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Archive for April, 2008

Will somebody remind me to update this soon so that this doesn’t sit here for the next couple months as my first post? Thanks.

So anyway, I’m in a class and we’re reading Zizek and thus, there is talk of fisting (Plague of Fantasies, if you must know). See Exhibit A:

“What precise form did sexual activity assume in Eden? In this practice of homosexual fist-fucking, the man (usually associated with active penetration) must open himself up passively; he is penetrated in the regiion in which ‘closure’, resistance to penetration, is the natural reaction (one knows that the difciculty of fist-fucking is more psycbnhological than physical: the difficulty lies in relaxing the anal muscles enough to allow the partner’s fist to penetrate–the position of the fisted one in fist-fucking is perhaps the most intense experience of passive opening available to human experience); on top of this opening oneself up to the other, whose organ literally enters my body and explores it from within ; the other crucial feature is that this organ, precisely, is not the phallus (as in ‘normal’ anal intercourse) but the fist (hand), the organ par excellence not of spontaneous pleasure but of instrumental activity, of work and exploration” (16).

Now, there are many interesting places we could go here. Obviously, we could discuss Leroi-Gourhan (gesture, the hand, how important freeing the hand is to the development of speech) and how that might make “fist-fucking” so much more meaningful, or heck, we could even talk about Hannah Arendt–but I like her too much to drag her right into the middle of A Hand in the Bush.

And so, because I’m taking a break from writing a freaking dissertation chapter that I shouldn’t HAVE to write until next fall (that’s due Wednesday), and because I nearly just got killed on John R., I’m going to go ahead and tell my favorite fisting tale and tie it into Zizek somehow–I promise.

So, it was late at night in the middle of October. I was camping out with some SCAdians, because I wanted to score some website design money. I was already making one website for a jewelry seller, and was macking up on several other clothing and garb makers in hopes of getting some more moolah before the weekend was over. The moon was full, the fire was raging because guys kept on throwing Everclear on it, and the person whose website I was making decided to tell us her favorite story.

Several years before, at that same camp, at the same event, a couple had gotten busy in their tent. Unlike Zizek, they were heterosexual (mostly) and decided to get down and busy with the fisting. Other people were around in their consecutive tents, and just like that night, many were still awake around the fire.

And then it happened–she orgasmed, and she broke his wrist.

Now this is the point at which that I think that the story must be false, fake, an urban legend. Why? Well, females have been known to orgasm while giving birth, and I never heard of a baby getting squished to death as a result. I can only imagine that something strong enough to break a man’s wrist (unless he was really a nancy boy) would have somehow managed to also break a baby–just saying.

Regardless, the story goes that the couple got stuck that way, with him in too much pain to withdraw, and her too freaked out to “let go.” (Needless to say my friends tell really classy stories late at night.)

 Now, if homosexual “fist-fucking” is Edenic–a perfect letting go–what does it say about our culture as a whole that heterosexual “fist-fucking” is seen as something that is its exact opposite? Is this possibly because of this same Eden-tale, that the woman ruined perfect fist-fucking for us all (by daring to have an orgasm?) How much do our sexual urban myths really say about us?

In any case, if I have time post-diss-chapter-writing, I promise to come back and write about that new media bit at the end–really.

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