Gargoyles

As (admittedly) obsessed with sex and sexuality as I am, it often surprises people that I have an interest in reading and the arts. I often visit museums and libraries. I love them. I often suspect that the arts, literature and other creative impulses are simply streams of channeled sexuality.

I love cities, of course, and I love the layers of life and history in them, from fanciful birth to age dereliction and decay. My favorite performance art is architecture. I marvel at it. Among my favorite forms is the muscular Romanesque of H.H. Richardson and the wild and massive forms of Frank Furness, struggling to escape from its Victorian formalism and fancy.

Like Frank Lloyd Wright, I am, deep down, Nieztschean in my philosophy. I believe in leaving the creative urges alone, without restriction or of the meddling of social norms.

When, I look up at the sturdy walls of the older buildings I always delight in the gargoyles, those carnal delights perched in their cornices.