rhythms and volumes and overall scale of the body to be fully revealed. He is especially naked because of the size of his penis. Were it larger he would be much less naked.

Only in a state of desire or lust is any other configuration (of the penis) desirable or pleasing. In fact, within the scope of body parts of either gender there is nothing more frightening, ugly or threatening than a large penis.

The perception of the beauty of the larger penis is available only within the engorged blood vessels of the brain when it is in a state of arousal when the normal sense of proportion is suspended.

I am brought to these thoughts by a succession of related thoughts that were headed in this direction. The thoughts are triggered by events as well and daily activities, one of which is vacuuming my inbox and trash mail which 300 times a day, more or less invites me to consider my penis as small. I am induced to finally offer a comeback, a resistance, a retaliation.

Sex used to be a subject that was not discussed. It was a private thing and sacred. In sex we could be prolific, periodic or abstinent, privately. We could be loving, we could be animal or just pure vegetable. We could, by stealth seduce. We could front up uninvited and unwelcome.

We could be mechanical, predictable and reveal ourselves as total strangers, once.

I need to divert from my train of thought. There is a customer demanding attention. “Yes sir?”

“The male is confronted on a daily basis by the shifting reality of his penis. You see, there is no normal size. The penis as a presence changes as much as if a new head reflected itself in the mirror every time you looked. Because there is such a fluctuation of size, it is hard to get a grip on, as a thing. When we imagine our body to be real and a tangible representation of our presence in the world, our penis mocks us as being this shifting sand. Depending on times of the day, weather, states of consciousness, my personal penis size varies between that which almost entirely concealed within the body, to inducing me to lift my chin.”

“My penis asks me to ask myself, who am I?”

My Trash box invites me to consider instead a finite penis which is large or small. The woman has been instructed by the penis cosmetics industry, by literature and perhaps even to some extent her innate libido to make the penis finite, tangible, graspable.

Her desire is highly suggestible and will take all comers in a feeding frenzy of ideas. In the realm of secrecy and privacy, sex was anything and everything. Thanks to the age sex has been reduced to the big push and to climax. The confusion brought about by that which cannot be nailed down is just too hard to bear.

The fireworks tonight present for all their magnificence another viagrafication of reality.

And we shall embrace that climax with due caution.