Do You Feel Lucky?

(and feel free to comment! My older posts are certainly no less relevant to the burning concerns of the day.)

Friday, May 22, 2020

Fiction Friday in One Go: Enter the Narrator

The main character of the piece crossed the floor of her flat, suddenly both English and female, or possibly Australian. She was sure it was one or the other. This was clearly a "flat," not an apartment. It might be a "walk-up." Hard to tell from in here, in the foyer. The flat was basically a small foyer with key pieces of furniture, and not much opening off it. A pair of cupboards to either side, one fitted up as a kitchen, the other a bath. "Hey!" she objected.

What?

"Why can't it be proper accommodations?"

Fine. There's a trapdoor in the ceiling with a pull-down ladder. Leads to a quite well-appointed small mountain chalet. Classy - but I warn you if you go up there, your former life will be left behind.

"Suits me," she groused, grinning. "What's my name supposed to be, anyway? 'She'?"

CLOTHILDE.

"Sweet." A suspicious look crossed her face; Clothilde's face. "Am I naked?"

No, though I confess you are remarkably conventionally attractive. You're wearing a fucking CLOWN OUTFIT - except it's all black. No makeup, no wig, just the outfit - big roomy coverall, one of those big doily collars, big shoes, the whole bit. All black.

"Does it have pockets?"

Yes! It has pockets. In fact, quite a number of them sewn in, some of them quite cleverly-concealed.

"Anything interesting in?"

May be. Why don't you check?

A cross look. Gasp of exasperation. Her eyes swept up, saw the trap. There was a recessed handle. One springy step and a leap saw her catch and drag it down, landing lightly and ducking out of the way as the ladder slid out and down. As she stepped 'round and mounted the stair, a narrative interjection stopped her.

Wait.

"What is it?" she brightened. "Anything interesting?"

There's some sort of kill-team or monster approaching up there.

She made a face. "You're pathetic." Skipping lightly, she ascended. The steps retracted as her weight left, and the trap swung shut.

Time passed.

None of it was considerable.

The door to the bath cupboard was open. The sink was antique, with hand soap pump, toothbrush holder, toothpaste tube and a small, decorative tin perched about its rounded surfaces. It was really a cute little flat. Lots of touches. With the door closed in here, the mirror was empty. Just a blank wall in it. There was a slight, squared discoloration where there used to be a dried flower under glass in a chunky wooden frame. Had she taken it with her? Stuffed in a clown-pocket?

She was gone.

Clothilde, her former life left behind. Somewhere away up there, some kill-team or monster is about to discover brief regret. No way to intervene or assist, or even narrate.

She'll be on first-person narrative by now.

Thought of the day: is was

Is is what's left of was.

Thursday, May 21, 2020

Rejected Quora Answers #1 ("Needs Improvement"): Why do people think that beautiful girls are always dangerous?

I will tell you why. Have you read the other answers? Read them. And then come back and read this one last. And then you will judge who has told you why. I recuse myself on that one - the call is yours.

Why do people think of the danger of beautiful girls?

Because they know. They know of the danger, what if I stood up and declared to myself, in my inaudible mind-voice, “The girl is MINE. She is beautiful and has been nice to me as a regular habit!”

It would have no effect. Nothing changed. But then what if I declare it audibly, to her in her presence?

And then what if the girl (well, woman really, but this one gendersexually identifies as “girl” and has made it known, this preference is hers, and so she is) were to rise and declare, “The girl is not his. He has confused my innate habitual sweetness with one and all as a claim on my favors! No dice.”

It would feel like a broken bone in the heart. Or a bad sprain at least - and a heart-sprain, which is imaginary, can take years to heal. Where a normal sprain heals at medical rates. Which do you prefer? Spare the heart, give up the ankle. You’ll thank me in relatively few weeks.

A girl like that, beautiful and sweet and true, is like a devouring monster from the inside of a pretty sweet dude who, though, is a little on the hapless side, and lacks self-control and a certain purity of purpose (I don’t mean “puritanical,” please - get your mind from the gutter and rinse it off! Do not wash it - brainwashing is not the solution. Use tears - they smart a bit, but it rinses you clean with catharsis).

Even a bold, hard man, such as myself except bold, and hard, is in danger of heartbreak and heartache from a woman whose beauty has won him, but who will not herself be one. Or won. Whose fault is that? It is not hers. We have no claim on her but the claim she gives outright - which she is free at all times to revoke. We are all free to choose what we give of ourselves, and to whom - and what we shall keep.

In short, the only man to whom a woman is not dangerous is the one who despises women, who sees in them only an instrument for personal gratification: ego (personal or social worth) or id (the genitals). Such men have other things to worry about, though, principally repulsiveness if their hearts were known to one and all. Or the ancient ache of alienation, self-loathing growing to hatred of all, should their hearts be known to none. That’s a no-win deal, people.

Homosexual men, too, are relatively out of danger, in these dangers of the womankind. As are heterosexual women. Trust me, though, they have their own challenges in this world. Bigots galore, misunderstandings and stereotypes - you name it. Most of all, men.

But enough of the danger of men.

That is the danger of woman to man, heterosexually. There are other dangers of course - she could knife you as easily as anyone, if you’re caught unawares! But I sense the heterosexual danger to men (and the homosexual danger to women too, I suppose, but I feel as if being women, lesbians have an insight which spares them much of this weird othering of others of their gendersexual preference) is the thrust of this question! It is real. As real as doves and serpents - these are not made-up mythological figures, though of course they pull double duty there. Your only course: be true. Lead always with your own real likes, wants, needs and loves. These will ward off those who are no fit match for you, with whom match would only be misfit and misery. And it will shine up the world around you like a beacon for those whose likes, wants, needs and loves are good for you, like yours.

Basically don’t make decisions about other people, where you don’t really know. Don’t prefer some made-up thing and want that. Prefer to honor who is in front of you, to find out who she is, and so discover in getting to know each other what you could be to each other. What she thinks about that is key.