Togethercoloured Instants: Literary Orgasms Part One

The "translation and transformation of subjective experience into collective understanding" (to quote my darling alter-ego) through the medium of language is one thing, but to do it artistically is quite another.

Writers could argue forever, I guess, about the relative difficulties of portrayal (is it easier to write the mundane or the transcendental? A snail crawling up a wall or being high? Something everyone knows or almost no one knows? ETCETERA), and, indeed, of art itself. But it's late, and my uterus hurts, so maybe I'll talk about that some other time.

Personally I have immense respect for any writer who can pull off an orgasm without recourse to language LIKE come, climax, completion, satisfaction, flooding warmth, rapturous conclusion, transports of ecstasy, quivering pinnacle of desire etcetc. And so, I am starting a collection of literary orgasms for your delectation. I only have three so far; this is just a teaser. In the interests of absolute gender equality there's a Him, a Her, and a Them.

"Billy made a noise like a small, rusty hinge. He had just emptied his seminal vesicles into Valencia ..." - Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse 5


"... she broke like a pane of glass" - Pauline Reage, Story of O


"... until we shall attain the Springsmelling
intense large togethercoloured instant

the moment pleasantly frightful ..." - e.e. cummings


Like I said, that was just a teaser. Although after writing that bit just before, I think I might have to start a Quivering Pinnacles of Desire Collection posthaste.