She's as sweet as Tupelo honey...
She's an angel of the first degree
She's as sweet as Tupelo honey
Just like the real thing from the bee - "Tupelo Honey," Van Morrison
This one is for all my crushes, and my favorite barista, the Graverobber. ;-)
I am (in)famous for my use of language, both in the written and spoken form. I'm someone you piss off at your own risk because I WILL verbally rip your heart out and serve it to you (unless I love you, and then I will take a deep breath, walk away, calm down, and then come back and discuss it with you. And it will suck for both of us because we'll end up crying and hugging and Having a Moment), especially in traffic.
Now, as erudite as I can be in a public forum (such as this) or in a debate over a serious issue, I am quite possibly the most foul-mouthed driver on the road. Behind the wheel, I progressed from "cocksucker" to "motherfucker" to "cunt." I love all three of those words. They are lovely, ugly words, and I have thoroughly embraced them.
And, lest someone think the embracing of the c-bomb is merely the influence of a Certain Australian Gentleman, I'd like to assure you that I have been using that one for a while in traffic, much to the chagrin of St. Teresa. Speaking of Mr. Celebricrush, why do critics use the expression "foul-mouthed?" It sounds so stupid--"foul" doesn't refer to language; it refers to a state of physical decay. I mean, I'd understand if he had rotten breath (he didn't when I met him), but his language... Give it a break and grow the fuck up. As George Carlin said, "It's only words."
So, that leads me to a funny moment last week in Nova Scotia. Now, understand that Vicki has two daughters, ages 12 & 15, so she is used to trying to keep her language clean. While she can cuss with the best of them, there are still a few she doesn't use. The c-bomb is one of 'em. And, like so many women, she really hates it.
Well, it was in the morning, and she had the C-100 morning show on (pop station in Hfax--blech!), and they did a teaser gossip lead-off with, "Guess who website Cougar World has offered $1 million to be their spokesperson!" And I just shuddered.
See, Cougar World advertises on Plenty of Fish. Out of curiosity, I clicked on their ad. I was potentially interested until I saw the word "cub."
Evidently, this is the term being used for a younger man dating an older woman. Now, I guess it's better than "gold digger" (what they call the girls dating older men) or "trophy," but CUB? It really turned my stomach. And I said this to Vicki with that look of complete, utter distaste I get--you know the one, it looks like someone has held something incredibly foul under my nose (there's that word again!).
Well, Vicki looked at me with complete incredulity and said, "You are crazy about a comedian that regularly drops the c-bomb, and YOU'RE OFFENDED BY THE TERM 'CUB'?!? You have GOT to be kidding me!"
She was genuinely amused at my distaste. My response was, "The c-bomb is one of the oldest curses in English. Shakespeare uses it [Henry V, for one, and a few other places as well]. It refers to a body part; it has a great effect in bed during sex. It has a use. But 'cub?' It's so... so... INELEGANT! So... TACKY!"
And Vicki just shook her head at me. She is probably still shaking her head.
See, I have an issue with the whole battle between the sexes. I agree with Spider Robinson that it should be reduced down to a friendly, non-competitive arm wrestle (a happy bed wrestle is even better). I like men; I love their company. I have a damn good time hanging with the guys, and I really empathize with them when it comes to dealing with the more militant women on the planet. While men and women are very different in how they deal with some things and how they communicate--part of it due to socialization, part of it due to physical differences (it's the whole exposed genitals vs. non-exposed genitals. I'll go into that some other time)--for the most part, we're not that different. In the end, both sides need to be understood and loved and accepted.
Today's epigram is from one of my all-time favorite love songs. In Long December, my favorite scene, and the one love scene, is choreographed to this song, when Nate surprises Rebecca with a candlelit dinner at home, and they end up slow dancing and making love to this tune. Of course, I always change "she" to "he" in my mind, especially when I picture the man who was the model for Nate.
Because as raunchy as I get, I am very much enamoured of men. I love them. Love to look at them, talk to them, touch them... I've had an orgasm just from a kiss from a cherished lover and there is nothing so awe-inspiring and moving to me as my lover, naked, in front of me. Aroused, even more so because I know I've had something to do with that.
One of the most moving moment in Jim Jefferies (yeah, yeah, I know... always with the Jim Jefferies) show was when he did a bit on foreplay. Most of it was utterly hysterical--spot on (as always) and very, very funny. Until the last line, which was one of those heart-breaking moments he is so incredibly good at. He sums up a man's need with one line: "All we need is YOU." And the delivery... he could have had every single straight woman in the room right then and there. I hope that is on Alcoholocaust--being able to watch his facial expression during the delivery of that line alone will be worth the cost of shipping from England. (And the charity auction proposal is still on the line if I get multiple copies of the DVD, but proceeds will be going to disabled vets in the U.S., Canada and the UK. THROW DOWN!)
While I will say, yeah, I need a bit of the kissing, touching, etc. part of sex, I also I know that need--the need just to see my man naked and near, his warmth, his eyes... that moment. And for me to get to that point where I'm ready and waiting and wanting... there is so much emotion that goes into it, such emotional commitment, even if it is just for a night... For me to open myself up to another human being like that, it takes a measure of respect with the desire--it takes an insight, a glimpse of the soul of the person I'm opening my secret and sacred places to. That's actually the one bit of psychic talent I will lay claim to--I can read souls, and I know when the person I am with is a worthwhile soul or empty.
The word "beautiful" is so seldom applied to men, and it bothers me because I find so many of the men in my life beautiful--it's not just about their appearance, either. It's about their eyes, their voice, their intelligence, their spirit, their soul... all of the elements that combine to make the incredible human being who is gracing my life. I repeat my earlier statement: I LOVE MEN. Not just all that is good about you, either--I love all your exasperating, frustrating silliness--your illogic that develops when you're little boys (and I am one of the few women I know who truly wants a son--I LOVE dealing with small boys because of their infallibly illogical logic when they get into trouble) and stays with you. The vulnerability that lays beneath your strength. The glory of your smile. The sparkle of mischief in your eyes. How beautiful you are naked and wanting, eager... Gods, is there anything more moving than a man during an orgasm? And afterwards... the sleepy warmth of your arms, your scent...
How the best of you struggle to do what is right. The protectiveness over those you love. Even the walls you put up to Be a Man about things... All the contradictions and complications that go into you breathtaking darlings who claim to be such simple creatures. Love every bit of it. Cherish it. Ache to have that back in my life. It's why I'm willing, in a fight, to shut my mouth and back off and calm down before going on. It's why I'm willing to give the benefit of the doubt. It's why I've never cheated. It's why... *sigh* It's why I'm such a fool when I'm in love.
So that's why the word "cunt" can fall from my lips, but "cub" makes me want to wash my mouth out with bleach. To denigrate men the way that some of the less enlightened of their gender have denigrated women... I can't do it.
If I had a religion, it would go against it.
Till next time, my darlings,