What it means to become living-art
One of my posts recently had a boom in popularity, in it I talked about becoming a living art piece through the consummation of the most deviant of acts, in this manner portraying the old ways of convict literary sex offenders with your own body, with your own self, therefore partaking in deeds looked down upon by society for centuries to this day. Putting it like this might sound terrible, might sound like I'm telling people to commit illegalities, but the truth is that the bottomless pit is not so bottomless, and what I mean is not as objective as it may seem at first.
For starters, no, I'm not out there breaking the law in any way, but that doesn't mean I'm doing less of what I set out to do. You see, hedonism is the focal point of the text, and the constant search for pleasure does not have to go, necessarily, as far as to become an outlaw, since the achievement of pleasure resides very little in the subjective side and, as for the objective, it is easily achieavable and very commonplace in society. Sure, when you put yourself out of that comfort zone in order to dive further into an hedonistic lifesyle, pleasure will reveal itself in places you never before thought possible, but most of the time it will be kept inside your personal space. What I mean by that is that the uncaring nature of a pleasure-focused life is not at all inhumane in most people, since it's not something an individual is normally born with, and if it isn't chronic, it's hard to become so. Very little of the pleasure I experience involves other people, and what does doesn't harm them neither phisically nor mentally; even when it isn't explicitly consensual.
Hedonism, just as in any other school of thought inside the philosophical spectrum, is much better as theory on paper, than as act in real life — and much more feasible too. It's rare to find a theory that can represent with perfection the ways of a conventional deviant, or even any kind of individual outside of the masses, since society today is so noir sur blanc, rewarding cowardice and pre-setting various examples to be followed — this way giving us the illusion of diversity in a world that cannot accomodate this many dandies. Therefore, when I say I am a deviant, that could be referring to innumerous characteristics of my person that deviate from the norm, be it the clothes I wear, the music I like, or my ways of achieving my pleasure. So, when I say I live an hedonistic life, you gotta be reasonable and not point me as a fat Bacchus drinking from a barrel of wine, or as a mythical Sade shitting on the image of jesus christ. I am just like everybody else, only difference is that I recognize the importance of pleasure in life, and work to achieve the goal of having it as constant as possible; even coming in many different ways, even it not being necessarily sexual, or necessarily assexual.
For pleaseure I have commited many acts lacking on common decency, and nurtured fetishes worthy of an Index Librorum Prohibitorum for their descriptions, and today the memories of those reside as beautiful portraits from a kind of art very little can appreciate. I have shown god the art I can make with my body, with my actions; I have become lascivious living-art under his almighty gaze, but still go grocery shopping every week like your mother, your next door neighbor, or even yourself. It's impossible to live a life of pure, uncaring pleasure if you're not a god, and even de la Bretonne had to stop masturbating, dreaming about little girls feet, to eat and shit like any other person.
And a good example of that is in the opening poem for Hollow Saffron Gutter, "House Guest":
"[...]A neon sign clings to a dirty puddle moored by the curb
It rustles, disturbed, and grows dull and then serrated
before settling into a more perfect reflection
Barefoot in heels you kick a wet sheet of newsprint
It sticks comically to the stiletto like gristle on bone"