Jade Dragons

In China several thousand years ago Emperors used to train as Jade Dragons. Taoist sexual techniques for spiritual growth, healing and longevity. Old school rumpy-pumpy methodology. The archive of literature is vast. At first glance it looks like men get the bum rap. Apparently we’re not to release our semen at every encounter lest we grow weak, slow and very, very stupid. Man’s entire practice is about discipline and restraint. But the women are told to let go. They don’t tire from sexual encounters as we do. They are energized by them. A woman’s sexual appetite is said to be Oooo Shyien - without limit. And so for a woman to live at her full capacity she must be unleashed and given the freedom to have as many partners as she desires. But today such behavior is still condemned. Women still whores. Men studs. Yet biologically it’s all topsy-turvy. To remain strong and in good health a man must contain his Jing, his Mysterious Ancestor. A woman can go like the clappers. The more sex she has the more her immune system is boosted, the stronger she becomes, the more creative. Indeed the more a women gets nailed properly the more she will become like a god. Like high grade Ayuashca the bodies serotonin increases even after the peak. There simply is no come down. The result – a stronger, calmer, less nervous, yes, less neurotic feminine psyche. But for that she must be freed from the cultural stigma that restrains her. That creates repression and, in turn, illness within her. And all men, at one point or another, arrive at a moment in their lives when the boundaries of their so called love are tested. When they are asked if it has come with a condition. Because real love has no conditions. So a man, if he is one, must be completely prepared to give his lover the freedom that she may one day desire without retribution. And in turn she must ask herself if she is willing to accept it. For between a woman’s fear of freedom and a man’s jealousy of it, our evolutionary progress is at a standstill.

Tantra

I met a so called modern mystic yesterday. He was wearing a T-shirt that said Shopenhauer can suck my dick. He was one of those tall white guys with the Jesus of Nazareth beard who always turns up at the hottest parties shrugging their shoulders at the coat check girl because they’ve only got hundreds man. He wasn’t built for the city. He was beach culture. From the school of guitar players you normally find siting around a fire playing Redemption Song and talking softly to a bunch of girls about how surfing is life and life is about being real. And I’m all for people being real and just being themselves. But I usually find that people who say they’re just being themselves are actually being really weird people. But he was a nice guy. He never seemed to finish a sentence. If you stare at your reflection in the mirror for an hour man you’ll know … And then if he did, he’d leave you in conversation limbo. When I was in Bangalore I drove out to Puta Parti to buy a Sai Baba wrist watch and ran over a monkey. So I’d just say Amen. Which he seemed to like. He would just nod his head and point his fingers at my eyes. Then he told me how he’d begun learning about Tantric sex in his twenties and had found the secret to the mythical male multiple. His research sounded tremendous. For an hour he just reeled off techniques and terms like the upper left quadrant, simultaneous breath alignment and dipping chrechedos. Then out of the blue he blurted that he was a sex addict. He seemed very repentant. He even went to a mens group once a week and cried about it. He said he’d cried a lot in his life. I’d hoped he wouldn’t with me. But then he did. We were sitting in this club down town when it happened. His eyes just started welling up and before I knew it he was off. When the waitress came over I had an arm around his shoulder and was holding one of his hands. So I ordered two beers and a toddy. Don’t ask me why. Then he asked if I knew what an Eiffel Tower was. He was really blubbing at this point. I said I didn’t. He said it was when two men high five each other whilst making love to a woman. I said amen. He nodded his head. Then he asked me if I he wanted to know what his personal philosophy of sex was. Naturally I leaned in close. He said that it was a pact in which a woman agrees to free a man from sexual slavery in return for him freeing her from sexual guilt. And how do we do it, I asked. He said a Sydney Opera house. I said amen.   

Crystal

I met a rock star the other day who takes a lot of drugs and apparently has sex with a ton of women. I have to say, he looked like shit. But when you talked to him up close you really got the impression that he was thrilled with himself. That he believed he’d made it. That he was still making it. He kept drinking shots and I just kept wondering if he was enjoying it. So I asked him if he was actually getting pleasure out of it, or if he was just getting less pain. He nodded his head like I’d hit the nail on the head and then poured me a glass of Patron Silver. Then he told Crystal to come over and sit on my lap. Crystal was like fifty years old and had a fucked up hair-style. She was also big into leather. When I didn’t finish my glass she said she’d help me out and gulped it. Then she leaned forward and tried to kiss me. I think her plan was to pour it into my mouth from hers like a bird regurgitating food into its young. I think she thought this was the hottest thing ever. Crystal was pissed when I said I wouldn’t sleep with her. But it didn’t stop her from grabbing my crotch and threatening to take me apart. When I started sniggering I think she felt insulted. So I told her that I didn’t make love to people I wasn’t in love with. She thought that was hilarious and started repeating it to anyone who would listen. Payback for all the sniggering I guess. So I told her that sex wasn’t sport. That it was hard core. That it was the deepest communication we could have with another person. And that if your feelings for them were not aligned on that deepest of levels too, then you would accumulate precisely the amount of trauma that made up the difference. The simple reason why a one night stand always felt like such shit. Because the accumulation was at the max. It could go no deeper. When I finished talking Crystal was gawping at me as if I’d just produced a perfectly formed turd from out of one of my nostrils. When I told her it was her turn to speak she just removed her hand from my pants and walked away. I hadn’t meant to bum her out. But I had to say something.

Mama Gina

 

I went to a womens sexual healing and enlightenment graduation class the other day. Its a four month course that costs a packet where women learn to open themseves up sexually and become sister godesses. It was really inspiring. They alwayas invite men to the graduation party. When you walk in they’re all dolled up in these outfits. You can imagine the kind. There were about 200 of them and 80 of us. They were all screaming and carrying on. The guys were like deer in headlights. They had a class on how to kiss where two women got on stage and made out. One of the girls got her lipstick smeared all over her face. But it was very elegant. Then another one lay down on a table and pulled down her pants and we had a vagina class. It was really humbling. They got a head lamp and a high end DV camera and fed the image onto a wide screen behind the stage so you could see everything in detail. I think it was a Panasonic. And you might have thought that the girl was embarrassed. But not at all. In fact you could tell that exposing herself in this way was the most liberating thing she’d ever done in her life. It’s what I came away with. That quite frankly the greatest thing in the world is still the vagina. It’s top of the heap. And apparently women often forget this. It came as quite a shock to me. But its been staring us in the face all along. And yet its constantly being criticized, poked, covered up, hidden. Its the absolute last thing on display in society. And yet this experience the other night, really proved, that a single ones simple uncovered presence, in a chilly willy atmosphere, has a truly magical quality to it. I think a lot of healing took place. Later on at the after party I was asked by a man if I wanted to fuck his wife. I was very flattered but I was really hungry. So I went and got a slice instead.