After an afternoon rehearsal for a concert, Anne the harpist and Sam the trombonist went to a discotheque to relax and get something to eat. Sam's car wouldn't lock, but Sam was a good friend of the club's owner. They locked their instruments in the club owner's office, and went into the disco for some food (and fun). By the end of the afternoon, after having had way too much to drink, they went back for the concert, completely forgetting to bring their instruments.
Anne told the conductor, "I left my harp in Sam's friend's disco."
When I got to work this morning, I was starving. We have a cafeteria in-house, so I ran downstairs to get something to eat. I had one of my favorite breakfasts – country potatoes with Tabasco sauce and a couple of sausage patties. Is that such a strange thing? I sure got some funny looks when I asked for the Tabasco sauce. Have you ever had Tabasco on Fritos, or is that just a Texas thing?
Do you eat anything that other people consider strange? I like:
Peanut butter on pancakes/waffles
Peanut butter on toast
Salsa on hashbrowns
Mustard on french-fries/mashed potatoes
Ranch dressing on spaghetti
Ranch dressing on pizza
No gravy on chicken fried steak
Mustard and dill relish in tuna
Salt on green apples, peaches and oranges
"FUCK" was still scratched in above it. As I've been doing my best to incorporate most of these amendments, I don't think it fair to suddenly exclude this one even if it did mean a pretty radical shift in tone. By now you've probably noticed that except when safely contained by quotes, Zampano always steers clear of such questionable four-letter language. This instance in particular proves that beneath all that cool pseudo-academic hogwash lurked a very passionate man who knew how important it was to say "fuck" now and then, and say it loud too, relish its syllabic sweetness, its immigrant pride, a great American epic word really, starting at the lower lip, often the very front of the lower lip, before racing all the way to the back of the throat, where it finishes with a great blast, the concussive force of the K catching up then with the hush of the F already on its way, thus loading it with plenty of offense and edge and certainly ambiguity. FUCK. A great by-the-bootstrap prayer or curse if you prefer, depending on how you look at it, or use it, suited perfectly for hurling at the skies or at the world, or sometimes, if said just right, for uttering with enough love and fire, the woman beside you melts inside herself, immersed in all that word-heat.
House of Leaves – Mark Z. Danielewski
Isn’t that last line awesome? Here, let me show you again:
“sometimes, if said just right, for uttering with enough love and fire, the woman beside you melts inside herself, immersed in all that word-heat”
And that, my dear, is why I don’t think there is anything wrong with saying (or hearing!) ‘fuck me’ in bed.
This is the Friday confessional. IPs will not be logged, and anonymous posting is allowed!
Were you naughty this week? What did you think about when you jilled off last night? Are you going out catting around this weekend? Spill your secrets here!
“Sticks and stones may break my bones
but whips and chains excite me”
Well, I guess its time I got with the program and started one of these here things.
This is more of a test than anything really important, so please move along if you are looking for quality content.