tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26130622.post1643428789550080752..comments2023-10-18T03:06:25.107-07:00Comments on The Daily Growler: "We're Having a Heatwave! A Tropical Heatwave"The Daily Growlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052460567863294528noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26130622.post-83501007380953506522008-06-22T21:58:00.000-07:002008-06-22T21:58:00.000-07:00By-the-bye, about Jane Eyre, I think he was smitte...By-the-bye, about Jane Eyre, I think he was smitten from the first second and she's the stiff pretentious one. Christ she's on my nerves. Charlotte Bronte could not write dialog. Good thing she never tried to become a playwright. Any girl would tell you that this boy, Rochester, so desperately wants her and wanted her from the first encounter when his horse reared up. (Suggestive, no?) Why is she taking so long to give in? Preserving her stupid honor and virginity, that's what. Wait until you start plugging into the strange hauntings of Thornfield at night. Totally bizarre and Gothic with a capital G. I like the pompous boy better than the stiff frigid girl. I wish she'd just fuck him already. Christ, he so wants it.Marybethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13278520565186414844noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26130622.post-91213777449565013972008-06-22T21:48:00.000-07:002008-06-22T21:48:00.000-07:00Oh, I am so jealous. I love the heat in the summe...Oh, I am so jealous. I love the heat in the summers in NYC. And come on man, it all ways goes up to 100 or above for about 5 days or so, every summer in NYC. I remember the summer of '77. It went above 100 for at least two good heat spells and the second one, in August, started my affair with Michael, my bad-assed black mother-fucker from Bedford Stuyvesant Brooklyn, an amateur middle weight boxer. We had the hottest hot hot sex again and again and again in that stifling heat. One of my girlfriends said "That must have been slippery." "Slippery's not the word, babe. We were positively submerged. It was like making love on the floor of the Caribbean Ocean. I was expecting some tropical fishes to swim by at any moment." And always, hot close days remind me of making love to Michael who used to say "A pretty little white girl who plays trumpet like Miles Davis, ooh, you could make a lot of money doing that." Yeah, right. I never made one red penny for my brooding Miles Davis impersonations on the trumpet. Though Michael appreciated it, and my Miles collection. He always put on "Sketches of Spain" or "Kind of Blue" when he came over. We always had sex to a Miles soundtrack. And he couldn't believe my Eric Dolphy collection. We were lovers on and off for eight years and probably still would be if we knew how to find each other. "Mary, you have absolutely the most exquisitely beautiful body I have ever seen on anyone, anywhere, ever, bar none." He said that little prayer every time we were together. I figured he said that to every naked women he was about to plunge his cock into, but after about five or six years-- I'm such a quick study-- it occurred to me that he actually really loved my body. And I've never been the voluptuous sex bomb type. I've just always been a scrawny little bird of a woman. But I guess some men love scrawny little birds, which is a good thing. Otherwise we scrawny little birds would go unloved.Marybethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13278520565186414844noreply@blogger.com