Some stuff I typed one night in s. africa...

(china doll)

translucent

like pale parchment

celia’s skin

blue-white and pink

soft

like a wilting flower

a small china doll

when she is sleeping






(africa)

warm and damp

like a mother’s tears

as her children cling to her

so not to fall off

africa

so alive

but dying

so fast








(aids in south africa)

what monster is this

who kills through love

and ignorance

rumours of conspiracy

and genocide

from a far away land

filled with hate






(floyding)

lying on our backs

in the blue room

smoking

while pink floyd rides the smoke curls

across the foot of the bed

and we feel the words

touch down

one at a time






(mine)

pale and slight

but arms that hug

like a buick

and eyes that are both

young and old

and happy and sad

and a smile like sunshine

he smells like perfume

and sweat

and teenage lust

i want to touch him

for he seems

too perfect












whatever

Jerk-off Jerk-off

I mentioned earlier that everyone feels compelled to confide in me their deep dark secrets. Here's one that has a funny story to go with it. When I lived at the coast I met a guy through some friends. We kind of hit it off but nothing really came of it (alas, he was a weeper.) He told me that he was a compulsive masterbater. Not kidding. He was totally cronic. It consumed him and he never really engaged in sexual activity with anyone because he didn't think he would enjoy it as much. I promised not to say anything and pretended it was no big deal. I could care less, but I wasn't going to go out with him! A few weeks later a bunch of us were driving into Vancouver to go to a club and our mutual friend said she was going to play a special song just for him. She proceeded to play Choke My Chicken by 20 Fingers and ribbed him mercilessly. If you are not familiar with the song it is about a guy who jerks off every day. The funny part is that I never breathed a word to anyone. She was just teasing him and he must have thought I blabbed to everyone. I was in the front seat and I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head. I'm sure he hates me to this day. I don't care, the guy was a jerk-off anyway.

Sex Matters

Today I caught about 15 minutes of Oprah on t.v. So far I haven't totally fallen into the pit of housewifedom, including a daily regime of Oprah, soaps, and The Price is Right. I have other vices that I'm not getting into. Anyways, the topic was SEX! One of the questions posed to the supposed expert at the scene was if it's normal for a female to have a higher sex drive than her male spouse. Immediately, the sexologist (or whatever) asked if the woman received any quality one-on-one time with man in a nonsexual way. She replied "Not enough" and the problem was simply reduced to a lack of intimacy. Wifey was told to stop trying to force sex upon her husband because it was not really sex she needed, but some quality time. Cuddling and such. Case closed. Well. Fine. At first I thought this was a decent point, the lack of intimacy thing, but suppose it's actually a SEX THING? Maybe wifey just needs the bone! Is it so absurd that a woman may have a higher sex drive than a man? Alas, I will keep in mind that Dr. Phil was also an expert on Oprah and we all know he's as smart as a bag of cornflakes.