In the poetry fragment: ‘The Sky Goes Poo Poo’, Bataille reveals the universe as the gratuitous, exorbitant phenomenon that it in fact is. No metaphor is too wild to describe the whole of existence:
‘If an orgasmic dick engendered the universe, it’d make it like it is. In the transparency of the sky, we’d have blood, screams, stench.’
Bataille is right to show a universe completely without plan or project, a universe that is an unhinged desiring machine. But he is wrong to consider that the universe’s extremes can be reached by anything as conventional as ritualistic violence. He is right to state that the universe is the antithesis of useful objects, and to demand that energy be spent. But energy spent ecstatically is not always spent ruinously. For example ‘ shockingly enough ‘ sexual excess is more likely to hold off a heart attack than it is to provoke one.