Back in the days when VHS was dying out, I was rummaging through a bargain bin filled mostly with generic garbage videos, Z-grade movies that still to this day nobody quite understands why they were made and finally, somewhere at the very bottom, I picked up the following gem.
I didn't know it at the time but, "Sick: The Life and Death of Bob Flanagan, Supermasochist" would introduce me to new ways of thinking about sexuality while also in turn, help me feel a lot better about mine (or at least at time, my lack thereof). His poem, 'Why' prompted me to analyze my own 'Why'...something I just noticed I haven't done in a long while.
I remember watching the video for the first time and finding myself utterly transfixed by Bob's physical and philosophical stance on sex and, perhaps more importantly, control.
Bob suffered from cystic fibrosis, a disease which generally doesn't grant its host a particularly long lifespan. Flanagan managed to make it to the ripe old age of 43, making him one of the oldest cystic fibrosis patients of his time. Throughout his life he was subjected to endless medical treatment which, for a very significant proportion of time (i.e. his entire life), was not a pleasant experience. He suffered incessantly from an abundance of dreadful symptoms such as choking on his own phlegm, perpetual lung infections, constant wheezing and shortness of breath. It's a really, really shitty disease and if you don't die from drowning on your own fluids/mucus/phlegm, you will definitely die from a less than comfortable death.
So what did this skinny, nerdy-looking, penis-piercing masochist have to teach me about control? Well, a lot actually. Firstly, that one doesn't need to be controlling in order to have control. That sexual enlightenment delves much further and much deeper into psychology if we would only allow it. That sexual experience is limitless and certainly not confined to the parameters between our legs. And that perhaps the only time we are truly at one with ourselves (or lost absolute control of our"selves") is in that precious moment of orgasm. I didn't really need Mr Flanagan to teach me that last particular fact since it is a prominent subject in other fields of research I am interested in anyway.
...
Suddenly I feel compelled to write a quick poem, so please excuse me as I write the following train of thought. I shall call whatever the following is my very brief (and very sudden) interpretation of Flanagan's poem, 'Why' as applied to my (sex) life. Don't expect Shakespeare here folks, rather a sudden impulse to write a poem instead of my usual ranting and raving.
I didn't know it at the time but, "Sick: The Life and Death of Bob Flanagan, Supermasochist" would introduce me to new ways of thinking about sexuality while also in turn, help me feel a lot better about mine (or at least at time, my lack thereof). His poem, 'Why' prompted me to analyze my own 'Why'...something I just noticed I haven't done in a long while.I remember watching the video for the first time and finding myself utterly transfixed by Bob's physical and philosophical stance on sex and, perhaps more importantly, control.
Bob suffered from cystic fibrosis, a disease which generally doesn't grant its host a particularly long lifespan. Flanagan managed to make it to the ripe old age of 43, making him one of the oldest cystic fibrosis patients of his time. Throughout his life he was subjected to endless medical treatment which, for a very significant proportion of time (i.e. his entire life), was not a pleasant experience. He suffered incessantly from an abundance of dreadful symptoms such as choking on his own phlegm, perpetual lung infections, constant wheezing and shortness of breath. It's a really, really shitty disease and if you don't die from drowning on your own fluids/mucus/phlegm, you will definitely die from a less than comfortable death.
So what did this skinny, nerdy-looking, penis-piercing masochist have to teach me about control? Well, a lot actually. Firstly, that one doesn't need to be controlling in order to have control. That sexual enlightenment delves much further and much deeper into psychology if we would only allow it. That sexual experience is limitless and certainly not confined to the parameters between our legs. And that perhaps the only time we are truly at one with ourselves (or lost absolute control of our"selves") is in that precious moment of orgasm. I didn't really need Mr Flanagan to teach me that last particular fact since it is a prominent subject in other fields of research I am interested in anyway.
...
Suddenly I feel compelled to write a quick poem, so please excuse me as I write the following train of thought. I shall call whatever the following is my very brief (and very sudden) interpretation of Flanagan's poem, 'Why' as applied to my (sex) life. Don't expect Shakespeare here folks, rather a sudden impulse to write a poem instead of my usual ranting and raving.
Why?
Because I never really know why.
Because why always changes.
Because things only makes sense when I really want them to.
Because most things really don't make sense.
Because I love love so much it makes me hate.
Because hate is easier.
Because the grass was always greener.
Because I was always bad at gardening.
Because I was brought up different.
Because different is always better.
Because better always means worse.
Because you can always get better at worst.
Dedicated to Bob Flanagan
Wise words from the faithful departed: there's no such thing as a misanthrope, only those who love too much.
ReplyDeleteAnd it's true. People end up hating themselves and other people because they love them so much they want everything to be perfect for them, and in chasing the unattainable, continually downgrade their every day experiences to the mundane.
It's also only natural to end up hurt through such experiences, and then one seeks purely to protect themselves and those they are close to - again, this manifests as hatred of everything else around them, and extreme possessiveness and coldness. Which is why if you love someone you have to let go - but not of them, of yourself. You have to show yourself at your most absolute vulnerable, be ready to be hurt, and accept that they may very well just do that. And not even by anything terrible, just by not meeting the expectations we might have of ourselves and of them.
Emotions ultimately are a process of the brain, but they're also poisonous to rational thought. Timothy Leary used to tell people to ignore emotions while embracing the joy of "the trip", and people thought he was being conflicting - but the truth was there as it was in antiquity: Laudanum for the senses, hemlock for the heart. You have to still your heart to open your mind, and once you dull all the materialistic sensory equipment, and pull back from raw emotion, you open completely the power of the psychopomp (in the Jungian sense).
Masochism is an extreme representation of such a thing, but it's really no different to someone who seeks introspection via meditation with a mentor they place complete trust in.
I've rambled a bit, but I'll close with words from one of the wisest souls who ever did walk;
"He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star".
Your comments are always such a pleasure to read! Why aren't you writing????!!
DeleteI'd always suspected the masochist in a BDSM scenario to be the "weaker" one but as time goes on I'm not so sure. There is such a strong sense of bravery that is shown in being so utterly and willingly vulnerable. A catharsis only felt by those who are able to truly give in to control. By making the decision to lose it, there is a metaphysical way of attaining it.
Hah! I'm not writing regularly for a simple reason - I'm merely a conduit in some regards, and only manage my moments of lucidity and rationed reason based on the depositions of others. It can be a phrase, a sentence, a paragraph, but I'm really not very good at positing my thoughts without something there to lead them into the wild. Same goes for drawing/painting. Basic muse model really.
DeleteAnd there's another way in which the masochist is the stronger partner in BDSM - they are usually the ones who come up with the scenario, or even if they are not, it is their mental capacity to believe in the process that encourages the creativity of the domina/master. And seeing as the domina/master is also supposed to be performing things that will pleasure and seduce their willing supplicant (even if such things would be considered torture by society), and there exists a safeword, really the whole situation is completely within in the control of the masochist while remaining completely outside their direct sphere of influence.