Appealing Appetizing pt. 2

Dearest DM,

I understand your concern over the consumable sexual. The basic idea has always disturbed me as well: do we objectify all our desires in the same way? Can we never satiate the sexual urge because we lack the ability to absorb it into our own ego ideals? Is the song "Hungry Like the Wolf" smarter than I (or anyone else for that matter) give it credit for? This last possibility may be the most disturbing of all.

I have to draw attention to Freud here to remind you of the theory of infantile sexuality; in brief, that the baby begins sexual maturation by suckling on the mother's breast. The infant rationalizes the experience as an exchange as well: it consumes (subsumes) the mother's milk and delivers back to her the resulting faeces. The exchange further begins the development of desire in the oscillation of presence and absence. So much seems to rest on this experience; its subsequent evacuation into the imaginary (and the participle residue) no doubt provides the rational for the presence of lipstick-wearing candies in the symbolic order.

This is Real.

You and I both admire the genius of Charles Chaplin, director, when in The Gold Rush the tramp is transubstantiated into a bucking chicken. Here, the conventions of social interaction are overridden by the desire to consume—symbolic order, jouissance, etc. Likewise, the sexy green M&M is the sexual object distorted by the desire to taste. Does the same mechanism that allows lipstick and mascara to distort the social object into the sexual object then facilitate the move from chicken to chocolate? Can the primal hunger instinct be deformed the same way the survival instinct can?

Yes, This too, is Real

We are members of the collective that coined the phrases "hunger-memory" and "sleep-lust." We should be able to figure this shit out, right?

Your friend always and etc.,

HCE

p.s. Oh shit! What about that terrible song "Sex and Candy" that came out when we were in high school?

Appealing Appetizing pt. 1

Dear Good Friend,

I have long since ceased trying to understand the notion of "food fetishes"- saliva dissolving underwear, licking melted chocolate off a loved ones torso etc.- I dismiss the phenomenon as a happening that is just not meant for me.

What has come to irk me in recent weeks (I have waited to write you regarding this under the hope that the nagging will stop) is the appeal of personified products that (who?) take on the archetypes of the "sexy" one. I know there was a Squeeze-It Juice that (who?) fits into this category, also I'm almost sure there is a flavor of Runtz Candy of this variety as well. Look, I know this trend isn't new, I can trace it without much exertion back to the movie previews of the 1950's (I believe the Soda and/or Popcorn was "sexy"), but I cannot find a reason I can totally buy into for the purpose of these characterizations. I don't know where I'm going with this, but friend, I wanted to drop you a line so we can keep the lines of communication open in case you've lost sleep over this silly quandary as well.

As always, thank you,

Death Mask

Our Turn to Change

Dear YHTALMM enthusiasts,

As I'm sure you've heard, 2009 is a year of change--and our blog has no intention of being left in the era without change. We're changing too: in fact we've been in the midst of changing for the last few months. Months, that we're sure to you, seemed like months of silence. And in some ways this is true--my midrest stirrings have ceased and I no longer awaken to find food wrappers strewn in my sheets. While I'm grateful for said "clean" emergences into consciousness, I am not convinced that I have overcome the beast who demands to be fed while I rest. Instead, I believe I have catered (no pun intended) to the monster. Recently I have taken a job that sometimes keeps me up until five or so in the morning and my sleep-patterns have been disrupted entirely by the upheaval. The result, as far as I am can see, is that I now eat and eat consciously during the hours I would otherwise "sleep-eat".

What I am trying to confess is that I've given myself over to my illness and allow it to walk with me everywhere, anytime. What this means for the blog is the exact same thing. We no longer feel the need to transform our desires and remorse into a functioning Doctor Jekyll. In the coming days and weeks my colleague and I will resume You Have to Always Love Me More as a blog that now considers "sleep-eating" or what lays beneath "normal" desires as a Hyde who has triumphed.