[lit-ideas] Re: For JL
- From: "Mike Geary" <atlas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Thu, 14 Feb 2008 00:04:38 -0600
Why is sex so often associated with violence?
Because women are so uncooperative? I don't know. Why won't women screw
whenever men want them to? It's a mystery wrapped in an enigma. Seems to me,
if you gals could get your calendars in sync with our needs, we'd be a lot
happier and probably a little less violent. Remember that the next time some
guy asks if you wanna fuck.
Mike Geary
Memphis
----- Original Message -----
From: Andy
To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sent: Wednesday, February 13, 2008 10:48 PM
Subject: [lit-ideas] Re: For JL
Sometimes it's stylized violence that arouses (like S&M and the like),
sometimes it's real violence. There was an MSM headline (I did not, would not
read the story) that rape is a weapon of war. Like popcorn and movies, sex and
violence just go together. What is wrong with humans anyway?
Robert Paul <rpaul@xxxxxxxx> wrote:
He had begun to read the novel a few days
before. Sprawled in his favorite armchair, its
back toward the door-even the possibility of
an intrusion would have irritated him, had he
thought of it-he let his left hand caress repeatedly
the green velvet upholstery and set to
reading the final chapters. Word by word, licked
up by the sordid dilemma of the hero and heroine,
he was witness to the final encounter in
the mountain cabin. The woman arrived first;
apprehensive; now the lover came in. The daggger
warmed itself against his chest, and underneath
liberty pounded, hidden close.
They separated at the cabin door. He ran,
crouching among the trees and hedges until, in
the yellowish fog of dusk, he could distinguish
the avenue of trees which led up to the house.
He went up the three porch steps and entered.
The woman's words reached him over the thudding
of blood in his ears: first a blue chamber,
then a carpeted stainvay. At the top, two doors.
And then, the knife in hand, the light from the
great windows, the high back of an armchair
covered in green velvet, the head of the man
in the chair reading a novel.
-Julio Cortázar, 'Continuidad de los parques'
Robert Paul
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