Recommended. Especially on a Tuesday morning, when there are old people taking their dogs for a walk all around. Really!
Deep down, I know this is a terrible idea. I’ve seen The Beach. Communal living brings out the worst in people, I need my personal space, etc etc.
And yet, the pull is irresistible.
I have a busy life. I have friends. I’m loved. And yet, I feel, in some profound place in me, really, really alone. Modern life just is lonely, somehow. We’re more isolated, even if we’re with people all the time. As the Manic Street Preachers put it:
“The gap that grows between our lives
The gap our parents never had”
It’s true. People used to live in villages, forrevans sake. You said hello to the guy in the grocer’s every day; you knew that, regardless of what was going on in your life, he’d always be there. How much of that do we have now? Not friendships, with their quiet little power struggles. But just a network, a tribe, that provide your sense of place. The feeling of being _part of_ something.
not to mention of stepping outside the capitalist rat race, and all the political stuff.
So, at some point, I’m going to do this. Maybe just for a few months. Probably an urban one, so there’s a chance of escape; probably something with some sort of social purpose, as an artistic one would just be too ego-filled. But details to follow. It won’t happen for a while, as it involves having no job and no flat, and right now I’m kind of committed to both.
This is great. Why don’t more people want to do this? I don’t mean steal a quick rub in some dark street where a granny might catch you and die of shock. I mean properly, openly, amongst consenting adults. Like at the Masturbate-a-thon.
I did this. It was a little disorganised, with people rubbing up a little too close together. It was amazingly unerotic, despite it being jam-packed full of blokes, including surprisingly large number of fit ones. I literally had trouble keeping it up – it was just not a very sexy thing. But maybe that’s just me – I’ve always been the kind of person who prefers looking at limp dicks than hard ones.
The strange thing was, it wasn’t wierd. Really, amazingly, from the moment I went in it just seemed normal. Everyone was doing it their own way – some sitting down, some lying down, one guy standing up, which I thought was interesting (he kneeled down and pointed at the floor when he came). One guy was sitting bolt upright, stroking his enormous penis very regularly, chewing gum and reading porn with a very determined look on his face. He was clearly there for the sponsored part, and looked set for several hours. You could tell he was straight without looking at his porn, just from the way he was solidly avoiding looking anywhere apart from directly at it.
Eventually, I came and went, as it were. It was neither as scary nor as liberating as I expected. It just kind-of happened. But I certainly don’t regret it.
I’m surprised I haven’t done this, really. But I think making the leap from naked to nudist is quite a mental block. It’s definitely one of the top priorities, though I’ll wait for warmer weather.
years ago I saw a tremendous theatre show / party – thing. It was basically a bunch of people making animal noises and throwing paint around. But way, way better than that sounds.
And I was thinking, London needs a paint party. A big one. Get a warehouse, cover the walls with sheets, get everyone into some overalls, or better still, into nothing much; have some music, some dancing, some running around; then just bring out the paint and start throwing it around.
It’s hard to explain why it’s so cathartic – I think because it’s so flexible. If all you want to do is throw globs of (non-toxic) paint at your friends, you can. If you want to try to daub a masterpiece on the wall, you can do that too. If you want to daub a masterpiece on your best friend’s chest, even.
This should, by rights, be thoroughly achievable. It just requires (a) a warehouse, (b) loads of paint and (c) an audience. This must be doable.