I was out with some friends the other night to meet some people at a cafe (that is people of the opposite sex). Though I myself was disinterested in the prospect before we even arrived, the experience was rather amusing. We met these 3 vacant sex fiends; and the philosophical differences made for a rather awkward situation.. I couldn’t help but think with our idealism versus their pedestrian visceral logic that we were like 4 Don Quixotes…
smoke inhaled by naked lungs
cigarette ashtray hourglass
measured in incoherent intervals
four Don Quixotes fighting
flowing helplessly in the wind
after tacking into which
they’ll come to a flat doldrum
and rest peacefully in the mirage
as sunlight reflects into the mind
things lose their distinction
and must be maintained,
by the absurdity of habit
First off, I’m not nudist. I wear clothes in the shower. I dream about clothed people. I am usually a bit uneasy in a bikini (from all the stares my gorgeous body gets). But I give credit to Andrew Martinez who spent plenty of time nude, not as defiance against morality or a quick way to sexual liberation. He just thought of it almost from a sociological standpoint, that clothing as symbolism and requirement of life is an absurdity.
Clothes are useless in the environment except as a tool for class and gender differentiation.
I’ll mention that he might have been mentally ill, but he was a logical in an interview I read.
And now that I think about it, I believe the first Greek Olympic Games were done in the nude. The ancient art world is full of nude art that is still popular today. There is no difference. The hypopracy!