october

21 October 2002

November is National Novel Writing Month, and I’ve considered joining the exercise, possibly writing from a woman’s perspective. The following is the only piece I’ve ever written from a woman’s perspective, and it’s fourteen years old now:

october

knock knock so i let you in you wet you drip dripping shiver from the rain cold night outside face red corners hanging frowning anger frowning i close the door wind howls outside warm fire inside you pull back hood hair is anyhow wet long and black and shining like onyx shiny hair i love to stroke when i hold you nakedly your weight pinning me to the earth pressing but you are not naked you are here and wet and say give it to me laura your words like needles prickly prickly poke me hurt me lose my balance teetering but i will not fall i catch myself turn on my heel and flutter to the couch leaving you drip dripping on new rug looking like melting popsicle silly i sit skirt floats to knees dainty dainty o so pretty you tell me you love when i wear skirts i lift book note the place look at you thoughtfully do not crack be strong laura say to what are you referring dean my love voice good like rich woman high class perfectly perfect gaze stare your eyes are black as coal god i love those eyes when we make love deep i float in them floating like in peace in time in space in waves but now they burn stare fiery gaze do not drop my guard do not fall you stony faced angry drip dripping sniff nose dont play games with me so serious your voice like you are an adult a man you are only a boy dean so young so pretty your hair your eyes your arms are nets your back an anvil your thighs a vice your hips mine you are firm you are soft you glide when we make love you glide sigh laura ease air gently i look at you just the right face drop my rigid eyes disappointed cant i be trusted lightning flashes boom thunder boom crashes you are standing in my doorway dripping on my new rug puddle of wetness beneath your face is tense is full of passion red and eyes hair are black and wet and you are wet and smooth i will make love to you i stand come here dean i retrace my path stand before you stare eyes black fiery burning im falling falling no catch myself hold on will not fall my arms around your wetness calculated seconds waiting your eyes unchanging falling help me kiss him laura i kiss you biting kissing hard your lips are so beautiful but you do not kiss back dripping on my rug i look your eyes are burning black fiery my blouse my skirt im wet no drip dripping soggy like cornflakes you stand before me still face still red no longer from cold your face still red angry angry raise an arm i turn my head cheek cracks meets hand pain falling crying i fall o dean o dean o dean crying dripping on the floor i am crying tears and rain drip dripping face is burning only want to love you only want you to love me i didnt mean to take it i sputter crying dripping myself curled on the floor you tower above me tall and handsome so young you are a boy give it to me you scream your eyes glare burning give it back no need to yell i am falling nothing to grasp nothing to catch o dean i am crawling to the bureau oak drawers oak frame shiny shiny like your hair your eyes your nakedness third drawer up slowly open reach inside crying falling slowly like an instant replay i pick up your heart your heart red bloody muscle organ pump giver of life hamburger raw your heart you must love me you must love me o dean i cry you stride wetly to my side footprints black on the hardwood floor you watch i lift your bruised heart take it out im falling wont you catch me dean hold me catch me do not let me cry i am falling and you grab my wrist grab your heart snatching it stealing it o dean please dont leave me only a piece i beg you take you take you hold you swallow it stare at me once more eyes burning fiery fiery o dean please dont i can feel you bursting feel your violence and you whisper come laura lets make love you gently catch my fall

Strange, eh?

Comments

On 21 October 2002 (09:56 PM),
Tammy said:

Yikes I have a headache. I must not be fully woman because that went way over my head. I’m left with only one thought. Either JD is clueless about the dynamics of the English language or JD is so brilliant that I in my stupidity cannot understand him. Beings there is strong Roth blood flowing through you I’m left to wonder if the latter conclusion is closer to the truth. Good work JD!….I think.

On 22 October 2002 (06:21 AM),
J.D. said:

Actually, when I was in college I played with the English language a great deal, much to the dismay of certain professors. At the end of my freshman seminar I had to write a long, comprehensive paper demonstrating that I’d assimilated everything the seminar had been trying to teach us. I wrote my paper by hand using four colors of ink and a bizarre Plato-esque dialogue format. My professor refused to grade it. In one religion class, I wrote a paper on Job’s suffering using Biblical chapter-and-verse format. It was my religion professor who suffered. Later I turned in a paper to him that used no capitalization and which replaced standard punctuation characters with inventions of my own.

I went through a phase in which I thought could express my individuality by breaking free from the stifling confines of English grammar.

That was a long time ago.

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