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Duchamp's sitter seemed a bit colorless to me, so I (BMcC[18-11-46-503]) have replaced her. In either case, as he said, she is sexually aroused and wants to come.
I wonder what it's like for her? Orgasm is not very satisfying for me. Is that because I am male? Or is it due to my childrearing? I just now read that fungi can reproduce sexually, so my parents were maybe not asexual.
Mine was a Potemkin life. I seem to distinctly remember at about age 10 (11?) years riding my bicycle on a middle-class residential city street ("West End", Richmond, Virginia) late one summer afternoon peddling East and looking to my right and seeing a house (two houses, side by side?) that looked to me like it was just a facade with nothing behind it, like in a stage set. What did people do when they went behind the facade or did that cease to exist, like a realistic animated movie?
"a world of stereotypes... which contained no real human beings but merely standard roles whose comportment was assigned irrespective of individuality, character, temperament or nervous disposition." (Gregor von Rezzori, "The snows of yesteryear", p.93) It might not have been as bad had I not had to produce really real correct answers to their phantasmagoric test questions Or else! → If they had given me play money to exchange for their counterfeit products. If instead of haircuts they had given me a wig to wear in front of them. If instead of having been circumcised I could have pulled back my foreskin when they stuck their noses in my pants. If when I went to the office later as an adult I could have studied things that interested me instead of having to do the job. If etcetera and so forth about all the rest of it.
Rrose Selavy. Is there life before death? Nobody cared if I had any sexual pleasure. I you believe that was a good thing (perhaps because you believe children should be "innocent"), here was something else you will not like: I also object that there there was nothing that was an object of extra-sexual delectation: connoisseuship. In adult life I was to discover there were objects which it felt good to caress and reflectively examine for long periods. I don't like the word "pottery", but small pieces of pottery, for example.
Or music. In my social surround of origin there was no music which would instantiate the idea: "when word fail, music speaks". There was "Anchors away my boys, anchors away..." and Thompson's Method. Nor were there words that "spoke" to me, either. What the [Charles paid-on-the-insallment-plan...] Dickens?
America's President in 2023, Mr. Joseph Robinette Biden Jr., seems to epitomise this. He says he had trouble as a young person speaking. By which he is apparently referring to objective motor-skill stuttering (which is not a personality or mental defect). I hyposthesize it also was also a symptom of cognitive deficiency (low intelligence). He brags that he could always run with a football on the athletic field. "Look, ma, I made a touchdown! [unthematized message: "Love me and praise me and reassure me that I am better than those kids who get good grades in a classroom!"]!" "Joey, you're the best!" And he smiles.
Holding a football in my hands did not inspire me to feel esthetic delight. Since apparently anything can bring some women to orgasm, I just now imagined a young lady rubbing a football between her legs: "Oh, Joey!" To try to minimize bodily contact with coarse things, I can't remember when I started letting my fingernails grow long (analogous to if my parents would no have had the foreskin cut off the end of my penis to desensitize it/me). People do not like that — it's not "manly", i.e.: Ram Tough.
I never thought about it at the time but if anybody had asked me if I cared whether my parents, school teachers or classmates lived or died, yes or no, I expect I would have been surprised by the question, but what reason could I have had for not answering: "no".
