The language of sex

[vaneramos]

Alright, I know this cliché has been done to death, but you have to admit these are two mighty fine bears.

This bronze statue standing at a bus stop in front of Macdonald Stewart Art Centre on the campus of University of Guelph has to be one of the sexiest of its kind. And Danny, well, all I can say is I'm awfully, terribly lucky.

Special Valentine's hugs and kisses to you, djjo. Warm wishes to all my friends, with special nudges to a few secret and not-so-secret crushes.

~~~~~~~~~~

From The Man Who Fell in Love With the Moon, by Tom Spanbauer:

Most men, most sorry men, always tell the same old hard-dick ejaculation story, and always got to be the one who leans hard onto. Most women, most sorry women, tell this story—which really isn't a story: you talk, I'll listen, tell me when you're done. They always end up being the ones who get leaned hard on. Doesn't work that way when you're fucking. Good fucking is bartering, wrestling, swapping tales back and forth, and telling lies til you get to the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~

Let's tell some tales of love given and love taken. Let's get the whole truth out. The truth isn't always told in words. When you're fucking you say things you could never express in language. It's more like music, a song you keep singing with endless variations.

Sometimes you get stuck on the same old earworm tune that bores into you and bores you and you can't give it up until something shakes you out of your rut. Some people never escape and the song dies in their chests.

I kept telling the same story for years. Sometimes when nobody listens you don't know how to shut up. You just keep blabbering, blathering and slathering until someone echoes it back to you. Sometimes a man or woman keeps nodding to give you the idea he's listening so you'll keep telling it, but he doesn't really understand. Really, he's only afraid to be alone and listening to his own story echo through the head. Then your words go out and never come back. The two songs don't play off one another.

Now what about discord? A little bit can be a good thing. In fact none of our songs are exactly the same. Maybe, I don't know. Some people claim to have soulmates, like their songs are always in the same key weaving together. That harmonious feeling comes to me in phrases sometimes, then it opens my eyes like a cavern of riches, the sun shining in the heart of the earth.

I have kept carrying my tune, trying to compose new variations and see whether anyone liked them. Still I was mostly telling and hardly listening. I could hear myself not listening, but didn't know how to stop. It's like the tongue that's hinged at both ends, or the radio upstairs you can never turn off until it drives under your consciousness and you live as if the sound wasn't there.

When we met I told you I had this problem with listening. I asked you not to let me get away with talking all the time. You were true to that request. Sometimes we just had to stick something in my mouth so I would shut up. But I concentrated on your story, too, and it wakened something in me: the sense that two stories could flow through one bed, weaving in and out, but not inextricably. Our stories have always remained our own.

This peaceful feeling comes over me that someone has finally appreciated the words. Sometimes they die on my lips when I burst into a wide open universe of stars where music flows I've never heard before. Some of the music comes from you, but part is the great mystery that sounds whether we're listening or not. When two people make enough noise resounding together the corridors of space will resonate. The hum might startle you.

I'm sitting under that umbrella of darkness. My fingers keep telling because that's my way. But sometimes you reach the end of words. They're only the grasping symbols we scrape off the surface of bigger things. A poem is not a picture, it's a portal into something bigger. It happens when someone remembers not to smear language all over the glass, just leave a few strokes faintly glowing, to show someone else the way to look.




Self-portrait with BJ, a sculpture by Noel Harding at Macdonald Stewart Art Centre

Comments

[art-thirst.livejournal.com]

I'll take Danny any day to the sculpture. ;-)

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

I hope you get the chance. :-)

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

What a great quote. Several of the most awful dreams of my life involved apprehending the infinite. It's beautiful but terrible, and we're better off with our muddy doors. I am delighted, too. I am alone today, but content in looking forward to another weekend.

[furrbear.livejournal.com]

That's a pair of quite handsome bears.

BTW, that's one of my favorite icons I see on LJ.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Thank you! It's from a photo by bitterlawngnome.

[daisydumont.livejournal.com]

>Some people never escape and the song dies in their chests.

i think my song has just been sleeping for many years. who knows what will happen to it? maybe it turned into my poems.

i'm using my totem animal here. not all bears are male! ;)

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

It's not ALL about sex though, is it? Loving and being loved counts for a lot. I've heard your song clearly, in poetry and in other expression, too.

[daisydumont.livejournal.com]

oh yes, you're right, and i thank you for saying this. there was a lot i wanted that i have never had, but then that's probably true of most people, one way or another. i forget to be glad for the good things. :)

[drabheathen.livejournal.com]

Thank you for this post. It may seem too ironic, but I know exactly what you mean about trying to get the words out, getting someone to understand...

So it's nice to have someone understand how I feel about being understood.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Your writing is so beautiful, you deserve a careful hearing. I'm glad to share some understanding with you.

[mattycub.livejournal.com]

I wish I wasn't so tired and that I had more time and remaining brain power to say something more in depth than this, but...

This is really beautiful, Van. Your words constantly move and inspire me, and I'm glad I get to read them as often as I do. Thank you for sharing them.

Also, you're damn handsome.

Happy Valentine's Day.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

I'm grateful that you and Seen didn't let me drift away. It means so much to me knowing my words are meaningful to someone else, and I'm enjoying getting to know you better. Warm regards.