The Book of Erotica

About a week and a half ago, I didn’t go to work because I woke up with a fever and a major hang-over. The day before, I was over at Miguel’s crib together with our students (Miguel’s a co-worker) from the School of Journalism – they threw a despedida in his honor as Miguel was set to resign by the following week. As expected, there was a lot of booze and pot and about a dozen pieces of Valium. Our student JP appointed himself as the bartender and started to work on his concoction as soon as we got to Miguel’s flat – one Red Horse Grande, a small bottle of gin and some pineapple juice mix. It tasted weird at first but I eventually got the hang of the taste. To make a long story short, I’ve had a lot of fun ;p

Anyhoo, I felt so sick the next day that I had to stay in the bathroom for an hour or two. I sat in a corner in a crouched position, my back leaning against the door and I was only a couple of steps away from the toilet bowl. I was throwing up a lot and I just couldn’t remember the last time that I felt so miserable. JP’s concoction (I don’t know what he calls it) was smooth but it was a major killer.

I couldn’t sleep anymore when I got back to my bed so I decided to browse up on my reading. I remember that I still have the book that Jewel lent to me so I grabbed it from my shelf and started to devour the book. I spent the entire weekend in bed “recuperating” reading excerpts from the world’s most erotic pieces. Having a very active imagination, I was able to picture in my head what was happening to the characters with every line and with every page. I was in such a state of arousal that I just cannot not pleasure myself. What a way to recuperate!

My favorites from “Sensuous Highlights from the World’s Most Erotic Pieces” would have to be Henry Miller’s autobiography entitled “My Life and Loves” and another piece called “Sin for Breakfast (I forgot who the author was).” The former is a narration of all his sexual conquests starting from his teenage years with E, his married American lover until Sophie, the hot African-American chic that was exceptional in the technique department. The latter, on the other hand, is a fictional story about a man reading his wife’s journal on all her extra-marital affairs.

The excerpt that I liked the least was that of Cassanova. I find the manner of his writing too artsy-fartsy for a man reputedly to be one of the world’s best lovers, if not THE best. It was way too detailed (normally, it is good for such the erotica genre) but in his case, it just made his work too dragging.

Anyhoo, I’m now on the hunt for a copy of India’s “The Perfumed Garden” which is very similar to the Kama Sutra. Next on my reading list would be Anne Rice’s The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, Beauty’s Punishment and Beauty’s Release after I finish Holy Blood, Holy Grail.