I have a little story to tell about the home I grew up in as a child. I was born to 2 very good people. Very mormon people, it’s worth mentioning. My mother, in fact, is not just mormon, but has a mind and heart that is kind of stuck in the victorian era. She is a tad fanatical about modesty, champions repressed sexuality, and just looooooooves the ‘establishment’. I think she should marry it. I digress.
My parents still live in the same house they moved into when they got married. I’d like to introduce you to the bathroom – specifically, the bath tub area, in which I spent time every day of my upbringing…. naked, wet, and alone with my thoughts…
More on that in a second. Let’s first take a look at the bath tub area:
Here we have an antique porcelain claw foot bath tub. On the walls that the tub faces, we have some wall paper that is worth examining a bit closer… (It’s worth noting that this wall paper has been on that wall for all 34.5 years of my life. )
Here are some detail shots:
Hmmm… let’s see. Here we have a man playing the piano, with 2 very sexy ladies standing there, adoring his musical talents. A musician getting chicks… veeeeeery interesting.
To the right, we have a scupture of a nude female. Naked women = art. Another noteworthy lesson. Moving along…
On the left, We have what appears to be a barber shop trio. Where is the 4th man? It’s supposed to be a quartet, is it not? I’m sure he’s off with one of the barber shop groupies, having relations behind the bar. To the right, we have a painting of a show girl on a swing, furthering the notion that pretty girls are valuable decorations in a naked, wet man’s life. What else is a hot girl on a swing good for, anyway?
This may be my favorite set of frames in the montage. On the right, we have the trusty bar tender. He’s a man of solid build and solid character. You can, and have, told him all your troubles. He knows exactly what elixir to serve you on any given day, and any given mood. As you can see in the paintings behind him, he, too, appreciates the finer points of feminine beauty.
To the left, we have a lovely portrayal of a naked woman. She’s strategically covered up by a sheet. Now that I’m a more experienced man, I recognize this as a classic post-sex semi-covered up pose. As a young boy, I simply marveled at the mystery of this naked lady in waiting. Who is she? What pleasures is she about to experience? What shape are her breasts, that the artist has deftly left to my imagination to decide?
One does not need to understand Pavlovian conditioning to be affected by it. Naked women – musicians – booze – sexily dressed women. All there for my daily contemplation as a naked, wet, curious young boy, beginning from the time I was a baby.
Is it any wonder that I’ve turned out the way I am?