Posts tagged ‘Relationships’

Feminormative

el, los, don, señor, padre

not qua doctor
or professor
lawyer
boss
President
lover?

No
not in any
of those capacities
will i consult
you (Uds.)

Unless i have to

Why do i so often have to?

December 13, 2009 at 11:44 am 6 comments

Excerpt from “Those Bright College Years”

I strode along the curb of Prospect Street toward Alpha Nu as he ambled–slightly drunkenly–on my right. A former linebacker for the Bulldogs, Tex was president of his athletic fraternity and frequented the social functions of various sports groups. The cross-country team had already had its first race of the season the day before, and I still felt a bit high from performing well. It was only September, but fall tended to arrive early in New Haven. The temperature seemed to have dropped 20 degrees since the track party fizzled out, and I started to wish I had worn a jacket.

An SUV with basses blaring zoomed by, causing a surprisingly fierce breeze that sent my curly tresses flying. Tex tugged me away from the road: “Whoa! Let’s switch places. I’m more than twice your size. No one’s gonna hurt me. Or you while you’re with me.” He ran his fingers through his dishwater blond hair, sweaty from dancing, and winked. We held each other’s clammy hands. Charming, I thought.

“You’re big and strong and all, but that doesn’t make you invincible.” This was my attempt at coyness. I often fell for “teddy bear” guys because they seemed so manly and so eager to protect, but it was too early to let on that I might actually be into him.

“Well, I promise you’re safe with me. Besides, we’re almost there.”

 Tex didn’t keep his promise, and, although he apologized for the bite marks in an email the next day, he never said he was sorry for what transpired later that night.

August 30, 2009 at 11:00 am Leave a comment

Excerpt from “The Rental Property” (Rough Draft)

“I like your hair. What is it that you do to it to make it appear in that way?” Lera enquired as I primped next to her in the bathroom.

“Well, I have this straightener – top of the line – that does the trick.”

“You and I have the same kinky hair like a Jew or a Negro.”

“African American. Black person.”

“Vatever.”

“You can borrow it anytime. I don’t mind at all.”

“Really? Thank you! I’ll use it tomorrow before Robert and I go out. By the way, do you think you could watch over BJ? We’ll reduce your rent…”

“Umm…lemme think for a sec…That’s cool. I’m free as far as I know.”

“Vunderful.”

The next evening I gave Lera a quick straightener tutorial before going on a short run. It takes me about 15 minutes to smooth out my long, thick hair, so I figured Lera would be done well before I returned. Drenched in sweat, I knocked on the bathroom door in hopes of taking a shower.

“Come in,” Lera croaked. She glared at her image in the mirror as she frantically ran gel-coated fingers through her wilted curls.

“Zis is a piece of crap!” she barked while slamming the 300-dollar straightener on the counter.

“Hey, I paid a lot of money for that “piece of crap”!”

“I don’t know for why. It doesn’t even vork!”

“If you wash that gel out, I’ll just do your hair for you. Show you how easy it is.”

“I already wasted too much time. Do you mind giving me some privacy?!”

Lera’s incompetence and impatience clearly took precedence over my cleanliness and comfort, so I let her wallow in her frustration as I went outside for a well-deserved cigarette.

Lera and Robert got in late that night, so I didn’t see her until I returned from classes the next afternoon. She had cut off all her hair and had bleached what little was left. She looked like an albino Martin Short.

“Who did your-”

“I just wanted something new,” she shrugged her shoulders in a manner that suggested I delve no further.”

I found my straightener placed next to some wet rags by the sink and moved it to the highest shelf. If Lera ever needed to use it again, she’d have to use the step ladder. I had a quick flash of her – hair grown out and ready to give straightening another go – reaching, falling, and breaking her neck. I couldn’t keep right corner of my lip from turning upward.

July 26, 2009 at 9:24 pm Leave a comment

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

Your misogynistic poetry
what’s so wrong
that it’s about me
or that it’s not

Good

July 20, 2009 at 3:51 pm Leave a comment

Punctuation

(written in 2005)

Whether that was a question or a statement
Affects whether I answer or respond
So Im adding structure to your ambiguity
Since you have broken the rules of punctuation
For the last time
I wanted to experience all of your etceteras
And I really liked how the apostrophes always followed our name
Or even better
How we were one pronoun or possessive adjective
I got a kick out of your interjections in bed
And your clever appositives in reference to me
But there is always a but
See the only conjunction I can tolerate is and
And you think or can replace and
And so Im ending with a period this time
Not an ellipsis.

July 14, 2009 at 2:42 am Leave a comment

Collecting Shells

(written May 2002)

Collecting shells
Some people spend most of their trip to the beach
Doing it
Others, occasionally
The best thing
To do
Is stand right where
The ocean’s brim meets the shore
Each wave
Brings in the new
And replaces the old
Shells
Many options
Limited time
Few worth putting in the bucket
One, in particular
Might catch the eye
But seen hitting
The bottom of the pail
Already has lost
Its luster
The pretty ones are always the broken ones
The plain white,
Complete
Shape, size, color, texture
Smell, taste?
All taken into account
The bar rises
As the collection increases
Carelessness,
Selectivity?
There it is!
It
The
One
Floating, lingering
In the foam
Fluttering, fumbling, tumbling,
Hiding?
Whether or not the imagination’s figment
The Moon speeds up the tide
And on One
The
It
Slides past
With the next wave
Out of reach
Out of dive
Out of mind
Out of sight
So good
That it is missed
Without being experienced

Let’s ignore the
Sandcastles
And plastic shovels,
White tummies,
SPF 30
Sometimes the best ones get away.

April 20, 2009 at 10:39 pm Leave a comment

“I Hate You So Much Right Now”: Feminine Angstiest Songs #2

Kelis’s “Milkshake” brings all the boys to the yard, but her rhymes in “Caught Out There” put them in their places. She dedicates the song to “all the women out there/that been lied to by their men/over and over again” and admits “maybe you didn’t break the way you shoulda broke, yo, but I break.”

From her 1999 debut album Kaleidoscope, “Caught Out There” paved the way for the cocky and confrontational lyrics of “Bossy” (featuring Too $hort) and “In Public” (featuring husband Nas). In fact, when Kelis declares herself “the first girl to scream on a track” in “Bossy,” she’s referring to exercising her irate shouting skills in “Caught Out There”: “I hate you so much right now / I hate you so much right now / I hate you so much right now / Ahhhhhhhhh!” Kelis repeats the angsty chorus no less than seven times and outdoes Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats” with threats like, “So sick of your games / I’ll set your truck to flames / And watch it blow up, blow up / (Tell me how you gonna see her now?).” I certainly think that’s worse than taking “a Louisville Slugger to both headlights!”

It may seem like I’m hating on my man right now, but that’s not the case at all. I do, however, feel severe animosity toward “The Man.” He can go fuck himself. And I’m grateful to “the one that’s tattooed on his arm” for giving me an outlet to vent my ire through.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

April 14, 2009 at 10:43 pm 1 comment

Excerpt from “Those Bright College Years”

My gregarious Californian roommate, Evelyn*, decided to throw a Jilted Lovers’ Party the weekend after Valentine’s Day.  Not yet into the party scene, I took a backseat role in planning the festivities.  I did, however, suggest we write enticing messages (think alternative conversation hearts) on the heart-shaped helium balloons lining the walls and staircase.  “Fuck Me” and “69” seemed to go over pretty well.

Still high from dancing the night away with Johnny* at the Sadie Hawkins dance, I emailed him an invite to the party.  He responded that he would likely arrive a bit late since his improv comedy group had an after party that same night.  I kept my heavily-lined eyes peeled for him as I danced listlessly in my black faux-leather mini and tiger skin top.  The girls across the hall volunteered their suite for serving mixed drinks, and our common room doubled as the dance floor and hook-up room.

Apparently, word of the party spread like an STD at a brothel because hoards of people arrived to take advantage of the free alcohol.  People impatiently filled the 5-floor entryway, even half an hour after the drinks ran out.  Swarms of disappointed partygoers ended up on the dance floor by default in their failed escape attempt.  I frantically scanned the room for signs of Johnny, but I felt hopeless and overwhelmed by the crowds of students eagerly awaiting inebriation and/or orgasm.

The campus police must have arrived around 12:30 to bust up the party.  They couldn’t care less about the serving of alcohol by minors to other under-aged drinkers.  Someone had supposedly called and complained about the noise level, so the music and, therefore, fun, had to end.  And still no Johnny.  I felt like the girl who bought a new dress and make-up set in eager anticipation of the middle school dance, just to watch her recent purchases gather dust as she assumed the wallflower position throughout the 180 minute session of swaying, giggling, and back-of-the-gym exploration.

My whole body seemed to droop as I dejectedly helped clean up the spilled liquor and red plastic cups. A few of the guests from my residential college announced that they were heading over to a frat house. Having only been to one fraternity party, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to expand my social horizons. Later that night, out of desperation and a low sense of self-worth, I made the first in a series of life-altering mistakes.

*For privacy purposes, some names and minor details have been changed.

March 27, 2009 at 7:22 pm 3 comments

I Didn’t Mean to Be Mean

I didn’t mean to be mean
When I screamed, when I wept
I didn’t want to be wanted
I just needed to be kept
I’m so used to being used
Your pure intentions
Are abuse
If you’d struck me, if you’d fuck me
You’re like the others –
Cold but lucky

It was simple being easy
So I blame you
When you please me
For saving me from deadly habits
That die hard
For making me smile
For taking me far
Far from here
Far from blue
Further from home
Furthest from you
So, to that end, I must implore:
If you hated me
Would I love you more?

Disparate but never desperate
We’re violently in love
As luck would have it

December 19, 2008 at 9:38 pm 4 comments

Reprise

WARNING: Some people may take offense to the sexually-explicit language in this entry.

(written May 2006)

Save the applause
For someone more eager
Like the fake lesbians or
Half-assed whores
The ugly girls
Who think they’re hot
(They really exist)

I’ll not field any questions
Concerning my curt departure
Or participate in
Nostalgic fucks
I masturbate with sandpaper
These days
And choke on my own vomit
(You’ve washed your hands of me
Don’t soil them again
With my human stain)

Farewell, faithful voyeur
You fast-forwarded to the
Gratuitous sex scenes
But didn’t stick around for
The after-after-party

So let the credits roll
And skip the encore
Because – let’s face it –
Neither of us wants a
Repeat performance.

September 18, 2008 at 6:15 am 1 comment

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