I Took the Sex Gods to Thailand

By Lee Huxley

This is the true story of a self-confessed sexual zealot
who, while satisfying his lust with bar girls in Hong
Kong, Philippines, Vietnam, and Thailand, is compelled by
the intensity of his libido to find its deeper meaning through
Tantra. Tantra teaches that the fast track to enlightenment
and to God, is not celibacy as Buddha and Jesus taught, but
Maithuna or sacred sex. In Tantra, Go-Go dancers and escorts
are avatars of the goddess Shakti and can be used as spiritual
rocket fuel.

His love of women eventually persuades him to marry a Thai
girl that creates an impossible dilemma in his life. He is torn
between his love for one woman and his insatiable need for
Go-Go dancers, who in Thailand are beautiful, affordable,
and abundant.

He fears his sex utopia in Thailand is threatened by the Islamic
insurgency in the south. Beneath the face of tourist paradise,
Thailand is afflicted with divisive political and religious unrest.
Thailand is waiting for the new Buddha to return to establish
a golden age of peace. But Buddha is not coming back and only
the sex gods of Tantra can save Thailand. Only the sex gods
can save the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jul 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481786010

Lee Huxley

The author was born in 1948 in London, where in his late twenties, he taught art in secondary schools. He soon gave up teaching to pursue his musical ambitions by becoming a lead vocalist in three rock bands before retiring after ten years of performing, to pursue his passionate interest in his erotic art, which achieved a high underground status and has been featured many times on television and in magazine publications. While training to achieve his black belt in karate in his late thirties, he was inspired to study Eastern metaphysics and the philosophy of the warrior way. The concepts of ‘budo’ have helped shape his Tantric worldview. The main focus of his life now is to develop and refine his ‘AquarianTantra’ and to present it to the public through his painting, music and writing as a preferable alternative to organized hellfire religion, which in his view, is causing most of the world’s problems today and, contrary to popular opinion, can be shown to be demonstrably untrue. He intends to write further books on the Sex Gods and ancient temple dancing. He plans to continue to travel the world in search of Tantric experience with go-go dancers—who in his view are the modern descendants of apsaras and devadasi. Lee Huxley’s lifestyle is based on the Tantric principle that using sex in votive or devotional ways energizes the body and enlightens the mind.

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© 2013 by Lee Huxley. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/02/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8599-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8601-0 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Preface

Part One: The Flight

Part Two: Hong Kong

Part Three: Home With The Gods

Part Four: To Vietnam

Part Five: From Kim To Hom

Part Six: Babes In The Land Of Smiles

Part Seven: The Warrior Way

Part Eight: The Sex Gods Visit Thailand

Part Nine: Talking To Idols

Part Ten: Marriage

Part Eleven: Taking The Sex Buddha To Go-Go

Part Twelve: Conclusion

About The Author

I would like to dedicate this book to my best friend who introduced me to Hong Kong and changed my life.

"In December 2011, the Obama administration unveiled a new anti-terror strategy that refused to link Islam to terrorism in any way—a strategy in line with the Brotherhood’s agenda to stamp out ‘Islamaphobia.’

The Muslim Brotherhood in America

Robert Spencer

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PREFACE

I hope the tale of the Sex Gods will be entertaining but also thought provoking. At its heart, it is simply a tale of a man who dreams about how much Thailand, and in fact the whole world, could benefit from wholeheartedly embracing the sex-positive Tantric Gods of Hinduism and Buddhism—but up-dated for the modern age.

In the last few days there has been an odd twist in my tale. When I took the Sex Gods to Thailand, a couple of years ago, I don’t think the Thai people in general had any idea of their existence. My wife emailed me from Thailand recently, telling me that someone from Vietnam posted images of the ‘Yab-Yum’ on Facebook and somehow this got on the national news. The Yab-Yum is a depiction in a painting or a sculpture of the Tantric Buddha in a sexual position with his consort. My knowledge of this event is purely anecdotal because I am presently in London. This is the nature of the world today. As a product of my generation I ignored the social media and physically took the figurine to Thailand and maybe I could have saved myself the trouble by putting it on Facebook. But of course I didn’t go to Thailand just to show off my lovely statue! So my tale is a good tale even if it may be out of date by the time it gets published.

I went on a one-man mission to Thailand with my Yab-Yum, to show Thailand that Buddha is supposed to have many incarnations, and not all of them advocate celibacy! I took this heart warming message of the Sex Gods to bar girls and Go-Go dancers. I got laid and I got scammed; I got gonorrhoea and I got married. I went to some wonderful paradise places in Thailand and just maybe I found God—or at least a little wisdom. I hope I give the reader a fascinating insight into Asia, albeit seen through the eyes of a religious erotomaniac obsessed with sex, life, hell and death! Admittedly, to the average reader, I may not appear to be a ‘nice’ person by conventional standards because I attack many of the sacred mind habits of ‘civilization’ and I use bad language. Revolutions don’t happen by being nice. If I am nice I will be ignored. If you are strident you might get a bloody nose or worse, but at least you get noticed. So I have chosen to be blunt, even to the point of being rude perhaps, because it is the duty of an artist to offend people with the truth. But I reject any assertions that I ever write hate speech. In order for speech to be hateful it has to be an irrational attack on something that is not hateful. Racism is hate speech because to hate someone because of the colour of their skin is irrational and black people are not hateful. But if I have rational reasons for asserting that certain religious teachings are hateful then I am entitled to be intolerant and not mince my words.

I can almost hear the critics protesting in unison at my constant reference to sex and not love. Sex, Sex, Sex, but where do you talk of love in your revolution! I can only say that Tantric sex is all about love, but more about supra-personal love: it is about loving life and the whole universe through the medium of sex. For a start, it’s about loving the power of sex to procreate and make children. We often forget this simple fact that sex which is so heavily feared and censored in so many ways, is the vital all-important means of reproducing each new generation. Tantra is about embracing the whole world of nature through sexual love and it’s about the love of beauty, art, music and dance, and above all its about the love of truth. But I have to admit in my personal relationships with women there is little reference to romance or the celebration of monogamy. My Tantra is not right for everybody. Maybe it’s a good thing if each person’s Tantra is individualistic. Please don’t judge Tantra entirely by my eccentric libido that is uniquely driven by my art and by a paranoid fear of death.

In all fairness to myself, just as sex has its dark side, so does love. Adultery and deception clouds many marriages which were born from the notion of true everlasting love. The violence done to women in the name of love that has turned to jealousy is also frightful. Love often hides a selfish possessiveness that simmers and festers beneath the tinsel facade, and can turn to a murderous hatred overnight. There are many tragic cases reported every year, of crazed husbands and boyfriends killing their partners and even their own children in crimes of jealous passion. Romantic love also has the blood of many suicides on its hands. Free love at least liberates one from this obsessive reliance and fixation on one person. The dark side of love is fuelled by the romantic myth that there can only ever be one true soul mate for you and that your life is meaningless without your prince or princess. Added to this, divorce can also be extremely traumatic and expensive, and so even Cupid’s arrows can be dipped in curare.

If there is such a thing as a perfect marriage, I witnessed something pretty close to it in Thailand on many occasions. Through my wife, I came into contact with her family and their family friends. I met many couples dedicated to each other and committed to working hard all their lives to give their children everything they needed for a good future. Thai kids are really cute and to see these smiling mums and dads together, not just showing love and attention to their own kids but to each other’s as well, is proof to me, that love, fidelity, and marriage, will still be the bedrock values of any society for many years to come. In the family life I witnessed there was never any tension. The kids were never smacked and never misbehaved and there was a continual happy chatter and constant laughing as everyone got on in a perfect harmony. I grant you this may not be typical of all family life in Thailand but the three families I was privileged to meet were without exaggeration idyllic whenever I spent time with them. We would sometimes go on weekend trips together and these were family orientated affairs. The kids always ate with their parents in restaurants and were always the centre of attention. Everyone, whether adults or children, went to bed at the same time. But as for me, I feel that life-long commitment to one partner is not fulfilling enough sexually and I think there is room for diverse lifestyles, and we should respect alternative solutions to solving the complicated sexual needs of humans.

My writing might appear anti-American. I don’t dislike America and I have grown up over many years loving American movies. Americans are a very dynamic and likeable people. My problem with America is its religiosity and its foreign policy, especially its attitude to Islam, which I think is too trusting and riddled with paradoxes and inconsistencies. I think there are many Americans who would agree with me that Washington has been far too conciliatory towards the Muslim Brotherhood in the USA and abroad. More recently the Obama administration has given its undivided support for the Arab Spring, which is arguably far more likely to produce theocracy than democracy. As I write these words the Muslim Brotherhood has arguably turned the Egyptian revolution, which was supposed to be about democracy and freedom, into a theocratic hazard and a threat to world peace. I don’t like Islam but I’m not Islamaphobic. A phobia by definition is an irrational fear or aversion to something, but my aversion to Islam is rational. I stress however that it’s not personal. I know most Muslims are just ‘normal’ people and no better or worse than any others. I hope that I am still allowed in these days of political correctness to hate the belief and not the believer.

The blatantly explicit or pornographic language in this book may be a problem for some. I know my fulsome and hyperbolic style of writing when it comes to sex is going to annoy some readers but I want to apply this tantric formula to describe my sexual experiences because I can only see sex through a Tantric lens. It is also a reminder to my critics that I never want my sexuality taken out of its metaphysical context. I find the coarse and brutal lexicon of Western porn leavened with the flowery and sacred lingo of Tantra aesthetically exciting. To call the male sexual organ a dick one moment and then in the next, a ‘flaming thunderbolt of wisdom’, a ‘rapture rod’ or a ‘diamond stalk’, is I feel linguistically spicy and fun. I love dirty talk and for me it’s an art form in itself. As a writer, it makes it a lot more interesting if you have ten words for the vagina as opposed to one. Like everyone else I find public swearing ugly in most contexts. I do however, believe that talking dirty can become beautiful between two lovers feeling horny. It is not intended to be detrimental to women. My work is not technically pornographic because it is not specifically designed to arouse masturbatory lust. It is erotica more than pornography because it appeals to the mind more than the genitals. Tantra is an essential ingredient of erotica and so in my definition of erotica there has to be an ideational content. My ritualistic use of dirty talk, which is both vulgar and amusing at times, means that it has been sublimated into art. Because I document my sexual experiences matter-of-factly like a philatelist collecting stamps, it is further evidence that my writing is not pornographic or intended to arouse lust and concupiscence in the reader’s mind. If however lust is engendered as a by-product, it is fine by me!

My basic point, as far as pornography is concerned, is that although the presentation of much of it is sleazy, it still deserves credit for establishing the moral integrity of explicit sexual imagery and for showcasing the beauty of the female form. It does after all, celebrate the uncensored depiction of sex and nudity which after two thousand years of religious anti-eroticism is a significant breakthrough. Polite society condemns pornography for degrading women but gives its undivided support to religions, that if they could do so, would bring most women back from the grave to be physically tortured. Pornography does not kill people but religion is still killing thousands today as it has done consistently for centuries.

For my critics who find my writing style crudely pornographic and my nonconformist ideas objectionable and offensive. I would like to say this in my defence. I have a great respect for some acclaimed writers like Camus and Kafka but most literary award winning writers of today bore me stiff with their pseudo-intellectual, safe conformism. They generally have nothing radical to say in their acclaimed books and yet are lionised by the academic establishment. In my work I attempt to make the reader think about all the important philosophical, religious and political issues of our times—to use an annoying but useful term—from outside the box. One of my ambitions is to bring the pornsphere within the ambit of social acceptability and literary convention. Billions of people worldwide look at internet porn even if only half of them ever admit to it. Only today I read in my newspaper that it has been revealed that Parliamentary computers have been allegedly used by MPs to access a wide variety of kinky porn sites. These visits which number thousands every year are a breach of Parliamentary IT rules which bar online pornography and nudity.

Human beings are naturally voyeuristic. As a species we are fascinated by sex, so let us put an end to this hypocrisy and give pornography a clean bill of health on the understanding it has to be much more self-critical and raise its own game. Porn is here to stay and to grow in influence in global culture and the only thing that could halt its progress and expansion is the anti-erotic influence of Islam. How Islam affects the progress of world pornography remains to be seen. I personally believe Islam is an ongoing threat to our hard-won sexual freedoms. I am sure that if the UK became more, or worse still, fully Islamised, as many fear it could one day, pornography would be censored, prostitution totally eradicated and Go-Go clubs abolished. Undoubtedly this book and any others critical of the prophet or celebrating un-Islamic values would never get published. This is why I don’t like Islam. The test of a true religion is whether its principles work when universally applied. If the world was truly Islamic, all my beliefs, ideals and principles would be eventually crushed under the Islamic juggernaut.

From my standpoint it looks like the literary world and the pornsphere are two separate worlds separated by little more than bigotry and arty-farty snobbery. I am attempting here to bring these two worlds together and to free porn from the gutter and literature from its ivory tower. I look at porn selectively and I enjoy it and therefore the sexual lingo of porn seems natural to me. I write about my sexual experiences in the language that comes naturally to me as a typical male accessing porn on a regular basis. I am the modern man and if you find my writing sexually crude, you are in my view living on the wrong side of history.

I would also like to point out that my erotic passions are always channelled in to my arts and like Renoir I paint and compose songs with my dick. I have composed many songs using ‘dirty talk’ or sexually explicit lyrics which I think is an innovative and interesting genre that I have dubbed ‘Eroto-Rock’. My artwork, which is largely focused on the pudenda, has achieved a high underground status in the erotic art market but I am not satisfied with this limited recognition because it deserves much better. My work is a homage and a hymn to feminine beauty and I look forward to the day when modern art stops taking pride in reflecting the shallowness and nihilism of our times and points the way to a better future.

My attitude to feminists appears to be one-dimensional perhaps, but I call it righteous anger. At the end of the day, I care as much about women’s liberation as any staunch feminist. Maybe my passion for women’s equality is rooted in unpopular territory, that doesn’t I fear, endear me to women. I wish for their spiritual emancipation from patriarchal male-defined religion. Unfortunately, women in the West have been brainwashed over the centuries by these religions and further conditioned by Christian liberal secularism to blindly respect the sources of their own oppression in the name of democracy and free speech. I hope my female readers will not resent me for trying to teach them lateral thinking on this issue since their feminist champions and representatives seemed to have failed miserably in this area. The spiritual revolution promised by some leading feminists has arguably failed to materialise and shows no sign of doing so in the future. My argument is simply that the critique feminists have so far levelled at religious male supremacism has been ineffectual because they haven’t realised that the only argument strong enough to force the deconstruction of monotheism is the thesis that in this dangerous world, on the brink of self-destruction, universal moral values are better than any other. If religions teach that the male sky god tortures people mercilessly in the afterlife, as Christianity and Islam definitely do, then we need to ask ourselves the jackpot question: if torture is wrong in this world then why is it not wrong in the next? Monotheism, when it is stripped of its excuses and disclaimers; when it is stripped of its self-exonerating theobabble, actually teaches the mass infinite torture of innocent women. If you think my concept of religion is simplistic and naive then you might change your mind if you knew how long and hard I have studied my subject! The deconstruction of hellfire religion should be the central issue of feminism today. I have to confess I find the public pride that female achievers often take in finding success in a man’s world, almost as naive as the sycophancy of men who compete to congratulate them on their success as feminist role models for all women. Little do they know they have done nothing but help prop up the real source of their own oppression which is the global tyranny of male-defined hellfire religion. It is false concepts of God that are jeopardising our future because this spiritual darkness is the source of all darkness. Women will never achieve anything more than membership of the madhouse until they deconstruct the patriarchal sado-Gods of torture that I believe, after a lifetime of research, are fair appellations for Jesus Christ and Allah. I have no desire to offend for its own sake but simply to tell the truth as I see it and to be given the chance to defend my position in public debate.

If my unashamed love of young women as sexual objects is to be held up as a reason to vilify me, I ask only two things. Firstly, my sexual ideology is inseparable from my Tantra and should not be evaluated in any other context. Secondly if my Aquarian Tantra is my religion, it has to be evaluated in the context of other religions. If you think that killing apostate Muslim women or stoning them to death for adultery or beheading them for dancing is better than loving them and celebrating their beauty in erotic art as I do, then please say so! If you believe, as the Koran and Bible arguably teach, that torturing billions of innocent women for all eternity with no respite in the next world is better than worshipping them as avatars of the Goddess then feel free to say so! Oh and by the way, I have never slept with an under-age girl. Bar girls in Hong Kong and Thailand need to carry passports or ID cards and check into the hotel with the customer. But I make no apology for seeking out the youngest girls of legal age because they are less likely to have had children and to bear the scars of childbirth. As an artist I am always seeking to find the perfect body. This perfection has many permutations and different bodytypes, but a good smooth skin is common to all of them. Women, as we know, pay a high cosmetic price for birthing children but we all have our crosses to bear.

Finally I apologise if the standard of grammar and punctuation is a problem for the reader. It would certainly be a problem for me to pay to have a book this size proofread by experts. I offer no excuse. I’m simply guilty of poverty and unprofessionalism. One of the hardest things about writing this book—my first novel—has been my social isolation. I am a loner through choice. As far as socialising is concerned I can only spare time for my kids. The rest of my hours are devoted to my art, my music and my writing. As a consequence of this I have no one to give me any kind of feedback. I have written this book in total isolation and under these conditions it is very difficult to see my own work objectively. I am also cursed with impatience when I have finally finished a manuscript and find that the only thing delaying publication is checking the grammar, spelling and punctuation. This to me, is the most tedious and onerous part of my trade. The corrections and revisions, if you are self-publishing, can also be costly. I had no choice but to self-publish because after trying several agents and publishers I realised that a book as sexually explicit, anti-establishment and anti-religious as mine, would never get published in this present social climate unless it was paid for by the writer. In my defense I would say grammar and spelling are somewhat subjective and not an exact science and as far as I know, different countries and different publishers have different preferences. I hope linguistic purists will forgive me for making it an imperfect read. I can only assure the reader that each time I publish I hope to demonstrate an improved understanding of my craft in this tedious but important area.

I find the traditional spelling of Taoism irritating and so I have spelled it in my book as it is pronounced as Daoism.

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PART ONE

The flight

With much relief after the hassles of checking in, passport control and immigration I was at last finally settled in my seat with safety belt fastened, awaiting take-off. I was visiting Hong Kong for the first time at the invitation of my old friend Spike, to check out what he told me was the most exciting city in the world. I had wanted to visit Asia for many years. In my thirties I was dedicated to the martial arts and through this interest I became involved with eastern philosophy. I have also throughout most of my life been interested in politics and comparative religion and now with time running out as a senior citizen and nearing the end of my time line, I wanted to find answers. I needed to find what I called the ‘Tantric gnosis’ or the wisdom that I felt in my heart I could distil from my experiences in Asia.

I wasn’t looking especially for love because I’m not sure what it is any more. If love is a total commitment to someone that is so all-consuming you stop desiring sex with others, then for me true love does not exist. I have never experienced this kind of intensity that stops me wanting other women. This is not to say I can’t resist temptation in order to be faithful and preserve a good relationship but the desire for others never leaves me. But in my own way I have loved many times in the past. I might appear to some people to be following a path of cold hearted lust but this is not true. My lust for women is at the same time a torrid lust for life and Truth and they are indivisible.

Now in my mature years I needed a sense of closure or finality and to know what was true and what was false in the world. In the oriental mindset, especially in Tantra, sex has historically been seen as a manifestation of the lifeforce and the fundamental energy of the universe, and not just an activity, which according to Christianity and Islam, should be confined to the marriage bed. This force is called ching which is the sexual aspect of chi. Chi is the universal cosmic energy, and pivotal to the Tantric worldview which is popularly known as a sex-based religion. Tantra is perhaps a timeless teaching from the esoteric heart of Daoism, Hinduism and Buddhism and posits that the royal path to God or enlightenment is Maithuna or sacred sex.

I perceive my own libido and my love of women and sex as the main energy source for my truth quest. For me, philosophy, politics, sex and spirituality, are all inseparable parts of my identity and my evolving worldview. After the break-up of my last serious relationship in my early fifties, I had almost resigned myself to terminal celibacy and a slow decline to the grave but Hong Kong saved me from such a dismal end. It is only in my mature years that I have come to really appreciate sex workers and the vital service they provide in prolonging health and vitality, especially for senior citizens.

The flight from Heathrow to Hong Kong is over eleven hours and allowed plenty of time for reflection and to ponder my status at this juncture, this defining moment in my life. I felt as if I’d endeavoured all my life to achieve goals that in the main still eluded me. Was I a failure? Was the cup half full or half empty? I knew that many people of my age had given up the fight and their minds had lapsed into retirement mode. They had become resigned to inevitable decline, but in contrast to this, I was full of the warrior spirit and I felt I was beginning my life anew. I was thirsting for knowledge and new experiences. I had chosen an aisle seat as I wanted easy access to the toilet but I could see out of the porthole windows that it was still raining in London as we sat patiently by the runway. It was the runway to Wan Chai in Hong Kong which Spike had once tantalizingly referred to as sexual utopia. To be honest, his exact words were pussy paradise.

It is well known that women are more likely to be seduced by a man’s sense of humour than by the beauty of his body, and in my youth I had a muscular well honed physique but without the gift of the gab it never did much for me. This is because a silver tongued man who jokes and jests, exudes confidence, which is appealing to women, putting them at their ease and making them more open to further advances. I don’t have the skill or the temperament to make the ladies laugh, perhaps because I take life and death so seriously. My fear of death degrades my confidence, tainting it with a timidity I dislike in myself. I don’t have much of a sense of humour because I’m constantly humbled psychologically by my fear of extinction. I don’t want to give the false impression I’m a manic depressive. On the contrary, I am intoxicated with the joy of being alive. Neither do I want to imply by my self-criticism that I am a failure with the opposite sex. I lost my virginity at sixteen with a pretty blonde girl and by the time I was fifty I’d had as many women. I have been divorced twice and have six children by three different mothers, none of whom I was married to. But to be candid, what I really wanted through all the vicissitudes of my love life over the years, was something akin to a harem with a regular turnover.

The way we end up in a morgue as a useless sack of viscera to be burned into a pot of ashes or eaten by wormy ghouly things in the ground is disgustingly macabre. How can any man be cool in the face of such a humiliating and inescapable imposition? It is this fear of my own demise that may give my story a sense of ideological compression, even desperation, as I live out my last years feverishly devouring the philosophies and religions of the world, in order to prize from this crucible of magic ingredients some golden nugget of wisdom to show for all my effort and striving. In youth there is a mental firewall that puts death behind you and out of sight but in later life that firewall gradually disappears and is replaced with this depressing little pot of ashes that is constantly in your peripheral vision. Seeing my mother put in a home at eighty, doubly incontinent and with dementia, only made me more acutely aware of my rapidly shrinking timeline. Yes, in this soul crisis I was eager to find answers, or at least a few reasonable conclusions to the mystery of my life and my impending extinction.

Women sense my diffidence, my weakness, that grows daily more intense with every tick of the clock. I have always wanted women to love me in spite of my vulnerability, which I see as a morbid over-sensitivity to God’s homicidal power. I like to think I have a perspicacity underlying my fear of death and partly caused by it, but it never shows up on the female radar, and if it did, it probably wouldn’t do me any favours. After all, what woman would be anything else but bored or even contemptuous of my personal vendetta against Jesus Christ and my Panglossian urges to reform global metaphysics? Women like to be wooed, as I say, with humour more than philosophy which I’ve found to my cost is a passion killer—at least with the women I have encountered.

It may be hard for others to understand what it is like for an old age pensioner to be living in a home for the elderly, at least in sheltered accommodation, waiting for death, and then to discover that in the next valley so to speak, the grass is much greener. In this valley of redemption there is a never ending party going on that does not discriminate against the old and that offers the elixir of life with an endless supply of beautiful nymphets and nubiles, known in Japan as ‘the flowers of all seasons’. There is no shortage of bigots in this world who frown upon legal inter-generational sex and who wrongly think there is not much daylight between this and paedophilia. Older men going with girls young enough to be their daughters is not a pretty sight I admit, but let the carpers at least remember before their outrage gets the better of them that Muhammad, the founder of Islam, copulated with his nine year old wife. This uncomfortable fact for Muslims is happily overlooked or dismissed altogether as Islamaphobia no doubt, by many of those happy to condemn sex tourism in Asia.

The beauty of sex brought me into the world through the sacred portal of a vagina. The pain and sacrifice endured by my mother was perhaps an exercise in futility, since now I have to face the ugliness of death like a cow with terror gleaming in its eyes as it is dragged to the slaughter house, its nostrils flared with horror at the smell of blood and execution. It never ceases to amaze me that I was grown inside a woman’s body and emerged into the world through that part of the female anatomy that now most fascinates me. It is hardly surprising I am always seeking to revisit and to re-enter this holy gate with my sexual organ.

Old age is a depressing disease and it is agonising to watch the progressive deterioration of your body in the mirror from hair loss and liver spots to crow’s feet and turkey neck, and to feel the incremental failure of your capabilities as you wait for one of the multiple assassins queuing up to choose you as a host or victim. Whether the killer is cancer, brain tumour, heart attack, or worst of all perhaps, the deadly dementia that kills the soul and mind, it will get you in the end. There’s nothing worse than forgetting who you are and as you age and get more forgetful you wonder if you are beginning to develop the first symptoms of the dreaded blank mind.

Tantra recognises the close connection between sex and death, and skulls or skull cups were considered potent ritualistic tools, as was the macabre practice of devotional sex in cemeteries. On my Tantric altar I have many idols that I have acquired over the years and among them stands a golden skull to remind me of my inevitable fate. Sexual bliss more than anything else brings death to the forefront of my mind and such is my poignant and inescapable dilemma: that what I love the most, brings me face to face with what I fear the most.

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In Tantra the Skull symbolises Sex and Death

Intergenerational sex between older men and younger women is not so much about recapturing youth as extending it. Sex and feminine beauty energises a man of any age and will extend his lifespan. The idea of a sportsman refraining from sex the night before a big day to conserve his energy is ridiculous to me. If I was a boxer on the eve of a world title fight I would book two escorts to ensure victory the next day. But it is also to do with defiance. Old age conspires in all sorts of ways along with society to encourage you to hate yourself, not least because of your physical ugliness in a state of accelerating necrosis. Paying a girl for sex enables me to enjoy youth ritualistically as a devotee at the shrine of femininity. But also on a more sublunary level I can enjoy youth sensuously and intimately through coitus. No one has the right to deny me access to life’s greatest pleasure just because my flesh is wrinkled and crinkled in all the worst places. The Tantric factor is also an extra dimension that is not easily accommodated by Western culture, still bearing the unsightly scars of Christian sex phobia. Lust cannot be separated from aesthetics and the beauty of the female form. The feminine body is to me divine and a semiotic smorgasbord. It is the great signifier, rich in codified messages and ultimately a Tantric Morse code for those who want to learn it.

I will state at the outset that, politically speaking, I’m no namby-pamby new man, who eager to deny the truth in his guts, ingratiates himself with Christian and crypto-Christian feminists by voicing disapproval of page three girls. However I consider myself a better feminist than most. Despite their apparent radicalism, most ‘liberated’ women are still thinking inside the box and failing to identify the real source of their oppression which has far less to do with pornography than it does with patriarchal religion. So is this a story narrated by a lecher and a dirty old man or is the teller a wise man and a ‘knower’? In my defence I claim to be a sex pilgrim and not a sex tourist. Only an open mind will ever discover the truth. People carry cherished narratives around in their heads like tape loops that play over and over again. These tape loops are like lenses they insist on looking through, even though the view looks much better with natural sight. Yes those with tape-loop brains, those with cherished mental habits, will only see an imposter trying to dignify his dirt with pretentions to high minded ideas. This lens of self-deception enables them to feel safe in their conceptual comfort zone where they can find their own prejudices confirmed on a daily basis.

As the storyteller I am a maverick with irreverent views that might well prove offensive to many. You don’t have to like me to enjoy this epic tale, because surely I am worth studying objectively, much as you would study the mind and motives of a criminal perhaps, to understand how he could perpetrate such unreasonable and inhuman acts. By conventional standards I may well be insane because I have hated Jesus Christ and Muhammad with every cell of my body for as long as I can remember. I have no major problem however with the ‘real’ Jesus or the historical Jesus, whoever he was. Was he left or right, the simple desert rabbi, the political revolutionary, the spaceman, the mushroom junkie or the Gnostic mystagogue who got married and died in Kashmir? No one will ever know. The ‘real’ Jesus remains controversial and probably unknowable and if he is ever correctly identified he will prove to be so disappointingly non-divine and ordinary that he will turn out to be irrelevant to our future. I dislike the historical Jesus only in so far as he continually feeds and underpins the mass delusion of his supernatural apotheosis. It’s the humano-divine Christ invented by the Church who I find, for very sound theological reasons, actually blasphemous.

There are those who tell us that in the first centuries of Christianity most Christians were universalists believing that all could be eventually saved, and that this version of Christianity that has very little to say about hell is the most genuine reflection of Christ’s message. I don’t believe this exonerates Christianity even if it is true and I have serious misgivings about such a theory especially as Jesus affirms his belief in hell in the New Testament. There is no evidence that the ‘real’ Jesus condemned hellfire theology which was rife in his times and if he was a true prophet he would have gone out of his way to distance himself from this evil doctrine. But in fairness to this universalist argument I have not picked a fight, as I say, with the historical Jesus. My bone of contention is with the Jesus Christ in whose name the bloodstained Christian empire has been built. This is the hellfire preacher whom millions today still worship as God and who I feel must be condemned by all civilized discourse and not immorally lionised in the hallowed name of religious freedom.

In a sense my whole life has been an attempt to prove my sanity in a mad world that worships false gods. I am a renegade experimenting with Tantra. I am using Tantra, which utilises sexual energy as tool to try and understand the world and our place in it. Perhaps I can even evolve a worldview that is of use to others. I have to confess I do not understand much of conventional Buddhism which provides some of the historical context for Tantra. Much of it is difficult for the rational mind to fully grasp and the only way to find out if nirvana and other elusive concepts are true is to practice Buddhism for a long time with no guarantees that you will actually find what you think you are looking for. I do not say that Buddhist ideas are not true, I merely say they are not for me. We are free as individuals to pirate anything useful from the history of human thought and to plunder the ‘noosphere’ for our personal self-empowerment. Buddha himself said such a thing when he advised against blindly believing what teachers say and it is best to take from them only what is of use to you. Purists may argue that the world becomes a hodgepodge when existentialists like me start chopping up philosophies and religions piecemeal to furnish their private philosophical needs, but purists have their path and I have mine.

Motor-mouth

I became increasingly aware at this point in my introspective reflections that some chatterbox in the adjacent aisle was seriously distracting me. I couldn’t see him because his interlocutor, who was directly across from me, blocked my view. The chatterbox was a cockney and his voice was loud, in contrast to his companion, who was so softly spoken I could not hear his comments. So from the man I could see, I heard very little, but from the man I could not see I was treated to a monologue that was nevertheless made incomplete by the odd phrases I missed due to the background noise in the aircraft. At times it was easier to go with the flow and listen to bigmouth than it was to try and block him out. But even this was annoying because, as I say, some of the words I missed and I could never get the other guys comments so my choice was to listen to an incoherent conversation or to try and ignore it altogether. This happy jabberer who was disturbing my peace before we were even airborne was one of these really opinionated know-alls who has a view on every subject under the sun and who loves the sound of his own voice.

In 1969, I heard him say, we were supposed to put a man on the moon but it never happened. It was all a scam because at that time they didn’t have the technology to avoid burning up on re-entry… . yes the health benefits of water are really underestimated. My personal trainer told me to drink a litre of water every day… . well if you think Thailand’s bad for mosquitoes you ought to try Corfu. I was eaten alive and the sprays don’t really work… . What car have you got? I prefer the shapes of the old cars…

He went on to release a mass of statistics and technical details about a host of automobiles he had filed away in the clutter of his brain before he moved on to the monarchy. I missed the link however.

Yea that’s right, . . . . he continued "Charles takes over from the Queen and when he dies William takes the throne. I like the Royals. I mean you’ve got hangers-on like Princess Ann but the main ones do a good job… . There’s no such thing as a perfect marriage and if anyone says there