chapter
So I wrote a chapter. Not a roll exactly but some kind of traction. Maybe it is alright. Some of it might stick. At least I am engaging with the text on some vague level.I attribute it all to Susan Sontag. On Photography, and what happens to my head when I read her. I don't have to agree, but my mind feels stimulated enough to have a conversation. Affection was all about the body, now I am flexing my brain. Strange. The change.We will wait and see.

falling down- from my brain book blog, reclaimed
The bike was all rust. Rust spreading like algae on the tank. Rust on the mirrors and on the handlebars. Thick dusty doilies of it. The battery would be worse than flat, dead. Her dead motorcycle. She squeezed the car in next to it, illuminating it with her headlights and she sat like that engine off, the shadow of it stretching out across the road. She felt it in her body, suddenly, the lean of a corner, that particular ache in her forearms from holding the throttle at its furthest extension for hours, days. All the open road. She remembered a moment when the sunset took her by surprise and she had to pull over, flip her visor up and breathe in the change of season. Just an ordinary day bu

photographer's advance
At some point he turns the light off. This is the moment when Bec knows that she is being seduced. A lazy kind of seduction. No urgency in it. He stands and turns the light off and says “My eyes are a bit sensitive to glare” and sits back down a little too close.Bec thinks, I am being seduced, and would have laughed except that would be impolite. Instead she smiles, trying to catch his eye, to let him know that she is onto him, that she wasn’t born yesterday, in fact that she was born a long long long time before him and that this is the oldest trick there is, used so often that it has become a cliche. She wants to let him know that the very idea of him seducing her is l

New Thing - breasts
He touched her breast and there was and inevitable lurch in her stomach and she was surprisingly wet. She was rarely ever wet, joked with her husband about desert winds as they lubed up with spit, some from him, some from er, but now she was wet and no one had touched anyones genitals with spit or lube or otherwise. So he touched her breast and she felt the sharp shock of sex twitching her nipples to little daggers at her chest and, simultaneously she thought about the way large breasts, like her own, sag prematurely. That he would never have seen breasts as sagging as her own. He touched her nipple and the point of his thumb focused all of her longing. The skin stretched further than she

from the new thing again
"Are you going to take your clothes off?"He folded his arms over the bulk of his chest, let them hang awkwardly at his side, folded them again. She had set him on edge and she was sorry for it, but also, somehow, relieved."Not with the light on.""Really?" he nodded, "I did it with the light on."There was a clatter, something falling in the flat upstairs. His mother lived up there. His mother who was barely older than she was herself. She had met his mother. His mother knew about Bec's husband. She knew Bec worked at the university where her son was enrolled. Bec turned her back towards him and settled onto the bed that smelled of old d