Yesterday I finished reading an intriguing story — “A Change in Rebecca” — that moved me in so many contradictory ways. Technically speaking, it’s amazing how I could manage my evenings — sometimes my late nights — to make time for this read, to finish it in roughly one week. But hey, I don’t want to slip aside with my never-ending litanies of house chores, to-do lists and kids’ homework. No! I left the apron in the kitchen and I hurry up to my parallel life, where I wish to undress the worries away, to romance my passions into older and newer dreams, to show off my skin and seek for buried treasures in my soul, to breathe another air.
Your life can be either too busy or too boring (I wrote “your” and not “my” because I can’t remember the latest boring moment of my life, and I don’t know about yours 🙂 ). A life can’t be perfect even if it actually is. Why? Because our minds aren’t stable enough to cheer the Present as a framework for the future. My man keeps saying that our minds are seduced by many illusions, such as: the past, the future, time, space, the continuum, relativity. According to the bunch of arcane philosophies that he understands, or thinks to, objective existence is powered by the Logos and populated with persons. The rest is subjective play in our fantasies. Our minds can print these fantasies (to a certain degree) into what we call “reality.”
Oh wait, did I slip out of my kitchen apron only to lay myself under the rug of my man’s sci-fi Weltbild?! Well, after finishing the read, I took him to the garden with me, had him sit on the bench near me and asked him what he thinks about the outrageous occurrences of the Oedipus complex, or maybe the Electra complex.
“Nothing!” He answered me. “Why?” He then jabbed with that well-known (to me) instant mischievous grin.
I grasped the whim of his next question. Told him that I wish I had enough slow time on my hands to squander my thoughts away with theories about Oedipus, but the story of Rebecca rang the bells in every corner of my mind: compassion for the woman’s self-flagellation continence, sympathy for the wife’s self-sacrifice of giving love to her husband, fear for the gloomy perspective of an unusual sexual therapy, utter shock and abhorrence for the forbidden fantasies that (eventually) hijacked the entire story. All this mix of good and evil, well written and wrapped within the commonplace of marriage, blew up my mind.
I needed the analytic brain of my man to give me guidance, to walk me through the rocky straits of anger, repudiation and outrage (on one side), of empathy, indulgence and sinfulness (on the other). My common Compass tells me that something is terribly wrong at the core of it. But, like wars and hatred keep trying in the outer world, bad thoughts keep haunting the subconscious of our minds. They talk of peace when there’s war. We talk of normality when there’s nonsense.
“You can’t escape evil here, but you can contain it.” Said my man before digressing to lecture me about cybernetics and Artificial Intelligence. I wasn’t in the mood to listen all his slang-words, or non-words for that matter. He insisted.
Cybernetics is a transdisciplinary approach for exploring regulatory systems, their structures, constraints, and possibilities. Cybernetics is relevant to the study of systems, such as mechanical, physical, biological, cognitive, and social systems. Cybernetics is applicable when a system being analyzed is involved in a closed signaling loop; that is, where action by the system generates some change in its environment and that change is reflected in that system in some manner (feedback) that triggers a system change, originally referred to as a “circular causal” relationship.
Don’t blame me! He had me insert this definition in my article. I still can’t see the relationship between cybernetic systems (or whatever) and the cult’s war on sex, or the subliminal slippage of human thoughts toward evil deeds. Retrieving his hand from caressing my thigh, he fixed me in the eyes and asked: “What’s the invariable consequence of redundant copulation?”
“Pregnancy,” I said. “Reproduction. Offspring… Aha!”
“Human couples, or heterosexual groups, are complex systems, much more sophisticated than computers, robots, rockets, even than the financial market. Self regulation, the feedback loop, is the key to survival for any system. Even the haphazard of the evolution theorists accepts this. And the universe, which is nothing more than a simulation…”
“I can understand what you say, Don!” I cut him short from rambling away to his pet theme. Again!
“Okay. Experimenting with the evil thoughts induced by the Oedipus complex has been proven, for thousands and thousands of years, generation after generation (actually degeneration), to induce an extinction process. As for the branch ‘feeling’ her ways out on that path of perdition, that will gradually deteriorate, inducing dangerous gene mutations and establishing abominations. It is intrinsically evil by design, or lack thereof.”
“By experimenting you mean…”
“I mean what everyone means: trying out new concepts or ways of doing things. Ninety-nine percent of them are failures. Only the successful ones will make a difference, will build value and take us a step further. The rest is just a bunch of errors. Junk. Nonsense. This is how a cybernetic system selects which is the functional way to advance, to survive and thrive over the competing ones. This is how nature works. Have you heard about the Darwin Awards?”
“You’ve been telling me, long ago, I think… What about the thoughts and visions, the desires and attractions, the fears and aversions?”
“You can’t hide from them. Speak them out! Spit the snakes on the pavement. Let them dry in the sunshine. What bothers you, personally, after reading that piece of fiction, my darling?”
I told him, actually reminded him, about the few little nags of my teen years. About the neighbor at the second floor, in the flat across the alley, walking naked in his apartment. About the casual perverts pressing against my butts in the street car. About the grandpa of a colleague that hugged me too tight and too long for a spontaneous welcome gesture. About this or about that little thing diligently recorded in my high school diaries. Yes! I’ve uncovered the copy books in a dusted case in the garage with the spring overhaul.
“You know, Don, I find similarities between my childhood and that of the character, Rebecca, in this fiction story. Well, there are differences too, but I can see a pattern. I cannot overlook the sexual crisis that hits a traditional marriage around midlife. I rediscover myself in the role of the patient. Seeing you under the skin of the unorthodox therapist. However, I WILL NOT accept or indulge my imagination to step out on the mined fields of Oedipus and Electra. You exposed me naked on the internet. You made porn movies with me. There are strangers printing pictures of me, spurting their semen on them, photographing and emailing these things back to me. I have to sound excited and, shockingly, I feel somehow flattered, awkwardly but silently satisfied. You made me into a web mistress. You’re pimping me over the web and this makes me love you even more. I don’t mind to fellate you in the backyard, under the windows of our neighbors. Guess that I really enjoyed the thrill of being accidentally peeped on. All that fits. All that arouses me. Takes me out of my social shell, extroverting my sexuality and my joy of living.”
“And it makes me wonder. What if I’m going down on a slippery slope? What if next… The other abhorrent fantasies? What if?”
“Do you mind all the men staring at your intimacy, masturbating on your photos?”
“I don’t mind… If they mind their own business.”
“Would you touch any of them? In a sexual way.”
“Not at all! Are you mad?”
“Not mad, just a little crazy. See? You are okay being an exhibitionist but not okay being a swinger. You are a teaser not a hooker. And this suits you.”
“Makes me feel younger and happier to play in this game of yours. Takes away the grind of mothering, this enormous stress with the education of our kids. Makes me find a retreat where I can feel safe and sound. Brings me confidence and…”
“Hey, hey. I get the picture alright. But you missed a clue.”
“You are too busy to fantasize. You are too stressed and, may I say, unnerved by the fighting kids, by their restless and antagonistic temperament. You struggle to see them on their own feet, to give you a break! Let me tell you that the “gimme a break” parents-kids relationship is one of the healthiest: parents provide and teach the kids to acquire by themselves, to leave the nest and live on their own. Look what the swallows ( he means the songbirds) do with their little ones: feeding them, teaching them to fly then sending them out to form other nests. Nature at work! Trust me, you are at no risk, honey bee!”
“I even have a dominant bumble bee on my side, buzzing and telling me what to do.”
“It’s part of our romance, isn’t it?”
As a matter of fact, it is. He can blend dominance and obedience to me in the most romantic manners. Good that he fixed my scared mind once again with his cybernetic talking. I shall think no evil and take the troubling story of Rebecca as a fictional snake spitting on the sidewalk. The author had to discharge her daemons and she did it very well. I wish I could write such a good story!
Updates on my continuous public sexual therapy:
1. Hubby eventually found a window of time (yes, in that “time” about which he says that is an illusion) to create me an Author Page on Amazon.
2. The Southern Charms have accepted me as a charm and are gently hosting a new little erotic site of mine — Doris Dawn at Southern Charms.
3. Hubby (who else?) made me a Google+ personal page.
All of these have happened in only a week. Twas a busy week, I can tell…
Oh, and there goes the roughest of all the crazy stuff hubby does for me, or with me: Doris Dawn on RedTube.
Enough said about my cyber sex life!