Saturday, November 21, 2015

masturbation montage 7

The women i dream of, when dreams are all there is...
What does not having sex for two years do to a person? My fantasies have been expanding to include women i don't even know...
And my impregnation fantasies show no sign of abating...

A vendor at a garage sale, from whom i bought a gloria steinem book and joe jackson cds. I'd never met her and was a little sleepyheaded, but the chatting we shared (initiated by her) was more than obligatory. Her daughter had just moved to NY, and i told her how i had lived there cheaply. The rest of the day, i kicked myself for not giving her my number. It wasn't a strong animal attraction on my part, but her energy was gentle and bright. That night, i fantasized about being her lover, and eventually meeting the daughter, who becomes smitten with me. One night, the lonely, antsy daughter can no longer stand hearing (through an adjoining wall) her mother and i making love. She knocks on our door, and slips into our bed. The three of us cuddle languorously, with my back to the mother, and the daughter's back to me. The mother's hand brings me to erection, then directs me toward her daughter. A grandchild is born...
The following day, i biked by her house. She wasn't home, but i left a note saying to call me if her daughter had any questions about her new home.
A clerk at my favorite health food store, we always talk. Thinking about the first time i felt her spirit actually open up, makes my heart feel funny. I feel a bit tongue-tied with her - i'm used to thinking of a clever or funny response to something she says, two minutes too late. I feel so profoundly capable of loving her the way she should be...a kind that virtually never happens in this lost, alienated, negotiated world. Making her spirit fly by offering her my entire being, even if that's not the best choice for my life (or if it caters to a self-destructive, monogamous paradigm in which she might be trapped). I dream of making her feel a purity of love that renders her incapable of hiding...of impregnating her, ten hours or ten years from now...
Living a non-materialistic life, choosing to have only what i need, makes me sad only infrequently. If i had unlimited money, i'd get several massages a week (at least). Not having had sex in over two years, i haven't really been touched since 2013. Mild backache is a constant companion. With my savings for my next move piling up, i have plenty of extra cash. Remembering fondly my investigative essays about the sex trade in NY, i've recently been thinking of returning to an asian massage parlor. One particular memory (and accompanying fantasy) spurs me on. I remember a massage i received in Yonkers. As the woman finished, she gently took my penis in her hand and asked whether i wanted more. I took her hand, and said "Only if you want me to be your boyfriend" (i normally don't use a word so stupid as "boyfriend", but english was her second language, so i tried to keep it simple). She said yes. I asked whether she wanted to come home with me. She nodded. Was she sincere? Of course not, screams any sensible are money to her. And yet it seemed that there was a sadness and hope in her eyes...
I let the moment slip away though, because...who can say? Suspicion? Fear? We're all so broken.
And now i dream of that moment being recreated, a thousand miles away...but this time, the masseuse comes home with me. Maybe she's a slave in the asian-american sex trade, and coming with me means she has to go into hiding, and live with me. I happily allow it.

Thursday, November 12, 2015

gingerturd leftovers

As a writer keenly concerned with feminist issues, righting the wrongs of patriarchy is never far from my mind. When i take on a project like revising (or reimagining) classic fairy tales, the awareness of how steeped in chauvinism all our myths are, can be daunting. I don't want to overreach for the sake of polemics...sacrifice entertainment for the sake of enlightenment...but at what point should you just throw the baby out with the bathwater? Is it stupid to even try to improve inherently flawed product? Do you compromise too much by retaining the skeleton of the old structures, in the hopes reaching more people? It's a tricky line to walk.
What do you do with a canon of literature in which old or ugly women are virtually invisible, except when used to personify evil? How do you make women a vital force, without making them copies of brutal, amoral males? How do you turn a man's world into a human world, without coming off as a man-hater?
One method is gender-swapping - take some iconic or heroic character, and make him a her. I considered doing so with both "the gingerbread man" and "the man who laid the golden turd". Enough male protagonists! But...the rhyme scheme of the well-known "run run, as fast as you can" refrain just doesn't work with "gingerbread woman". Plus, the traditional ginger demise at the hands of a fox was easily translatable into a "foxy lady" - and would have felt forced the other way around. Still, did i pass up on a chance to make a strong point about how our society abandons single mothers? In "gingerbread woman", that would have been the straw that leads to her suicide. Would it have been more off-puttingly depressing for a gingerbread woman to kill herself?
Similarly, i considered "the woman who laid the golden turd"...but even though some of us may admire (or just envy) the male lead character i went with, there is an inescapably sleazy quality in the way he hoodwinks the town. It felt more appropriate to give that sleaze to a male. I originally made the metallurgist a male too, but realized that that might make the women seem like nothing more than a subservient harem to a male power structure. With a female metallurgist, i tried to imply that all these women might be quite content with their lives, and were nobody's slaves. In doing so, i chanced having a woman of authority too closely associated with male sleaze, but it seemed worth the risk.
I've come up against these choices in the past. On one occasion, it was such a close call that i wrote two versions - "goldilocks" and "goldilad". I thought goldilad was worth a try, because of all those female bonobos acting so sensibly sexy...and in any kind of traditional telling of goldilocks, the female lead (yay!) is rather passive and mealy (aww).
But "goldilad" didn't work quite as well as its big sister, right? Just not as entertaining.
Ah well. Such fine lines we satirists walk. Perhaps my best work in this field happens the further away i wander from the original tales' skeletons.
And i think the same fate would have befallen "the woman who laid the golden turd". Some male objectification would have been a lovely "shoe on the other foot" touch, but the overall picture would lack sharpness. Don't agree? Okay, you asked for it...

Sunday, November 1, 2015

naked nurse 12


Dear naked nurse,
The fist bump. Yay or nay?
-colorblind in Canarsie

Dear colorblind,
On the surface, it's easy to jump right in. An innovation from the black culture replacing a dusty white tradition? Sounds great! But if you're white and you try it, you perhaps can't escape the nagging feeling that someone's playing a joke on you? Black men are just waiting for you to make a fool of yourself? Then...a brother shares one with you, and everything feels okay. You're progressive! Inclusive (and patronizing)! Give yourself a pat (er, bump) on the back.
Settle down. Take a look at not just the bump, but what it's replacing - the handshake. Figure out the non-verbal shorthand (so to speak). A handshake is what's known as a mimic gesture - a copy of some larger behavior. In this case, the handshake is a mimic of a hug. Two people wrapping themselves around each other (or coming as close as they can, given social restraints). In this world of brother killing brother, color killing color, and everyone killing another, a mini-hug is a whole lot better than no hug at all. It's often the first step toward peace (uneasy or not).
What is a fist bump, body language-wise? As best i can figure, it's either a mimic of 70s cartoon superheroes the wonder twins (unlikely), or...antlered animals head-butting. You can dress it up with hipness and camaraderie, but that's the non-verbal core.
In a world in which civility is strained and universal siblinghood DOA, how can ANY version of a hug not be preferable?
Plus, have you noticed that you never notice women (of ANY color) fist-bumping? Good for you, feminine intuition. As for myself, i've always preferred the roman/Beastmaster forearm squeeze...but that's just me.
So if someone offers you a fist bump, try wrapping your fingers around that outstretched fist. And hug!

multiplicitous mergings,
the naked nurse

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