High school sex…

Talk about social networking!  And the chart is in pink and blue

[Okay... we need someone to count the end points.  How many boys are depicted as having only one relationship, versus how many girls?  What are their stories?  How many of the 63 monogamous couples will grow up and marry each other?  How many of the 21 triads have experimented twith a three-way?  Do you believe this data when only one bi-sexual relationship structure is reported?

Posted in Sex |

Friend’s Best Man

POV shot from the backseat.  JIM FRIEND is in the driver’s seat.  A WOMAN is riding shotgun.  We see JIM’s right hand shove a cassette in the deck, then slap the steering wheel, an anticipatory gesture…

TAPE:  –gooseberries, she said. I said again I thought it was hopeless and no
good going on, and she agreed, without opening her eyes. (Pause.) I asked her to look at me and after a few moments–(pause)–after a few moments she did, but the eyes just slits, because of the
glare. I bent over her to get them in the shadow and they opened. (Pause. Low.) Let me in. (Pause.) We drifted in among the flags and stuck. The way they went down, sighing,
before the stem! (Pause.) I lay down across her with my face in her breasts and my hand on her.
We lay there without moving. But under us all moved, and moved us, gently,
up and down, and from side to side.

WOMAN:  Seventeen copies sold…

JIM hits rewind and there is the familiar screech of backwards audio.

TAPE:  –unshatterable association until my dissolution of storm and night with
the light of the understanding and the fire–

JIM:  It’s art, Woman.  They give people the Pulitzer for this kind of thing.  The fucking Booker prize.  All kinds of honors accrete…

WOMAN:  If you don’t find the back formation offensive.

JIM:  "Accretian…" 

WOMAN:  …and you don’t spell very well either.

JIM:  How would you know that, Woman.  It’s a damned SCRIPT for god’s sake.  How can you tell whether I spell it "accretian," "accretion," or even "a Grecian?"

WOMAN:  Yes… well, you’ve certainly URNED the right…

JIM:  Don’t be doing that now.  Going all truth and beauty on me.

JIM rewinds the tape again amidst much screechery…

TAPE:  –my face in her breasts and my hand on her. We lay there without moving.
But under us all moved, and moved us, gently, up and down, and from side
to side.

The WOMAN hits the stop button and turns on the radio.

WOMAN:  Enough crap…

RADIO:  It was suggested that for an artist of his stature, he had a relatively
small body of work – but only if one measures size by number of words.
Distilling his art to its essence, he produced scores of eloquent plays
and stories, many of those in his later years not strictly defined as
full length.

JIM:  I’m told size doesn’t matter.

WOMAN:  One understands why you may have heard that…

Tony Pierce Rocks

Young man, met him in a dark bar on the lower east side, he was way polite and everything… whenever I read him I ask myself why not everyday?  His site loads slow though…

anyway, he has an early link to the Bin Laden truce offering and an excellent comment thread beneath it.

And he has a brilliant post on Drew Barrymore and why it’s okay for her to be normal.  My word, normal, not his.

Fisking Halley

Halley Suitt recently responded to a year old ABC sex survey with a post examining why women don’t sleep nude.  I tried to leave a comment, but – ironically – Halley’s Comment won’t take my comment.  Or perhaps there’s no irony there since, after all, it is Halley’s Comment and not mine.  But more to the point, Halley is so wrong.  Here are the reasons Halley thinks that most women sleep clothed and some offhand critique of my own.

1. A lot of us are overweight and think we look like hell naked. (Girls, I hate to admit this, but a lot of us think this way, don’t we?!?) Even if we look good, we don’t think we look good.

ABC said that only about one woman in seven sleeps naked.  Halley posits that American women experience a lot of discomfort about their own bodies.  If Halley could show that around six out of seven women express discomfort with their appearance, then I’d put some stock in this.  But really, when you sleep, you close your eyes, so what does it matter what you look like naked?  Your eyes are closed!

2. Maybe we don’t sleep in the nude because we’re wearing something like this – how bad can it be? Pretty good reason not to be nude.

This almost calls for a guy survey.  Follow that link of Halley’s.  Guys, how many of you have crept into bed beside a woman dressed like that?  No, you imbecile… I mean the WOMAN!  How many of you have crept into bed beside a woman who was dressed like that? If so, was she still dressed like that by the time you fell asleep?

3. If we’re moms, we know with a loud noise in the night, a little thunder, a wet bed or whatever, there’s every reason to believe one or more kids will come climbing into our beds in the middle of the night and it’s probably better to have pj’s on.

This one makes sense, but we need more demographic information.  Halley, how many women are mothers of children who are between the ages of 18 months and about ten years old?  Subtract the number of divorced moms and factor back the number of nights per week that the joint custody agreement has the kids out of the house and we’re approaching some meaningful numbers.  Also there is a little cognitive dissonance rumbling around when this item is compared with number two, above.  Do you really want to be wearing the Fredericks fetish garb when the little one crawls in for some comfort?

4. We don’t want to be that naked idiot on the news, sporting a blanket, if there’s an earthquake, fire or other natural disaster in the middle of the night.

This ranks right up there with the clean undies in case of an auto-accident meme.  People don’t really think like this, but some people’s mom’s would have them believe that people think like this.

5. We sleep with other folks around who would freak to see us naked — parents, fellow college students, drop-in out-of-work brothers on the couch in the livingroom, you name it.

This is what the bathrobe is good for.  If you sleep naked beneath a blanket, and pull on a robe when you skip off to the loo in middle of the night, well — small chance that impressionable brother is going to glimpse your special parts.

6. The statistics are off because … we might spend a lot of time naked in bed, but when it comes to actual "sleeping", we throw our old UCLA tee shirt on, grab our teddy bear and can only get cozy that way.

The statistics are off because ABC only surveyed women who were likely to drink too much and pass out half-dressed and later pull a blanket over themselves when they woke up enough to fall asleep.

7. If we sleep naked with our beau, boyfriend, lover or husband, they would never stop trying to get one last touch, squeeze, stroke or rub of various available parts of our curvy bodies — and you’d never get a bit of sleep. Can’t you just hear them blaming it on us, "You can’t lie around looking like that and not expect me to touch you!"

The sad truth is if you go to bed with your beau, boyfriend, boyfriend, lover, or husband the odds are your partner will try to get in some touching, squeezing, stroking, and rubbing regardless of whether you have your jammies on.

8. You feel so … NAKED … when you’re a naked woman. It’s hard to keep your own hands off yourself sometimes.

You need to understand that you will go blind and/or god will strike you dead if you do this.

9. Our arms get cold. (This happens to be my real excuse, often as not.)

Some people sleep with their arms under the covers too.  Just not the ones with a firm grasp of the concepts enumerated under number eight, above.

10. Sleeping in the nude … it’s just too … Swedish. We’re Puritans, don’t forget!

When I think of Puritans I think of Demi Moore in that movie about the girl with the letter jacket… Hester somebody.

Ridden Hard and Put Away Wet

Out at the stables, Rageboy presents a little dressage.  Four ponies trot in reasonable order around the training circle at the Mystic Bourgeoisie Stud.  Odd names from the stud book… Maslow, Adler, Nietzsche, and Munch.  Munch?  Maslow appears to be the best collected.  The others display flaws of gait and form that would perhaps have been correctable if sufficient dominance had been enforced early in their training.  Never have I seen such a bunch of jigging, kicking, rearing, shying nags unless you count the recent post-modern crop from France.

I ran into a little domestic dominance story myself this week…  A great dull witted but affable fellow, well muscled, with excellent competitive traits and a prime coat, spoke of his family.  He has three children aged four, two, and one and his wife will soon deliver number four.  He chuckled that after the latest was born there would be some surgery.  He belongs to a christian cult that believes that birth control is sinful, but perhaps a little judicious tube tying… well, where’s the sin in that?  It’s a pity really.  I’ve met his wife, and the children are lovely.  The dominance equation surrounding the choice of who sacrifices further reproductive capability in that relationship is awful.   

Posted in Sex |

Liv Ullman

Danny Miller wrote brilliantly last week about Liv Ullman’s graceful aging beauty.  Here’s his post.  With pictures!

Posted in Sex |

Jeanette Winterson

A friend is writing a book and I am angling for a spot on the "Acknowledgements" page, somewhere above the line that begins "And to my cat, Fluffy, my gratitude for continual keyboarding interruptions without which this ponderous tome would have been completed on time anbd I wouldn’t have had to return the publisher’s advances."  Speaking of advances, I ran across this review of Doctor Alex Comfort’s 1972 hetero-didactic volume, "The Joy of Sex."

Here’s an excerpt…

But are we avoiding intimacy with all this Twister-like, ‘place one hand behind his neck and the other on your big toe?’

Sex
is absolute contact – or it can be. It is a private language and more
like Braille than print. You read your lover’s body and you write it
too. Sex is a fiction as well as a documentary – it invents the lover
and it describes the lover. It is imaginative act.

La Petite Mort

This is the most artistic thing I’ve seen since Al Goldstein and Ralph Ginzburg were publishing in the late sixties.