For almost a month, I've been trying to write about a singular occasion. The 'backspace' key is worn out on my laptop, due to me typing...then deleting...typing...then deleting. I've never had a subject this challenging to put into words. My brain has been working overtime attempting to capture the chaos I experienced during my first visit to a bathhouse in Berkeley.
My night was filled with bizarre characters, hot micro-connections and uncomfortable pleasures. There were no introductions or farewells...no words...very little light. Can poetry really capture the atmosphere of infinite foreplay and insatiable flesh? Would words be able to translate the tension I felt being between caution and opportunity? Hopefully, I can give this moment justice.
Whenever I have difficulty, I always turn to my most twisted muse, Alessandro Bavari. His art captures a disturbing space between fairy tales and fetish, which, oddly, takes on Biblical themes as a result. Furthermore, his work is very dense with detail and layers; the second piece in this post is actually a close-up of the first picture. Using his art work as inspiration, I'll be breaking my thoughts into different segments. That night was so rich and eventful that it would be impossible for me to summarize into one piece.
Warning: these entries are tangled with erotic and disconcerting material; please read with an open mind. Feel free to make judgments, I am open to any questions or concerns regarding my take on public sex and other risky behaviors. "Downtown Sodom" is my songbook dedicated to a night of random hedonism.