The Pen is Mightier

I’m reading a book on the history of sexual violence in conflict zones (light reading before law school, ya know). In reading more about historical gender relations (especially in the West) and thinking about how gender relations were (are) linked to property and ownership, I just cannot help but think that at some point in the past some man decided that if his penis touched something, he owned it.
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Three Word Muse: lonely, cracking, bootstrap

She got up that morning to cracking knees and a sore back; seventy years of mornings leaves an audible story in your bones. The coffee was already brewing; her daughter had gotten her a new machine that you could set up the night before and wake up to that unmistakable and wonderful smell. She liked that, but she also missed the morning task of making her coffee because it made her move around a bit before she sat down to read the paper and eat her breakfast. At this point in life, once seated, standing started to seem like a lot work. Continue reading

Three Word Muse: peaches, earplugs, notebook

Sitting under that old, Southern peach tree, the fruit so ripe the sweetness was dripping down onto my head, my hair, my shoulders, my face, I started to dream. Sticky sweet and wrapped in that humid blanket called summer, the dreams just come. Awake or asleep, on days like these, they flow over you, dancing before your mind’s eye. Your life can go on if you don’t have a tree to lounge under, but the dreams remain. This life, though, has an end to it. Not my own end, which comes when it comes, but end to this way of life. This lazy Sunday life. Modern was coming with highways and noise and cityfolk and convenience. This lonely tree would fall to the pavement. These were the last days of sitting and dreaming.

I had brought my notebook to try to capture the dreams, the smells, the sights, the feeling, but how do you capture experience while you experience experience? Good Words, always reaching beyond their limits, helping me to codify explain the conversation of my skin but beautifully inadequate. I wrote a few things down. A paragraph here or there. Then I just leaned back against the tree, my tree, closed my eyes and said good-bye. Three deep breaths of summer peach and I got up to go buy new earplugs. The Modern may come, but I will block it out.

 

To keep being creative, I ask friends (and readers!) to give me three words from which I will craft a story. I leave them fairly raw (i.e. little editing) and just like to see what comes of the connections I make with the words I get. If you would like to be my next Three Word Muse, click here! H/T to BP (not the oil company).

piddiddle, piddaddle

Crossposted at Insanemonade. Bringing in some of my creative writing into this blog

Characters:

LS – Little Sis

BS – Big Sis

Living room of a Brooklyn apartment. Like way out there Brooklyn. Like Bay Ridge or something. So you know, more space than normal.

BS is folding laundry on the couch. She is listening to the radio. The house is that “messy organized” that 20-somethings do. Or at least I do.

LS bursts through the door and lets it slam behind her.

LS

Oh my god, BS, I cannot believe what just happened. I just had probably the most amazing experience of my life. I don’t know what made me do it, but ahhh I’m so glad I did… I just… Oh my god, it was so fucking amazing. Amazing.

BS

(bored) What did you do?

LS

Do you want to know?

BS

Yes.

LS

Do you really?

BS

Yes.

LS

You aren’t just humoring me?

BS

No.

LS

Okay. … Ask me once more. With feeling.

BS

(fake smile, still bored) What did you do?

LS

I masturbated on the subway.

BS

(not so bored) You…

LS

I masturbated on the subway! During rush hour! I feel so free, so unconquerable. You know? Nobody even noticed! I mean, I know NYers are self-centered and jaded, but really I expected someone to think something was off and, you know, ruin the moment. But no one did. I just masturbated right there on the subway and totally got away with it! How fucking awesome is that? That was seriously the best commute I’ve had since I moved here. So relaxing. I think I’m going to do it again tomorrow. And you know what else? Towards the end, I’m pretty sure I saw god. Yeah. Oh my god!!! I can’t believe I did it! I’m so alive right now. I want to run a marathon or leap off a building! Oh. I’m definitely doing it tomorrow. Definitely. Maybe both ways. That way I’ll be nice and energetic [for work].

BS

You can’t masturbate on the subway!

LS

… Yes, I can.

BS

No. You can’t.

LS

Yes. I can. I just did.

BS

Well, you can’t do it again.

LS

Yes. I. Can. And you can’t stop me.

BS

Are you fucking insane?! Only crazy people and assholes do shit like that.

LS

And what does that make you?

BS

I do not masturbate on the subway! I wouldn’t even think of masturbating on the subway. How does someone even come up with something like that?

LS

I forgot my book.

BS

I … don’t even know what to say to that.

LS

Seriously, BS, I think you are making way too big a deal of this. I just closed my eyes and got to it. It was easy. No one got hurt. No one saw. And I had a great time. You know, I came straight home to tell you, because I thought you’d be happy for me.

BS

Really?

LS

You’re the one always going on and on and on and on and on about how masturbation is good for the soul. How it can clear out a lot of tension and stress.

BS

Yeah, but I never said you should [do it in public.]

LS

If you aren’t going to be happy for me, fine!

She pulls out her mobile and hits a speed dial.

BS

Who are you calling?

LS

Mom?

Throughout the call, BS tries to take the phone away from LS.

It’s me. Is Dad there? Yeah? Can you put me on speaker? BS, stop it!

Mom, Dad, I had the most amazing experience today. … I masturbated on the subway, and I’m pretty sure I saw god. Now, I know you think stuff like this is weird. But you always said you wanted me to be happy, and this made me extremely happy. Are you happy for me? …. Well? Good. Thank you. I’m glad to know that some people care about my personal happiness. Well, that’s all I wanted to tell you. Yeah, we’ll still talk this weekend. Love you. And BS sends her love too. Yes, I’ll tell her to call. Love you. Bye!

See? Not so big a deal, is it? You need to calm down.

BS

I can’t believe you just told our parents that you masturbated in public.

LS

Well, I did. Get over it. You know, you really should trust them more, tell them more about your life. You’d have a better, more open relationship with them the way I do.

BS

I am not calling our parents every time I masturbate somewhere new.

LS

Okay. But really you should call them more. They’d feel better. You’d feel better. You’d probably save yourself some hours in therapy.

BS

I … I can’t deal with you right now.

LS

You looked stressed.

BS

I am a little.

LS

Where’re you going?

BS

To my room.

LS

Are you going to masturbate?

BS

No. I am going to go to my room, lock you out, and meditate until I’m sure that this whole episode is a very, very, very distant memory. Like I don’t even want to remember [that you were ever born.]

LS

Meditate.

BS

Yes.

LS

… Oh my god what did I just tell our parents?!!!

BLACKOUT