Contemporary art is a cock ring on a giant erection pumped up by capitalism and keeping the masters of that game from cumming. I think they like it. I think the artists like it, too. They get to pretend to be profound. Some are. Most are hemorrhoids waiting to happen. The blood that pumps it all up is money. Green blood.

Philip-Lorca diCorcia writing for Art Forum

• always desperate for some serious, malicious ass-kicking  
• perpetually groveling for brutal & barbaric ego-smashing
• controlled by a prurient, animal dick that I own
• craving his Mistress, Goddess, Dominatrix, Boss Bitch

He wrote:

I go without you for so long. I look for you and long for you but you are away, living your life as well you should. Then I see it–an email that you’ve mentioned me in a tweet. I rush there and consume the snippets that you’ve written and ache ache ache for more but am denied because of my impotence.

I imagine this is what chastity and edging are like.

I replied:

You’re too much of a gluttonous whoreman to enjoy chastity or edging.

Now … castration might just be the perfect answer.

Don’t forget to check zen fetish. You’re my (un)shining star, after all.

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literally …

Dear Mistress

I have put my device on and locked it for the night.

I love who you are and am happy you can be yourself. “Yourself” is pretty damn fine.

love,

Anonymous Slave (but not to you)