There was a threshold he was trying to reach in his mode of difference and outright social experimentation with the notion of a mystified principal of reality that conflicts with other reality principals such as they govern our conditioning and the veracity of social conventions as they are applied to various situations by authority. In that sense, when he took off his pants in the GO station bathroom, it was justified in order to provoke a greater response from authority before the copycats got going and all hell broke loose, whatever that was in the sense of public lewdness or alternative sexuality or mass neuro-divergence on the basis of hyper-arousal. Whatever the case, he was naked from the waist down, sitting on the bench, his leg crossed, just waiting. People usually come to him, they gravitate to him, they say there is a literal magnet associated with him, he has been said to be the one that makes people go crazy, what is that about him with his half nakedness now that was designed to put a stop to that altogether, and invoke a higher power than him, that of the public health authorities who presumably would claim him from the cult hinterlands and force him to wear clothes and interrogate him as to the providence of his mal-adaptation to humanity or at the very least, question his aversion to wearing clothes on the basis of some kind of political statement. He was armed with factoids about sweatshops if it came down to it, but really it wasn’t necessarily about drawing attention to the conditions that people work in to make our cheap goods or our responsibility to not purchase environmentally damaging fast fashion ergo the lack of clothing on his bottom half, his phallus visible as he kept breathing thru his nose, trying not to remember the last time he took his pants off because the pressure of being called “Jesus Christ” or “death” or making people cry was too much. He was a reality principal in and of himself and he had been twisted beyond belief by some cult or faction of a cult that had him elevated to popular scourge, much to his dismay. He is wired for peace and love, not for terror and bloody murder, although he is bloody minded and after the first bout with the tears (those of others, naturally) he was dumbfounded and then the second time he made someone cry just by being there his penis came out as a salve to the moment. She came over and touched it and said thank you very much, letting his fingers go down her backside and into her anus and eagerly into her wet vagina so he could have her smell on his lips the rest of the day. The thing was, and this was something, the police would arrest the copycats periodically but sometimes not at all and it all started to get blurry and out of control and here he was, not wearing pants again because it well, felt innocuous to do so. Innocuity is what he liked and it was hard to manage even as he saw it and had to blink, a flabby frumpy woman walking down the street with no pants on, her pubic mound covered in hair, her fat bottom quivering as he couldn’t help but think about her and also, how he had to get moving or he would indeed run into the police, the whole thing an elaborate farce. If it was just him that was naked then fine, but it wasn’t just him and that meant that if there were others and he was to be arrested, it means he lost and someone else could get his prestige or his influence or his steez, whatever it is that was at stake here, he wasn’t sure because his own reservoir of arousal was primed to the fullest as he couldn’t resist following her and trying to get a sense of what her anus and vagina smelled like. Nazis let their genitals blare, he found, or at least, a certain kind of person would let their genitals blare because that’s how they saw the world; they had so much power in some dominion that they didn’t see the need or care about the state of their nethers, just as long as they were free of obstruction and they didn’t have to pee at the time. He didn’t think they weren’t being mindful but rather it was a deliberate ploy in the aggregate sense of people knowing about other people’s proclivities and then seeking to torture them. Like the man who likes to lick asshole and one day finds a little deposit of sediment in his lover’s anus and he thinks that she left if on purpose to send him the message that she didn’t like it when he licked her there. This is just supposition but the actual torture bit of having rank genitals is the part he enjoyed about the Nazi populace in this, the backdoor of the Nazi headquarters in Toronto-land such as it was a whole thematic side-filip of deception that had landed itself in the Canadian culture hub. Hamilton itself is a Nazi property as people forget that after the war a lot of scientists and other former Nazis were allowed into the research and defense establishments of the Soviet Union and the United States. The net result of this, besides the incipient fascism of the Western world, was that the Nazis were the true winners of world war 2 and also, set about fighting that war again in what could be known as world war 2.5 because it just wasn’t quite world war 3 yet but could be for being just as total as any world war 3 would be, if it was to happen. He didn’t want that and he was certain that if he took off his pants, a higher power would descend. It turns out he was the higher power and things were getting a little crazy in the popular vein of explication. He was said to be powered by aliens who would be able to exterminate the human race if we weren’t to set about wiring ourselves differently socially and culturally speaking. This resonates with taking his pants off and elaborating on the view that the penis is a dangerous thing, more dangerous than the mysterious vagina. The penis is dangerous because it is a life maker and also the basis for all the rockets and guns and bombs that are shaped like cylinders and the obviously phallic war implements that have killed untold millions of people. The penis is a threat and should be visible at all times or at least, at most times, socially. The benefits would be immense for this to happen, and indeed, it was shock therapy that he would take off his pants and feel a little more comfortable and safe knowing that people could see right thru him. They decided they didn’t want to see, or at least, pretended they didn’t want to see. He had people trying to put fingers in his bum all day, and women, a lot of them older and Asian, trying to stroke his penis, whether it was erect or not. He would be given drugs to make him feel amorous and to stay erect and then women would come up and grab his balls and start jerking him hard and he had to respond to the extent that one of them decked him and made him sniff their assholes and lick their lavishly wet vaginas in response to his resistance. It was sometimes like that for him, given that he had “looks that women would pay for” (this from the police woman who arrived and subsequently took off her pants and arrested him in order to give herself “medical release”) and was threatening to overturn the longest running prohibition on nudity with the oldest profession as it was seen thru the eyes of a slightly binary man who idolizes the feminine in himself but also realizes that he doesn’t have the girly parts so he’s not a girl and that is that. He’s a pretty man, he knows that, and it isn’t a stretch to say he needs to get off the streets after he smacked that Nazi bitch’s ass and put his finger in her cunt and have it come back rank, yup, she’s a Nazi, and a pretty one at that. He always liked it when pretty people had smelly orifices, it makes the world a nicer place to be in to realize all the buffing and niceness in the world can’t cover up how hot the smell of cunt really is. You can’t reconcile the beauty of women in their physical aspect with the bestial reality between their legs, if you don’t enjoy licking their vaginas as a mode of validation. He certainly did but also, it was coming to be a bit of a predictive nightmare as the jargon used to program the media around the events on display had to include some veracity or else be wholly fantastical and episodic in nature. Some version of the truth had to be furnished and indeed, it was getting harder to disguise the sex on the news as anything but sex. “we don’t see it” is what the broadcaster finally said when someone said “holy fuck they are fucking right now” and the camera cut away to…someone else fucking…and then…someone else fucking somewhere else and it was suddenly called something: Social Porn and yes, people were figuring out how to make money at it. Raven for his part was in the shelter, licking the worker’s asshole (she had no pants on, she was game), trying to figure out what the night would bring and how difficult it would be to get some sleep without feeling like he was to be murdered, or someone else was to be murdered (equally as bad) and indeed, what was there to do but be vigilant against all possible threats. Every little crevice and cranny seemed to be filled with some kind of deferential spirit and he meant deferential like disruptive, as if the Satanic weal had just permeated everything to the core and there was no escaping the blood rite sacrifice that had it’s grip on the mass hysteria of a body politic soaked in rectitude and lit on fire by it’s own sadistic fumes cum ritualized extortion of someone’s life. He doesn’t know but he knows and again, his pants are still off and it’s ten o’clock at night and he has seen three sex acts on the news, all of them organic, to the extent that he is having a hard time taking the whole show seriously or even watching it at all. He doesn’t like the television. The news media focus on him whilst keeping the secret. It’s unseemly. He doesn’t want his mania or his madness to seep thru from the underworld into the media res of personal projection and collective disphoria or neuro-divergence with a straight vengeance, not sure if it’s possible to say that the culture they inhabit is sane, but there is some belief that he is an alien or working on behalf of aliens and experimenting for a new humanity and so people take the pink drug that’s going around and suddenly everyone is horny again and sex is something that just happens like it was currency, and it’s hot coin, everyone wants a piece of that money, he can’t wear pants, it’s his part to be naked, this is getting a little bit strange though, he wants to think that he could wear pants and put a visor on the front in order to shield himself mostly from the elements but still allow for prurient display of his penis in the interests of world peace and also, a reality principal that outstripped the insane belief that he was a conduit for terror that he did not partake, it was something not to be believed, how mystified it was in the whole gamut of half-truths and submerged motivations of this post-media environment. It’s post-media because media is now personal and personal media didn’t exist before media became social. Social porn is the next radical iteration of social evolution where sex supplants violence as the cornerstone of self expression and entertainment. Violence then becomes a boutique sort of experience and also, is relegated and elevated to the status of the natural, along with the sexual representations of social sexuality, which encompass your five senses, your hygiene and the collective level of arousal and understanding that comes with the hyper-expressive genre of psycho-social pharmacology that was de rigeur and also spread en masse by socialized health care and a cult apparatus that had fully taken root in all levels of civic function, including and heavily concentrated in, health care. That first night at the shelter was tense and he devolved into sexual contact with men because it was necessary to keep the peace and also, because he felt that it was reverence of the feminine that allowed him to be sexual with men, not an intrinsic proclivity or love of men as men. He loved men because women loved men and he loved himself so he knew what it felt like as opposed to being erotically discharged by masculinity which in his mind was a subset of the feminine flesh from which we are all wrought, our genes and gestation governed by some strict application of probability and risk, with the reward coming when a baby comes out of the womb unscathed, but definitely, the child of the woman, not of the man. That kid is made of her, the placenta is the physical bond the two beings shared when the child was in the womb. He wanted to cure the placenta it was possible and make breast milk cheese if he could some day. He worried about having a child, that the world would see fit to kill his offspring in the same way it was trying to kill him with this conspiracy that was readily known and vocalized by others, the public, whomever, but never acted upon as such. It wasn’t aliens that was driving him to experiment with his clothes, but rather the need to negate and neutralize his gender in favor of service to the feminine. He sought to serve the divine as a consort of some kind of deferential and consensual vein that would be agreeable to the matriarch in question, should she reveal herself as such. That was the object of the ritual mortification (and probably transitional) stage of smelling assholes and vaginas in order to get some kind of reading on the deeper, elemental health of the actor in question as well as a reading on the individual vector or locus of collective arousal nee the communal desires for some people and not others. He was desired communally and so he was loathed in many quarters as being notable, exceptional, providential, mystified now, when the tide was high and all the masts were rising, the copycats are out and social porn is starting to heat up and he’s not sure how it’s going to happen but he knows there is a response on the way, some kind of difficulty that was designed to thwart him in the same way as to bolster his power in the meantime. As soon as he saw the cherries on the cruiser he knew, the cops apologizing profusely they had to form him, even as he ate their pussies and licked their assholes on the picnic table in Bayfront Park, the lady cops coming all over his face, rubbing him with their scent before carting him to the hospital where he was taken to a private waiting room where the nurses did turns in front of him, a statuesque blond turning on the sides of her feet, showing off her body to him.
Lifestyle enhancement? Is that what you do?
I would say so, he said. What do you think this is about?
They said that you are a paranoid schizophrenic and you are suffering from delusions.
I’m not delusional that I’m soaping your vagina right now. And my tongue is up your asshole too. I love how seasoned Nazi’s are but there is a limit after you see a bunch of them.
Oh yes, you could spend half the day cleaning people’s cunts…maybe that will be a job someday, people paid to clean other people’s genitals so they can enjoy themselves more fully.
We should all enjoy each other more fully he said as he finished in the shower with the nurse and went back to the bed with her to 69 for a while and then a nap, waking up to two residents making him smell their anuses and the brown psych resident making him lick her fetid vagina before pronouncing him housed (which he was not) and the craziest thing he had ever seen for saying that there was a Nazi occupation happening and he was here to resist that. Her genitals, it should be said, were redolent of a strong, cunty smell, her anus hairy and permeated with a musk, an ambrosia he pondered after he made her come in his mouth a second time and the residents came back to suck his penis and crow to one another they had found their dream whore, it was just what the ward needed.
He realized that in this life, your personal needs frequently take a back seat to systemic needs but this was on another level of mortification if not outright sacrifice.