How a woman eats tells you a lot about her sexual
habits: examine, for example, Audrey Hepburn--famed
for her tiny bites, "appetite of a bird." Was she,
then, just as polite and cautious in her bedroom?
Perhaps a mottled brand of lipstick or nail polish
sat wistfully on her dresser, watching and wishing
that she were as daring as the red it gives her.
I hear that Angelina Jolie has quite the appetite,
scarfing her food with insatiable curiosity as to how
it's made; though it could be that you already knew.
Is that why, then, there was such a correlation--
not so long ago--between a woman's appetite for food
and her manners? Is that why we still consider such
princesses as refined, asexual, or rather nonsexual
and pop-princesses as simple or "easy" in their
will to flaunt their larger figures? The film Spanglish
told us that American women are afraid of curves
and the suggestion that they make of sexuality.
WARNING: Female sexuality ahead.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Junkyard Quotes 1-5, Week 12
"Ode to My Chap-Stick" - a title Mike recommended.
"Supposedly, how a woman eats tells you a lot about her sexual habits" - read in an article on the internet.
"I used to play with the mounted deer head in the den." - explaining to Mike our very different childhoods.
"Why doesn't anyone ever mention Hera favorably?" - a satiric book on Greek mythology I flipped through last week.
"Article Questions Tiger's Honesty" - the title of a Yahoo News article today, and though it is pretty obvious that they're talking about Tiger Woods, I thought this might be fun to use in contest of an actual tiger.
"Supposedly, how a woman eats tells you a lot about her sexual habits" - read in an article on the internet.
"I used to play with the mounted deer head in the den." - explaining to Mike our very different childhoods.
"Why doesn't anyone ever mention Hera favorably?" - a satiric book on Greek mythology I flipped through last week.
"Article Questions Tiger's Honesty" - the title of a Yahoo News article today, and though it is pretty obvious that they're talking about Tiger Woods, I thought this might be fun to use in contest of an actual tiger.
Strategy Response, Week 11
Jillian Weise's poem "Notes on the Body (1)" from her collection An Amputee's Guide to Sex exemplifies the technique of marrying form and function. The poem is made up of five couplets with a single-line stanza at the end, and each stanza is comprised of relatively short, clipped sentences. The interesting part of those sentences is that one does not necessarily read them that way the first time. In fact, she hides the short structure with a variety of enjabments and end-stop lines. The surface-level reading of the poem also speaks to the theme of the entire book: an amputee's romantic relationships and how those are accomplished despite social prejudices or physical inabilities.
The short sentences and stanzas of "Notes on the Body (1)" complement the subject matter of the poem in that she discusses her smaller leg by comparing her lover's "bend-step" to her "skip-step" and wishing that she could "climb a staircase, without / the clank of metal." Weise puts emphasis on those phrases like "the clank of metal" and "Perfection would be" to emphasize the difference between her persona's gait and the lover's, not merely marking their difference in terms of limbs but in entire body makeup. She spends her short sentences previous to the end talking about metal and rods and wondering why her lover is not inhibited by them. Her final line, however, gives the reader the answer in both its form and funtion: "I see the statue of David." This line is the most emphasized in the entire poem because it stands alone. Therefore, the reader puts heavy emphasis on it in a reading and determines that while she sees the statue of David in his form, he sees a similar statuesque woman despite her prosthetics.
The short sentences and stanzas of "Notes on the Body (1)" complement the subject matter of the poem in that she discusses her smaller leg by comparing her lover's "bend-step" to her "skip-step" and wishing that she could "climb a staircase, without / the clank of metal." Weise puts emphasis on those phrases like "the clank of metal" and "Perfection would be" to emphasize the difference between her persona's gait and the lover's, not merely marking their difference in terms of limbs but in entire body makeup. She spends her short sentences previous to the end talking about metal and rods and wondering why her lover is not inhibited by them. Her final line, however, gives the reader the answer in both its form and funtion: "I see the statue of David." This line is the most emphasized in the entire poem because it stands alone. Therefore, the reader puts heavy emphasis on it in a reading and determines that while she sees the statue of David in his form, he sees a similar statuesque woman despite her prosthetics.
Improv/Imitation 2, Week 11
"Let us make that movie, your suggestion"
to take a classic horror tale and turn it round
into a comedic piece of Reduced Shakespeare Theatre,
without the Ides of March and their parody.
Rather, you wanted me to dress in a tutu, parade
myself before the camera with a hockey mask
covering my face and a butcher's knife in my right
hand, the good hand. Didn't H.L. Mencken write
that story already? It seems like a tale he might
spin, accidentally of course, before creating
a biting wit to go with that play.
I was to kill the main characters, make myself
the center of the stage and call myself protagonist
while I Believe in a Thing Called Love acted
as my aggressor. Don't play that song again.
I might just kill.
to take a classic horror tale and turn it round
into a comedic piece of Reduced Shakespeare Theatre,
without the Ides of March and their parody.
Rather, you wanted me to dress in a tutu, parade
myself before the camera with a hockey mask
covering my face and a butcher's knife in my right
hand, the good hand. Didn't H.L. Mencken write
that story already? It seems like a tale he might
spin, accidentally of course, before creating
a biting wit to go with that play.
I was to kill the main characters, make myself
the center of the stage and call myself protagonist
while I Believe in a Thing Called Love acted
as my aggressor. Don't play that song again.
I might just kill.
Improv/Imitation 1, Week 11
"It was mid-afternoon, the blinds were open."
My cell phone blinked a new message; I opened
it to find an I love you, baby from whats-his-name
and wondered the difficulty of conducting a real
love letter--in our age of emails and texts
and fingers that type 100-words-per-minute on my
skin despite my pounding fists insisting written word.
I do not click Reply as though purposely defiant
of this new-fangled tradition; is that what my grandfather
would call it? That's what I would call it, the text.
Text once meant words on a page, while I wrote in pen
or pencil in class and learned to type at such a young
age, the term of text remained the same no matter who
you were writing a love letter to. Instead, we find
ourselves locked inside an eternal love text.
My cell phone blinked a new message; I opened
it to find an I love you, baby from whats-his-name
and wondered the difficulty of conducting a real
love letter--in our age of emails and texts
and fingers that type 100-words-per-minute on my
skin despite my pounding fists insisting written word.
I do not click Reply as though purposely defiant
of this new-fangled tradition; is that what my grandfather
would call it? That's what I would call it, the text.
Text once meant words on a page, while I wrote in pen
or pencil in class and learned to type at such a young
age, the term of text remained the same no matter who
you were writing a love letter to. Instead, we find
ourselves locked inside an eternal love text.
Free Entry 2, Week 11
The bangs of the oak drape its face,
a hard-won testament to its century-long life
before the men with their axes--their Xs,
their axis--march to the beat of a mechanical
drum and play a tune on metal instruments.
Instruments of torture are made of metal and wood,
but so are woodwinds and brass, their turns
just slightly different from the screams you
would hear with that old face staring beneath
its own limbs and leaves.
Dante's suicidals know that punishment better
than any: they dangle their wooden limbs
helplessly, before a wandering poet comes to bite
the tip from its edge and allow their blood
to speak their forgotten words.
In all of Inferno, they were my favorite torture,
hung upside down, in contortional positions,
wherever they happened to land after Charon's
maniacal--mechanical--ferry.
I once saw a man named "Ferriman" and wanted
him to be my ride to the underworld,
where I might land in a split or other
gymnastic position until Dante broke my finger.
a hard-won testament to its century-long life
before the men with their axes--their Xs,
their axis--march to the beat of a mechanical
drum and play a tune on metal instruments.
Instruments of torture are made of metal and wood,
but so are woodwinds and brass, their turns
just slightly different from the screams you
would hear with that old face staring beneath
its own limbs and leaves.
Dante's suicidals know that punishment better
than any: they dangle their wooden limbs
helplessly, before a wandering poet comes to bite
the tip from its edge and allow their blood
to speak their forgotten words.
In all of Inferno, they were my favorite torture,
hung upside down, in contortional positions,
wherever they happened to land after Charon's
maniacal--mechanical--ferry.
I once saw a man named "Ferriman" and wanted
him to be my ride to the underworld,
where I might land in a split or other
gymnastic position until Dante broke my finger.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Free Entry 1, Week 11
The Things They Ask Her To Do
Thursday Noon wants to be wrapped in cellophane,
pink or blue, but not clear to any other color;
beats a little strange here.
She wraps him tightly before leaving the room
to watch The Bold and the Beautiful, wondering
who Brooke is married to this week.
Just Passing Through asked to live in a cage
in her basement for the three hottest weeks of summer,
but she rejected putting his life in danger.
He cried like a slave almost always does, but
this time she hadn't even done anything to him.
Honestly Not A Lesbian likes for her to dress up
in a kitty outfit, furry ears on her head, face
invisible beneath the glued whiskers and blue paint.
Every Other Friday has a penchant for ants:
she puts something, anything sticky and sweet
between his legs and lets them crawl to his pleasure
until their hour is up.
She rings her bell like she imagines a pyschiatrist might;
Dr. Austin, she'd call him, just like that failing city
that she couldn't help but miss. Is she the opposite
of a psychiatrist, she wonders, as she places a heeled foot
gently on the floor between Down Low's fingers.
Thursday Noon wants to be wrapped in cellophane,
pink or blue, but not clear to any other color;
beats a little strange here.
She wraps him tightly before leaving the room
to watch The Bold and the Beautiful, wondering
who Brooke is married to this week.
Just Passing Through asked to live in a cage
in her basement for the three hottest weeks of summer,
but she rejected putting his life in danger.
He cried like a slave almost always does, but
this time she hadn't even done anything to him.
Honestly Not A Lesbian likes for her to dress up
in a kitty outfit, furry ears on her head, face
invisible beneath the glued whiskers and blue paint.
Every Other Friday has a penchant for ants:
she puts something, anything sticky and sweet
between his legs and lets them crawl to his pleasure
until their hour is up.
She rings her bell like she imagines a pyschiatrist might;
Dr. Austin, she'd call him, just like that failing city
that she couldn't help but miss. Is she the opposite
of a psychiatrist, she wonders, as she places a heeled foot
gently on the floor between Down Low's fingers.
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