When is Sex not Sex? That’s not only a vague way to start an article – it’s also quite a thought provoking question. Let me elaborate. I’ve seen sex on the internet, I’ve heard my house mates have sex through the walls, hell I’ve even had sex myself. Yet still I don’t have a definitive personal answer as to just what constitutes sex. Not what physical acts are specifically needed, but instead what context is required for the resulting act to be termed ‘sex’?
At number 202 Parramatta Road, Ashfield, stands the old Brescia Furniture store. Not only is it old, but it looks as if it’s been hit in a drone strike.
The first time I ever heard the word ‘polyamory’, it was very late at night. I was about 15, and I was watching a program on YouTube about people who have sex with animals. A very fat woman with long curly red hair was gushingly describing her sexual relationship with her horse as a ‘polyamorous relationship’. She also had a husband – an American human like her. They found love through their rare and taboo common experiences with animals. If someone had whispered into my ear at that moment that I would myself be in a polyamorous relationship in the not too distant future, I might have been a little bit intrigued, but also felt pretty sick before the questions set in.
“Show me a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting past”.
These words were spoken by Jack London, the author, journalist and social activist who gained worldwide fame through the medium of commercial fiction way back in the 19th century. Yet here we are, over a hundred years later, pushing deeper and deeper into the 21st century, and tattoos are still so often associated with a stigma of regret, of poor decision making, of a generation who want everything now and give little to no thought of the consequences of their actions. It is time we had a re-think on ink.
Do you like my art
Yeah these ones
On your feet
They’re your boots though innit
Yeah there my art
I like yours
That custard tart there
That’s my afternoon tea though innit
Is it radical?
Are we radical yet?
Was it radical?
How radical was it?
We kicked a dog into a bucket of baked beans
We flew a metal kite in an electrical storm
Are we radical?
Is it radical yet?
I watched the drops
Forming piles of rain
In a cliché that
had no market value
And the piles where puddles anyway
Image by Faith Goble