Tuesday, June 29, 2010

A June Night

An old story comes to mind. Intellectuals deconstruct it harshly, but it's compelling and disturbing to me, and that is good. The tale was written and takes place in the late 19th century. It is of two children who come across a street urchin, who tells them to be bad and go home and destroy mom's crockery and cookware and make a terrible mess. They are later warned by their mother that such naughty behavior will summon another mother, The New Mother, who has a wooden tail and glass eyes and is not nice. Not at all.

But the street urchin tells them that it won't happen. It's crazy. So the kids go home and trash the place and, of course, mom leaves and another mother arrives. She breaks down the door with her wooden tail and sends the kids screaming into the woods.

That's pretty much the extent of it. Every so often, the kids approach their former home and see new mom, with her spooky glass eyes.

The story was written in 1882 by Lucy Clifford. There you go.

As I said, if you look it up you'll find all sorts of analysis and deconstruction, particularly about the Victorian-era use of the word "naughty." But I think they make too much of that. These stories touch upon an adult desire to reveal the indifference, pain and horror of the world to children, who have been lied to about the whole affair.

So it's not a lesson for children, but a revenge fantasy for adults.

In other news, I'm sitting in my bedroom and taking a lot of pills. A little of this and a little of that. They all get together and form a super pill in my belly that makes it all go away. What is made to go away? It, you asshole, IT. I'm 37 years old and I don't have a woman and it doesn't get any better from there. One needs a woman. Women are fine things. You can make a nest in the heart of a woman, and make love with one, as well. The right one will also laugh at your jokes, forgive your physical flaws, and let you play with the wet, hairy place between their legs.

Sex. After sex you can put your arm around your woman, or she can put her arm around you. The combination of the two of you can create a force field that many a nasty thought and feeling cannot enter. If you can get one woman to fuck you and sleep with you, you've got yourself a magnificent talisman that will keep the damn werewolf of loneliness and self-loathing at bay. Whatever happens, you are not in it alone, just so long as that arm is around you, pulling you close.

Never take that arm for granted, gents. True, it may prove difficult as the hour grows late and you find yourself needing a little space in which to get comfortable. Never forget that the arm in question belongs to another being who is stating her affinity for you, whatever you are and hope to be. The arm pulling you close is pulling you away from a void. The void is a wine bottle when you don't drink. The void is pills and a romantic comedy. But no amount of pills, booze, or self-delusion can replace the smell and taste of a woman who has thrown it all in for YOU. The smell of pussy is part of it. Yes, I'm a caveman. But it's also the hopeful look. The hopeful look! The look your woman gives you that says, despite everything, I'm with you. I'm with you. I'm with YOU. Whatever the hell you are, you're worth it.

So in the absence of a woman, what am I worth? What am I worth? What am I worth?

Hydroxizine and lorazepam.

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