Sexual Voodoo

 

My pornographic tendencies are all a bit up in the air. I’ve declared that I will never tread backwards and return to it, yet still I am deluged and inundated with lustful thoughts. The intrusive nagging entering my consciousness include images of men, as if the Devil longs to embarrass me by bringing up material I used to be obsessed with over twenty years ago. I must have watched thousands of scenes in my time, and every one of them, including the ones I’d thought I’d forgotten, now has a habit of hiking up to the surface on my prefrontal lobe. In the good old days of ignorant porn use, I would ruminate upon these visions until payday, lining them up in order of how I would watch them, and then indulge as soon as I could afford to score drugs with them.

They were with me all the time. I would pace around my flat for hours, waiting for my dealer to turn up, watching erotica in my mind. The anticipation turned into anxiety. I could not bloody wait. When I thought I was clean, after a week or something in my youth, all it took was one errant thought and I would be lining up the scenes I was going to watch. I’d be straight on the blower, ordering amphetamine.

Sometimes, once I got online, the illicit content, while under the influence of powerful mind-expanding drugs, blew me away. I seemed to sink into my own flesh one time off ketamine and feel utterly resigned to an eternity of self-induced sexual fulfilment. I went into some kind of parallel presence, watching the movies so closely that I seemed to be in there with the actors. I shared every breath and moment with those false idol stars of the screen.

My addiction had the almost omnipotent ability to affect time. Hours and hours would flit away with an A-B loop on the DVD player, fractionally replaying just a small portion of existence which occurred on a random porn set on another continent in a different era. I’d co-exist in several moments which were embellishing themselves, with my zany schizo voyeurism methodology, into elongated segments of whole days and nights.

If I watch something three or four times, I’m usually bored. When I was capturing euphoric instances in micro looped digital animations, I would repeat them for many thousands of times, over and over, until admiring the same thing time after time began to change under the monotony of my retina and often became so confusing that it started to morph into something else. Stare at the same thing long enough and after so long your perception of it will change, so that it looks like something else entirely since the first moment you began to observe it.

Do this for several hours and you will likely scar your mind’s eye, as variation is the spice of life, not ogling a short sequence of images repetitively. Do this for a lifetime and you will likely find yourself in the position that I now inhabit, a reserved seat which is beleaguered by the preternatural. It’s meddling with perversion and very dangerous. I can’t began to describe how many strange occurrences went on in my mind and in my home when I was spending my whole adulthood watching pornography in this manner. One time, a penis developed a mouth and started biting the woman. Another, and she started waving at me, even though there was no wave in the actual footage. If I’d have just watched the movies from start to finish, like a normal person, I don’t think I would have had the same problems.

I used to rewind old VHS tapes so often to remain embedded in the ecstasy of the ‘good bits’ that I wore the tape out and ruined the film. I still have some old tapes stored away in the cubbyhole. The novelty, because it’s been so long, has been restored to those old adolescent scenes, but the backwards regression of my spirit, should I ever return, would sting like a bitch. Aren’t we supposed to learn from our mistakes? Repeating a newish recent mistake because you haven’t yet learned fully from it is slightly more understandable, but making the same mistakes you did as a teenager?

No thanks. I’m going to try and walk in the spirit and put all this digital voodoo behind me.