vagina
monologues.
have you seen them? the monologues, i mean.... really fucking (ha) great. for everyone. take a bunch of women of all ages, throw em up on stage and hear em tell the stories of their vaginas. it's smelly, brutal, painful, healing, heady, bountiful stuff. they even use the word... that word... cunt. cunt. cunt. cunt. cunt. cunt.
cunt.
and it's a good thing. a powerful thing. a thing of importance. it's THE thing.
and what about today? today i went to a work party, a going away party for the big boss. i really wanted to cry. i was so...off.
then a workmate said, "stace, you ok?"
not sure. i don't bother to lie--it's more work than it's worth.
"it's a weird vibe in here," he says. "i feel it too."
yeah, i sigh.
why do we forget the whole world is on the same plane? why do we feel so alone in the world? all it takes is ONE thought about the center of love to remember we're all the damn same. same stuff. same life. all of us one. (i have been promising for months to design a tee-shirt that says "jesus freak." chark, will you wear it? rick? edge? guys...? WHOOOOOOOO wants one? nameless, what will synagogue say ;j?)
then one of the guys started talking about pussy. indirectly at first, of course. the jokes about how the hunky 40-year-old across from me is dating the much younger girl. then the table slid into a tale-spin of good-ol-day stories and sighs and smirks and somehow, it made me feel better instead of worse. i was feeling too real and therefore missed any opportunity to get on my high horse--thank fucking god. i was just...one of the guys. not less. not more. not anything except there. right there. in the moment. not anything except accepting. and all of a sudden, it made sense.
vagina=power. duh.
not power over anything. not power to anything. just filled with power. just powerful. the cradle of civilization.
there i was, just sitting there with the guys--billbomm on my left, bearded and silvering at the temples; jimmylee, hair growing longer while he contemplates a fumanchoo (spelling??); matt, all shiny head and baby ass smooth-skin; malloy, an unlit bottlerocket with coily hair and a new pinky ring.... not harboring anything except, well, love really. just real life. just us. just smiling and breathing in our few moments of civilization before saying goodbye.
have you seen them? the monologues, i mean.... really fucking (ha) great. for everyone. take a bunch of women of all ages, throw em up on stage and hear em tell the stories of their vaginas. it's smelly, brutal, painful, healing, heady, bountiful stuff. they even use the word... that word... cunt. cunt. cunt. cunt. cunt. cunt.
cunt.
and it's a good thing. a powerful thing. a thing of importance. it's THE thing.
and what about today? today i went to a work party, a going away party for the big boss. i really wanted to cry. i was so...off.
then a workmate said, "stace, you ok?"
not sure. i don't bother to lie--it's more work than it's worth.
"it's a weird vibe in here," he says. "i feel it too."
yeah, i sigh.
why do we forget the whole world is on the same plane? why do we feel so alone in the world? all it takes is ONE thought about the center of love to remember we're all the damn same. same stuff. same life. all of us one. (i have been promising for months to design a tee-shirt that says "jesus freak." chark, will you wear it? rick? edge? guys...? WHOOOOOOOO wants one? nameless, what will synagogue say ;j?)
then one of the guys started talking about pussy. indirectly at first, of course. the jokes about how the hunky 40-year-old across from me is dating the much younger girl. then the table slid into a tale-spin of good-ol-day stories and sighs and smirks and somehow, it made me feel better instead of worse. i was feeling too real and therefore missed any opportunity to get on my high horse--thank fucking god. i was just...one of the guys. not less. not more. not anything except there. right there. in the moment. not anything except accepting. and all of a sudden, it made sense.
vagina=power. duh.
not power over anything. not power to anything. just filled with power. just powerful. the cradle of civilization.
there i was, just sitting there with the guys--billbomm on my left, bearded and silvering at the temples; jimmylee, hair growing longer while he contemplates a fumanchoo (spelling??); matt, all shiny head and baby ass smooth-skin; malloy, an unlit bottlerocket with coily hair and a new pinky ring.... not harboring anything except, well, love really. just real life. just us. just smiling and breathing in our few moments of civilization before saying goodbye.
posted by stacy muszynski at 10:32 PM
3 Comments:
yeah, this was my second time. and i did the same thing plus a lot of laughing. and vagine is vaginas in italian. so you're perfect.
They put that on here almost every year...I'll make it a point to go next time. Our "student" radio station had a girl on there the other day claiming just that...vaginas=power. Beautiful. And the guys had no idea what she was talking about.
Damn. Should have asked Dr. Ruth that when she was here. :-)
i dragged one of my girlfriends to it, too. she loved it, but she still can't say the "c" word. funny how language affects us eh?
oh! at the beginning of the monologues, they gave a "vagina warrior" award to a woman who's been doing great things to stand up to violence and silencing of women through her research. she's some seminal author on biblical scholarship...wrote among other things a book on mary magdeline (sp?) the apostle. apparently her car was firebombed and she's received death threats.
why are people so freaked out by peace and love and social justice and breakthrough thinking?
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