My friend invited me over to watch the game and smoke a couple joints. Since I was lonely I thought, sure, what the fuck. Maybe his hot wife will be home.

They had an open relationship, my friend and his wife. She was free to fuck anyone she wanted and he was free to watch. When he told me about this at work one day my whole body was energized, as if electric jolts were lifting me by the armpits. I immediately had an unrestrained desire to meet this woman who had so much control.

I found myself staring at the picture he had of her on his desk every chance I could. I emblazoned that image of her cruel smile in my mind and recalled it at all the way home, daily. I would hurry through dinner and rush to the bedroom with my lotion, fixating my mind on that beautiful cruel woman.

Every day my friend would tell me about his wife’s sexual conquests, and how he knelt at her feet while she embraced some poor sap who that he was getting an easy fuck. He would cook dinner for them, make the bed for them, be a footstool for his wife while her lover made love to her on the couch. He had grown used to sleeping on the floor next to the bed, and massaging Anita’s feet after she fucked her lover. And if he dared look at her without permission he would not be able to lick her pussy after she had finished.

In the morning, if she hadn’t banished her lover of the previous night, Matt would make breakfast as Anita ordered and then kneel at feet under the table, licking her toes as she and her lover talked and ate.

I was astonished that Matt said this relationship was liberating. That because of it he was no longer enslaved to the ideology of manhood and was free to experience his desire to the fullest. He felt an intense gratitude towards Anita, and he said he would do anything for her. Oddly enough, he said it also proved Anita loved him more than anyone else he’d ever known because she made no appeals to his ego, no demands that he conform. Hers was an unselfish love that no other woman had ever shown him.

When I got to Matt’s house I was not disappointed. I knocked on the door and heard Anita’s voice for the first time. “Come in.”

I slowly turned the knob so as to maintain decorum of respect and entered with my head bowed. I took a short glance over to the kitchen and saw Anita in a shimmering light blue nightgown, her beautiful long blond hair tied in back. Her sexy strong feminine arm rested on the table while she ate a bowl of cereal. Under the table Matt silently lay in a fetal position sucking on her toes.

“Say hello,” she commanded.

“Hello,” I said.

She gave me a severe look. “Not you.”

At the same time Matt said “how’s it goin’ man” I said “yes, ma’am.”

Anita stared me down. I could not bear to look at her. “You need to learn to speak when you are spoken to.”

I was too afraid to answer. I could only look down with an apologetic look of reverence.

“Look at me,” she commanded. And I gladly obliged.

“Matt tells me you are a good cook.”

The thought that news of my pathetic, insignificant existence had reached her ears sent chills to my scrotum. But I was afraid to acknowledge my cooking skills lest she be disappointed.

“I try,” I said with a weak voice and looking down at my feet.

“I certainly don’t let Matt stay around because of his ability to cook,” she said. “Make me an omelet. For once I would like a real breakfast.”

She saw my hesitation, but didn’t seek to reassure me. “Get going. The pans are next to the stove. You should be able to find everything you need. My kitchen’s no different than any other kitchen. There are no secret hiding places for eggs, vegetables, condiments or knives.”

I couldn’t resist a quick glance at her gorgeous face. But when I glanced to that lovely strong arm my gaze was suspended, and she saw it. And she saw my body start to tremble. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” I quickly apologized. She studied me for an excruciating couple of seconds while my soul squirmed and my restless chakras stirred. Then she dismissed me with a wave her hand and I, grateful I hadn’t incurred her wrath, quickly skipped into the kitchen.

I managed a quick look over at Matt while I got a pan out, but he was intent on sucking on Anita’s toes while she silently read the paper.

“Get me a cup of coffee,” she said.

I looked down at Matt, but he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Matt’s busy. I’m talking to you.”

I looked over at the pan heating on the stove and then over at her.

“You can do two things at once, can’t you?” she said sarcastically.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, and quickly took the coffee decanter over to her, my hand shaking as I tried to fill her cup.

“If you spill any I am going to be really pissed off,” she said cuttingly.

With all of the control my mind could muster I managed to empty the remains of the decanter into her cup without spilling a drop.

“Now don’t forget the omelet,” she said.

I quickly got back to work on her food, cutting up some green onions, peppers and potato.

“And don’t call me ma’am again,” she barked. But she didn’t say how I should address her.

“I have spoken to you,” she barked.

“Yes mistress,” I said.

Her silence told me she was happy with that. I served her the food and set to doing the dishes without being told. She had not said whether she liked the meal or not, but she ate everything. So I was pleased. When she had done she said, “okay, you boys enjoy the game.” And she got up and went to the bedroom and closed the door.

Matt, crawled out from under the table and said “nice job, man. She likes you. Good thing you can cook.” And then I realized that Matt had singled me out for a purpose. It was cool, though. I liked Matt and we had some things in common. Not the least of which was an appreciation for good smoke.

Matt motioned for me to follow him downstairs and he rolled a joint, put the game on the tv and put on the latest Lamb of God CD.

After a while Anita came downstairs and I immediately got up and bowed my head. Matt sat up and winked at me. Anita gave him a kiss and a hug and asked him if he wanted anything special from the store and he rattled off a couple items. Anita then turned to me with a warm smile and handed me a small photo album and said. “I want you to use these, and follow the instructions written on the inside front cover.”

I started to open the photo album and caught the quickest glimpse of Anita’s rippling abs when she scolded me. “Wait until you get home.”

I quickly shut the album and thanked her, and she could feel the energy waves from my heart, eyes and forehead.

“So, you like the new CD,” Matt asked after Anita had left, signaling we weren’t going to discuss her.

After the game I hurried home to masturbate while looking at the picture of her in the photo album, and following the instructions she had written, just at the time I was about to spew I concentrated on one of my chakras.

My mind had been captured by Anita and now her image, her voice, her words dominated my thoughts. I found myself hurrying home from work every day to eat, and then to masturbate while concentrating on the pictures Anita had given me. And then at bedtime I would repeat. Every Sunday hurried to Anita’s kitchen to prepare breakfast for her and chill out with Matt afterwards while she went out.

And I realized my mind was slowly being reprogrammed. It no longer made my heart beat furiously when some clerk was snotty, or someone at work made their stupid, judgmental remarks. My mind was losing that animal protective instinct. I felt a growing personal integrity that was too strong to be pulled into the fool’s game of confrontation. Everyone died countless times through the drama and the fiction their minds created and which their brains carried out. Ridicule and praise was nothing more than an audience’s reaction to the role they have assigned to you in their particular drama. I no longer cared enough to respond to caustic remarks or undignified treatment at the hands of others. The more furious others became the more calm I got. Anita made me strong. No one could ever crush my ego like Anita, and somehow knowing that reduced the threat of everyone else.

Austin Osman Spare (1886-1956) was an artist, visionary and occultist who explored the nature of psychic energy. He developed a system of sigils that could be used without ceremony, ritual, grimoires or magical objects to focus the will on the subconscious mind to achieve powerful psychic results.

Art historians ignore Spare, but the community of occultists recognizes his profound contributions to humanity, and more importantly, the fecundity of his artwork and the psychic possibilities inherent within it.

Spare believed in a primal cosmic life force, Kia, which could be channeled into the human organism, called Zos. The technique he used to summon the forces of Kia he called “atavistic resurgence”. He believed that when the mind was in a trance-like state as achieved through meditation or ejaculation the will could direct sigils to the subconscious mind where they would ripen into the conscious mind. Through this method one can learn to influence his or her own psychic reality. Spare outlined his method in “The Book of Pleasure”. You can find it and other articles on Spare in “Book of Lies,” edited by Richard Metzger available at disinfo.

Briefly, it is a method whereby one concentrates his or thought or intention into a sentence form. For example, you would write down your desire in sentence form something like “I desire my boss to lose his job”. You then eliminate the vowels and duplicate consonants, paring the words down to the simplest set of letters possible. You then combine these letters together to make a symbol. For example, you could flip the “d” on its side and put a hook on it to conjoin the “d” and “j” and then proceed to apply the rest of letters until you come up with a symbol you can easlily remember or visualize. Then, when you masturbate you take the symbol and place it before you. You don’t have to think of it until you are about to ejaculate. The more intense the visualizationthe better because it provides the most focus and energizes the sigil most powerfully. Check out the material at http://bumthumpers.com for good visualization material if you are wanting in that department. Then, at the moment you are about to ejaculate if you cannot recall the sigil you created you can open your eyes to take a quick glance at it to place it in your mind’s eye and then focus intently upon it while you ejaculate. This energizes the sigil and plants it in your subconscious.

What does this have to do with art? For Spare, “Art is the instinctive application of the knowledge latent in the subconscious. ” For the artist exploring new ways of seeing and presenting his or her work this technique provides endless possbilities.