sex

I've recently spoken of my gut reaction upon viewing to the room full of my summer cohort: the whole lot of them don't like sex. People who have worked there know exactly what I mean (and this is something I only share with those I know well), but those who don't know the corporate face look at me a little strangely, like: 1) well, that makes no sense, who doesn't like sex? and 2) what, do you go around proclaiming/exuding how much you like sex? It's not exactly professional [you oversexed hussy (ed. note)].

Well, thank you Camille Paglia (and Adah for sending it along) for elaborating my point (which is expressed to its fullest potential at the most professional analytic organization in the nation):

In the discreet white-collar realm, men and women are interchangeable, doing the same, mind-based work. Physicality is suppressed; voices are lowered and gestures curtailed in sanitized office space. Men must neuter themselves, while ambitious women postpone procreation. Androgyny is bewitching in art, but in real life it can lead to stagnation and boredom, which no pill can cure.

Camille certainly has a way with words, and though I think the article is a strange conglomeration of generalizations and stereotypes conducted as an extreme sport and connected with fog, the woman does at least have a point with this. [OMG, the Beyonce comment, really?!!!! And the whole second half of the article--is she really invoking jungle-ism?]

Let's live life a little less sanitized, thank you very much. I'd much prefer it raw (life, you filthy scoundrels, though, now that you mention it, maybe sex, too) and a little gritty. We can make it interesting, I promise. Please, notice my butt and Pilates stomach (again, Camille, you are off here) and I will admire your shoulders and hands and recognize that you are a man and remember that at our core, we are animals. Animals with a brain and a conscience--no you can't touch--but animals nonetheless who eat, shit, and fuck.