/lit/ - Literature

>>22111779
Being intoxicated and transformed and drawn out of yourself by an alien unknowable force describes not only the experience of sexuality (and, in passing, of art) but also the experience of being a living conscious creature in the world.

I'm certainly not against reason, but reason is only the cunning cultivation of the instinct for self-preservation, and the basis of preserving ourselves is that it allows us to continue adventuring into what is beyond us -- the adventure into the beyond that sexuality is a particularly intense instance of.

If reason really were to take full unswayable sway, to reign as monomaniacal tyrant, it would reduce your organism to a little insensate sessile shell-being sunk on the ocean floor, unmoving, unfeeling, untouchable. Its algorithms would consider that fate a job well done.

Full self-preservation is nothing but death; reason becomes your sarcophagus. The truth of sex is the truth of the hazardous self-transcending that is life itself.