thoughts from the raft. #1

catefrances

i was on the bus last week coming home from uni. this guy behind me was talking to these young girls. he was family friend. one of the girls was talking about getting a tattoo in honour of her dead father. i thought that was nice.
as it often does, the conversation turned to the subject of sex. i can't say i wasn't listening cause as you know on public transport there is no where to go. anyway, the guy gave the girls a little advice. he told them if it came down to it, it was best just to give the guy head. he said it's better that way cause the first thing guys do is go and tell their friends about this girl they just had sex with. he sought confirmation from this bunch of skateboarders i couldn't see. they agreed. i wanted to turn around and say 'yeah that's okay so long as the guy reciprocates.' but it wasn't my conversation. i sat staring out the window and said nothing.

catefrances

she shivers when she hears the key in the front door. he drinks until he stumbles. when she denies him, he hits her and takes what he wants anyway. he hits her until she falls silent. one day she stabbed him until her hand hurt and he fell silent.

catefrances

she stood in the middle of the park near the fountain. she looked up at the buildings as the sun descended behind them. she wondered how she could get to the roof of the tallest building. a couple of weeks later she had worked it out. as she stood staring down at the street below, she thought about what the tiny people below were thinking. where were they going. were they happy. were they filled with thoughts of murdrous intent like she sometimes was. the sounds of the city drifted up to her. she wanted to fly. she wanted to fly like a bird. of course she knew she couldn't. she heard once somewhere that they'd have to scrape you up off the pavement with a shovel. she just hoped she died quickly. that night lying in bed next to the snoring mass she thought she loved, she wondered when she should learn to fly. she didn't cry anymore when he hit her. she didn't even cry when he hit her so hard that she lost her baby. now she knows it was for the best. she couldn't leave him because she was scared. she was scared of being alone and unwanted. at least he wanted her, if only for something to hit. but he would find someone else. someone to replace her. men like him always did.

catefrances

she was listening to the radio when a song she liked came on. she turned it up and started singing along. he told her to turn the goddamn music down and shut the fuck up. she told him that if it bothered him so much then turn it down himself. he stalked into the kitchen and pulled the radio off the top of the fridge. he yanked the cord out of the wall and hurled the radio through the closed window. glass flew everywhere. then he hit her to shut her up and show her who the boss was. gave her a backhander as he walked past her. he dropped into his chair and turned the football up loud......

catefrances

she heard sobbing through the thin walls. she heard the woman tell the man that he disgusted her. that she didn't want him to touch her ever ever again. that she didn't want him anywhere near her. she told him that she was sick of the sight of him. the man said he was sorry. he said that he needed to do it. that he didn't know who he was when he was with her. the woman said she didn't care. there was a thump and then nothing. except the sound of the sobbing.

olderman

wow. hey cate. what time is it?

time for sleep in kc..

bluejourneyman

catefrances wrote:

i was on the bus last week coming home from uni. this guy behind me was talking to these young girls. he was family friend. one of the girls was talking about getting a tattoo in honour of her dead father. i thought that was nice.
as it often does, the conversation turned to the subject of sex. i can't say i wasn't listening cause as you know on public transport there is no where to go. anyway, the guy gave the girls a little advice. he told them if it came down to it, it was best just to give the guy head. he said it's better that way cause the first thing guys do is go and tell their friends about this girl they just had sex with. he sought confirmation from this bunch of skateboarders i couldn't see. they agreed. i wanted to turn around and say 'yeah that's okay so long as the guy reciprocates.' but it wasn't my conversation. i sat staring out the window and said nothing.

LOL, I had to look that word up "reciprocates." I like the word "reciprocity," better.

fakeplastictree

wow

catefrances

the bus drove past this derelict building. painted on the side was a sign that said: slightly damaged chickens for sale. i thought 'what? more damaged than having their feet and head cut off, their guts ripped out and having all their feathers plucked from their bodies you mean?'

catefrances

he came home one morning after night shift to find her lying on the bed. she wasn't dead but she sure looked like it. she was a drunk. the sheets were covered in blood. when he lifted them back he saw his unborn child. he took his wife to the hospital and never saw her again.

catefrances

she was tired of being hit. she could never go out or cover the bruises. nothing she ever did was good enough for him. he'd tell her that she was useless. good for only one thing. sometimes she believed him. sometimes she didn't. once she tried to overdose. he called her selfish. he asked her what she thought he would do without her. she gave him a smart answer and he hit her. and he hit her and he hit her. when he fell asleep drunk she set the bed on fire and walked out the door. no one knows where she is.

catefrances

it's two am. she walks the streets home cause she missed the last bus. she's had a good night. some drinking. some music. she's alert as she walks alone. every little sound amplified. she listens for something not quite right. there are no cars so she walks down the middle of the road. never in the shadows. who knows what lurks there. she hates that her mind is occupied like this. a car passes her. she waits for the red tail lights. she tenses. keeps her distance. no thanks she doesn't need a ride. they leave her. she quickens her pace. only when she bolts the door behind her does she feel a little safe.

catefrances

it's the middle of the night.the baby is crying. she forces herself out of bed. she feeds the baby. the baby cries. she cuddles the baby. the baby cries. she changes the baby's nappy. the baby continues to cry. she walks the floor with the baby. this precious life she holds in her arms. she coos to the baby. the baby cries. it screws up it's little face and cries until it's face goes red. she sings to the baby. all night she walks the floor rocking and singing and cradling and soothing and wishing she was someplace else. the baby cries. she pleads with the baby to stop crying. tha baby continues to cry. she cries too. finally as the sun peaks over the horizon the baby falls asleep. she dares not to breathe as she places back it in it's crib. as her head hits the pillow she closes her eyes. the phone rings. the baby cries.

catefrances

he held her jumper.it was soaked in blood. his blood but mostly hers. he looked at her. his eyes cold, hard and grey. the blood will come out he told her, if he soaked it. it'll be fine. she on the otherhand he said, was gone. she looked him. she looked through him. her brain no longer comprehending. he wanted her to say something. make some noise. but she wouldn't. her focus was on herself. where she was. where he was. what he had done. she couldn't fathom any of it. she didn't hear the sirens.

Infinity_Now

...sex in American culture is like cheap beer, it's flat, overproduced, and all about the ephemeral buzz that you can barely remember you had... Not that the sex is all that bad - but our cultures predisposition towards it is, abysmal.

on the other hand,

a joke:

How is American beer like making love in a canoe?

It's f***ing close to water.

catefrances

Infinity_Now wrote:

...sex in American culture is like cheap beer, it's flat, overproduced, and all about the ephemeral buzz that you can barely remember you had... Not that the sex is all that bad - but our cultures predisposition towards it is, abysmal.

on the other hand,

a joke:

How is American beer like making love in a canoe?

It's f***ing close to water.

maybe you're just doing it wrong.

Infinity_Now

oh - I don't drink ; )

catefrances

Infinity_Now wrote:

oh - I don't drink ; )

funny.

Infinity_Now

Too... dry?

ah, GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY!

catefrances

Infinity_Now wrote:

Too... dry?

ah, GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY!

not at all. i just didn't see it coming.

catefrances

he took his brother's hand in his. led him to their safe place. under the bed in the backroom. playing with matchbox cars, hiding. hiding from her. she was drinking. again. she did that a lot. his brother started to cry. he tried to comfort him. four years old and scared of his mother. what a life. she drank. and yelled. and raged around the house calling their names. cajoling them to come on out. he fell for it once, but never again. he was deaf in one ear. it was her fault. she said everything was his fault. his father left because of him. if he had been a better boy she wouldn't drink. they could hear things breaking. they could hear her swearing. after a while it went quiet. she had fallen asleep.

catefrances

when she said she loved him he laughed. he said to her of course she loved him, who else was she going to love. then he hit her. again. where else was she going to find someone else to love. who would love her anyways. what man could ever love a woman who lets herself get beaten. how could she be in love with a man that hits her like he does.

catefrances

she picked him up in a bar near the railway tracks. she could see he was young. probably too young. but old enough to drink. so old enough for her. it had been so long and she was way past ready. he was eager and all too ready. young guys were like that weren't they? eager to please. to be pleased. when he asked her name, she said it didn't matter. not for what she had in mind. a cheap motel up by the highway. worn chenille bedspread. someone else's sheets. cracked tiles in the bathroom. his lips upon her made her skin crawl. but she needed this. she said she'd go down on him if he went down on her first. she didn't have to ask a second time. her fingers tangled in his soft brown hair. her arching back and his willingness to please got her to where she wanted to be. then she kept her side of the bargain. she couldn't resist a smile as he praised God in his blasphemous way. they were like clay the young boys. to her they all seemed like boys. waiting for someone to come along and teach them what they needed to know. to mould them. help to make them whole. he ran his hand along her skin and told her he like how soft her body felt. he looked so young in the dim light it almost felt like incest. and in the morning when the sun rose and bleached her night dreams white she left him sleeping. a smile on his angel face as a tear dried on hers.

catefrances

she walks around in circles. her hands held tightly over her ears. she tries to keep the voices out. but they don't listen. she can hear the whispering getting closer. getting louder. she had a dream last night that everything stopped. that she had been a good girl. and that her mother hadn't gone away. that people didn't look at her as she went by. the circles get smaller as she gets more frantic. she'll die if they reach her. she knows it. she tried once before to stop them coming. but....well it didn't work out. this time she'll make sure it works. this time she'll get it right. this time the voices will stop. they'll stop this time cause she will stop. the circles are getting smaller and smaller and.....

catefrances

he could hear them before he even opened the front gate. he looked at her. she smiled and said come with me. just walk away. the sound of his father's voice made him skittish. she could feel him trembling. he was 17 and nearly a grown man. but he was scared. scared of his own father. his mother wasn't much better. they both drank. and when his father hit his mother, she hit him back. it was like a game to them. they would make the other bleed and it was just a game. he'd hear them after, apologising and fucking loudly in their bedroom. calling each other baby. that's when he cried. they didn't even know he was there. he knew the kids at school thought he was weird. he hardly spoke to anyone and ignored all the girls but her. she understood. she let him talk and she never laughed at him. the screen door flew open and there on the porch stood his father. barefoot and looking like a vision from hell. his hair was greying at the temples but you could see what it was once long ago that attracted the boy's mother. when he asked the boy if he was coming in, the boy didn't answer. his father took two steps and leant against the porch post. he asked him again. she took his hand in hers and squeezed it. he glanced down at their hands. then looked back at his father and told him he was never coming home again.

catefrances

when she walks the streets. he gets into her mind and it makes her smile. she's not sure how to deal with what she feels. the words he says sneak in there and get her thinking. she thinks of how stupid she looks smiling for no apparent reason. but there is a reason. and she'll not share it with anyone. his words are for her. and her alone. he has started something that she finds difficult to handle. but she doesn't want it to stop. is it okay for her to feel this way? at home she closes her eyes and dreams. his face comes to her and makes her forget. the pain and the loneliness she feels. she tries to read but the words on the page swirl into a mass of black type. how is she suppose to concentrate on faulkner when all she can think about is him? she continues to read but the words lose all meaning. he is in her head. the thought of his touch. his lips on her skin. the warmth of his breath. she closes her eyes and she can see him. he makes her smile. she runs her fingers down her throat. but she hears the children coming home fom school and the connection is broken. she opens her eyes and pushes him out of her mind. for now.

bluejourneyman

Lucky guy...

catefrances

she sits on the wooden swing in the backyard, gently swaying back and forth. the sun warm on her face. a plane flies overhead on its way to who know where. she thinks of him. where is he. what is he doing. she wonders. when he makes love to his wife, is he thinking of her. does he have to catch himself before calling out her name in that most unguarded moment. has his lovemaking gained an urgency it didn't have before her. does he act out his fantasies in their bed, his mind occupied with thoughts of her. does he consider it cheating. she doesn't know how he thinks his wife would react. she is playing a dangerous game. she knows that. she doesn't care. she has no boundaries. he knows this about her. she should stop. he should stop. does he want to stop she wonders. she doesn't want to stop. she will hold onto him for as long as he will allow her.

catefrances

the optimism he feels when he is with her is tempered by thoughts of the duty that awaits him at home. a loveless marriage that for the past few years has been nothing but a convenience. his wife has told him, on more than one occasion, that she doesn't care what it is he does. her words often run through his head as he lays in the darkness beside her seemingly lifeless body. her gentle breathing wrought loud by his indecision. so he took her at her word. but knowing that such a declaration didn't extend to the toleration of another woman. it went only as far as it had to in order for him to feel guilty. or miserable. or both. instead, he found someone who lifted him. someone he could talk to. he found someone who reignited the fire inside him. did he love this new woman? he couldn't answer that question. after so many years in a cage he wasn't even sure what love was. if in fact he ever knew. sitting on the edge of her bed buttoning up his shirt he broke down at the thought of returning home. he could smell her on his skin. she reminded him that this was the way he wanted it. he didn't want to lose his child. she told him she didn't want thoughts of her giving him any false bravado that led him to actions he would later regret. she didn't like the way things were, but she respected the decision he had made. she wiped his tears away and kissed his lips sending him back to his life.

bluejourneyman

When he got home that morning he felt himself "still in the arms of the other woman." The other woman had become the "true woman of his affection." He was unable to get her off his mind. As he sat drinking his morning coffee and smoking his cigarette that he had grown to hate, he snickered. His wife asked him what was so fun. For a brief moment he felt a rumbling in his stomach, as if he was going to vomit the words out, that he so longed to tell her.
“I am leaving you.” He thought.
However, not prepared to leave his beautiful daughter, he replied,
“O’ it’s nothing, just something that happened at work last night.”
He drifted into thoughts that it used to bug him that his wife and he had not slept in the same bed for almost a year, now. However, he had become very selfish with his alone time in a separate bedroom. He would lay there at night listening to the music that his lover and he listened to; his wife hated that music, which used to bug him. He didn’t care anymore what she thought; it was their music, so she could go fuck herself! His true love used to cry when they made love. He was unsure if it was do to the pain or pleasure of their hot, sticky, and erotic love making. All he knew was that she smiled and hugged him so tightly after they had achieved a synchronized climax, that he was sure that she truly loved him (no matter what). He would lie in bed with the covers back, feeling the stiffness between his legs, and bring himself to a shivering climax, thinking of her. He had not had sex with his wife since his true love had entered his life.

catefrances

did he know what he was getting himself into? she did. she always knew what she was doing. she can't say that she was always in control but at least she knew what she was doing. though admittedly she had more room to manoeuvre. she wanted to take him at his word but he has much more to lose than she does. he had a child to consider. she didn't want the responsibility of him leaving his family for her. if he wasn't doing it for himself then she didn't want to know. in years to come she didn't want to hear the words, 'i left my family for you.' she didn't want a relationship where guilt was a factor, no matter how benignly. and if those words ever escaped his lips, she would walk away. she wanted someone who wanted her wholly, with no reservations. he had to know that straight off, cause she was playing for keeps.