.
Stairway in rooming house, Washington, D.C.: photo by Carl Mydans, September 1935 (U.S. Resettlement Administration / Farm Security Administration Collection, Library of Congress)
Age 6: A boy finds a penny on the playground. He says he’ll give it to me if I
go in a closet, take off all my clothes, and let him look. My sister says,
“Don’t,” but I do it, anyway.
Age 21: My mother calls me a “harlot,” “Jezebel,” and “strumpet” after I stay out all night with my boyfriend. I roll my eyes and say, “If we’re going to have this conversation, at least update your vocabulary. The word is ‘slut.’”
Age 16: A teacher tells me to kneel in the girls’ bathroom. Am I supposed to pray for forgiveness? I get sent home from school because my skirt doesn’t touch the floor.
Age 27: I walk down the aisle in an off-white satin dress. It’s snowing, and the next day I lose my voice.
Age 21: My mother calls me a “harlot,” “Jezebel,” and “strumpet” after I stay out all night with my boyfriend. I roll my eyes and say, “If we’re going to have this conversation, at least update your vocabulary. The word is ‘slut.’”
Age 16: A teacher tells me to kneel in the girls’ bathroom. Am I supposed to pray for forgiveness? I get sent home from school because my skirt doesn’t touch the floor.
Age 27: I walk down the aisle in an off-white satin dress. It’s snowing, and the next day I lose my voice.
The Spiral Staircase, directed by Robert Siodmak, 1946: screenshot from film trailer by wondersinthedark, 2008
Age 20: I have sex with three different men in one week. I write their names on
my calendar in wisteria-blue ink.
Age 10: At recess I tell Tommy Faircloth I’m going to be a stripper when I grow up. Tommy tattles to the teacher, who scolds him and says I’m a good girl. I would never say a terrible thing like that.
Age 32: A man at my college reunion tells me a lot of other girls in our class were sluttier than I was. I feel like a failure.
Age 23: I fall in love with a Vietnam vet who plays guitar and writes bad poetry. I sleep with him on the first date. He dumps me for a frumpy girl who waits until the second date.
Age 10: At recess I tell Tommy Faircloth I’m going to be a stripper when I grow up. Tommy tattles to the teacher, who scolds him and says I’m a good girl. I would never say a terrible thing like that.
Age 32: A man at my college reunion tells me a lot of other girls in our class were sluttier than I was. I feel like a failure.
Age 23: I fall in love with a Vietnam vet who plays guitar and writes bad poetry. I sleep with him on the first date. He dumps me for a frumpy girl who waits until the second date.
The Spiral Staircase, directed by Robert Siodmak, 1946: screenshot from film trailer by wondersinthedark, 2008
Age 9: I’m walking down the sidewalk wearing short-shorts, and a teenage boy leans out a car window and yells, “Call me when you’re 16!”
Age 30: I buy a bar of Saints and Sinners soap in New Orleans. My husband says it’s a rip-off.
Age 18: I get drunk at a party and lose my virginity. The next morning hot water runs down my thighs in a stream of silver and blood.
Age 5: I’m afraid of dogs, strangers, and the dark. Shadows cast by tree branches and leaves on the bedroom wall look like the devil’s face. Do I hear footsteps in the stairwell? I’m afraid I‘ll die in my sleep. I know I’m going to Hell.
Stairway in rooming house, Washington, D.C.: photo by Carl Mydans, September 1935 (U.S. Resettlement Administration / Farm Security Administration Collection, Library of Congress)
Beth Copeland: My Life as a Slut from Transcendental Telemarketer, BlazeVOX 2012
3 comments:
I was just about to comment on the kisses, and the hair dressings and then this came along, and I had to see how many pages I could read on Amazon's LOOK INSIDE deal (I should not do this, but sometimes you can read an entire book that way. Or almost.)
And so now I have to say, I love all these posts. Why and how. Kisses are always good, and poems about them even better. And I love how this piece goes back and forth in time. Interesting. I was also curious about that new Clarice Lispector translation. She's peculiar and interesting. I think peculiar writers make me happiest. Kafka lately. Kafka's short pieces. I like a controlled dose.
Nin,
Yes the time shifts within the frame of the work make it so interesting.
Going back further in time... Jonson... Pope... the need for kisses... and poems... seems a sort of constant, it may be concluded.
And talking of Kafka and Kisses, we've been put in mind of Franz Kafka: Absent-minded Window-gazing.
Ah . . . the "Absent-minded Window-Gazing" was my window into your blog, Tom. Wonderful re-introduction to it by way of an amazing post.
Like Nin . . . I must agree, re: the peculiar ones being the ones to read. This is why, to add yet another example, I keep reading Mina Loy's poetry.
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