ART DOES (NOT!) EXIST, Excerpt: Chapters 12 and 13
by Rosalyn Drexler

 
 

A SEXY LETTER
Dear Julia,

I want to thank you for providing the highlight of my trip to America. I have not been able to forget you. You were so kind, so feminine, so open that I feel we are already friends. One must not keep anything from a friend, right? Therefore, I consider it an honor and a duty to tell you what happened to me on my return home. If it is too intimate, and makes you blush, I give you my permission to destroy this letter; however, I hope you will not.

As I usually do on the weekend, I was working in the barn, tending to the cows, when my daughter-in-law came to call me in for lunch. She was wearing a very lowcut blouse; so lowcut that her red nipples surrounded by a large brownish halo were revealed to me. Yes, her titties were a firm as the distended udders of a cow with too much milk. A fly (there are so many horse flies here) landed on her bosom, and without thinking I brushed it off, letting my hand linger on that compact hill of flesh; her breasts were as firm as a pair of buttock's cheeks (I do not lie) and as I fondled them I could have sworn they were a young girl's behind. The moment was so delightful that I entirely forgot she was my son's wife. She certainly did not object to my attentions for we had a tacit agreement to enjoy the experience come what may. (Yes, perhaps I am a bit of a mind reader) I then leisurely kissed her nipples. She smelled of sweat, in a way that excited me. It was that odor di femina which emanates from a woman's body that I eagerly inhaled. Then she unzipped my fly, revealing my member in a state of huge excitement: large and firm, the cap already a purplish red, and the tip wet with a preliminary whitish goo.The naughty girl couldn't take her eyes off my sexual parts. She was by now sitting on a mound of fragrant hay, leaning back with eyes closed, and lips parted. My state of excitement was excruciating, the least touch would have made me come. I lifted her dress, and saw a pair of thighs which fired my enthusiasm even more. Between the closed thighs I caught sight of a small tangle of chestnut-colored hairs, among which her reddish crack was concealed.

Overwhelmed by desire I dropped to my knees, seized her thighs, let my hands roam caressingly everywhere, laid my cheeks upon them and covered them with kisses. My wet lips advanced from the thighs to her venus mound where the smell of urine only added fuel to my excitement. I had to go on or die, even though we were now in danger of being discovered; surely someone else would notice that we were not at the afternoon repast.

I must end this letter immediately since I hear my wife approaching, but you will be receiving another in the near future, one that continues to detail the secret story of my joyous folly and subsequent downfall. Please write to me; let me know how you are, and whether you too have amorous adventures.

Yours, Juvenal

P.S. Please send all correspondence to my factory: Companhia Grupo Nacional, Avenida Amerante Barroso 10 Rio de Janiero, rj Brazil. If for any reason you need a load of steel, I'm your man. Dear, dear Julia, you must come to Brazil: you will not get cholera or dysentery I promise; but you will sing and dance and go to the theatre and drink champagne. Don't you switch your impatient little cow tail at me, you vixen! A horsefly is one thing, the flea of Sodom another. Both deserve to be banished by you. I of course will be your attentive escort. A very proper one, have no fear. There's more buzz than sting in me.

"The man is a pervert," Kathy says. "I'll bet that somewhere in this world there's a half-human, half-bovine creature mooing for its daddy. How do you think he TENDS to his cows?"

WANTED: PARENTS FOR CALF-BABY

BEFORE THIS CALF-BABY IS PUT OUT TO PASTURE, HIS HEARTBOKEN MOM, JULIA THE COW, IS MAKING ONE LAST ATTEMPT TO PLACE HIM IN A HOME WITH LOVING PARENTS.

"I KNOW WHO HIS FATHER IS, BUT I GUESS HE'LL NEVER OWN UP TO IT. THEY SAY THAT THERE WAS A MIX-UP AT THE ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SPERM BANK. THAT'S A LOT OF BULL! AFTER BEING TOLD BY FERTILITY SPECIALISTS THAT I WOULD NEVER BRING FORTH CALVES, MY OWNER MR. J.G.O. OFFERED HIS OWN SPERM, THE SPERM OF A HUMAN BEING, AND IT WORKED. MY SON WAS BORN WITH A HUMAN BODY AND A COW'S HEAD AND FACE. HE REALLY IS A WONDEFUL LITTLE CALF: FRISKY, PLAYFUL...I HATE TO GIVE HIM UP, BUT IT WILL BE BEST FOR HIM IN THE LONG RUN."

THE OWNER MR. J.G.O. SAID, "PRECAUTIONS SHOULD HAVE BEEN TAKEN. THERE ARE SUCH THINGS AS CONDOMS, JELLYS, WITHDRAWAL, PRAYER. IF ANY OF THESE (OR A COMBINATION) HAD BEEN RESORTED TO, THIS TRAGEDY MIGHT HAVE BEEN AVERTED. WHOEVER DID THIS THING HAS TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF ONE OF GOD'S POOR DEFENSELESS CREATURES! HE IS AN EVIL, HEARTLESS, COWARD WHO DESERVES PUNISHMENT. JUST LET ME CATCH HIM! HE'LL WISH HE WERE DEAD. I SWEAR I WILL NOT REST UNTIL THE GUILTY PERPETRATOR IS FOUND."

ACCORDING TO THE VET IN ATTENDANCE, THE PREGNANCY WAS UNEVENTFUL AND NOBODY REALIZED ANYTHING HAD GONE WRONG UNTIL THEY HEARD MOOING SOUNDS COMING FROM THE INFANT.

MY ASSISTANT SAID TO ME, "OH MY GOD, THAT CALF LOOKS LIKE A HUMAN BABY"

WE WHISKED THE NEWBORN MUTANT FROM THE BARN AND PLACED HIM IN A LOCKED ROOM IN OUR OWN HOSPITAL WHERE WE COULD OBSERVE HIM IN SECRECY. HIS MOTHER, OF COURSE WAS ALLOWED TO STAY WITH HIM IN ORDER TO FULFILL HER MOTHERLY DUTIES OF NURSING AND LICKING HIM TO SLEEP.

AT FIRST JULIA DID ALL SHE COULD TO BRING THE CALF AROUND. BUT WHEN ALL HE DID WAS LIE ON HIS BACK AND KICK HIS LEGS IN THE AIR SHE BECAME AGITATED, AND REFUSED TO NURSE HIM.

THE VETS CONSULTED WITH A TOP TEAM OF PLASTIC SURGEONS ASSSOCIATED WITH THE MAYO CLINIC WHO SPECIALIZED IN RECONSTRUCTIVE PEDIATRIC SURGERY. EVERYONE AGREED THAT THE INFANT WOULD BE A FREAK WITHOUT A FUTURE (SIDESHOWS BEING FEW AND FAR BETWEEN...DISPLAYING HIMSELFAN EXERCISE IN SELF-DENIGRATION) UNLESS HE WAS OPERATED ON.

MR. J.G.O., AFTER INTERVIEWING JULIA AND CONSIDERING THE MEDICAL STAFF'S OPINIONS, DECIDED TO HELP JULIA GIVE THE CALF-BABY UP FOR ADOPTION. THE INFANT WOULD NEED LOTS OF PROFESSIONAL AND AMATEUR ATTENTION PRE-OP, DURING-OP, AND POST-OP. INDEED, IT MIGHT BE MANY OPERATIONS, AND MANY YEARS INTO THE FUTURE BEFORE THE CHILD BOTH LOOKED HUMAN, AND WAS ACCEPTED AS SUCH.

AT NO TIME, HOWEVER, DID MR.J.G.O. ADMIT THAT HE WAS THE GENETIC DUMDUM BULLET, THE DADDY IN BOVINE ABSENTIA, THE MAN WITHOUT A (HUMAN) CUNTRY.

"IT'S NOT EASY TO GIVE UP YOUR OWN CALF," JULIA SOBBED. "BUT THIS CALF NEEDS A MOMMY AND A DADDY TO RAISE HIM. HE HAS A WONDERFUL PERSONALITY COMBINING THE BRAVERY OF A BULL WITH THE PLACIDITY OF A COW. HE'S ALWAYS MOOING, AND I JUST KNOW HE'D MAKE SOME LUCKY COUPLE VERY HAPPY AND GIVE THEM A LOT OF LOVE. OF COURSE IF THEY HAD A GRASSY GREEN FIELD BESIDE THEIR HOUSE IT WOULD MAKE ME VERY HAPPY. I'D NEED A PLACE TO GRAZE WHEN I VISIT."

IN ALL CONFIDENTIALITY, JULIA REVEALED TO A CLOSE FRIEND THAT IF SHE EVER BETRAYED MR. J.G.O. (TO THE FARM JOURNAL PRESS) AS BEING THE FATHER OF HER CHILD, HE WOULD NOT HESITATE TO MAKE HAMBURGERS OUT OF HER. HER ONE BARGAINING CHIP, ONE THAT SHE HESITATED TO USE UNLESS SHE WAS FORCED TO, WAS THE TERRIBLE SECRET THAT HE DID NOT HAVE LONG TO LIVE BECAUSE...IN HIS HASTE TO DISCHARGE HIS SPERM WITHIN HER, HE HAD CONTRACTED "MAD COW DISEASE." ONLY SHE KNEW THAT. ONLY SHE KNEW THAT ALL OF BRAZIL (FAMOUS FOR BRAZIL NUTS, COFFEE, AND BEEF) HAPPILY CHEWING AWAY AT ITS STEAKS AND CHOPS WOULD SUFFER (IN TEN YEARS MORE OR LESS) BECAUSE OF ONE MAN'S OBSESSIVE NEED TO FORNICATE WITH A COW!

"What do the tea leaves say? Is the time propitious for me to tell him to go to hell?" I ask Kathy.

"You don't have to be that tough on him; after all he's in Brazil, not around the corner."

"So should I write him a letter?" Juvenal no longer exists for me. I resent his persistence. Once I'm done with a project, I'm done with it."

"I wouldn't."

"No?"

"Unless you really want to. Do you?"

"I'm kind of curious about how he's going to end the complete and unexpurgated Memoirs of a Rakehell from Brazil."

"Wanna bet he goes on and on, never ending, like a shaggy bitch story?" Kathy likes saying bitch. She doesn't have to be politically correct around me. All she has to be is funny.

"Some men who have a macho attitude still think that if a woman's an artist she's also a whore - or a mother confessor," Kathy says. "This guy thinks you're both."

"Naw, he respects me. We discussed a movie together. He spilled his guts; revealed his filthy thoughts."

"Men confide in women they don't know, as easily as they fuck women they don't know. Think it's their birthright."

"S'funny, I think it's my birthright too," I say.

YOUR FEET ARE THE GATEWAY TO YOUR SOUL
A man I once knew was fixated on my feet. He loved to kiss and caress them, to suck my big toe, to lick between each little pink piggy, to have me walk on him. For these stolen moments (he was married to a woman who refused to saisfy his cravings) he'd wear a special velvet jacket which was soft and thick and gave off little sparks of electricity as I traversed him. His fascination, at first an inocent divesion that gave him great joy, became his downfall since (punishment from heaven?) He managed to catch a disease that resembled foot fungus on his tongue. A skin specialist advised him togive up his compulsive behavior before it killed him. (This is what he told me before we broke up.) All I can say is he didn't get it from me since I've never had a skin disease anywhere on my body. I am reminded of Bunuel's L'Age D'or: the garden scene where a woman sucks the big toe of a naked male statue. It really doesn't matter what one puts into ones mouth, it always looks pornographic.

Artfab@mama.ed
LOUISE BOURGEOIS IS THE FIRST SCULPTOR TO HAVE CARVED BUNIONS IN MARBLE. ONE COMES UPON THEM BY SURPRISE AFTER HAVING OBSERVED THE REST OF THE CARVING: A WELL FORMED FEMALE IN TRADITIONAL SEMI-RECLINING POSE. THEN... SLYLY, THERE ARE THE FEET! (THE BONE GROWS OUTWARD) A PAINFUL GROTESQUERY. A RUDE REMINDER OF THE WAY THINGS REALLY ARE. OF WHAT HAPPENS. THIS SCULPTURAL MALFORMATION IS BOURGEOIS' COMMENT ON THE SENTIMENTALITY AND FALSE PERFECTION OF RODIN'S STATUES OF NAKED WOMEN (THAT FIND THER PARALLEL IN THOSE AIR BRUSHED PHOTOGRAPHS SEEN IN PLAYBOY AND OTHER "SKIN" MAGAZINES.)

Thanks for your Artfab message Julia. Ugh (!) to that stuff. I like pretty pictures; that's my taste. Turner seascapes to skinny dip my bare-assed brain. Yeah! Blakelock trees...Fuck under them trees. The tarry boats and thick lemon moons of Ryder.

SO WHAT! I LIKE IDA APPLEBROOG. APPLEBROOG... CAN'T GET ANY PRETTIER THAN THAT. THE STAGE IS SET. THE PLAYERS STRUCK DUMB BY CIRCUMSTANCE. THE HUMAN COMEDY ADVANCES IN SILENCE. WHEN THE TITLES APPEAR, FEAR TAKES ALL THE CREDIT. I HAVE A FEW OF HER EARLY ANNOUNCEMENTS. SCARY POSTCARDS.

Hey Julia, you really like her?

YEAH.

Better than who? Daumier? Munch?

MUNCH? NAH. I'M FAMILIAR WITH THE SILENT SCREAM. DO IT MYSELF. BUT IN ART? SUFFERING SUCCOTASH! STOP THE SUFFERING AND BRING ON THE SUCCOTASH. I PREFER DAUMIER. GOT HIS KICKS REVEALING THE CORRUPTION OF PETTY OFFICIALS, LICENTIOUS CLERGY, ETC. STILL I PREFER APPLEBROOG. AS LONG AS INJUSTICE AND CRUELTY EXIST IN THE HOME, OFFICE, AND SEEDY HOTEL ROOMS SHE WILL SEEK IT OUT AND SHOW IT FOR WHAT IT IS.

What is it?

HOME MOVIES: FEAR, RAGE, REPRESSION, POWERLESSNESS, ISOLATION. NOT IN THAT ORDER.

Brava. Do you know her?

No.