我发现自己有时候卑鄙得十分可爱。我总是能够为自己一些不甚高尚的行为找到冠冕堂皇的高尚理据，例如：
购买《花花公子》杂志或《体育画报》泳装特刊，皆因里面的文章写得真不错！
去UBC天体海滩，纯粹是为了那里的碧海蓝天！
到赌场里玩百家乐，是为写一本《论百家乐中庄家赢钱概率》的启蒙读物积累原始素材！
而本文的灵感来则是来自于美国著名文学评论家阿尔伯特莫德尔的严肃论著《文学中的色情动机》。
这位弗洛伊德的门下走狗运用精神分析法对众多欧美经典作家及其作品进行分析后，得出这样的结论：除了社会，政治与文化的原因，文学中还存在着一种更为深层的内驱力，即作家本人的潜意识动机。而这种潜意识动机往往与作家的无意识性心理（即色情欲念）互为联系，莫德尔把它称之为“色情动机”，耸人听闻而吸引眼球无数，遂达到自我炒作的卑鄙目的。在他的眼里：彭斯，拜伦，济慈和雪莱的爱情诗弥漫着自恋情结；圣经中的雅各和拉切尔的故事，路得的故事以及大卫和乌利亚之妻的故事反映了生活中的色情倾向；从珂珀的诗歌读出了俄狄浦斯情结；从歌德和斯宾诺莎身上看到了无意识的自慰；塞万提斯和陀斯妥也夫斯基是神经官能症患者；王尔德和保罗魏尔伦是同性恋；卢梭与蒙田则有暴露癖；但丁和爱伦坡有受虐倾向；勃朗宁的诗歌《雕像与胸像》会令他的女性崇拜者大为难堪；《圣经。雅歌》中充满了性象征。……
读《文学中的色情动机》这本书的过程可以这么来形容：乘兴而来，败兴而归。掩卷而思：敢情那么多流芳千古的文坛巨擘和他们的经典名作，原来都是他们内心深处那些色情，颓废，病态和残忍的潜意识驱动下的产物！
幻灭呀幻灭！莫德尔，你伤透了多少像我这么纯洁虔诚的文学老青年的心啊！
文学既然源于情色，情色也可催生出文学。于是转而奔向色情文学的怀抱。读了印度诗人喀里达萨下面这一小节诗歌，就明白印度为什么会产生Kama Sutra：
The scent of rain on warm earth reminds
me darling of your sweet breath. And those small winds that
uncurl the deodar flowers petal by petal
and drenched in that heady sap blow south,
I grasp, embrace, pretending it's you.
But darling, my excuse,
if anyone ask why I'm making a fool of myself
making love to thin air,
is that no breeze could be so fragrant
had it not first caressed your body.
----Kalidasa
著名智利诗人聂鲁达的情色诗歌，更是令多少文学青年血脉贲张：
With a chaste heart,
with pure eyes,
I celebrate your beauty
holding the leash of blood
so that it might leap out
and trace your outline
where
you lie down in my ode
as in a land of forests, or in surf:
in aromatic loam
or in sea-music.
Beautiful nude:
equally beautiful
your feet
arched by primeval tap
of wind or sound;
your ears
small shells
of the splendid American sea;
your breasts
of level plentitude full-
filled by living light;
your flying
eyelids of wheat
revealing
or enclosing
the two deep countries of your eyes.
The lien your shoulders
have divided
into pale regions
loses itself and blends
into the compact halves
of an apple,
continues separating
your beauty down
into two columns
of burnished gold, fine alabaster,
to sink into the two grapes of your feet,
where your twin symmetrical tree
burns again and rises:
flowering fire, open chandelier,
a swelling fruit
over the pact of sea and earth.
From what materials---
agage, quartz, wheat---
did your body come together,
swelling like baking bread
to signal silvered
hills,
the cleavage of one petal,
sweet fruits of a deep velvet,
until alone remained,
astonished,
the fine and firm feminine form?
It is not only light that falls
over the world,
spreading inside your body
its suffocated snow,
so much as clarity
taking its leave of you
as if you were
on fire within.
The moon lives in the lining of your skin.
---Pablo Neruda
美国诗人惠特曼也不甘示弱:
This is the female, form,
A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot,
It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction,
I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor,
all falls aside but myself and it,
Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth,
and what was expected of heaven or fear'd of hell,
are now consumed,
Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it, the response
likewise ungovernable,
Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands all diffused,
mine too diffused.
Ebb stung by the flow and flow stung by the ebb, love-flesh swelling
and deliciously aching,
Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of love, white-blow and delirious juice,
Bridegroom night of love working surely and softly into the prostrate
dawn,
Undulating into the willing and yielding day,
Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh'd day.
---Walt Whitman
莫德尔说：“若对性爱不感兴趣，那就无所谓文学了。”逆向思维一下：
色情，原来也有其文学动机！
