Memory Motel: A Rock And Roll Fantasy, Part Three Section Nine: Sex In The After Math

Written by | February 28, 2018 6:03 am | No Comments

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Part Three: In The Aftermath

 

13 – Mick Jagger

Well, obviously it was the dog. There was no one else but us two and therefore it was the dog and therefore what I had been shown was the Universe in one huge, acid flashback, hard knocking expression of all the things and all the answers to all the question people on earth can hardly begin to grasp and still I had no answer. “…and what if I say no?”

Blue Eyes changed but so rapidly he seemed to go from one thing to another instantaneously and readly bizarrely, he became a teenage girl who looked like she’d just walked out of a nightclub in early sixties London. Heels, too much lipstick, beehive hairdo, tight pencil dress. Hot. I’d had a hundred of the, though if I had her I think I’d remember her. She shook her blonde hair and it lost its stiffness and flowed around her shoulders.

She didn’t answer my question, instead asked one of her own: “You don’t remember me? We had sex in 1964.”

I shrugged, this was a world I knew all too well. “Yes, “ I lied. “I think I do…where was it again.”

Her eyes seemed suddenly shrouded in indifference and I realized it was really just small talk. She didn’t much care one way or another, actually, she was probably just putting me at my ease. “Don’t worry about it, Mick, we come and go, don’t we.”

“I’ve been through a lot, you know.”

“Of course I know.” She paused and she looked right at me, the same blue eyes. “You’ve been dead about two and a half years, here on the island 18 months and in the Universe with me for another year. If you don’t go perform one last time with the Stones, everything you’ve seen over the past year will end. It will come to a full stop, and I am not sure when your family will join you. But again, no later than three months everybody who outlived you will join you.”

“And that is bad?”

“It isn’t a question of good or bad, those terms don’t exist in an infinite existence where there is no real concept of harm to other people, so no it isn’t bad. But I decided to make the Universe as an adventurous imagination and the finiteness of time has made our being a wonderful thing. It has given us a different perspective on our deepest feelings and that inside us that thing that damages us, doesn’t appreciate how good damage is to us, damage is for the common good, Mick.”

“The truth is, do my kids deserve what I had, do their kids, it might not be a loss but something still: never to be born, right?”

“Exactly, and experiences we’ve taken for granted since we made the Universe, would have never existed.”

“It’s like ending the world cup right in the middle, just saying OK guys… that’s it.” I don’t know when we stopped standing on the beach and ended leaning on the sofa with Coltrane in the background, and the lights softer. It was like a hotel room in the mid-1950s, seductive and seductive I knew. Blue Eyes was becoming lovelier, I don’t mean I was appreciating her more, what I mean is her features have been literally changing right in front of me. She looked a little older, taller, curvier. All over bite and shaded eyes. Less make up and more subtly attractive. And I figured I better catchy up, 25, 35? I had the skills and decided on a younger age to capture them, 21 years old, all lips and haircut, and blue eyes. Attractive.

I sat closer to her and she didn’t pull away and all the old skills, all the ability to gauge her mood returned. I made a silly joke, she giggled, I held her hand I pulled her towards me but she pulled away. “I don’t mind fucking you, Mick.” Blue Eyes said, “It won’t be the first time. But we have work to do now.”

“So if I save the Universe, you’ll fuck me?”

“Come on, Mick. I don’t need you to go asshole on me after all this time. I am not talking about a walk in the park. Without the Universe everything that makes the After Math what it is will end. The After Math won’t, it will become something else, but what it was will end. And worse, this wonderful game of galaxies, of worlds upon worlds and lives upon lives, of pure matter like magnets, coming together and expanding will end. I like it. I don’t want it to end. I am not holding about for money, or love, or anything of that small stuff. You have been chosen by me to save the Universe. It isn’t fair, and the After Math is a fair place, but tough luck. Stop fucking about, fuck my brains out and let’s go save the Universe right now.”

We began to kiss and I knew then that at least one thing was better in the After Math –sex was better in the After Math. Do you know how when you’re rockin’ good hashish, how it is almost halluciigenic, and three dimensional? Take that and blow it all out of proportions, where instead of bodies fucking it is like one world fucking another, where everything you can imagine existing exists just in intercourse. It is like the way ancient Greeks believe the earth was the center of the Universe, well, my dick was the center of the universe, me, 21 year old me, and Blue Eyes, just exploding through every dimension, sometimes one dimension like two pieces of paper, or a picture in a magazine, and sometimes a lot of them, like a human body turned inside out with every sensation sexual and that is it. Whatever it is I loved about sex, all those songs, and all those thoughts, ideas, seductions and seduced, the other me, the absolute certainty in sex and on every level, it was the supreme command of my id, of any form of power with women and (this is why people thought I was a misogynist) over women, was to get to this place with women: this sexual blowout, blowing myself way in a long constant continuous feeling of sex and flow, wet and hard, dry and wet and all of it the curling taking of another person, not through power of violence but power of sex.

It was never about love, never quite, never just, yes love, but more, the thrilling intoxication do what I say: on your knees, on your back, on your style, (“doggie style?” Blue Eyes asks with a smirk), the explosive exploding in and out of desire, the face of sex and farce and force and when I stop to think, which I don’t for a long long time, I feel nothing to be afraid of: if everything goes wrong, if the last concert flops and the Universe is put to bed, Blue Eyes will be devastated but I will still see my family, I won’t lose them. They will lose, my songs will be lost, the Rolling Stones will be lost, but my family will remain.

 

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