how to get terrible things done to you by wonderful people
Saturday 27 March 2004 | I like a cookie
I can’t not somehow procure and read a book with a title like When Someone You Love Is Kinky—how much less the wonderful subtitles for The Topping Book and The Bottoming Book, respectively: Getting Good at Being Bad; and How to Get Terrible Things Done to You by Wonderful People. Or the poetically yclept Screw the Roses, Send Me the Thorns: The Romance and Sexual Sorcery of Sadomasochism. Dearie me. A wide fucked-up world of wonder awaits.
I forgot to mention that the Film Critic regaled me yesterday with a teeth-clenching story about dangling from a something small and narrow and ungraspable in Zion, unroped of course; with a postscript about how his North Carolinian mother shares our revelling-in-gory-outdoor-accident-stories gene, of the Touching the Void variety, and he did this dead-on Greenfield-accent imitation of her gleefully describing California forest fire victims: “And they were just roasted alive in their own skins, honey, just roasted alive.” Southerners can be so unbelievably morbid, and so damn cheerful about it. Kind of like Buddy’s airplane anecdote in, I believe, Seymour: An Introduction, about how “they took a pint of pus from that lovely young body of hers.”
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