I know. I know that to be here, in this circuit based on a delicate ensemble of male gaze, massive illusions, intricate mix of money and care, beautiful energies expanding in beautiful bodies, this circuit enmeshed with its scandals and issues, stalkers and missus, I could risk to be entrapped in an echo-chamber of desiring loopholes and obsessions. But what if one try to pursue the path of the thing that feel? If one try to inhabit that space where there is no more the climatic ascension of desire, that is - after the long and compulsive climb of the mountain - the great peak and fast fall to the valley where then only warm things and nothingness are our companions. A space of neutral sexuality, where the drive and force is the same that we can find in the push of the pencil on the paper or unheard sound of the heart of the squirrel. A minimal sensation that eliminates, or more precisely, slides away, the importance of man (aka anthropocentrism) and look for the silent moving of things in the world, a sort of constant pleasure that is partially hidden and partially in open view - embedded in all the living things.
What one would think as a flat line - the neutral sexuality - in contrast to the sinusoid - of the climatic sexuality - would be need to be thought of more as a network of bridges that attracts all the living things, an orchestra from anywhere to everywhere with a music that can free from the nostalgia of the past music, the mechanics of the longing, for a new sexual revolution. No more hidden truth of the sex or of the desire, no more feminine mystique, but a wonderful deploying of continuos desire that no longer need only the solitary mountain of the body but also the expanding new sites of the body, the virtual body, the social body, the imagined body, merging all these in a semiotic experience of love and care. Of the feeling the other as desire in itself.
First unrefined reflection on Mario Perniola's "Il sex appeal dell'inorganico"