I must have been and still remain hopelessly naive about the entire thing. It's a kind of neotony, I suppose. It's why kitty cats remain terminally adolescent and play with prey instead giving it a swift efficient killbite like their wild cousins. We twisted them in this manner through domestication. Kind of like the way a teenage boy twisted me when I was five by making me sit on his cock while another teenager watched behind the bushes beside the junior high school next to my house (true). I can only conclude that my relationship with pornography and the intense, disturbed, conflicted feelings it arouses in me are brought on by a strange sort of identification with the women because of this incident. My horror/arousal at their ruin is really a subconscious realization of my own. It makes sense to me. Why it took me this long to figure it out is a mystery. And yes, there is no good reason for any one here to care a whit about this, but I've spent a lot of time here in the past and I know that the examination of narcissism/delusion is a prime function/pasttime here. I offer mine up humbly and with sincerity for you to pick over in your inimitable fashion. Or not. We are like family. My experience of family anyway. Every Thanksgiving began with smiles and ended with drunken accusations, the dredging up of the past, occasional violence, and always, always the caterwauling little ones, confused and terrified as their world seemed to collapse as they looked on.
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