Well

"Pain is the driving force of comedy, and laughter is her pretty blue pill, her everlasting prescription of Xanax."

Live and let go. When know one can understand your woe.....

Short Story DRAFT

It was a strange craving; a gnawing deep inside of my stomach and very deep inside of my mind. It controlled me. Every sense, every movement, every thought and decision. I was a prisoner to this fucking demon riding on my back, who was constantly reassuring me that I wanted more. No. That I needed more. Some could say I was addicted, but not to any drug. At least not a drug you could find in a pharmacy or some coca leaf field in South America. This addiction could be found anywheres, at anytime, and usually at no cost. Human flesh is actually very easy to obtain. 

I wander hopelessly down a sketchy street somewhere in downtown Brooklyn. I have been walking for what seems like hours, with no destination or mission really. It’s been 42 days, 11 hours, and 8 minutes since my last dinner party. It was definitely one of remarkable memory. I’m not sure if it was the vivid memory or just my insane desire, but I swear I could still taste her. I would kill for a serving of Dr. Hannibal Lecter’s Human Liver with Fava beans right now. I chuckle and approach a busier part of town. I instantly feel paranoid and quickly glide my way through the after-hours crowd.

I catch a glimpse of myself through a convenience store window. I look desperate, but approachable. Though the reflection of the glass, I notice an enticing young woman inside of a phone booth across the street. I walked a bit closer and nonchalantly sat on a rusted bench. She appeared to be healthy and well fed. My mouth salivated like a water deprived dog. I imagined that her left thigh tasted like a filet mignon, cooked rare, of course, and I was convinced her skin tasted similar to caramelized onions. Boy, if only I had my meat cleaver with me I could have her in four to five pieces already. Instead, I tune in my almost robotic listening skills and eavesdrop on the red meat taunting me in its little glass case. 

“Obviously that is what you meant Devin,” she said. “You are always working late, and I’m honestly done giving a shit. Come home when you come home, but don’t expect me to be in bed waiting.”

The woman slammed the pay phone onto the receiver and repeatedly banged her head against the phone booth wall. My imagination delighted with the image of sweet red blood dripping down the booth into a thick puddle of voidness. I hear the door of the booth slam closed and realize the woman has left the booth and is walking across the street towards me. She takes out a cigarette from her clutch and fumbles around inside it looking for what I assume is a lighter.

“Hey, you got a light? I’m sorry to be bothering you this late but I just really need my nicotine fix right now. It’s almost life threatening.”

I find myself stuttering, “Of -f-f-of course.” I reach into my pocket and hand her my lighter. My vision is getting a little blurry, and when I say blurry I mean red, crimson, the color of a good bottle of Cabernet. 

“You know it can be dangerous walking these streets alone at this hour, aren’t you afraid?” I ask

“At this point I don’t even care. My joke of a boyfriend was supposed to pick me up from work so that we could go to this party a mutual friend of ours is throwing. Surprisingly he couldn’t make it.”

Clearly, this chick has some problems. But there is nothing that attracts me more than damaged goods. Something about the flavor, it’s almost gamey. I think she is Italian. I could tell by her distinct nose and dark hair that made silk look like sand paper. How convenient! Her liver would be perfect for Dr. Lecter’s recipe, it is a Venetian dish you know. Oh!— God knows I couldn’t resist this treat for anything! Poor girl, she has absolutely no idea what this night has in store for her. It will be beautiful and romantic and sophisticated. I was going to orchestrate this like Beethoven’s 9th Symphony. I turn on my charm and pounce.

“Was this an important party?” I asked.

“I guess you could say that, I just wanted to get wasted with my boyfriend and friends and forget about my life for a night. To completely live in the moment, the pure bliss of being present. Just one night is all I asked for,” she said, “I know that asshole is cheating on me.”

“What gives you that idea?”

“Well for one, he is always working late. It seems like every night, sometimes not even bothering to tell me about it. He has distanced himself from me for far. I couldn’t reach him no matter how hard I tried. Things are just completely fucked up,” she said.

Oh. You haven’t even seen the tip of completely fucked up yet my little lamb chop. How did I even get this girl to open up to me so quickly? I must really be giving off some massive pheromones tonight. 

“My name is Alice by the way. I’m not usually this overbearing.”

“My name is Roger. You don’t need to explain yourself. We all have nights like this,” I said, “ The night is still young. I’m sure there are many possibilities to achieve your moment of pure bliss. I hate to seem pushy or forward but you look like you could use that drink now.”

Alice looked up at me with a look of weariness mixed with intrigue. I didn’t blame her. If I were her I would have left after the cigarette burnt out. But still I had her hooked somehow. 

“Actually, I think I would like that drink. No use in making an appearance at that party without Devin. I’m in no mood for 20 Questions,” she said, “You lead the way.”

My inner child was jumping up and down spastically and my inner hunter was observantly planning his attack. I began walking towards the north side of town. I was planning on bringing her to a pretty unknown dive bar about three blocks away. Perfect timing for a little small talk. 

“So this boyfriend of your’s, Devin is it? Tell me more about him.”

“Well we met about four years ago at a concert. He plays for a pretty popular band around here. Rusted Roses. Have you heard of them?” she said.

I had heard of this band, if that’s what you want to call it. I’ve also had the pleasure of meeting Devin. To explain him, he’s just a run of the mill, New York musician, who’s trying to catch that big break. Not a guy to brag about, or fear at that.

“Nope, I can’t say I have. I don’t really keep up with the current music scene around here. I tend to stick to the classics.” I said. 

“Well, that’s sort of refreshing. You must have an old soul.” Alice said.

But Alice I don’t have a soul you silly silly girl. This was going to be too easy.

“Some of us just aren’t cut out for today’s society. Everything is so superficial, and everyone lacks intimacy and passion. True passion is what really gives a human happiness.” I said.

Sometimes I cannot believe the words that come out of my mouth. We arrive at the destination, Eddie’s Tavern. A hole in the wall where everyone just minds their own damn business. It is perfect for my endeavors. 

“Well, this is the spot. I know it doesn’t look like much but it has a comforting vibe. Pick out a booth and I’ll grab us some drinks. Any preferences?” I said.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having, I have a feeling you have an exquisite palette,” she said. 

The irony of every word that comes out of Alice’s mouth almost chokes me up with laughter. I walk up to the bar and order two scotches neat leaving a a few dollars tip on the bar top. These bartenders deserve more than tips for the things they see around here and keep to themselves. 

I scope out the bar room and I see Alice sitting in a booth hidden somewhat in a corner by the bathrooms. 

“I got you scotch, I hope you’re not a light weight.” 

“See I knew you were sophisticated. The exact opposite of Devin. He would have ordered two Budweiser’s without a second thought, even though he knows I can’t stand beer,” she said.

I hear what she is saying, but all I can think about is digging my teeth deep into her shoulder and devouring her like a lion does a gazelle. I down my drink, liquid courage is a must when it comes to these situations. I must make this woman trust me. I need for her to want me and to become completely mesmerized by my charm. Sure a date rape drug would make things a hell of a lot simpler, but what would be the fun in that? 

“It sure has been a while since I’ve had a real drink. It feels liberating. Thank you for bringing me here. I think I really needed it,” she said. 

Alice motions to the bartender for another round. Apparently this liberated feeling has awakened an inner demon. This is interesting. Demon meeting demon. She downed this second glass of scotch like a champ and I must admit I was impressed. But also perplexed at the same time. She was making this a little too easy for me, which just defeated the entire purpose. I was losing that raging sensation I felt earlier when I was picturing her head neatly placed on top one of my mother’s expensive china plates. The appeal I felt now was not caused by my hunger but by genuine attraction and curiosity. 

“You know you’re pretty quiet. I feel like I’m just talking to this bowl of peanuts. But I like it. There is something about you that I can’t place. I mean your eyes are hypnotizing, I can barely look away. I just trust them, does that make sense?” she says. 

She reaches towards my hand. Faster than my mind can comprehend, I jerk it away and place it under the booth. Her eyes widen suddenly, glazed with embarrassment. That was a new reaction for me. Very spontaneous and out of character. In a typical situation of such nature I would have had her halfway in my pants by now. But I was reluctant. 

“You have nothing to worry about Alice. I simply enjoy the sound of your voice,” I said, “One might consider it hypnotizing.” 

But that was a lie. I was more interested in her tongue, grilled with peppers and tomatoes with a shish kabob stabbed directly through the center. Not exactly hypnotized, just so fucking hungry. I can always count on the red tunnel vision to filter my mind, and bring me back to that level of predator. I had to get Alice alone in my apartment urgently. I could not ignore the gnawing and the voice in my head was getting louder and filthier. 

“You know you want to rip her to shreds Roger. Stop fighting the urge,” it said. 

“Let’s get out of here Alice. My studio is only a few blocks away. I have more scotch and some vinyls we can digest.”

She still had a look of shame all over her face, but it was diminishing into flattery. She stood and excused herself to the restroom. My eyes followed her there. I finally felt that animalistic longing to devour her again once I got another view of her frame and build. I was sticking to the initial plan. She returned looking fresh, she must have pampered while in there.

“Follow me my lady. I’ll get us a cab,” I said, “Shouldn’t take but five minutes.”

“I’m right behind you the all mysterious Roger,” she said.

The taxi was quickly obtained, and before I knew it we were pulling up to my building. I paid the cab fare and helped her out of the cab. At this point her equilibrium was certainly affected by the amounts of scotch she had put back. She was all giggles and excitement. And I must admit I could barely contain myself. I led her inside to the elevator, which took us six stories up and eventually to the front door of my apartment. I could sense her vulnerability and her longing for affection. But I know that the affection she desired was not the kind I intended to deliver. I unlocked the door.

“Woah! Your place is so…..so not what I imagined,” she said, “This is like the ultimate bachelor’s pad and you don’t strike me as the type to entertain often.”

“Oh you know, it’s all about the superficial appeal. Make yourself comfortable. The couch is around the corner in the living room. I’ll get the booze,” I say.

I opened the liquor cabinet and fished out the bottle of Glenlivet 15 Year that I saved for special occasions like these. But most importantly I mixed a little cocktail of rohypnol and ketamine and stirred it into her glass. And for myself I lined up a little slither of nose candy just to liven things up a bit. Oh yes, the demon was back and the red filter was closing in on my vision most comfortably. 

When I returned to Alice in the living room she was perusing my record collection. I handed her the scotch and sat back in my couch.

“See anything you’d like to hear? How about some Jazz? Or maybe a little classic rock?” I say.

She began to sip her drink, with a look of intense decisiveness. At least is wasn’t a look of suspicion considering her drink had a secret ingredient. 

“I think I’ve picked the perfect song,” she says. 

She then downed the entire glass and pulled out the record. I couldn’t recognize the title from where I was sitting. She placed the needle on top of the record and out came Stealers Wheel “Stuck in the Middle With You”. How god damn appropriate. Alice began to loosen up and started to twirl around to the music. Eventually she dizzily lands in my lap with a very promiscuous look in her eyes. I grab her face and kiss her forcefully, which she reciprocates. 

“Stay right where you are. You have probably never looked as beautiful as you do right now,”. I say.

She giggles, but I can tell that the drugs have taken their toll and she won’t be moving anywheres. I walk to my bedroom, and under my bed in a black leather chester drawer I carefully pick up my weapon of choice. My glorious Homelite XL Chainsaw. With it firmly in my grasp I return to the living room. I can hear “Yes, I’m stuck in the middle with you/And I’m wondering what it is I should do/ It’s so hard to keep this smile from my face….’” blaring from the speakers. 

The smile on my face was indeed permanent and insanely animated. I found Alice where I left her. Somewhat coherent and somewhat in la la land. I turned up the volume on the stereo system, “Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right,/Here I am, stuck in the middle with you”. Alice lifted her head, eyes squinted until she saw the monster machine that I was holding with my hands. She attempted to jump up but she was so past obliterated I pulled the string and a loud but satisfying roar rang out from my jumbo carving knife. 

“Now Ladies and Gentlemen, it is time for the show you have all been waiting for. I will be carving my beautiful assistant Alice into five symmetrical pieces. And this isn’t solely for the purposes of entertainment or science, but also for the exquisite dinner party that we will all be attending later on,” I rejoice.

POV

I hear the front door of the bar slam shut. My arms are elbow deep inside of the sink scrubbing chocolate syrup from a dirty martini glass. The noise startles me and I look up. Oh great, the devil just walked in. When I say the devil, I am obviously referring to my narcissistic ex William. I sigh and slowly observe his body language. He is walking tall, as if he just got cat called by some M.I.L.F.s on his walk in. Duty calls and I unfortunately have to serve this dude. It is so much easier to just avoid his existence completely, but I was working this shift alone. 

“What’s up?”

“Hola!” he replies, scanning the beer selection quickly, “Fuck it! Give me a jack and diet”.

Great. Just great. I know what kind of night this is going to be. His cocky attitude tempts me to give him a jack and diet with a twist of spit, but I refrain. I hand him the glass and start him a tab, this was going to be one extremely long evening. I watch him take his straw from his glass and start chewing it, as if he is nervous or anxious about something. Which side of William will I be dealing with tonight? By the looks of it, it will probably be the wasted and obnoxious alpha-male William. 

“Hey! Give me three shots of Jameson” William says.

“Hell, go ahead and make me another drink too. I’m feeling some type of way”.

I bet you are feeling some type of way. The kind of way that pisses me off. I can almost guarantee this douche thinks I am going to be babysitting him tonight. Or if he is feeling really lucky he thinks he will be sleeping in my bed. The thought of both options almost make me vomit right there in the ice bin. God, I need a shot. 

Toxic Immunity

My touch must be unbearable....like a toxic strain of regret and disgust. 

I imagine something along the lines of sympathy and lust. 

The slightest suggestion of affection is blown off by your crystal clear rejection. 

There is no obvious path to connection, just an obstacle course fueled off of my

perplexion.....

But when the lights turn off and the sedatives have taken their toll, the toxicity of my touch is overpowered by lust's possessing hold.....

Until the silence returns, guilt combined with disappointment...

I am back to my desperate and convenient role....

Your inevitable weekly appointment . 

Carbon Intuition

The windows are dirty.....all I can see are your fingerprints. These small smudges reminding me that you're gone. It's the only evidence of your existence that I have left. The dust has built up because I refuse to clean off your print. It would only take a simple swipe and you could be gone, forgotten, DEAD TO ME...
And I could be alive and FREE. 

But instead I'll continue to sit in this fogged up car inhaling carbon monoxide and cigarette smoke. Because for the life of me, I just cannot let you go. Even if you are only a memory now....that memory is insanely vivid to me. I am a slave to your acknowledgment; reckless from your disdain...... So I'll continue driving with no destination, just intuition, until I arrive somewhere that feels like home. And you my dear, you feel like the closest thing to home. 

On Display

With the twist of my knife, I’ll make it count.

Displaying your secrets from the inside out. 

Precisely I dig, and precisely I carve. 

I’ll make a monument out of your failures with no disregard.

Your heart will be the first to go. One swift grasp and the blood will surely flow.

Proudly I’ll place it on a mantle, like a beloved family portrait. 

Then I’ll hang your intestines from a coat rack, like a scarf or your go-to winter garment.

Next will be your eyes, and all the lies they tell. 

I’ll scoop them out most violently, and most thoroughly enjoy your yells. 

Then I will hang them like ornaments on a beautiful Christmas tree.

And as for the garland, Well I’ll just simply yank out your teeth 

ONE by ONE with an exceptional glee.

I will string them together with the utmost of care

For they will be intertwined with your bloody and ripped out hair. 

Oh and your skin, well it will naturally be peeled away, 

and I will lay it out on the wooden floor as a rug where the children can play.

And don’t you worry about the blood stained walls, 

Because I feel it gives the room quite some charm. 

However, I must light a fire to keep us warm,

I suppose I will use your scraps, all withered and torn. 

Your monument is quite a sight, and the scent of your secrets burning- Such a delight!

For the sharper the knife, the deeper the wound. And I’m afraid your secrets came out too soon.

Women's Sexuality And Myth

     Throughout the history of myth, sexuality has played a huge role in shaping the way a society views gender and sexuality itself. From ancient Greek myth to Celtic myth to Babylonian myth sexuality has been a major theme in not only the cosmogony of these cultures, but also the interactions, rituals, art, and nature depicted in these cultures’ mythologies. But most importantly it is the way that women’s sexuality is interpreted and handled throughout the history and progression of myth and its surrounding culture. 

According to Paglia, in Sexual Personae, the abnormalities of the sexual identity of the fertility gods are natural to the uncontrolled mystery of sexual growth (41). For example, gods like Isis and Osiris, Aphrodite, Dionysus, Orpheus and more do not stay true to today’s ideas of what sexuality and sex mean. For in ancient myth the sexuality of greek gods was mostly androgynous and  focused on the image of The Great Mother goddess. Whom Robert Graves gives majority of credit to for the initial creation of the Aegean culture.. However, after this culture was conquered by Catholicism, the rise of a male patriarchal society changed the perceptions of many. 

These changes in sexual power have influenced a change in the power of “the mother” and the creation stories of some cultures. If we look at Genesis for example we can see that it is very male dominating. The creator of the universe is a male figure who himself creates everything from the land, to the water, animals, and of course humans. There are no goddesses involved in the cosmogony of this Christian world. However whenever Adam falls from Eden, it is blamed on Eve, the woman. This idea that the woman is a figure of temptation has been constantly dissected and repeated in mythology. Women are viewed as the initial force that drive men away from their innate connection with nature to their ultimate doom. As Paglia states, the mother goddess gives life but also takes it away. She is considered the “common grave” (43).

In the Babylonian myth The Epic of Gilgamesh, we witness the exact power and rage of a “White Goddess” as Graves would describe her. Ishtar, the daughter of sin and goddess of love and war, strikes vengeance after having her love for Gilgamesh rejected. Gilgamesh claims, “You would be...A shoe which bites into the foot of its wearer. Which of your lovers lasted forever? Which of your masterful paramours went to heaven? ........And how about me? You will love me and then treat me just like them!” (Myths From Mesopotamia 78-79) Basically he is reminding her of how awful she treated her past lovers. As if they were as disposable and as meaningless as trash. This is yet another jab at a woman being sexually free, which is just not acceptable in the eyes of a male dominated world.

In response to this slander, Ishtar sends the Bull Of Heaven to Earth where it is defeated by Gilgamesh and Enkidu, causing more tension between Ishtar and these men. To top it all off Enkidu throws one of the bull’s hind thighs at the goddess as if to say “Fuck you WOMAN!” Some would interpret the bull’s thigh as actually being its testicles, which would make this little offering even more sexist. The way Ishtar is portrayed in this myth is incredibly negative. As a reader we cannot forget that Ishtar is indeed a goddess and Gilgamesh and Enkidu are only mortals. Their blatant disrespect and treatment to Ishtar must symbolize something more than just rejection. Considering the rise of the male patriarch during this time I feel that this was their way of rejecting the idea of The Mother Goddess.

  We also cannot forget how Enkidu is “civilized” by the efforts of the harlot Shamhat. Supposedly this civilization of a “wild” man eventually leads to his death. Enkidu curses Shamhat by exclaiming, “Because you defiled me when I was pure. Because you seduced me in the open country when I was pure” (Myths From Mesopotamia 87). He claims that this woman took away his innocence by having sex with him. Even though it is clear that it was Ishtar that cursed him with illness, the blame for his death is put on the temptress Shamhat. Just as the fall of man is blamed on Eve. However, before this catholic patriarchy of men took over myth, the Mother Goddess was not judged for her sexuality nor put to blame because of it. She was responsible for creation and fertility not just death and seduction. 

Both life and death have strong ties to sexuality in many myths throughout different cultures. In Greek mythology it is known that everything is created due to the sexual encounters of the gods and goddesses. Sexuality in women was not shunned, it was a major part of the mythological world.  If we look at Hesiod’s Theogony we see the creation of the universe through the sexual encounters of the gods-Eros, Gaia (Earth), Ouranos, Kronos, and Zeus, just to mention a few. In the Babylonian creation story, Enuma Elish, we see the same type of creation through the gods Tiamat and Apsu.

However, death and violence are probably the most common things related to sex in most ancient myths. The “White Goddesses” were not only extremely beautiful and graceful, they were also terrifying and ornate in their ways of showing power and delivering punishment. Clearly their characteristics were influential in the cultures that worshipped them. In Robert Graves’s The White Goddess it is mentioned that the Galla warriors battle with moon-shaped reaping hooks similar to the hook the goddess Diana used when reaping the harvest. Reaping means castration. It was ritual for the Galla to use these weapons to castrate their enemies (66). Other cultures took part in ritual castration as well. This could be an explanation into why gods and goddesses chose castration as a punishment for other gods. For we know that the gods enjoyed having sex, especially Zeus. It also was a way to take something away from a god---his manhood/gender/sexuality. For example, Kronos cuts off his fathers genitalia in Theogony. This ultimately leading to Kronos fearing the same fate as his father. Kronos vomiting his children back up is a symbol of him giving birth. This being a trait of a woman. Both Ouranos and Kronos are punished by losing their sense of gender. Leading to a both-sexed god, which is the closest imitation of the mother goddess. 

This ultimate mother goddess idea lost touch in the regions where Christianity was concerned. Many beliefs, rituals and even art were desexualized and gave rise to the power of men. The bible began to be considered the true testament of human history. Ancient Paegan myths were being questioned. The Virgin Mary would probably be considered “The White Goddess” of the Catholic faith. She is pure and chaste, and undergoes pregnancy through immaculate conception. She is not viewed as a harlot like the goddess Ishtar sometimes is. Also if transsexualism is considered a sin, then it is certain that the gods Aphrodite and Dionysus could never be considered “true” gods. Religion plays a large role in sex and sex plays an equally large role in religion. And obviously religion plays a large role in mythology. 

The sexuality of men is also manipulated in ancient mythology.  For example, in Genesis Adam has many children with many wives, as does his sons, in order to populate the Earth. In The Epic of Gilgamesh it is somewhat suggested that Gilgamesh and Endiku have a homosexual relationship. These are both sexual situations involving men, therefor they are viewed as okay behavior and not given any criticism. Could it not have been Gilgamesh who was to blame for the death of Enkidu? Did he not seduce Enkidu with adventure and companionship? Regardless who is actually responsible, the harlot from the Cult of Ishtar is at fault. Interestingly enough, snakes symbolize the fear and terror the Mother Goddess can endure on a person and what is it that tricks Eve into eating the forbidden fruit? A serpent. The female is given absolutely no credit in these paegen-turned christian myths. Both women in Genesis and The Epic of Gilgamesh  are viewed as the reasons for defeat unjustly because of their gender and/or sexuality.

Of course, there are gods and goddesses who straddle the line of sexuality, and these are the gods closest to the original ideas of how our Earth and society came to be. The god Dionysus portrayed the characteristics of both the male and female gender. It is most obvious through the art that is influenced by him. It goes against the phallus society that ancient Greece valued. However, this new phallus that Dionysus delivers also paves the way for a break away from this stereotypical phallus society.  This can also be seen with the myth of Isis and Osiris. Isis journeys to find disembodied body parts only to find that his penis is nowheres to be found. A replica is made and this new replica is a phallus. Some may determine phallic symbols as a connection to their reality and/or religion. Through Isis’s journey she matures, and because she matures her view of the old phallic worship is affected. Sexuality is only natural, it is realistic. It is not religious, it is spiritual. Regardless if it has to do with a male or female. 

Sexuality was embraced in these myths.  Sexuality was a quintessential piece to the overall creation of myth. It was only society’s changes in religious values that caused questioning and scorning of female sexuality. Today it is apparent that a phallus society is still present due to religious views and the male dominating factor of myths like Genesis and The Epic of Gilgamesh. However, the rise of The Mother Goddess has made way and female sexuality is embraced and considered a sign of empowerment. Which is how it should have been viewed all along. The power of female sexuality began in the Aegean culture and even through much scrutiny and belittling it fought its way back to the front lines.

Work Cited

Dalley, Stephanie. Myths From Mesopotamia. New York: Oxford University, 1989. Print

Graves, Robert. The White Goddess: A Historical Grammar of Poetic Myth. New York: Farrar, Straus, 1948. Print.

Paglia, Camille. Sexual Personae: Art and Decadence from Nefertiti to Emily Dickinson. New York: Vintage, 1990. Print.