The Fracture: September 2024
A voyeur in a hotel, symbiosexuals, and four seductive women in red dresses
September is always a busy month, but this one really gave me the runaround: the boys in cross country, school getting underway with a new start-end schedule (we have three kids at three different schools), a new (to me) car (was hoping to delay this purchase but life), and especially so with my oldest turning 16. Birthdays are always a big deal to me; anything to bring some magic to the ordinary.
I prefer to have two posts in between The Fracture posts, but life doesn’t cooperate. Let’s go through what startled me or forced me to zone out in magnificently inspirational ways.
The articles
From PsyPost, your name influences your appearance as you age, according to new research. So what does a “Desiree” look like?
Are you a symbiosexual? You know, being attracted to established couples. Catch up, people.
Yes, people are leaving organized religion, but they’re still hungry for community.
And of course, one of the reasons people are so done with organized religion: “Snow doubts the actions of the church. ‘They don’t want to come out and say that they have a predator in their mix,’ she says, ‘that they’ve believed a predator and put them up on a pedestal or given them a calling.’ She, like Medley and Pratt, has left the church."
The Surgeon General is warning us about the dangers of (intensive) parenting. One solution: “Parents should make time for themselves, he said, to do activities that bring them joy or improve their health, without feeling guilt that they’re spending time away from their children.” Amen.
Also from NYT… The Power of a Smaller Breast. “Breast reduction is all the rage in cosmetic surgery. Are women asserting their independence or capitulating to yet another impossible standard of beauty?”
Is Sabrina Carpenter cashing in a pedophilic fantasy? Jade Hurley’s post is very intriguing.
The music
“Burden in My Hands” - Soundgarden
This 1996 ditty goes along with the “wow, this song’s lyrics are kind of weird” sentiment also found in the Toadies’ “Possum Kingdom.” (Pretty sure I’ve masturbated to that one.) Songs like these bring back nostalgia signaling my entry into grunge as a middle schooler who hid her music from her evangelical parents. (I’ve never liked “Black Hole Sun.” Sorry, not sorry.)
“Giving Him Something He Can Feel” - En Vogue
Fuck yeah. So this came out in 1999?! (That was like yesterday.) I was very turned on when I saw this video, and when the song pops up on my stream, I can feel seductive ownership and confidence weave through me. Those red dresses with them titties! The hot guy who takes off his wedding ring! The audience needing to adjust! My wide, naive eyes took in so much innuendo. En Vogue always kicked ass with songs like “My Lovin’” and “Free Your Mind,” but this one was different, very jazz-inspired. Like I knew anything about “ghetto life,” but simple lyrics like “I like the way we carry on / His lovin' will send me on and on…” still makes me want to pounce.
Important to note that it’s a remake. Ms. Franklin owned it first.
The art
The beautiful Elizabeth Hope has done it again.
The books
We Were the Universe by Kimberly King Parsons - DNF after less than five minutes. Why do authors insist on offering up an intro scene that has been meticulously dissected, squeezing every ounce of color from it? My body was shaking and screaming, “Get on with it!” But it’s a popular book with a very long wait, so it must just be uncultured me.
The Mountain is You: Transforming Self-Sabotage to Self-Mastery by Brianna Wiest - Like The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck, it didn’t deliver life-changing information, but it reinforced my personal mantras for a boost. After two-thirds of the audiobook, I said, “Thank you, but I think I got it from here.”
The Voyeur’s Motel by Gay Talese - You know I finished this, friends. Nonfiction (yes!) account of the author meeting and receiving the notes from an innkeeper who created a way to peep in on his hotel guests and record their sex lives. Yes, it was unethical and illegal; these people had no idea that they were a part of Mr. Foos’ own “Kinsey Institute,” but it provides an interesting view on how and assumes why we share ourselves intimately. I’m more of an exhibitionist than a voyeur, so I probably would have been turned on knowing I was being watched. Maybe for a discounted room rate. (I actually enjoy thinking of myself being watched when I’m staying somewhere, but that’s me, and everyone is not like me.) Was it bad that I read this? Was it bad it was published? Does a voyeur get off more when they know their subjects don’t know about the voyeur’s presence?
The random
I told a friend of mine via text: I’m a weirdo. You’re normal.
My well-intended friend replied: Lol [I am probably the only millennial that does not “LOL.”] No one is normal. People in general all sorts of fucked up. They’re just too [the “p” word used in a negative way… hate that] to voice it.
My response to him: I like being a weirdo. I don’t think I’m fucked up. (And I don’t think you were implying I was fucked up.)
We continued our conversation and wished each other a nice weekend like we always do, but on the ride home (always!), I wanted to emphasize:
I am perfectly self-possessed. I have a number of internal “safe deposit boxes.” Some are open and others haven’t been touched in ages, but I have ALL of the keys in my possession.
He says I’m too smart for him.
I’m going to Seattle for an overdue visit. Another checkmark on “My Solo Sensuality Checklist.”
I’ve been working on a routine for burlesque. I go to class to learn and get comfortable, but I fell in love with a song—well, a line in a song—and a series of moves erupted into choreography. I’ve asked my burlesque teacher to help me tighten it up.
I got a rejection with a compliment about my voice and a hope I will submit again. Rejections are just a part of a writer’s life, but I knew my voice was edited for a tamer audience in this specific piece. I’m revising the work, so it displays myself unabashedly.
I talked about embracing the “monster” in my previous post about the Nixie.
It reminded me how well adapted I’ve become in meeting with the dark and mysterious, the stairwells into the soul many avoid. I’m quite addicted to it.
