It would seem that this must be divided into two entries. So, my next quote is from Michael Ondaatje's book "The English Patient". I am not sure how much intro to give this one. If you have seen the movie, you will know what I am saying. The main character Almasy has finally been able to return to the cave of swimmers where he has left his lover, Katherine, because she was injured after a plain crash in the desert. He has of course returned to late, but in such a dry place, she has not much altered. Katherine, throughout the course of their affair, was in the habit of injuring him, hitting him, cutting him and so on, (which is reflected in this passage). Strangely, the violence of Katherine, and the expression of eroticism even between dead and living here reminds me of things I am reading about a religion theorist Georges Bataille, but that is a scolarly tangent, for another time perhaps.

I approached her naked as I would have done in our South Cairo room, wanting to undress her, still wanting to love her.What is terrible in what I did? Don't we forgive everything of a lover? We forgive selfishness, desire, guile. As long as we are the motive for it. You can make love to a woman with a broken arm, or a woman with fever. She once sucked blood from a cut on my hand as I tasted and swallowed her menstrual blood. There are some European words you can never translate properly into language. Felhomaly. The dusk of graves. With the connotation of intimacy there between the dead and the living. Michael Ondaatje The English Patient

So, the next time you are with your loved one, be she female, remember just how erotic menstruation can be. Happy International Women's Week! :)

I know that International Women's week is coming up, and I have been thinking lately about a 'Celebration of Menstruation in Literature". Truth be told, I have only really come across two good quotes which describe menstral blood in an erotic way, but I am on the hunt to find more. If any of you out there know of any, and you know how to contact me...please pass them on. But, for those of you who are interested, I will include, (and hope I am not breeching any copyright rules) the two that I have found. They are by two of my favourite authors, one male, one female, both of whom have an incredibly sensual style of writing, yet each has a unique type of sensuality.

First, the woman, Jeanette Winterson. I think she is a great writer. I was introduced to her stuff in my first year English course, and have loved everything by her that I have read since. I am currently reading "Sexing the Cherry", which is really interesting and uplifting to read. (I was also reading Unless, so this book is, so far at least, in a much more positive frame of mind, as it were). My quote is from another book by her called "Written on the Body". The gender or the narrator is never revealed, which makes for an interesting read. The narrator has had relationships with both men and women, but the book focuses on a female beloved. The passage comes from a short chapter on "The Nose" as Winterson takes us through the different senses, and their experience of the beloved. I want to quote the whole thing, but I will refrain. You will get the idea.

From beyond the front door my nose is twitching, I can smell her coming down the hall towards me. She is a perfumier of sandalwood and hops. I want to uncork her. I want to push my head against the open wall of her loins. She is firm and ripe, a dark compound of sweet cattle straw and Madonna of Incense. She is frankincense and myrrh, bitter cousin smells of death and faith.
When she bleeds the smells I know change colour. There is iron in her soul on those days. She smells like a gun.
My lover is cocked and ready to fire. She has the scent of her prey on her. She consumes me when she comes in thin white smoke smelling of saltpetre. Shot against her all I want are the last wreaths of her desire that carry from the base of her to what doctors like to call the olfactory nerves. Jeanette Winterson, Written on teh Body

Last night I took in a great romantic film, Nicholas Nickleby. My only big complaint is that that costumes, (one of the main reasons I love to take in period films) were far less than satisfactory. At the conclusion of the movie, one of the wedding dresses actually had NO SLEEVES! On a Victorian dress?! Never. But, the romantic language of the film was heart melting. Once, when I was an innocent young girl, I used to believe that people could honestly feel that way about one another, even if they would not use such flowery language. Now, I have become synical. No such men exist in the world. At least, none that I have met. Yet another disappointment of grown up life I suppose. Where have all the romantics gone? Am I alone in this world? Sigh.

You're a Velvety-Mopey-Goth! You're wardrobe isn't
condusive to heat, water, or the natural range
of human movement. People may think you're
cheesy, but you know it's just because their
infantile minds can't fully comprehend the
insurmountable anguish of your existence.


What kind of Goth would you be?
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Yet another quiz...over here at ZeldaP's house, there is a party goin on. Yeah! :)