squashpicker

mm. a good weekend, on balance. i'd forgotten how much i like drugs. there aren't good photos of the dress and hair, but i've been coerced into promising to bring the pleather out again later this fall, and i'm thinking of playing more with the hair color, so there'll be new photos then.

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Sunday Morning

Is this what it feels like to be alive?
Rugburns and slow-moving eyes
that watch time pass with suspicion and surprise.
I remember life having a different taste
and toothpaste won't hasten my return
to: passing time with questions that burn
in my mind, placed there by books and anxious looks
from authorities and peers; ignoring my fears;
and feeling that I'm moving vaguely forward
(though I know it would be untoward
to contemplate my destination)

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From Rereading Sex, a book on 19th Century US Sexual Culture for one of my classes, this poem was originally printed in Aristotle's Master-piece,a popular 18th & 19th century book on sex & reproduction. Meant to be recited by a man to his bride on their wedding night:

Now my faire Bride, now will I storm the Mint
Of Love and Joy, and rifle all that's in't.
Now my infranchis'd Hand on every Side,
Shall o'er thy naked polish'd Iv'ry slide;...
I will enjoy thee now, my Fairest; come
And fly with me to Love's Elizium.
My Rudder, with thy bold Hand, like a try'd
And skilful Pilot, thou shalt steer; and guide
My Bark in Love's dark Channel, where it shall
Dance, as the bounding Waves do rise and fall;
Whilst my tall Pinnace in the Cyprian Strait,
Ride safe at Anchor, and unlades the Freight