another desert dykes moment

[fflo]

after they've been fucking (for the first time, finally) in that hotel room for, like, 48 hours straight, and they're curled up together, having climbed, from the upholstered bucket chair they've most recently been at it in, to sit in the high rise window at twilight, the neon lights from the reno strip below twinklingly reflecting thereon, experienced dyke cay suggests to newbie dyke vivian that they've got to get out of there for a bit. come up for air, basically. she rattles off a few options... i can't remember what all they are exactly. take a walk is one, i think. the last one's "have a coke?"---which charbonneau sez with a distinctive "o" sound somehow, i seem to remember. newbie dyke just keeps murmuring some version of "unnh-unh," shaking her head as she snuggles closer. but next thing we know they're out in the world, at a table in a booth, with beers, in vivian's first public appearance after sleeping with a woman. (they musta had fun making her look like it, too, which i seem to remember she did.) then the women have their first post-fucking fight. like, right on schedule. so let's stop before that for a minute.

hell, maybe i can find the line. i found the line i was looking for many posts ago & not mentioning specifically ("cuz being with you is starting to hurt") at the bottom of this pulp-paris.com message board (in french), which also (aside) gives us this nugget:

je la détestais, donc je pensais à elle jour et nuit. --charles vidor
(roughly: i hated it, & therefore i thought about it night and day.)
nope---no luck on today's dykes line. not the whole thing, by the goog-algorithm i can muster just now anyway. ("algoogrithm"?) there's some of it in a kinda silly review at epinions.com: "Vivian, we have to do something...get up...have a Coke." but i know there was a little more in there.

anyway, i was just thinking about that notion. that kind of moment. that kind of going on in a fog, stubbornly, dehydrated, weakening, don't care...

no, i'm not here at the computer fresh from 48 hours of jumping somebody in, or anything quite like that. but i've been at the/a computer for about that long. more hours than not, anyway. i'm foggy, and groggy, and it's soupy out there---even stewy; the humid air is all around me, and hard to breathe.

who'd want to take a nap in this? i could jump in and out of the shower and train the fan on me--- my technique for tough sleeping nights. but, well, what can i say. it'll be an accomplishment if i manage to get up to feed the cats OR myself. and those tomatoes are going to have to water themselves tonight.

i was up way too late last night. i doubt seriously that i'm making any sense at all.

but, bless the fog, i don't care. i'm gonna keep it going just a little more.

then maybe i'll have a coke.

Comments

[fflo.livejournal.com]

at first i thought you mean (our) tommy's name had fallen out of favor with chris. ha. not that it hasn't, necessarily. but i don't think so. he was just in the bar recently, anyway.

i fear i haven't been keeping up my end of that correspondence so well. i think it's the alternating monologues format. i don't think i'm such a natural with my end of those. in most letter writing there's at least some formal/faked version of a thing that makes it feel more like a dialogue---like you're being sent the others' next 10 (or 30) lines, and then you send back your next 10 or 30, picking up which points you want to continue from those, or at least give a nod to in one way or another, respond to. it's not that kind of conversation with emerald "rally" w. they're dispatches. which is funny in its way. plus i don't particularly care for the fake version of the nod to me/mine.

i'm really rambling now, hunh. pretty spaced.

it was angie, chris's ex- (right?), who bent gender enough that more than one person i knew wasn't sure what was being gone for or suggested--- she's the one who called holly's vee-dub "cherry, baby.... cherry," on account of even though it was a '64 it had been restored so well.

i resent that holly later suggested (post me) that i wanted her to sell that car. and that she suggested i wanted her to get rid of the vespa. and that she purported a buncha other specious purportment. forkin' revisionist wench.

but i suppose all the girls say that.

[sprig5.livejournal.com]

i'd be really curious to read a little of tommy's prose. can you scan some? angie--yes, c's ex, although i mainly remember her drunken prowess on the croquet field (picture hothead paisan with a mallet).

can't imagine YOU pressuring someone to sell a car. not with your emotional attachment to your former Jeep. as for the vespa, is it still in your garage? if so, we could take a mallet to it.