Sex In Disturbia – Introduction

By | January 25, 2008

AlexSuzeSex isn’t always fantastic, sometimes it’s crap, other times it’s just OK but if you’re lucky most of the time it’s very enjoyable and occasionally mind-blowing. It’s the unpredictability of sex and relationships that make life interesting. Without the highs and the lows monotony would set in.

That’s why I often write about sex in odd situations. Stories about perfect sex disassociated with a larger narrative are stranded and bereft of meaning as it has no reference points.

Which is why I’m going to start an occasional series about the inhabitants of a fictional road in deepest disturbia called Darwin Close. It’s been brewing in my head for a while now and is populated with a huge mass of characters that I want to share with you.

There’s something about the ordinary that disturbs me. Nothing is perfect, there’s always an undercurrent. It’s the sound that you can hear in the middle of the night when the traffic noise has died down and everyone is in bed. It is a quiet sound and you have to know what to listen for. It’s as gentle as a sigh and as thunderous as an avalanche.

Listen for it now, can you hear it? It’s the sound of a million dreams and aspirations dieing. Not the sudden death that you experience when you find out you’ve only a couple of months to live. Or the feeling you get when you realise that the woman you read about in the paper who jumped in front of a train was the woman you promised yourself you’d eventually ask out and marry.

It’s the slow strangling death of every mote of hope in the mind of every bored housewife and salary man who wakes up one morning and realises that they’re five years from retirement and can’t remember what they actually did with the last forty years.

This gentle and insidious asphyxiation of the human spirit can produce aberrations that would keep a psychologist in research material for an eternity.

There’s spite, self interest, loathing, envy and jealousy. The only hearts and flowers are the hearts with a kitchen knife piercing an atrium and the only flowers are the digitalis in your bedtime coffee.

And there’s sex and passion. Passion in all it’s forms, from the pure to the twisted, the selfless to the selfish. And did I mention sex.

Enjoy *evil grin*