Heaven Is Here

How does one hate a country, or love one? […] I know people, I know towns, farms, hills and rivers and rocks, I know how the sun at sunset in autumn falls on the side of a certain plowland in the hills; but what is the sense of giving a boundary to all that, of giving it a name and ceasing to love where the name ceases to apply?

When Eurydice Saw Him

“Subverting” Catholic art? Oh, okay. I see, you think this has nothing to do with you. You log onto the internet and you post about how “Wound of Christ” from Psalter and Prayer Book of Bonne de Luxembourg, attributed to Jean le Noir, c.1349, for instance, looks like a vulva because you're trying to tell the world that you enjoy Catholic art and imagery in an alternative, queer, risqué way that challenges Christian beliefs. But what you don't know is that that stigma isn’t just a vulva. It's not just a mandorla. It's not just yonic. It's actually intentionally erotic. And you're also blithely unaware of the fact that around 1297, Saint Angela of Foligno experienced a vision of Christ himself, who called her to put her mouth to the wound in his side and lick the freshly flowing blood. And then I think it was Saint Catherine of Siena who drank blood and a clear liquid from the wound before receiving a ring made from Christ’s foreskin? And then graphically erotic encounters with the side wound of Christ quickly showed up in the writings of eight different mystics. And then the yonic interpretation of the stigmata filtered down through the illuminated manuscripts and then trickled on down into some pseudo-intellectual corner of the internet…where you, no doubt, fished it out of some Pinterest board. However, that interpretation represents hundreds of years and countless visions of religious ecstasy. And it's sort of comical how you think that you've come up with an idea that exempts you from Christian theology when, in fact…you're posting an image that was sexualized for you by the very Medieval saints you think you’re so different than…from “subverted” Catholic art.

“Suppose it’s not a coincidence that a high number of BDSM submissives are survivors of childhood sexual abuse. Suppose it’s not a coincidence that many straight male pedophiles report finding adult women “intimidating.” Suppose it’s not a coincidence that men who buy sex from prostitutes have a perception of women similar to that of rapists. Suppose that when rapists describe breaking boundaries as a sexual thrill, they are pointing us to a truth, uncomfortable as it is: We seek power in our jobs, in our homes, in our relationships. We compete, we cut throats, we strive to conquest. We fuck to hurt, or to be hurt. Suppose it’s not a coincidence that the way we fuck each other in the bedroom looks a lot like how we fuck each other over in the world. The truth is that our sexual practices reflect our beliefs, our fears, our selves. Our sexual attitudes do not exist in a vacuum, nor are we necessarily born with them. But we have this incredible ability to deny what’s right under our noses. We call sexuality “natural” and “innate” and “instinctual” so we don’t have to acknowledge the truth. So we don’t have to change ourselves. Our reluctance to ask deeper questions is costly, and the children of this up-and-coming generation are paying a higher price than anyone else. Did you know that, as a result of having free and unlimited access to gonzo pornography via their mobile phones, boys are replicating what they see in porn and sending girls to the hospital with anal fissures? Well now you do.”