Now that school's regular season is over (and what a fuckup of a regular season ... but I'll leave that emo for another blog) I'm hoping to go through a month's worth of old SG photosets every week.
The things I do to appreciate the hot ladiezzz ... work work work.
Anyway, finally came across Lane by Yuki ... and a few things.
1) I didn't recognize her homage to Serial Experiments until half-way through the set, and only then after going "Man, look at that hawt stack of PS/2-ish powerswitches!" Excellent idea! The pic where she's implying her vagina is a USB-slot brings back two strong memories. The first is of some hentai I saw as a kid in which the same implication was made in that weird violative-but-'cutesy' Hentai way that really bothered me at the time, the association of computer peripherals as devices for sexual rape.
On the other hand, when done willingly as in Yuki's case ... the posthumanist in my pants is very happy. What is sperm but the injection of data from one biological machine to another, through a very clearly defined communication conduit? The orgasm as a sort-of-hardware interrupt?
HAWWWWWTTTTTTT!
2) There are blotches over Yuki's body. I'm both feeling twinges of pain, because I'm assuming they did not arrive there by happy means. At the same time, I can't stop staring at them. If anything, they are components of her, things that are necessary to the image she presents before me at the present moment (regardless of how necessary they are in all possible worlds.) As such, as a cold emotionless viewer I can only absorb them as elements of her particular gorgeousness. I'm not sure if I like that, the idea that I appreciate the pain of others as it makes them beautiful. "There is nothing more beautiful than a bruised ego on a beautiful angel"?
3) I forgot that I'm at home and not in Waterloo, that my cohabitants are not liberally minded lads and lasses who are okay with my public manifesto that the naked body should be flaunted and used as an artpiece/canvas/media. And a cat who doesn't really care either way.
Instead, the people walking around the living room are are my parents, who would have been a little creeped out and upset had I not panicked and closed my lid just in time. Oops.
The things I do to appreciate the hot ladiezzz ... work work work.
Anyway, finally came across Lane by Yuki ... and a few things.
1) I didn't recognize her homage to Serial Experiments until half-way through the set, and only then after going "Man, look at that hawt stack of PS/2-ish powerswitches!" Excellent idea! The pic where she's implying her vagina is a USB-slot brings back two strong memories. The first is of some hentai I saw as a kid in which the same implication was made in that weird violative-but-'cutesy' Hentai way that really bothered me at the time, the association of computer peripherals as devices for sexual rape.
On the other hand, when done willingly as in Yuki's case ... the posthumanist in my pants is very happy. What is sperm but the injection of data from one biological machine to another, through a very clearly defined communication conduit? The orgasm as a sort-of-hardware interrupt?
HAWWWWWTTTTTTT!
2) There are blotches over Yuki's body. I'm both feeling twinges of pain, because I'm assuming they did not arrive there by happy means. At the same time, I can't stop staring at them. If anything, they are components of her, things that are necessary to the image she presents before me at the present moment (regardless of how necessary they are in all possible worlds.) As such, as a cold emotionless viewer I can only absorb them as elements of her particular gorgeousness. I'm not sure if I like that, the idea that I appreciate the pain of others as it makes them beautiful. "There is nothing more beautiful than a bruised ego on a beautiful angel"?
3) I forgot that I'm at home and not in Waterloo, that my cohabitants are not liberally minded lads and lasses who are okay with my public manifesto that the naked body should be flaunted and used as an artpiece/canvas/media. And a cat who doesn't really care either way.
Instead, the people walking around the living room are are my parents, who would have been a little creeped out and upset had I not panicked and closed my lid just in time. Oops.