the dialectics of porn

It’s time we talk about something, fellas.

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don jon

How could we possibly resist? When every secret wish is only keystrokes away. Can we control our own fingertips?

Is there even any reason to try? Why are you even reading this? Go look at Norwegian Black Metal BDSM. Not using the internet to gorge your fetishes is like strolling through fields of clover and strawberries, with your hands in your pockets. Just loosen up man. Why do you hate yourself? Enjoy. Right?

It’s not that I hate myself, it’s just that I hate the feeling of self-hatred porn gives me. I’m not alone, guys? The quote-unquote aftershame. The strange, uncanny, dull hatred that throbs through your soul after a grievous wank on the internet. I know you know what I mean. Apparently women don’t have to deal with this, but I know it runs deep in the psyche of man. Maybe only Judeo-Christian peoples feel the aftershame, buried somewhere in the bases of our guilty collective unconsciousness. Regardless, the internet has many good men trapped in a feedback loop of hatred and desire. And their dicks hurt. And they need to go outside. And I’m going to try to help you, friends.

  1. DON’T KID YOURSELF

Don’t listen to those evangelical masturbation moralists, screaming to you about hell, degradation, decadence; that’s all bullshit. That’s just something they have to do to make up for all their own masturbation; scream at others about how bad it is. I know, I know, you say. All the people ever, in history, would kill themselves if they couldn’t let it all go, forget reality, and just beat off. I bet monks and nuns masturbate a shit load. Desirous dreams and fantasies are crucial to erecting reality in the psyche. A day of life as you wouldn’t exist without your secret fantasies. ‘You’ wouldn’t exist without your desires.

But we’re talking about porn. Which is a Thing. Masturbation is an activity unfortunately tied to that Thing. Many guys try to defend themselves from their own guilty consciences by saying masturbation isn’t bad, when what is responsible for most of the aftershame is the porn. Don’t sidestep. We’re talking about porn here, digital internet porn, porn on your phone, on your laptop, porn on your desktop at home. Porn at work. Porn in the bathroom stalls. Porn with your morning coffee. Porn before and after you visit your girlfriend, porn.

Don’t kid yourself. You intuitively know it’s bad for you. The post-porn strange shame is a feeling you can’t ignore. Lets dig deep into this uncanny, evasive feeling shared by all mankind, shall we? It’s time humanity had this conversation.

  1. AFTERSHAME REDUX

Schizo-shame. The feeling after plunging your psyche into a flood of porno is more than our forefathers ever had to bare. The feeling is more than shame, it’s an anxiety attack. It’s not the feeling of your chiding, chafing superego complexes, it’s closer to a feeling of having been used, of having let someThing violate you. In the throbbing, pulsing moments as your consciousness returns to your banal sense of bodily reality, immediately after your techno-induced orgasm, clutching cummy tissues, comes a shakedown. What just happened? Was any of that real? You’re not sure you can really control the porn. Deep down, a familiar feeling dodges your attempts to grasp it. Remember this moment, now. You don’t seek porn in your inevitable, natural desire as a Subject. Rather, the Porn evokes desire in you as it’s object. Porn is fucking you.

In your mind, making you fuck yourself, violate yourself. Porn lives inside of you, as your own desire, like some alien Being who will summon you to the bathroom through feelings-before-the-voices in your own head. Your wish is my command, and Redtube is back in your hand. Men today are porn-drones.

  1. WHAT?! WHY THIS FEELING? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

What is it about internet porn that is so gripping and intrusive, and well, fantastic? It’s just too good at its job. Peer down into the murky crystal ball of the omniscient internet and watch all your wildest dreams coagulate. Who first uploaded porn on the internet? What kind of prize could we give him? (For some reason I don’t think it was a man, actually.)

Porn is commoditized sex. Internet porn, in its fluidity, is the closest to pure Desire any project of man could be. A pure system of images, replicating itself in you, living through your desire.-and we can’t live without our fantasies. Porn is Subject, it’s desire is the desire of the other. You are just Porn’s Other. You’re not even real without it.

Nawh, I’m just fucking around. That’s what the porn industry would prefer. We feel the schizoshame because internet porn is alienated desire in a sickeningly potent form. We are addicted to porn like a gutted man eating his own digestive track, swallowing his own stomach, and wondering why he is never satiated. Porn is your fantasies given the virtual breath of life. Your fantasies exist without you, on the internet. They have transcended your consciousness and you are a feeder to its grand parasitism. Let the Internet have your fantasies for you! In the ultimate twist of this dialectic, man as subject turns his desires into the purest object-form only to be subjugated by them, devoured as an object by his own creation.

Fuck Porn.

  1. WE ALL HAVE TRAUMA

I masturbate, and I enjoy it as a serene privilege in peace and comfort. It’s sublime. But I’m still recuperating from those days of being fucked by porn. I’m all torn up. Slowly, with the help of intimate human relationships and love, I have reclaimed my own desire, and I can successfully fuck myself now, without prostrating myself on the altar of the Porn.

Sorry Grandma.

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