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Outlandish: The blog
About: Who is this guy?
Life: The adventure of a lifetime
Art: My church
People: Make it worthwhile
Politics: The art of controlling your environment
Work: Necessity, purpose, honor
Contact: Only connect
Pussy, it's what's for dinner

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Vintage Outlandish!

This Content From 2003 (or earlier) see index

[outlandish] | [texts] | [music] | [ mannafesto ] | [ideas]

Art... Text!

Making the Women Nod
Text by Josh Koenig

Originally Staged 5/5/2000 at ETW Share Day (New York University Tisch School of the Arts) with Josh Koenig as MAN.

ON STAGE: A MAN sits in a chair with a small desk next to him. He speaks in intimate but confidant tones, both slighly embarassed about the truths he is speaking and enjoying the effect of teasing the audience. This one's for the ladies.

MAN: Mmmmm.... yeah, so what was I supposed to tell my nubile, impressionable 18-year-old friend when she asked me, "how do you turn off you conscious mind?"

Of course I didn't say so at the time, but there's really no place I'd rather get lost than kneeling between some precious lady's thighs, listening to Miles Davis and plucking out a rhythm counterpoint with my mouth. Harder and softer, faster or slower... it's all about listening; call and response.

It's the closest thing in my life to organized religion, going down on a girl. It's got all the best parts: idols, magic, speaking in tongues.

You have to be a little bit of a tease, but it's worth it. A woman who wants, who is wanting, who is in that full blown gale of desire, grabbing at your hair and whispering nonsense... that's divinity if I ever saw it.

And it's not like I've done this with all that many people. Dispite my most purient desires, I've never really been what anyone could call seriously promiscuous. I've had my moments, but they're usually short-lived. Maybe some day...

Now, I don't go in for the usual power dynamics of sex. The whole, "I'm on top because I'm in charge" penetration-as-violence and you-will-be-conquored deal. Not that I don't know the value of getting up in there and doing it hard when that's what's called for. But, dig this... my power trip, my kink, is about getting my woman to cum and cum and cum and if at all possible, cum again.

I like smart girls. That's my one constant: brains. Brains in a very technical, quick-wits, knows-her-shit, likes to read for fun sometimes kind of way. Like: here's this intelectual obstacle, and I will surmount her.

You could probably chalk it up to some latent fear of women or my overly competative nature, but nothing satisfies me like turning an ereudite, intelligent, well-read woman into a quivering mound of moaning convulsions and twitching nerve endings.

he pulls two bottles of seltzer and a deep bowl from behind the desk. Stands, places the bowl on top of desk. As then next bit comes, he open them pours them into a bowl. They have been shaken prior to the show and explode violently when opened.

And then there's the rather unsettling fact that most of the women I've been with have been raped or molested or harassed or all of the above. That's some weird baggage. It makes me crazy, thinking of something I love so much causing so much pain... what might happen if we're not careful...

That's something we all flirt with, loosing control. Circling around and around this giving up all the freudian bullshit, coming closer and closer to that center, that locus of energy. You know that when you tap it you can't control it. Channel maybe, but never control.

Quickly, unexpectedly, dunks face into bowl of seltzer. Raises it up slowly...

And then there's when you're with a bilingual lover, and they just bust out in the other language... I mean, you know you're doing something right.

Now, of course, I'm a physical animal just like the rest of you, and I want to get off too, but that's just mechanics: friction and fluid dynamics. It's a 10 second sezure and then I'm sleepy.

As far as I'm concerned, the joy, the real magic is in that shining arc of desire, the rising crachendo of heaving breath, tightening all around me and really digging her nails into my back, and then the smiles... oh god the smiles, and the holding and the kisses and the spooning and the breakfast and the wondering if she'll call me or I'll see her again and what that'll be likee, and honestly this is where it get's a little bit scary for me -- but you get the picture. And this isn't to make me seem really hot or like I'm some stud or anything... but if you're interested, my phone number is...

speaks "phone number" but hopefully cannot be heard over laughter. Exits on phone number. Finis.
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© Josh Koenig | You can perform, read aloud, copy, print, distribure or otherwise be inspired by this to your heart's content. Please don't re-publish for profit or plagarize it though. And if you ever do anything with it (i.e. performance), let me know!

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Trips in Space and Time 8/02/03

Big Wheels in Berkeley
I scored a set of west-coast wheels today at the Ashby BART station flea market. It's a very tall schwinn road bike, black, deceptively heavy but smooth-riding. Thirty-five dollars to boot. I oiled and cleaned the works, dialed in the bakes and took it out for a shake-down cruise immediately. Nice riding on a beautiful saturday, realizing how out of shape I am as I wheezed my way though the hilly area behind the Berkeley campus.

After about an hour I started to get the swing of it. Made some minor mechanical adjustments (including a free wheel truing at the bike collective on Shattuck), drank a few liters of water and started finding my groove, cruising up and around and ending up with a beautiful view of the whole bay. The roads here are not kind to the speed inclined -- too many stop signs and crosswalks and lights -- but it was good to get out and proj for a while. This changes my summer dramatically.

...older trips...


Smother Me With
Filthy Lucre