Tag Archives: fetish

Bomb Fetish

Bomb Love - From Postcards In The Time Of War

This is a random post. I was writing in my sketchbook/journal to develop my artwork (in my head, since I still don’t have time to develop it visually yet) and I started thinking about bombs and sex. For some insane reason, they make sense to me together these days. Don’t ask me why just yet. The force is strong with me and jedi’s cannot really try to explain their powers. Do or do not, there is no try as Master Yoda would say.

Anyway back to bomb fetishes. I find fetishes an interesting absurdity. Again, I am in no way demeaning fetishes and I don’t want to offend any religious group that might create yet another ban on the freedom of people to think and do as they please. Fetishism included. Hey, it takes all kinds now, doesn’t it?

Noun: fetish

  1. A form of sexual desire in which gratification depends to an abnormal degree on some object or item of clothing or part of the body
  2. A charm superstitiously believed to embody magical powers
  3. Excessive or irrational devotion to some activity

Bombs are objects and can be items of clothing (think: suicide bomber). Sometimes, I feel like the suicide bomb jacket is a fashion statement for the brainwashed. I mean, they have their own style, when you really think about it. It does make an impressive entrance to any social gathering. Deep inside, they could be fashion models.

Could this be the beginning of something new to draw? It could be. I just don’t know yet. Meanwhile, I am writing about it. Ofcourse, there is always the fear that I could be selling out to the new trend of playing victim to terrorism. Hey, it happens in art as well. Show the world how you’re suffering and everyone knows your name. But I generally don’t get that kind of approval so I shouldn’t worry about it.

There are so many of us that are overlooked in this frenzy of art-business. You see, you have to be in the IN crowd. Now, I have my theories of how to get to that much desired position but I haven’t really tried. Why be a whore, when you can be a saint? Or maybe, I am exaggerating. Why be a whore, when you can just be yourself? Ah, integrity! It sounds so pretty but it can bite you in the ass. Sometimes, it can even sound like self-righteousness but I think the burka clad and bearded folk have that covered so I need not worry.

I think there are some who get off on bombs. Or maybe the bombs get off on them. Somebody recently told me that her younger cousin repeatedly writes her name on her body with permanent marker in case she gets killed in a bomb blast. Even if she is found in pieces, atleast people would know who she was. Sad, isn’t it? Sad and absurd, but it does make sense.

Disclaimer: I wrote this while I am under the influence of Xanax. Life is tough but there are always pills to make it better.

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