Hilarious erotica and a funny perspective
May. 26th, 2020 09:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
garoteToday, following up on a hunch, I spend a few hours trawling obscure torrent sites and gathered some digital transfers of ancient 1960-1970's porn films. The sex depicted was totally unremarkable compared to what you could get to in 30 seconds with a google search, but that wasn't the point. The point was the audio, which consists of weird session jazz music overlaid by "steamy" poetic narration, delivered by a woman with a low voice in an extremely pretentious beat-poet cadence.
By dumping the movies through a few demultiplexing tools I isolated the audio into its own file. The result is about 60 minutes of meandering low-fidelity jazz, badly edited, with absolutely hilarious "hot" narration breaking in every five minutes or so. Here's an example from "Fraulein Leather," circa 1970:
"Bizarre. Thrilling. Off-beat desires. Three gorgeous queens to be satisfied. Eager hot bodies that demanded poetry in perverse lovemaking. Every secret thought so long concealed now revealed itself. Pleasure undreamed of, at last experienced, and fully enjoyed. The french maid. So young, so lovely, so willing. Race, wicked thoughts, race!"
Hilarious!! You can almost hear the bongo drums and smell the coffee and patchouli, yeah?
It's incredibly amusing as background audio. And meaningless enough that I can work to it. But good lord this is music for headphones only. You play this out loud on anything and people will think you're some kind of maniac.
Anyway, we ate Thai food and talked about work.
The discussion veered into descriptions of her time dating men - what they were like, how they behaved - and I heard some interesting stories about people she'd dated earlier in the year and last year. Men in general, as she saw it, were sensitive to what she called "confusion and emotional derailment," but she acknowledged that it was a personal pattern and probably wouldn't hold up to further examples.
I enjoyed the dialogue and the subject changed to her experiences as a college student, seducing men rather easily by wearing a tight shirt that showed off her boobs and accepting libations or snacks from men, then making out with them on the dance floor, then escorting them back to her place for a sex act that was, as she described it, "aggressive bouncing on top of him just like the last dozen times you had sex because you don't know any other way to do it, until you get an orgasm and then send the guy home."
It was hilarious. I asked her to show me how she she did it. Wordlessly she took my hand and pulled me into the bedroom, then pointed at the bed. I laid down, and she climbed roughly on top of me, then peeled off her shirt and threw it on the floor. I had to admit, it was effective.
Afterward we packed a few things up and drove to the parking lot hear the Lawrence Hall Of Science and sat in chairs and ate ice cream. The Bay sparkled below us, and we were happy and thankful for our place in life and the time we had, in this weird pandemic era.
"It's funny," I said. "I know how to center myself and concentrate and feel at peace, but every now and then I remember just how much complicated work is going on in my body, hammered there by hundreds of millions of years of trial and error, just to keep me conscious and upright and fight off infections and pollution, all the time. Even when I'm feeling perfectly still, trillions of clocks are running in my body. More than I could ever count, doing more than I could ever know."
That's the real kicker, I think: Knowing how it works - being aware of it at all - is quite optional for us living creatures.
By dumping the movies through a few demultiplexing tools I isolated the audio into its own file. The result is about 60 minutes of meandering low-fidelity jazz, badly edited, with absolutely hilarious "hot" narration breaking in every five minutes or so. Here's an example from "Fraulein Leather," circa 1970:
"Bizarre. Thrilling. Off-beat desires. Three gorgeous queens to be satisfied. Eager hot bodies that demanded poetry in perverse lovemaking. Every secret thought so long concealed now revealed itself. Pleasure undreamed of, at last experienced, and fully enjoyed. The french maid. So young, so lovely, so willing. Race, wicked thoughts, race!"
Hilarious!! You can almost hear the bongo drums and smell the coffee and patchouli, yeah?
It's incredibly amusing as background audio. And meaningless enough that I can work to it. But good lord this is music for headphones only. You play this out loud on anything and people will think you're some kind of maniac.
Anyway, we ate Thai food and talked about work.
The discussion veered into descriptions of her time dating men - what they were like, how they behaved - and I heard some interesting stories about people she'd dated earlier in the year and last year. Men in general, as she saw it, were sensitive to what she called "confusion and emotional derailment," but she acknowledged that it was a personal pattern and probably wouldn't hold up to further examples.
I enjoyed the dialogue and the subject changed to her experiences as a college student, seducing men rather easily by wearing a tight shirt that showed off her boobs and accepting libations or snacks from men, then making out with them on the dance floor, then escorting them back to her place for a sex act that was, as she described it, "aggressive bouncing on top of him just like the last dozen times you had sex because you don't know any other way to do it, until you get an orgasm and then send the guy home."
It was hilarious. I asked her to show me how she she did it. Wordlessly she took my hand and pulled me into the bedroom, then pointed at the bed. I laid down, and she climbed roughly on top of me, then peeled off her shirt and threw it on the floor. I had to admit, it was effective.
Afterward we packed a few things up and drove to the parking lot hear the Lawrence Hall Of Science and sat in chairs and ate ice cream. The Bay sparkled below us, and we were happy and thankful for our place in life and the time we had, in this weird pandemic era.
"It's funny," I said. "I know how to center myself and concentrate and feel at peace, but every now and then I remember just how much complicated work is going on in my body, hammered there by hundreds of millions of years of trial and error, just to keep me conscious and upright and fight off infections and pollution, all the time. Even when I'm feeling perfectly still, trillions of clocks are running in my body. More than I could ever count, doing more than I could ever know."
That's the real kicker, I think: Knowing how it works - being aware of it at all - is quite optional for us living creatures.
