(no subject)
how melancholy sex is for a woman. even when it is pleasurable, there is always that violet haze of gloom hovering somewhere above you, drifting near that corner of the ceiling where you've fixed your gaze at certain intervals. if a man ever took the time to kiss the nooks of my elbows, i suppose i might feel differently, but even then i have my sincere doubts.
i am petrified of moving to new york. my biggest worry is that i don't look new york. everyone will be able to tell. i have no bags to carry my work shoes in, which is what i'm told the girls all do during their commute to avoid the toesores of walking all that way in heels.
also the subways. don't ever show me a map! even though a map is a delicate thing, crosshatched with riverways and journeyways and the slim veins of navigation, even though it is beautiful, it is still terrifying. that's perhaps one reason to have sex with a man--it gives you license to hand over the map to his care. and he becomes quite satisfied with himself, while you are allowed to sit idly by, slouching in your chair and pulling the threads off your skirt hem while he occupies himself with destinations.
i'm sorry i never write. i'm in a slump! that's what i tell everyone these days, because a slump is a temporary case of the blues, and no one would argue that the blues are anything of concern. schoolchildren get into slumps when they make a poor grade on a spelling test--it's hardly tragic.
except at a family seafood dinner the other night, i announced that i felt sorry for softshell crabs. (i had already had a margarita.) don't get me wrong, i love eating crustaceans. "but it just seems especially cruel," i declared. "getting these crabs while they're shell-less and vulnerable." and then i added, as a regrettable afterthought, "it's just like in relationships! they eat you while you're weakest!" my mother has been questioning me about the particularities of that comment ever since.
well, it's true. i am a little heartbroken lately. but let's all agree to refer to it as a "slump."
i am petrified of moving to new york. my biggest worry is that i don't look new york. everyone will be able to tell. i have no bags to carry my work shoes in, which is what i'm told the girls all do during their commute to avoid the toesores of walking all that way in heels.
also the subways. don't ever show me a map! even though a map is a delicate thing, crosshatched with riverways and journeyways and the slim veins of navigation, even though it is beautiful, it is still terrifying. that's perhaps one reason to have sex with a man--it gives you license to hand over the map to his care. and he becomes quite satisfied with himself, while you are allowed to sit idly by, slouching in your chair and pulling the threads off your skirt hem while he occupies himself with destinations.
i'm sorry i never write. i'm in a slump! that's what i tell everyone these days, because a slump is a temporary case of the blues, and no one would argue that the blues are anything of concern. schoolchildren get into slumps when they make a poor grade on a spelling test--it's hardly tragic.
except at a family seafood dinner the other night, i announced that i felt sorry for softshell crabs. (i had already had a margarita.) don't get me wrong, i love eating crustaceans. "but it just seems especially cruel," i declared. "getting these crabs while they're shell-less and vulnerable." and then i added, as a regrettable afterthought, "it's just like in relationships! they eat you while you're weakest!" my mother has been questioning me about the particularities of that comment ever since.
well, it's true. i am a little heartbroken lately. but let's all agree to refer to it as a "slump."