There was a time when I was quite reactionary about using the word “dirty” to describe Sex, Art, Music, Thoughts or Words. In My World, the Sacred and the Profane alike wallow in the same muck. There was a time when I thought that Sex, for instance was not “dirty”…and I would have argued with anyone who called me “promiscuous” because I felt defensive about what the word meant to them…I’ve had plenty of time to rethink all that several times over….
I suppose when the general consensus was that Sex is Dirty, then Sex without shame, or guilt, or association with Sin is liberating, even to the point of exhilaration. If you still think that Sex is dirty per se, you are probably a gynecologist, and single.
I am neither of those, although I must admit that the concept of being very well paid to look at vaginas all day long fills me with curiosity just long enough to make me want to badly hurt my high school guidance counselor. Then reality sets in…an endless queue of diseased and broken cunts…heartbreakingly curious, a mixture of revulsion and fascination. Janitor to The Temple of the Holy of Holies. Of course, many of them would just be average healthy women, in for their fifty-thousand mile maintenance check. I remember when I worked as a municipal paramedic that on the numerous times I was called upon to inspect one (like a labor and/or delivery call), that I called upon a considerable amount of reverence and decorum by remembering to NOT smile wistfully, as I am often want to do when I see a woman’s flower under non-clinical circumstances, but rather to inconspicuously touch my badge and simply think “God, I love this job.”
This post may be well on the way to running off the rails by way of digressions, but both topics, as well as most related subjects are so near to my heart that I can easily get lost like a child in a department store full of toys and candy.
I read a definition of the word Turpitude that stated that (by definition) “…if you are guilty of turpitude, you should be ashamed of yourself…”. I felt offended…I mean, here a person spends their entire life devoting themselves to depravity only to be so harshly judged. Fortunately, I have also learned to consider self-righteousness to be its own punishment.
By God, but I do digress…back to dirty as a state of mind…A Dirty Mind is a Terrible thing to waste. And Turpitude is its own Reward. The world writhes with Sex at the core of virtually every motivation, ambition, or interest since the beginning of time…Sex…self-replicating DNA…our biological imperative…good for more than a few nights worth of Adventure, but there IS Something Beyond even the most frenzied, sweaty physical couplings…The Zealot’s Chariot of Fanaticism…where the body drives itself to overthrow the tyranny of the rational mind, only to have The Id, the Imp of the Perverse to deliver the final coup and establish its own Junta overrunning all reason…frenzied Ecstasy storms the barricades…short circuits the brain and releases The Madman from the Prison of the Mind…and all in good fun, (tastefully set to whatever Music blows your skirt up). Dirty is a state of Mind…it can take you to the edge of the volcano…it can make you laugh until you cry…and its all inside your head, the biggest sex organ of all.
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