"It wasn't a big leap from eating books to sticking them up me, a page at a time. Fine literature in my vagina, pulp fiction up my ass, that was my instinctive decision, that is at first, before I began to question whether the distinction was really so clear. I sat through English class with Chaucer and Boccaccio here, S. E. Hinton there. One day, when I fished out the slippery wad, laid it on my desk and teased its folds open with a pen, I noticed that some of the words seemed changed. I took the stinking page to the library and confirmed my discovery in the echoing stacks. My vagina had rewritten Joyce. It was then I knew I was going to be a writer.
I also found, and would like to share with other women, that a dictionary in a pocket edition, if well worn, can be rolled up and used as a tampon in case of need.
Later on, though hardly tiring of the printed page, I experimented with other objects. Talking on the phone to my best friend, I inserted the receiver into my cunt, then bent over and yelled endearments in the direction of my womb. She said she heard me say: sample my donuts. I said nothing of the kind. This should be taken into consideration by parents seeking to give their kids an edge by pre-natal read-alouds. I have also inserted dolls, dice, piano keys, and school filing cabinets with hanging files in alphabetical order. (I would not do that again. I did it on a bet.) My vagina has very long and sticky lips and sometimes I would stroll pantyless through a store in a short skirt, brushing nonchalantly against the merchandise, and come out with valuable items stuck to me. I always felt these goods were mine by right, as they had attached themselves to me like burrs without my deliberate intervention, though once, when I began dragging a whole sofabed out the door behind me, I was hard put to explain this reasoning to the manager; but his embarrassment won the day for me, and in the end I even prevailed on him to help me load the sofabed into my car.
When I have my period my body aches from my ribs to my knees. I feel like I am melting from the center outward, like a candle. Or I'm dissolving into silt and flowing toward the ocean on my own slow river.
With a razor, I carve a labyrinth into my pubic hair, and require my lovers to find their way through it. This is not whimsy, it is practical. By the time they have traced their way through it to the end, the most backwards suitor will find me ready for them."
Don't ask me how I found this, but it, for some reason, reminds me of Pado.
I also found, and would like to share with other women, that a dictionary in a pocket edition, if well worn, can be rolled up and used as a tampon in case of need.
Later on, though hardly tiring of the printed page, I experimented with other objects. Talking on the phone to my best friend, I inserted the receiver into my cunt, then bent over and yelled endearments in the direction of my womb. She said she heard me say: sample my donuts. I said nothing of the kind. This should be taken into consideration by parents seeking to give their kids an edge by pre-natal read-alouds. I have also inserted dolls, dice, piano keys, and school filing cabinets with hanging files in alphabetical order. (I would not do that again. I did it on a bet.) My vagina has very long and sticky lips and sometimes I would stroll pantyless through a store in a short skirt, brushing nonchalantly against the merchandise, and come out with valuable items stuck to me. I always felt these goods were mine by right, as they had attached themselves to me like burrs without my deliberate intervention, though once, when I began dragging a whole sofabed out the door behind me, I was hard put to explain this reasoning to the manager; but his embarrassment won the day for me, and in the end I even prevailed on him to help me load the sofabed into my car.
When I have my period my body aches from my ribs to my knees. I feel like I am melting from the center outward, like a candle. Or I'm dissolving into silt and flowing toward the ocean on my own slow river.
With a razor, I carve a labyrinth into my pubic hair, and require my lovers to find their way through it. This is not whimsy, it is practical. By the time they have traced their way through it to the end, the most backwards suitor will find me ready for them."
Don't ask me how I found this, but it, for some reason, reminds me of Pado.
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