or mine?
Fine. My penis
Yes?
My penis is almost
like the best dildo
you could imagine.
Haha. Yes,
just like we said it was.
:-)
You are surprised
because it feels almost a
whole half-centimeter
longer than it was last time.
I shaved my
pubic hair so it can go
in easier just that little
bit farther.
haha
:-)
And we do it on the
ground like animals.
Or like mechanized
manikins fucking. Puppets
with unseen hands commanding us
to bash each other nuts.
Everything about you is soft
But with an inner firmness that
comes alive when our bodies
work together.
First in concert.
Then in discord.
First in consort.
Then in discert.
Then we have dessert.
First in a hot desert.
Then on top of my dissertation.
Never we will desert each other
before the time is right.
At nightfall we break each other
only to grow back again stronger.
Our bodies were made for
ramming into each other
like this.
A squeeze.
A rubbing.
A pounding.
And a kiss.
After we kiss sometimes
it feels like there’s liquid
silver on our lips,
or cool mercury rolling
around wanting more.
I aspire to be your imitation
dildo for you honey always.
I aspire to be something like
what you called me.
A manikin or whatever.
A high-tech sex robot.
The most sophisticated,
talented, impressive,
witty and self-assured.
haha
You set the scene, love,
never let silence set in.
The funny, cute things you say.
You called it ‘chattering’,
now say its flattering.
What’s gotten in you today? ;)
Lovable hobbies.
Trips, errands, projects.
Your endless ideas for crochet.
Always fun banter.
Realism never hampers our
funny and smart repartee.
Except your political overtures.
But my vote nullifies yours.
So it don’t matter much anyway.
Oh—*eyeroll*.
O-kay. Let’s.
Let’s.
*
—Oh—
—oh god—
—you’re so fucking—
HOTTT
*
Well, for the
‘Biggest nothing of all-time’!
that was still pretty good.
You better hope it was
a nothing.
Well.
We came together…
Yes.
…because of books,
Groan.
perceived repression
and sideways looks.
Well.
Finally it wasn’t just you
on your own, because—
Know what I call that?
?
The Iceman Cometh.
And now it’s my turn to groan.
‘Hey! I resemble that remark.’
Boring play anyway.
Hehe.
Or it’s like the Fellini scene
we like so much, with the
double-entendres that no one
but us ever noticed.
‘Should I come, Guido?’
‘Yes, of course!
Come visit me, Luisa!
You can come in no time!’
Hehe.
‘You want me to come?’
‘Of course! Yeah, sure,
I really care about you coming
here, Luisa. Your coming is
really important to me. Honest,
it is and I’d love it if you’d
finally just come already.’
Hahahaha.
‘Hm. Watch out, Guido,
I might actually do it.
I might actually surprise you
and come this time.’
And then she does come
but with another guy
and her girlfriends in tow.
And how can poor Guido get any
of his stupid thinking done then?
Yeah…
I want our own story.
Not like the story
you find in a book.
Or in a movie.
We can get a list of books
and read them all.
Just to make sure.
Just to make sure
what we do doesn’t
repeat any story.
Just to make sure
what we do doesn’t
repeat any story.
Just to make sure
what we do doesn’t
repeat any story.
‘Do doesn’t.’
‘Do doesn’t.’
‘Do doesn’t.’
‘Do doesn’t.’
…
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Sigh.
Sigh.
Sigh.
What did we get from
reading so many books?
Those supposedly good books
we’ll never read again?
All we got was each other.
That’s all.
That’s all.
It’s not in a book.
No it’s not in a book.
It’s in what a book
makes you think.
It’s in what a book
makes you do.
Or not do.
Or decide not to do.
Like decide
not to have children.
Or decide that books
are as good as children
Or even just articles!
Yeah.
‘I didn’t have kids, but
I typed up some blurbs
about
(What was that thing?)
‘Evolutionary Origins of
Social Exclusion of
Eastern European Sociopaths
in Media’
and resultant discussions
were dubbed “very interesting”
by some modestly concerned
persons who hold high repute
in small self-important circles of
other aging people who
lack children,
most of them terribly white,
all of them terribly intellectual
and just overwhelmingly impressive
in their fussiness.’
Yeah, that life is better
than having a child. To
further such important
messaging is really
crucial for all those
generations going forward.
None of whom will have
any of our DNA in them.
Yeah. Right.
But
seriously, I’m glad we got
away from all of that,
away from that scene.
We aren’t having children
but at least we aren’t writing
any more articles or books and
pretending they’re as good as children
would be, or could be.
Just as well.
It’s the pretending and
conceit that’s wrong.
Remember when Cecil said
r /> ‘My students are my children’.
It’s a little true,
and a lot sad.
He is sweet but sad.
And I love him but would
never think of him as my father.
Your Nietzsche said that
when a woman has scholarly
inclinations, there is usually
something very wrong with her
sexually.
He is not my Nietzsche.
But there is probably
something or other
wrong with
everyone who has
or who ever had
scholarly inclinations.
We know this from personal experience.
And, fucking hell,
there’s something
nontraditional about
everyone’s sexuality now.
There’s something strange
about sexuality now period,
because the meaning changed.
Look,
I’m just going to say this.
While I DO NOT want children,
the fact that I haven’t had any
makes me feel like less of a
person. And no faerie is
going to come down,
wave her wand and say
Voilà,
now you’re a real girl.
But honestly if we had kids
wouldn’t it just be putting off
our own confusion,
nonstop sarcasm,
and self-parody
onto the next generation?
Like they could figure
a way out of this disposition?
Because I have even less hope
for the future than I do for us.
All the hope I need is just
your legs along side mine
as I thrust.
And all the hope I need is only
the gasps of air I take
when you bone me.
All I ever need
to look forward to
is us fucking so hard
we turn black and blue.
And all I ever need to think about
when lost and uncertain
is how we should fuck so hard
that we’re both hurtin’.
Yeah you know it’s going great
when videos help lovers learn
how to make lovemaking
more like torture porn.
(Ow. God.)
I agree and enjoy it.
And if I might be so bold,
I hope we act like porn stars
when we’re very old.
That’s been the goal of the ages.
I have no claims on you.
You have no claims on me.
That would make no $ense.
In every way we’ll be free.
Yes, I wouldn’t dare dream
of wanting you to commit.
And if you claimed to want marriage,
I wouldn’t swallow it; I’d spit.
Then split.
Ha.
So do you think that this idea
of hyperbolic brutal movie sex
is a reaction to how tame
and finicky most people are
most of the time?
You mean like do they have
this idea that it has to be wild
because they aren’t wild people
at all anymore?
Yes.
Yes.
But we are somewhat wild.
We are somewhat wild.
Wilder than most.
(Just a bit.)
(Maybe more than a bit.)
I just think most of the people
who envision sex as
cartoonishly wild
turn out to be much tamer
in bed when the time comes.
Yeah, you are probably right.
But *I* certainly wouldn’t know.
In all of this
there is a disconnect.
A strange combination
of under and over-
socialization.
I’m getting tired,
just so you know.
Waking working life
suppresses most our instincts,
but none of our desires.
Our desires are encouraged
consciously now more than ever.
This sort of new kingdom
dampens or codifies
our companionship capacity,
while enthroning the infertile orgasm,
the infantile orgasm that does not
produce infants.
Yeah. We’ve talked
about all that before.
And about how the media
enables it. But
for all the time I
wasted watching it,
I have rarely if ever
seen actual ‘sex on tv’.
I only saw titillation and
merciless, cruel teasing,
—bragging, showing off—
conducted by a cool machine.
All frosting and no cake,
when even just the cake used to be good,
good enough. I think.
That which was used as an incentive
to get us to reproduce ourselves
is now used to reduce ourselves
into consumers of the insubstantial
(like eating…sweet air or nothingness),
and we are defunct obsolete
products of our own un(re)productiveness.
If you be quiet I’ll
give you a handjob.
>:-(
I’m lying.
I don’t give you handjobs.
Go on if you must.
We once read something about
‘expensive spirit in a waste of shame’
—Because shame shouldn’t be wasted!
Because without potential shame
you cannot fully enjoy the naughtiness.
I am your
Little Miss Naughty.
You called me that you.
In the past I don’t think
people ‘lived through their
children’. I think they just
sensed, and had good reason
for sensing, that they’d
produced something viable,
and they were rightly proud
of that. That is a satisfaction
we will never know.
‘The point of intimacy is
having children.
I’ve got your ‘point’
of intimacy right here.
It is a state that arises when
nature says you should be
making children. Nothing
more on a biological level.
No longer slaves of our biology,
we are enthralled instead
by overwrought and
bourgeois considerations.’
That is what I wrote and got
a higher grade than you did.
And do you believe it?
Did you ever?
I don’t know.
It sounded good in a way.
It still sounds okay.
I look at myself now and think
‘Congratulations, you have succeeded
in doing something none of your
ancestors could manage:
not having children.’
Yeah.
I told you not to think
that way.
I don’t want to talk about
children anymore.
Turn off the light, please.
You know how we talked about
inoculation? And how it has a
double meaning? You inject
someone with a small version of a virus
to prevent the host from contracting
that virus randomly in a larger way?
I thought you were tired.
<
br /> But yeah inoculate can mean
giving a disease or preventing
it. Giving a disease in order to
prevent it.
I’m tired, though.
Your penis inoculates me.
It is like a needle in some way.
You inject me but life doesn’t happen.
Weird girl.
But yeah
it’s not real sex
if it’s protected.
Like how we call it
‘simulating the sex act’
which is very clinical
and thus naughty.
‘More unwanted children
are prevented through
safe sex than through
attempted abstinence.’
The more ejaculations you have,
the less likely we are
to have kids. Statistics show!
Contraception through
abstinence, or contraception
through absence, or
contraception through
absinthe.
Pick your poison.
Heh.
Scaredy cat or sacred cat.
What if people had to have sex
in order to prevent pregnancy
from spontaneously developing?
How would that change civilization?
hahaha
Weird guy.
A lot of spinsters
and hermits descending
from mountain cabins,
ascending from fallout shelters,
bringing their broods
of asexually reproduced
homunculi to take over the world.
I’m going to have nightmares.
Know how I solved
my nightmares?
?
Started sleeping with a doll.
(You.)
A doll that talks.
Enchanted possessed
Artificial but super-natural
‘My dream isn’t a nightmare…
…as long as you’re in it.’
‘And my scheme isn’t a conspiracy…
…as long as I’m in on it.’
Goodnight weird girl.
Goodnight weird guy.
Aww.
III. Cozy Storm
School starts again soon, but tonight it’s smores
at Gram’s fireplace after an afternoon outdoors.
My sister and brother and me, spending the night
like we were still little kids. Sam grabs a flashlight
(because it’s storming and Gram heard thunder),
holds it to his chin: Will a ghost get us, I wonder?