This, like, Sade, is literature not practice to repeat a point (or was it a defense?) that David Allison is fond of offering on Sade’s behalf in contrast to the 15th century Gilles de Rais, a criminal virtuoso of excess and transgression arguably beyond Sade’s or even Bataille’s wildest adventures. See Bataille, The Trial of Gilles de Rais

But this is only because we know, because he was a wealthy man and servants talk. There is a world of unchronicled crime, but we should not call it crime, as Nietzsche reminds us: for the practitioner it is only a sin in the consciousness of the same.

One needs to think of it as such.

Who notices the ants one crushes, the gnats one brushes away?

But in the case of eros, consciousness dissolves and returns upon itself, can almost catch iself in the act, horror, edge, frisson.


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