05
Feb
09

Ghosts In Love, Or At Least The Act

There are two ghosts sitting beside each other, holding hands, whispering sweet nothings into each others’ heads, into the vapors that constitute heads, that co-mingle and swap particles.

Libidinal ghost flows; totally free- castration anxiety banished by death, replaced with a plane of orgasm, vapor, interweaving, emptily-signifying amorous sentiments.

There are two and many ghosts, two and many planes of climax. Planes of climax? Plateaux? (W)hole fields of lack, pleasures of death, the little deaths of death immanent and overwhelming, absolutely encompassing.

Ghost 1 says to Ghost 2: “What do you call a man who loves a woman?”

Ghost 2 says to Ghost 1: “Honey, I don’t know what to do with you or my hands. All these walls of skin.”

Ghost 3 enters the scene and asks what’s the most erotic number, and contrary to popular belief, it turns out to be 80085.

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