Ten Most Harmful Books ...

[Glenn Scheper]

> I was having trouble with this image
> ...the clit devours the vagina?
> ...it penetrates the attached vagina.

No,no,no! Here is that tantric event in a little detail:
http://home.earthlink.net/~glenn_scheper/2005-02-02.htm
http://home.earthlink.net/~glenn_scheper/2005-03-15.htm

Here is a part of a Part 8 I once was writing to P-list,
about after my planned day, and before the actual event
of trying to approximate a pure tryst of AC opposite AF:

In that period of time, I was at work, totally
alone in my area, standing leaning over with my
hands on my desk, and suddenly I felt fiercely,
bodily, that my anus was being penetrated by a
very real feeling but phantom penis. And I was
thus being fucked for many seconds. (So short
a time for a self-proclaimed sexual athelete!)
My analysis of that event was as of cuckolding,
the transformation of a male by his unfaithful
wife. And I conclude that I moved from a sixth
phase, Philadelphia, to the seventh, Laodicea,
be that the seal or the trumpet, I am not sure,
for the seals and trumpets so recapitulate one
another. But per speech act form, the trumpet is
much more like sodomy: incapable of articulation,
it only produces a blaring sound, not like word
or name, by fellatio, or numbering, the sucking
of breasts, or seals, like the form and function
of vaginal lips (compared to mechanical seals).
Phonocentrically, there is "rump" in "trumpet".

The sun had a bit to go. I measured its progress.
It was behind the trees. I wondered when it would
be beneath the horizon. Where is the horizon?
I continued with smokes and water until I thought
it was down. Then I went in to sup. It was still
'that day' so I continued to obsess on red wine.

I wanted a red wine, their only red was Merlot.
I wanted bread. Their menu was Pizza or Nachos.
For no particular reason, maybe staring at the sign
on the cheese dispenser so long, I chose the nachos.
I was back to normal now, going up to tip each girl
a dollar a set or dance, whether I'd been near the
stage or far--something I learned watching a nice
old bald man, feeling like a supporter of the arts.

Saturday I had this sense that all the male patrons,
both new faces, and those I already found friendly,
stared at me darkly and blankly, as if I were some
kind of enemy.

	Sunday.

Sunday night I was back in the bar. Finished with
my intense interest in red wine, I had a beer and
tried the other half of their fare: frozen pizza.
I reflected on these both having leaven, not like
the red wine and nachos I had on Saturday night.

Later, leaning against the leaning rail outside to
smoke... You know, the first night I hadn't been in
a bar so long, I asked for an ashtray. California
law prohibits smoking in bars. It also prohibits
taking alcohol outside. So I'd bounce in an out,
as did many others, alternating smoke and drink.
So the leaning rail became a conversation area.

It was there I first told the manager, a dancer,
apparently the wife of the proprietor, how I was
off in the hills reading Dante, and came down, and
my directed random drive brought me here, and she
knew of Divine Comedy, or made it seem so, being
pleasant. Here too I first talked to the petite
lady bodybuilder, praising her muscles, relating
how my wife used to scold me, when I was trying,
for we were into pairs skating, that my workouts
were "pussy workouts". I think she was the first
of Daniel's beasts, the one to whom a man's heart
was given. Leaning there beside her, I sensed our
bodies were in full system overload, like horses
at the starting gate, agitated and snorting, as if
ready to say "Let's go fuck" and that would be it.

Now, Sunday night leaning there, out came Cookie,
I'll call her. Friday night, I guess my exorbitant
tipping caused her to come out and push a tightly
folded little paper in my hand, telling me "I do
private dances. Here's my number." But I told her
my big push was on for Honga, and she corrected me,
"Oh you mean Honda." And I thanked her for saving
me from that embarassment of not knowing my target
girl's name right. This minor facilitation caused
me to look as her in a kind of motherly role later
as she danced, remembering how my mother came over
to Germany when I got out of the army, and we took
in the few countries I could handle the language,
avoiding Spain for I knew not a jot of Spanish.

We were on the train crossing Switzerland when we
met an American girl. They really hit it off, for
they both knew bridge, which remained an absolute
mystery card game to me, despite mother's efforts.
She showed us a large Italian coin of small value
that she had gotten as change and was wondering if
she had gotten gyped. We commiserated. I'd given
my mom a 20 DM bill to tip the toilet attendant,
and she got no change back. The Italians totaled
every bill wrong, and mismade change, and our own
hotel "didn't have change" and forced a telephone
token on us, with a memorable what-can-I-do shrug
of the shoulers and upraised spreading hands.

But we all landed at the same pension, and my mom
disappeared all evening to the girl's room, while
I tried my first ever autogenic relaxation, that
I had struggled to read out of a French magazine,
Omni. When morning came, I went down to the girl's
room and knocked. It was quite a long wait after
"Wait a minute." until her door opened and there
she was in a nighty which I saw had been forced
apart to make the most revealing boob exposure.
No doubt my mother's influence. But I, the good
insular soldier, propriety incarnate, Jung's puer
aeternus, looked ahead without even seeing them.


Cookie and I continued in conversation about life,
spouses and abuse and what not, and I told her my
wife was black, and she perceived therefore, and
said "That's why you were interested in Honda."

Well actually, Honda stood in the position of the
third beast of Daniel, black, like unto a panther.
Perhaps Daniel foresaw my very day, or it could be
the working in the micro-rules of life that cause
outward phenomena to exhibit or be found or chosen
in such relationships. Anyway, in the third phase,
Pergamos, I find the emphasis is heterosexual anal
intercourse (I call sodomy, a too polysemous term,
but maps also on Revelation occurences of porneia,
fornication, which exoterically is broadly bland.)
emphasized. Her co-respondant male in 7, Laodicea,
is the self-sodomizer, but she has alternate male
co-respondants in homosexual male sodomizers that
would be named balaam-balak mentioned to Pergamos.

And I explained to Cookie about friday night, how
I thought Honda was the one, and how I desired of
her a certain "technical dance" -- "Here, can I
show you?" and I went to my car to get my Pocket
PC, and began to show her autocunnilingus images.

She said, "I can do that." Although my theological
interest in the matter, since I expected so and so
on Yom Kippur eve, had waned, I thought it would be
interesting anyway to carry out such an adventure.

Her express price to me was $300. Later in her room,
I heard her fielding many phone calls, and learned
such facts as that a private dance by her was $200,
but if they wanted to jack off, it was $100 more.


But writing petered off, seeming lewd, private, irrelevant.

Yours truly,
Glenn Scheper
http://home.earthlink.net/~glenn_scheper/
glenn_scheper + at + earthlink.net
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