i'mpulse

i'mpulse started as a class project at ucsd and became a small group of writers collaborating/sharing. i'mpulse is about creating a writing community and cultivating a habit of writing. it is about making the practice of writing spontaneous and i'mpulsive and inescapable.

02 February 2006

Women and Serpents

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"There is inseparable hatred and enmity put between the woman and the Serpent"
-from Ester Sowernam, Ester Hath Hang'd Haman

1 Comments:

Blogger InkSpot said...

I was reading about the Medusa myth and how she was given the snake doo, not something she was born with. And it was given to her as a punishment. And if you do a google search for Virgin myths and a different one for women and serpents, many of the same results come back.

And so I start thinking about Adam and Eve and the serpent in the Garden of Eden and how, in the Talmud it talks about the serpent seducing Eve and how she has erotic desire for the serpent and there is a sexual connection between the two. It is her shame at her own desire in response to the serpent’s desire, that is the thing, the thing to think about. And what is the serpent all about anyway. Don’t Adam and Eve NEED to have sex to propogate the species of mankind so it can take over the world and royally fuck things up?

So maybe Adam just wants to jerk off all the time and Eve doesn’t please him until the “Serpent” comes along and shows him that pleasure isn’t just induced by the hand? And maybe we only want what other people want, as if it’s the competition that we’re attracted to rather than the person and the sex. The high that comes from taking what someone else wants and know that WE are the WINNER. The pleasure.

So, Eve and the serpent wrapping around her body like a piece of clothing, a familiar, an animal representation of her spirit, her cleverness, her sensuality of pure body moving slithering, feeling everything with the undulation of her skin and all her soft parts rolling over rocks and grass and tree roots, flowers, earth, streams, and she feels it all, she is connected, plugged in, in tune and tuning out the noise, the static and wanting

More.

I swallowed a handful of stars the other day in hopes that it would bring me closer to god, whatever god I could get close to, that would let me close and in. It is hard to swallow stars without water, but that would dilute their full potential, put out their fire and it’s the fire that I need.

I am so bored by this schmuck. I can’t believe god exists because if he did, why would he put me in here to suffer Adam’s intolerable silence, his stupid doe-eyed catatonic gaze at the butterflies and birds and flowers blooming.

And whenever I try to talk to this idiot, he just looks at my mouth as if an orchestra was playing from it and music pouring out and tumbling over my lips and from it, music, something untouchable rather than words. W O R D S Do you understand, you fucking idiot?

God, if you exist, how could you be so cruel as to put me here with Adam. I know he’s named after Atom, something small and essential, this unit of measurement for the basic elements of all of life, and I appreciate the basic and all, but sometimes a girl just needs a good conversation and a good cum, and this guy can’t give me either.

And so I’ve whined and complained and hoped that you would understand, show some semblance of mercy and instead all I get is silence.

Sometimes I lay on the ground, this perfect ground you made, and wriggle my body around in the dirt, trying to move all the loose dirt, feeling it coat my body and I pick up a handful and dribble it over my stomach and feel the loose particles slip off like fingertips, only finer and like millions of them.

And I’m moving on the ground, displacing earth because I want to get through all the soft stuff, God, I want to get through all the soft stuff and feel the rocks.

So, I made little divets all over and Adam was getting pissed because he kept tripping into these holes I made and stubbing his toes on the rocks. The guy is pathetic, really, crying every time he sees a little spot of blood.

I try to tell him he should watch were he’s walking instead of walking around with his head in the clouds, drooling after butterflies. What the fuck?

Of course, he just looks at me like I’m playing music out of my mouth and then runs off again, this time chasing a gnat.

So God, I am desperate and I swallowed this handful of stars because they are something of me, brilliant and fiery, they are brittle and sharp and knowing. They are light in the darkness and buoys lighting the way in the horizon of some black sea to cross to know something of here and there to know something at all. They are something of me and they are dying a little bit at a time, like me. I needed to taste that bitterness, that sweetness.

3:47 AM  

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