Skip to main content

Los Boys

The news that "Los 33" managed their outstanding feats of survival with the help of some Mary Jane, porn, and dreams of inflatable sex dolls, while certainly a bit rock and roll, does rather reduce their moral stature - or does it?  It does raise a troubling question - why do men, locked in darkness a mile below the crust, require depictions of raw sex to keep their spirits alive?  Is love not enough, as Depeche Mode once sang?  I cannot imagine 33 women requiring pornography in such a situation - can you?

Comments

Poetry Pleases! said…
Dear Todd

Yes! It is a little known fact that women are every bit as licentious as men. They are just far better at hiding it.

Best wishes from Simon
richard lopez said…
one of the best books i've read about sex, desire, love and porn is TALK DIRTY TO ME: AN INTIMATE PHILOSOPHY OF SEX by sallie tisdale. tisdale writes with candor about her own sexuality and is a validation of being human, i think. even with tisdale's writings about sex i've no idea if women would fantasize about blow up dolls or even fantasize as men do but i believe that women do lust as mightily as men do, but differently. as the poet thom gunn once wrote, 'we are the same in different ways/we are different in the same way'. sex makes love, sex makes babies, the desire for sex makes sex, and sex helps create, in the phrase of joyce, the consciousness of our human race(s). and maybe if the 33 women were like tisdale they might indeed need porn to survive too.
Natalia S said…
Strongly agree with Simon :) How do you think Sapho survived in her island? I doubt that 33 women would use Mary Jane though.

Popular posts from this blog

Review of the new Simple Minds album - Walk Between Worlds

Taste is a matter of opinion - or so goes one opinion. Aesthetics, a branch of pistols at dawn, is unlikely to become unruffled and resolved any time soon, and meantime it is possible to argue, in this post-post-modern age, an age of voter rage, that political opinion trumps taste anyway. We like what we say is art. And what we say is art is what likes us.

Simple Minds - the Scottish band founded around 1977 with the pale faces and beautiful cheekbones, and perfect indie hair cuts - comes from a time before that - from a Glasgow of poverty and working-class socialism, and religiosity, in a pre-Internet time when the heights of modernity were signalled by Kraftwerk, large synthesisers, and dancing like Bowie at 3 am in a Berlin club.

To say that early Simple Minds was mannered is like accusing Joyce of being experimental. Doh. The band sought to merge the icy innovations of German music with British and American pioneers of glam and proto-punk, like Iggy Pop; their heroes were contrived,…

THE WINNER OF THE SIXTH FORTNIGHT PRIZE IS...



Wheeler Light for 'Life Jacket'.

The runner-up is: Daniel Duffy - 'President Returns To New York For Brief First Visit'

Wheeler Light currently lives in Boulder, Colorado.



Life Jacket

summer camp shirtsI couldn’t fit in then
are half my size nowI wanted to wear
smaller and smallerarticles of clothing
I shrunk to the sizethat disappeared

of an afterthoughtin a sinking ship body
too buoyant to sinktoo waterlogged for land
I becamea dot of sand

JOHN ASHBERY HAS DIED

With the death of the poetic genius John Ashbery, whose poems, translations, and criticism made him, to my mind, the most influential American poet since TS Eliot, 21st century poetry is moving into less certain territory.

Over the past few years, we have lost most of the truly great of our era: Edwin Morgan, Gunn, Hill, Heaney and Walcott, to name just five.  There are many more, of course. This is news too sad and deep to fathom this week.  I will write more perhaps later. 

I had a letter from Ashbery on my wall, and it inspired me daily.  He gave me advice for my PhD. He said kind things about a poetry book of mine.

He was a force for good serious play in poetry, and his appeal great. So many people I know and admire are at a loss this week because of his death. It is no consolation at present to think of the many thousands of living poets, just right now. But impressively, and even oddly, poetry itself seems to keep flowing.