Four Letter Words - AMPs - Part I

"AMPS" or Asian Massage Parlors are this week's distraction from all of "whatever else is supposed to really matter"

From The New York Times:


The suspect, who was a customer at two of the spas in the Atlanta area that were attacked this week, spent time in a rehab clinic for a self-described sexual addiction.

Sadly, the authors of these articles, know little of massage parlors, the range of human interaction that goes on in them, nor do they understand the states of mind of the partakers, before, during and after.

I need not read past the headline, to know the forboden FOUR LETTER WORD in such a NYT article.  It's the same word often uttered in the pornographic solicitations by it's purported purveyors.  The word is abusively trafficked in many forms, associated with worst and best of human emotions and experiences.  The word is a harlot.  She is bought cheaply at great cost.  She is splashed upon a canvas, colored for fleeting moments to assuage the hours and days of life spent in anger, anxiety or lust.

If I were to write such an article, I would ask the fundamental questions of what is that word, how was it used and are not all that has happened in Atlanta a reflection of the void in her absence, a universal black hole that attaching a dark magnetic force to every attitude, thought and action that relentlessly pulled the now dead women and one unliving man to their final destruction?

Police reports, divorce depositions and psychologists files are filled with the events, analysis and repercussions of and in the lives of men who frequent the AMPS and places like them.   The gateway to these establishments and that which unfolds on "therapy" tables in rooms with dimly lit red lights is multifaceted.   It may be as innocent as an injury requiring therapy or as torrid fetishes fed by hours of pornographic fantasy on a particular genre of sexual participant, or kink.  The fast track to the "worst" of what can go on is as the result of pornographic web sites where men, young and old, repeatedly fixate on videos of a particular category of women (in this case diminutive, submissive Asian) and cannot find respite from the obsession and the compulsion to act on what they have seen, until they have partaken of it to an experienced orgasm.

With orgasm, a belt is released in the brains bicep, mainlining the body and mind with an intoxicant, dissipation of of the the dopaminiacal compulsion that pounded the frontal lobe into a wasted Golem unable to curb the the haunting wanting and wanting of his precious, precious ring.

I'll risk the condemnation of some by not first mentioning the deceased but in this part of what could be a serial commentary, we will delve into the torturous obsession and compulsion of a man not unlike myself and other men I've known or portrayed literature-ically as in The Kreutzer Sonata

PART II - My Obsession  (coming this weekend to a blog near you.)





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