Genius and Lust.

January 9, 2011 at 12:22 P.M. My computer's security system was disabled yesterday. After several efforts I was able to reboot and reconnect my security system. A red signal indicates that there are 2 security issues, again, afflicting my security system. Several "errors" were inserted in the text which appears below. I will do my best to correct them now. I cannot say how many other writings have been disfigured during the time when my security system was disabled.

January 2, 2011 at 12:09 P.M. Accessing these writings is very difficult. I will make use of public computers as much as possible. I will try to run necessary scans of my computer, every day, until I am successful. I will continue to struggle. No accents are available on this keyboard -- nor do I approve of accents as they are indicative of an oppressive male hierarchy which makes use of these phallic devices and punctuation marks to demean female-oriented persons subjected to a gendered-perspective on culture. Use of any accent suggests "insensitivity to women's issues." 

December 31, 2010 at 5:16 P.M. I will struggle to continue writing from public computers today. This essay was drafted at a library computer and -- against great obstacles -- also at my home computer. I have no idea whether I will be able to post it after it is finished. My security system is disabled. My computer is turned-off by hackers on a regular basis. I have adjusted by writing and posting, as much as possible, at public computers from various locations in New York.

Two of my computers have now been destroyed by protected computer criminals from New Jersey. Police and prosecutors seemingly ignore evidence of the commission of such crimes. My communications to the authorities go unanswered. 

Many Americans see themselves as without rights (or subject to diminished rights) on the basis of race, ethnicity, sex and/or gender to say nothing of differential wealth as compared with the 1%. ("New Jersey's Filth, Failures, and Flaws.")

"The Format of the Semantic Space." (Umberto Eco.)

Siri Hustvedt, A Plea for Eros (New York: Henry Holt & Co., 2002), pp. 45-60.

I sit at a library computer making these words appear on "my" screen. There are several lonely library customers sharing this space with me -- a space of silence and learning, along with the company of books and their approbation. The silent "approval" of books means almost as much to me as the acceptance of people. Naturally, I yearn for the disapproval of sanctimonious hypocrites from New Jersey. ("William Somerset Maugham's Bag of Books" and "New Jersey's 'Ethical' Legal System.")

We are invited to read and write, or to think and ponder "here." This invitation and opportunity is rare in contemporary America, especially in my city where everybody is in a hurry.

There are older men in the library -- one is sleeping -- children loudly comment on their computer games. As I type, furiously, a man in a turban works at a lap-top computer with a graduate student's earnestness. There are several women in the library. I always notice women before others.

I am fifty-one years old today, gray-haired, in very good physical shape (these days), slim, athletic, wearing a black turtleneck sweater and leather jacket, denims, silver-framed spectacles.

There is something vaguely academic or professorial about me, also something that suggests to careful observers -- equally -- a cop or criminal. I am told that there is something "dangerous" or "scary" about me. I cannot imagine why people feel this way. I am a bit of a mystery, strangely alluring to cultural anthropologists of the female persuasion offering to dissect me free of charge. No, thank you.

A slim woman in early middle-age sits at the central desk assisting library patrons, offering professional smiles and condolences to puzzled "guests" of the library.

Another much younger woman whose jeans allow for the exposure of her rectum smiles at me, rises, turns her back to me as she bends over to ensure that I will enjoy an unobstructed and complete view of her anatomy.

I am surprised, saddened, curious, even if nothing shows in my expression. I look more closely at the young woman sporting tattoos on her neck, dirty hair collected in a bun, there is something unformed or incomplete about this person who seems to be in great pain.

Why the display for my benefit? Is she really so desperate for attention and the concern of "male persons" that it is necessary to resort to such a desperate ploy?

I can imagine what her early life must have been. I am deeply sorry for her. I hope that she will be O.K. I would never be attracted to that young woman. Mostly, I feel a depressing "fatherly" concern for her welfare. This has nothing to do with her physical appearance nor is it a denial that she is a normally attractive young woman. I could not desire this young person because her actions and displays are the opposite of erotic to me. She is not yet a woman. Maybe she never will be a woman. ("For Floria Tosca -- With Love and Squalor.")

"Erotic" is a word I associate much more with the slender woman at the library desk who is buttoned-up, polite, distant, clearly intelligent and in her forties, I guess, also probably in a happy relationship.

Despite the fashionably thin exterior, I find the librarian more desirable -- as distinct from more physically attractive -- than the younger "female person."

I am not all that unusual, I am sure, in distinguishing eros, desire, bodies and imagination from romance and sex. Hence, this essay by Siri Hustvedt that explores the enigma of eros, feminism's puritanical streak, and America's "passion" (if you'll forgive the expression) for legislating moral codes.

Incidentally, "Femi-Nazi" is an expression used by Russ Limbaugh (R) and Bill Maher (I). Is this resort to loaded language a display of hostility toward women or only towards puritanical stupidity? You decide. ("Good Will Humping.")

We must not refer to "men and women," as this is a "gendered view of our options," but we should speak only of "male- and female-oriented" persons, according to the feminist guestapo that is notoriously located in places like Smith College and devoted to something called Bitch magazine. I know of this devotion because I have purchased and read Bitch magazine, also discussing articles in this happily subversive publication with my daughter. Whatever.

"Eros and Errancy."

Why do I desire this woman and not that one? I don't know or want to know. I suspect that there are no clear rules or any logic to such determinations or preferences. I like "curvy" women, but a particular thin woman may be attractive for unknown reasons. All races and ethnicities are beautiful and may evoke a passionate response in the right circumstances.

Part of the delight of New York life is "seeing" all kinds of women from everywhere in the world strolling on sidewalks. Usually, glamorous women "ask" to be seen or enjoy admiration. I like women. I enjoy admiring women's beauty. I do not ogle, of course, nor do I stare inordinately, but I glance without guilt or embarrassment at women I find attractive, especially when they are unaware of being seen and are most unselfconscious. I expect that I will continue to do so for the rest of my life.

An example is a woman seen briefly on a subway train last summer. She appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties, beautiful, in deep pain, and (I am certain) a victim of great trauma of some kind. I saw her wipe a single tear from her eyes as she exited the train at 175th Street (G.W. Bridge?), then sigh deeply with the weight of many worlds on her shoulders.

Whoever she is, this woman must be a suffering and very brave person. I will never forget her.

The politically correct thought police have outlawed "staring" or "looking at women" which sounds ridiculous and dangerous, inevitably we will be bumping into each other a lot because no one is looking at any other person but only at the floor at all times. Presumably women will be forbidden to look at men, except for lesbians who are permitted unfettered viewing of all others.

Antioch College experienced so many difficulties resulting from a notorious prohibition on male "looking" at females that the law was rescinded. Only in America is this nonsense possible.

Will we also outlaw desire among persons from rival political parties?

Ms. Hustvedt is a feminist. Fair-minded observers would probably conclude that I am also a feminist. Nevertheless, Ms. Hustvedt is ambiguous or skeptical concerning attempts to control male "seeing" or "visual regard" when it is "pointed" at female persons in our society. The attempt to regulate what men may "look at" seems absurd and totalitarian to me:

" ... a law enacted at Antioch College, ... essentially made every stage of a sexual encounter on campus legal only by verbal consent. [It was this same college that prohibited "staring" by anyone at all others? Or only staring by males at females?] My friend paused, smiled, and replied, 'It's wonderful. I love it. Just think of the erotic possibilities: May I touch your right breast? May I touch your left breast?' The woman had nothing to say." (p. 45.)

Perhaps a legal document granting permission at each stage of coitus may be drafted and signed with each side receiving legal representation before the sexual act is consummated?

Ms. Hustvedt recognizes that eros is a sly and playful god who is utterly unpredictable. Feminist attempts to regulate this activity become absurd as well as comical:

"American feminism has always had a puritanical strain, an imposed blindness to erotic truth, there is a hard, pragmatic aspect to this. It is impolitic to admit that sexual pleasure comes in all shapes and sizes, that women, like men, are often aroused by what seems silly at best and perverse at worst. And because sexual excitement always partakes of the culture itself, finds its images and triggers from the boundaries delineated in a given society, the whole subject is a messy business." (p. 47.)

What is attractive to any of us is, and should be, mysterious because desire is expressive of the human imagination. A woman's smile, gestures, hair, perfume, self-consciousness and/or absence of self-consciousness may attract us, equally, and her flirtation or indifference may be an intended signal to approach her for the right recipient of the signal. The wrong recipient -- the person who cannot take a hint -- will approach and annoy women for any (or no) reason. Sometimes, you have to let that person know that he or she is obnoxious to you.

No law will prevent this sort of conduct from jerks. There are some human behavioral issues that are not legally resolvable. Much as I would like to do so, I am sure that outlawing stupidity would not abolish imbecility and that many morons would continue to dwell among us, mostly as members of the legal profession filling positions in the federal and state judiciaries. ("What is Law?")

Many women are much more attractive than they realize, especially if they are devoted to the advice of women's fashion magazines or Dr. Phil, so as to worry about how "fat" they are all the time. I have never met a woman who thought that she was sufficiently thin. It is when women are unselfconscious that they are most highly desirable because they are fully free.

The erotic imagination is not a fitting subject for legal regulation, especially when it remains private or unexpressed. I will look at and admire whomever I please. I will delight in the occasional imaginary weekend in Venice with any woman I find desirable, famous or not, without altering my loyalty (or loyalties) to the very few women I have loved and will continue to love in my life.

None of these matters -- neither my loves nor my desires -- are the government's business. I do not care whether my erotic sensibilities are "politically correct." I am not distressed at the thought that Bitch magazine disapproves of my erotic dreams. I may -- if the spirit moves me -- even use the forbidden word "chic" on rare occasions, as I visit the "Chic Lit" section of the bookstore, for instance, which is so described by the management at Barnes & Noble.

I also have no interest in anyone's opinions of me, especially when it comes to the corrupt officials in New Jersey violating my civil rights on a daily basis. You are welcome to your opinions, but not to censor or suppress my writings nor to obstruct my communication efforts. I hope that you will not get away with your crimes. ("How Censorship Works in America" and "What is it like to be tortured?")

What is offensive is not normal human erotic responses and fantasies, but the presumption by busybodies who would invade our inner lives in the interest of a laughable political correctness and puritanical strains of feminism that are as intolerant as all forms of religious fundamentalism and just as irrational. This is one theme of Philip Roth's The Human Stain.

Feminist zealotry -- which has nothing to do with genuine feminism -- would deprive men and women of their private erotic yearnings or free sexual expressions that are shared, willingly and voluntarily, with adult others choosing to partake of sexual delights.

Unwelcome advances against anyone are already regulated by law. Rape is a crime. Sexual desire and erotic imagination or play, mercifully, are still legal -- outside of New Jersey. There was a time in America when these observations were considered "common sense."

On the cover of Kate Millett's Sexual Politics (a work that I have, as it were, "dipped into" on occasion) is the claim: "The single most important book to challenge the tyranny of sex!"

I can assure you that "sex" has won the contest with Ms. Millett's book.

Sex continues to tyrannize all of us in delightful ways. This is irrelevant to the equally valid and powerful presence of romantic love in our lives.

"Make me free of this cruel and insane master, oh gods," Sophocles complained of sex while adding, "but not yet."

Sophocles was eighty-three, I believe, when he made this plaintive statement. I concur in the sentiment.

In Paris, as a young man, a French woman's sexual invitation and playfulness through a long-held stare that we shared as we approached one another in a sidewalk provided us with an unforgettable experience. We were each with someone we loved as we indulged in an unspoken erotic conversation. This was clear to both of us. There was no actual infidelity involved. Neither of us would have left the person we were with, but each saw and entered the other's life, briefly, respected the other's relationship and situation, while communicating (without a single word) the reality of intense desire and curiosity. I am amazed that so many people have never enjoyed unspoken sexy chats with strangers.

"The objects of our attraction are not figments of our imagination, however much imagination may embelish them. They are real human beings whom we need and whose union with us will make us complete and whole, and heal the wounds that their separation from us seems to have inflicted on us. These are experiences of the soul, dangerous and thrilling, next to which almost all others pale." (Bloom, pp. 550-551.) ("'Inception': A Movie Review.")

This sort of unspoken and touchless erotic experience may not be possible in America for American women and men. This is a loss for our culture.

My Parisian encounter spoke of infinite possibilities without regret and respectfully. There was a time when such levels of meaning were available to Americans -- the novels of Henry James make this abundantly clear -- but now they are lost to us.

Have Americans gained or suffered a diminution because of these cultural transformations? Please discuss.

We both understood, at a visceral level, what it would be like to make love to one another (my Parisian lady and I) and were attracted to the possibility without acting on that longing. Each saw him- or herself in the eyes of the other -- liking the reflection and the other's admiration. I will never forget that "brief encounter" in Paris or confuse the emotions of that moment with decades-old loves in my life. I do not believe that I deceive myself that she -- this mysterious French woman -- will remember the moment also. This was a moment unseen by our loved-ones that ended with a pretty wave and a lovely smile, maybe a tiny shrug of the shoulders:

"This is my call for eros, a plea that we not forget ambiguity and mystery, that in matters of the heart we acknowledge an abiding uncertainty. I honestly think that when we are possessed by erotic magic we don't feel like censoring Kafka or much else, because we are living a story of exciting thresholds and irrational feeling. We are living in a secret place we make between us, a place where the real and unreal comingle. That's where the young philosopher took the woman with the belligerent question. He brought her into a realm of the imagination and of memory, where lovers are alone speaking to each other, saying yes or no or 'perhaps tomorrow,' where they play at who they are, inventing and reinventing themselves as subjects and objects; and when the woman with the question found herself there she was silent." (p. 60.) (emphasis added)

If you want to read more concerning the "death of eros" controversy:

Simon Blackburn, Lust (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004).

Allan Bloom, Love & Friendship (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1993).

Umberto Eco, A Theory of Semiotics (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1976).

Umberto Eco, Travels in Hyperreality (New York & London: Harcourt, Brace & Jovanovich, 1983).

Marilyn French, The Women's Room (New York: Bantam, 1977). (Ms. French's first marriage is anything but romantic.)

Marjorie Garber, Vice Versa: Bisexuality and The Eroticism of Everyday Life (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1995). (Ms. Garber is a Shakespeare scholar, superb critic, and cultural theorist.)

Germaine Greer, The Female Eunuch (New York: Bantam, 1972). (We forgive her for writing well.)

Rosemary Houghton, Love (Baltimore & London: Penguin, 1971).

Luce Irrigaray, Elemental Passions (London: Athlone Press, 1992). (Joanne Collie & Judith Still, trans.) (Forces of Darkness.)

Henry James, The Critical Muse: Selected Literary Criticism (New York & London: Penguin, 1987).

Susan K. Langer, Mind: An Essay on Human Feelings (Baltimore & London: John Hopkins University Press, 1988).

Norman Mailer, Genius and Lust: A Journey Through the Major Writings of Henry Miller (New York: Grove Press, 1976).

Norman Mailer, The Prisoner of Sex (New York: New American Library, 1971).

Jean-Luc Marion, The Erotic Phenomenon (Chicago: University of Chivago, 2007). (Stephen E. Lewis, trans.) (The Good Guys.)

Kate Millett, Sexual Politics (New York: Bantam, 1969).

Robert Nozick, The Examined Life: Philosophical Meditations (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1989).

Martha Nussbaum, Love's Knowledge: Essays on Philosophy and Literature (New York & Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990).

Camille Paglia, Vamps & Tramps: New Essays (New York: Vintage, 1994). (La sua vendetta e terribile!)

Philip Roth, The Human Stain (Boston & New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2000).

Roger Scruton, Sexual Desire: A Moral Philosophy of the Erotic (New York: The Free Press, 1986). (Read the Introductory sections, the chapter on "Desire," and the Appendix on "Intentionality.")

James Waddell, Erotic Perception: Philosophical Portraits (Boston: University Press of America, 1997).

Jeannette Winterson, Written on the Body (New York & London: Vintage International, 1992). (Lesbian, radical-feminist, romantic and Romantic.)

Elizabeth Wurtzel, Bitch: In Praise of Difficult Women (New York: Random House, 1998). (A representative of the forces of evil.)

Slavoj Zizek, The Metastases of Enjoyment: Six Essays on Woman and Causality (London: Verso, 1994).