Nov 18, 2008
I read your recent post about joy coming back to Rookedville and I saw that you mentioned something called a space lamp. I also saw that everybody who commented wanted one.
What the hell is a space lamp?
Well…the nature of the Space Lamp is curious at best and difficult to define in normal ways with all the regular semantic labels.
In essence, it’s a lamp…that shines…and rotates…and is filled with stars and planets and meteors and satellites. They can be purchased with relative ease at most novelty gift shops for well under $50. That is the easy, everyday version of what a Space Lamp is.
Now…what is a Space Lamp really? That is asking much.
The Space Lamp that occupies Pride of Place in the Master Control Room here at Chez Rooked is far more than any mere novelty lamp.
It is, as has been previously mentioned, the “Starting Bell” for what we call Sexcapades. That is not to suggest that it elicits some lame, Pavlovian response involving a lot of salivating and snarling and intense manifestations of extreme expectancy that result from repeated experiments in Operant Conditioning …wait…maybe it does mean just that. In spades, Baby.
And what, you may ask, are Sexcapades? Now…normal everyday sex is one thing; it is often the much-touted “quickie” of song and story that simply satisfies the basic human urge to rush to the nearest available privacy and Tear One Off; mostly to alleviate the stress of life or to fulfill our basic, animal instincts. Or perhaps “Date Sex” which involves a lot of unfamiliarity and hemming and hawing until you work up the nerve to finally shuck down and get To Work. Or even regular, mundane “Relationship Sex” where nothing new ever happens and everyone gets just enough satisfaction to keep them from killing each other with keenly sharpened steak knives in the night. These are the “normal” kinds of sexual congress and there’s certainly nothing wrong with them; they serve their purpose. But the lighting of the Space Lamp signifies something else again…Sexcapades.
Sexcapades, by comparison, are a far more serious undertaking.
This is an extended period of intense nudity during which all elements of human sexuality may be explored in graduated degrees and varying levels of violence and easy grace. And the Space Lamp is the background “noise” of strenuous naked adventure.
The Space Lamp, while a symbol of wanton carnality, is a far more subtle thing than the lava lamp or the black-light or even the incredibly obvious ruse, often employed by overly-socially-liberal douchebags, of leaving a copy of the Kamasutra easily visible and accessible on their bookshelf or, even worse, lying on the coffee table. (This ploy, by the way, is patently offensive and is used most often by half-bright sexual dilettantes who can’t wait to demonstrate how sexually “liberated” they are and how acutely aware they may be of the Real Nature of sex. But usually, they merely use it as a ham-handed come on to any wayward young ladies who might wander into the trap and be naïve or stupid or slutty or socially maladjusted enough to snap at the bait.)
The Space Lamp kept in my home stands as sign and testament to the fact that the Kamasutra contains absolutely nothing that any two consenting, intelligent and reasonably flexible adults couldn’t discover on their own in any reasonable length of time and relative privacy. And, what’s more, the use of the Space Lamp has allowed these episodes to become so lengthy and free that we have managed to develop our own practices and areas of research and even private nomenclature.
Vaginaltruism; which is the simple act of patient giving through the opening that brought us all into the world. Much can be gleaned from repeated attempts at re-entry and quick-lubed exiting; and the good sense to allow these experiments to be conducted therein constitutes the general attitude that gave birth to this line of investigative sexual research.
Or maybe Fellatiometrics; which, while less popular than some practices among approximately 50% of participants, can provide valuable insight into the endurance of the epiglottis and the limits of mandibular stamina. Both are very important areas of inquiry.
And how about Cunnilinguistics? This involves an entirely new set of vocal responses to physical stimuli and conforms to a series of low guttural rumblings and glottal meanderings that generally tend to culminate in a rapturous chorus of extremely high-pitched squeals that only canines can hear…or so the current data suggests.
But these are the basics and any sexually active person can see the wisdom in a thing like this and can even realize that the Space Lamp is little more than a light to insure that the partners can see exactly what’s being done both to and with them. And I guess that’s true enough. But it’s also about the calming effect and the residual patience that its light can produce. And patience is important here…just ask any females you may know. The lighting of the Space Lamp means, “You know you’re going to get it…so why rush? Take your time and make it worth all the trouble.”
Or maybe it’s just my Science-Fiction-Sex hang up that makes me love and revere the Space Lamp; it provides me with the sensation of actually moving through hyper space and achieving levels of Phantasmorgasmic Euphoria that only the near-absolute vacuum of space and faster-than-light travel can provide. Not to mention that it looks super cool; especially when you see its pale, blue, ethereal light reflected on silver one-piece jumpsuits, high-gloss space boots, ray guns and naked skin.
There is nothing finer than to begin a night of languid, physical exploration under the soft, rotating glow of the Space Lamp and then to feel the Need take hold as the night turns into an hours-long romp through all the sexual degradations and sublime metamorphoses that this world, and maybe a few others, can ultimately provide.
And, of course, it never hurts to take them out and feed them tequila for a couple of hours before you turn the lamp on.