20 December 2010

THC dreams

don't need to lament in vain
when seeing such beautiful dreams, yet again

I know there's not a soul at sight to provide TLC
so no wonder you long for some THC

oh forget about it
and sing me a story, kid

two fine ladies were inlaid in comfy sofas accompanying a rather old square shaped television. it is difficult to name reasons for the manner in which they treated the subject of conversation for the evening, but among them must have been the combination of too salty asparagus soup and red wine causing a slight dehydration revealed in complaints of headaches.

   "it makes me feel unattractive, like there would be something wrong with me, you know? and it is not just him, I've had this issue with all the men I've had. it is as if I would only deserve sex twice a week, usually after sauna, and definitely only in the way HE prefers it. god I'm so frustrated!"
   "maybe it's because you've only had them finnish men. from my experience, you know from talking with people and so on, here up north the implications seen in the definition of the word frigid found in dictionaries do not apply."

the lady with the long blond hair reached over to her laptop to demonstrate her point with the following.

frigid |ˈfrijid|
very cold in temperature : frigid water.
• (esp. of a woman) unable or unwilling to be sexually aroused and responsive.

   "that's it! hahaha!"
   "yeah so from what I've observed, like from all the girls I've talked with here, they're the ones who complain about the very same issues that you just now. and the men, well..."
   "you know what really nails the point here? markus said to me, again, a couple of days ago when we talked about all this, that he does not want to hurt me. that he just wants to be gentle."
   "like you were a kid or something."
   "we really need to get to the bottom of this. natural female quality, if one can say that, is to be passive in a way. you know, open up through passivity and acceptance and all that. men, on the other hand, are supposed to be active, revealing themselves through action. it makes sense, right?"
   "yeah go on."
   "we used to have a guy at the office from denmark. he was all neat and tidy, you know dressed very well and clearly took good care of himself, nothing wrong with that as such, but. he used handbags. no no no seriously, he did! like small bowling bags that were not big enough to be called a proper gym bag. I don't mean to sound rude but. c'mon."
   "well us girls do have so many things to want. pretty things, social privileges... and scandinavia being on the top of the so called societal advancement on earth, no wonder our men have understood it to be beneficiary for them if they could just loot some of our gems."
   "last week I met a friend of jo's during a dinner party at her place. he was her old professor or something, from the states, here to teach sociology in the uni. he said that in finland there wasn't any true class division back a hundred or more years ago. sure there was the upper class, but it was such a minority in comparison to the majority of finns who were like farmers. and the work that the people did at farms was rather equal. it was a necessity for the man to call out to his wife from the field, c'mon dear come and dig up the potatoes with me, and so there developed no strong sense of separation between the sexes. of course there were some differences in types of labor, but there was no difference in activity level if you know what I mean."

on an early sunday morning, our black haired lady woke up to the sounds made by a snowplow outside her window. no sign of a hungover, thank god. instead, the conversation the night before was the first thing on her mind, and she could but stare at the back of her man, in itself a reminder of her chronic sense of being rejected. 

it was only a lingering hope on the back of her head to some day find a reason for the prevailing state of indifference. a wrong word, she thought, and could not come up with a proper antonym for passion. keeping her mind calm, she acknowledged that from the point of not knowing there usually grows a chain of suppositions. like, now, she could say many a things deemed inappropriate inside her head.

if I am to live a life long and vital
my companion ought to be a bit bestial

to speak one has to open up a pair of lips
but true language can best be read from my hips

  I don't want a man who's best known for his intelligence
because I've seen braininess leading to nothing but prudence

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in the case of confusion: dyslexiaisokhere ät gmail.com