We Love Perversity
We love perversity – when it inflames us – when we have to hurt ourselves to remind us that there is a material world - that pain reminds us of flesh and bones that surrounds out consciousness stark and aware. We know we love everything we’re not supposed to. We love the violence in the movies and a good story about infidelity. We are totally fixated on the Holocaust – and those handsome all-powerful Nazis are a real turn on – the glare of a hundred thousand National Socialists goose stepping in perfect synchronization, not in the stadium lights of night, but in a stadium lit by nightmare – fascinating – fascinating – our human condition that can collectively periodically become insane. We are perverse and love this –we seek to duplicate it and stop it all at once – we move toward self destruction as we try to save ourselves. Every day a murder occurs that is more bizarre, and yet creative than the day before – and the newspapers love this – and we do as well. Horror becomes us.
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