(no subject)
"growing up female in america. what a liability! you grew up with your ears full of cosmetic ads, love songs, advice columns, whoreoscopes, Hollywood gossip, and moral dilemmas on the level of TV soap operas. what litanies the advertisers of the good life chanted at you! what curious catechisms!...what all the ads and all the whoreoscopes seemed to imply was that if only you were narcissistic enough, if only you took proper care of your smells, your hair, your boobs, your eyelashes, your armpits, your crotch, your stars, your scars, and your choice of scotch in bars-you would meet a beautiful, powerful, potent, and rich man who would satisfy every longing, fill every hole, make your heart skip a beat (or stand still), make you misty, and fly you to the moon (preferably on goassamer wings), where you would live totally satisfied forever. and the crazy part of it was that even if you were clever, even if you spent your adolescence reading John Donne and Shaw, even if you studied history or zoology or physics and hoped to spend your life pursuing some difficult and challenging career-you still had a mind full of all the soupy longing that every high-school girl was awash with. it didn't matter, you see, whether you had an IQ of 170 or an IQ of 70, you were brainwashed all the same. only the surface trappings were different. only the talk was a little more sophisticated. underneath it all, you longed to be annihilated by love, to be swept off your feet, to be filled up by a giant prick spouting sperm, soapsuds, silks and satins, and of course, money."
-erica jong, fear of flying
-erica jong, fear of flying