Monday, May 08, 2006

PANTIES AND PERCEPTIONS

The flower- eye catching in its hollow green cushion-lay still, its bright-red head drooping in indifference to its beauty and its reedy, yellow tongue sticking out, mocking itself along with the others watching it.

The walls close in and form a cage of sorts. A concrete 7 feet by 11 feet cocoon that went berserk. And along with the other tinier but more significant walls, cups in the smells of its captive- an ashen grey smell that sometimes unjustly sours to that of tobacco smoke. A smell of late night lights burning out without permission; of books torn apart that can be adeptly stuck back to perfection and of sacrilege - virgin white panties being chopped to imitate the Miscellaneous.

Don’t get me wrong; I despise whites and pinks; unyielding sensibilities are exasperating. ‘How can you be so adamant?’ I asked one and she (I assume it is a she) just lay there, rather cool in my discomfort. Off you go, chop, chop, chop and she was gone, rough cloth to my grey paint.

Sometimes its sweat-an acute fear of Prospects Black that rises from innocent scribbling on wasted English textbooks to melt into ‘inexplicable’ raucous tears. A sense of careening. A sense of purity and a sense of the fast approaching invalidity of soul.

Iris Murdoch sucks.

She watched it with intense curiosity, a pain of injustice filling her. She plucked it and threw it into the flowing sewage.

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10 Comments:

Blogger {illyria} said...

surreal as ever, with a touch of devastating fragility.

9:17 AM  
Blogger Unknown said...

hmm... now that you call attention to it, it occurs to me that it's possible, while unlikely, to wear undergarments day in and out without ever developing an opinion about them. However, were one to be worn in such a manner it would be impossible not to develop one about the wearer.

1:11 AM  
Blogger De.vile said...

Transience, yep tis surreal. I mean to make a song off it, sans the underclothes.

I know it cant be too much of one, but so long as you keep popping out here, I'll say Im OK.

12:33 PM  
Blogger The Wandering Hermit said...

rough cloth to my grey paint.

hmm.,.... your words are as interesting as always...try peeping beneath and you come up with weird interpreations,,but as always an interesting read.
cheers
z

1:08 PM  
Blogger The Saturnyne said...

Iris Murdoch does indeed suck. And no amount of films about her tedious life can prevent this. But don't worry, she's dead now. So she merely decomposes at the very most. I hate film biographies. They never tell you anything useful about people. I also hate biographies. Except ones about dragons, demons and angels. Obviously.

And i am going to have to come back to this post when i am more awake.

The great pleasure of reading your blog is trying to discover what you're thinking about...

Such skill in writing!

*admiration!*

S.x

11:33 AM  
Blogger Keshi said...

how have ya been Chikka?

Keshi.

11:52 AM  
Blogger wwww said...

I am sorry, I …

Correct me if I am wrong. Are you talking about a raped virgin? Because … thts how I see it. Neat!

8:29 AM  
Blogger Rex Venom said...

Vivid imagery making me stir uncomfortably. I don’t know where it is going. But the ride is very interesting.
Rock on!

5:15 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Shucks she is still 17

1:35 PM  
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8:18 AM  

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