Nymphomaniac: Vol. II

1

Can I help you?

I have to go back a bit.

I was 12 years old

and on a school trip in the hills.

Are you making fun of me?

What do you mean?

You have this orgasm,

not only an orgasm,

- ...but a spontaneous orgasm.

- Yes, it was an orgasm,

though the doctor

described it as a...

An epileptic seizure.

And during that orgasm,

you have this vision

of these two women

on each side of you?

Was she holding the veil

with two fingers like this?

What's the matter?

You don't even know who

these women were, do you?

No, but one of them did

look like the Virgin Mary,

now that you mention it.

Well, it wasn't the Virgin

Mary, I can tell you that.

From your description,

it must've been

Valeria Messalina,

the wife of Emperor Claudius,

the most notorious

nymphomaniac in history.

And the other woman,

the one astride the creature,

that was no one else but

the great whore of Babylon

riding on Nimrod in

the form of a bull.

Your story is like a...

Blasphemous retelling

of the transfiguration

of Jesus on the mount...

Which is one of the

eastern church's

holiest passages.

It's when the humanity of Christ

is illuminated by the

divine light of eternity.

If anyone else would

have told me that story,

I would've seen it as

a blasphemous joke,

spiced up with a biblical light

emanating from nothing less

than a spontaneous orgasm.

And then later, you lost

your orgasm altogether.

Wagner.

"Das Rheingold,

the descent into Nibelheim."

Was it that bad?

Try to imagine that

in one fell swoop,

you lost all desire to read

and all your love and passion

for books and letters.

I don't even know if

I can imagine that.

This is nothing less

than Zeno's paradox.

You are Achilles

and the tortoise is the orgasm.

Oh, come on.

Because you were giving chase,

you couldn't reach satisfaction.

That's the paradox.

I'm sorry, but it seems as if you're

not taking this very seriously.

I'm telling you about the worst

thing that's happened to me,

that I, at that point

within seconds,

lost all sexual sensation.

My c*nt simply went numb!

And immediately we have to hear

about this ridiculous

mathematical problem.

In fact, I'm in doubt whether

you're even listening.

Why do you doubt that?

Whenever I've told other

men about experiences,

episodes in my sex life,

it was easy to see that

they became quite excited.

I got excited.

Yes, about the mathematical crap,

not about the story.

What kind of a person

are you actually?

I...

You wouldn't know.

No, but I can guess.

Why didn't I get that earlier?

The fact you don't get

excited over my dirty stories

is because you can't

relate to them.

You've never been with a woman.

That's quite accurate.

Not with a man either.

Are you sorry about that?

Well yeah, but...

Out of curiosity.

Not out of lust,

as you would think.

I consider myself...

Asexual.

Of course I...

Experimented

with masturbation when

I was a teenager, but...

It didn't do much for me.

So there's nothing sexual about me.

It's not as uncommon

as you would think.

And of course I've...

I've read a lot about

sexual subjects:

"Canterbury tales," "Decameron,"

"thousand and one nights."

You name it

and I've read it with great

interest and enjoyment...

But only literary enjoyment.

But I... but I think

maybe it makes me

a better listener to your story.

I have no preconceived

notions or...

Or preferences.

I'm actually the best judge

you could give your story to.

And when it comes to

deciding whether you're

a bad human being or not, I'm...

I have no problems with that.

Because I don't look at

you through the glasses

colored by sexuality

or sexual experience.

I'm a virgin.

I'm innocent.

She's looking at me.

Yes.

It's an icon.

Is it Russian?

Yes, it's...

It's a skilled copy,

maybe in the manner of Rublev.

Icons are usually connected

to the eastern church.

The eastern church?

I might become a bit theoretical.

You may.

I'd like you to tell

me about your picture.

Although the Christian church

was split up in 1054 because

of differences in opinion

between the eastern church

and the western church...

What we today call

the orthodox church

and the roman catholic church.

This is a typical

eastern church icon.

And it usually depicts

the Virgin Mary

and the infant Jesus,

and more rarely,

for instance, the crucifixion,

which in the western church

was much more prevalent.

If you generalize,

you could say that

the western church is the

church of suffering,

and the eastern church is

the church of happiness.

If you imagine a mental

journey from Rome eastward,

you feel how you move away

from guilt and pain

towards joy and light.

But you say you didn't

believe in God.

No, but the concept of

religion is interesting...

Like the concept of sex.

But you won't find me on my knees

with the regards to either.

Let's call this chapter,

um, "the eastern church

and the western church."

But it won't be...

It won't be a story

about traveling east from Rome

towards the light, but

rather the opposite.

So in order not to make it too sad,

I've pepped up the name of the

chapter with an extra title.

In spite of my tireless efforts,

my c*nt totally failed to respond.

I have to admit there came a time

when we had fun together.

I'll give you a fiver...

Uh-huh.

If you can put this

up inside your c*nt.

A fiver?

Right.

Sh*t.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

- Didn't get any spoons?

- No, we didn't.

The most grotesque thing was

that it was during that period

where every sexual

sensation was denied me...

A period, I must admit,

of secure and restful

domestic comfort...

We had moved in

together and so on...

That I became pregnant,

because I was careless about

my birth control pills.

Consciously or unconsciously,

it was important for

me to have a cesarean.

I mean, I was hoping that my c*nt

was going to f***ing work again,

and I had a feeling that

a haphazard birth wouldn't

make things better.

I may have been imagining things,

but as I lay there the

noise from the instruments

rang out in a chord like

the one from the little flock.

Yes.

And it wasn't fear.

More like a kind of disgust.

I could've sworn

I saw him laughing.

A laughing son?

In "Doctor Faustus," Thomas Mann

describes the birth of Noah's son Ham,

who was laughing when he was born.

Another satanic omen.

Incidentally, the innocent

child was named Marcel,

after Mars, the roman God of war.

And motherhood?

I assume maternal love

didn't quite live up

to its expectations.

No, I didn't have any expectations.

And maternal love wasn't a problem.

It was just that each time

I looked into the child's eyes,

I had this unsettling feeling

of having been found out.

I know it's probably

a strange thing

to say about a child...

That my love wasn't

being returned...

But it was my perception.

If Jerome had hoped for a break

from what was for him now

mostly strenuous work,

he could forget about it.

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