Shashi Kapoor
in Heat and Dust —it is one scene, and it is only because of how he touches her
*literary aside notes (for my reference)
such an unexpected subtle shock of surprise (he is more erotic than if it were explicit;so hot)
On a post-it writes
“he puts me in chains and makes me endure hours of torture upon my sex with constant onslaught of a soft mouth ….how do I confess this?”
—found in the translations letters of ancestor
*frame story/subStory
not to give away my new writing work, but I need to work out a few thoughts here. I can only say that as I research this —vaguely, I’m looking at how western movements of thought have influenced human lives especially seen through art —I thought it was a trilogy but it’s growing legs and to wrestle the beast I write now a tiny anecdote of a side thought
consider the actors of Shakespeare time. Of Sophocles time. Of Oscar Wilde’s time and consider all those immortal works and their muses or those that portrayed them on stage or sat at salons for paintings
To read Forster or Jane Austen as a nerd girl and then see Hugh Grant, Julian Sand, Colin Firth, these lovely men embody characters …. and I have to consider our time and era and what one we are—or were in—QE2? the knights and dames and our a.s.byat
i don’t know.i suppose it is a stunned feeling;watching the car thst hit you drive away as you fall down feeling sense;half alive. I keep thinking about that phone call last year which got me out of where I was; what if I’d missed the call?what if—and ….i only had seconds to understand what was going to be my escape hatch out
I’d waited a year or more for that call but no, I was obligated where I was when they called a year before over a car—if Uhtred could give a year to king Alfred for a coat of armor —what for a car?what torture is worth anything except that was a necessary asset.how else could I have driven away from there in the middle of nowhere?was not as if there was a bus.why would I gamble on chances?this I relive over and over.but no, they all got me out of where I had to leave.there were never any other choices.but I hate when people say I’m a survivor as if what —if I’d not been —a tycoon would have saved me?or I roll over and die in front of an oncoming car?I don’t see that I ever had choices but to be sharp and ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. I guess I am good at that. this is what I find so weird is the combat isn’t coming at me and I am still waiting in the corner to be hit. reliving is an understatement.i am trying to learn how to walk for the very first time without having to duck for cover and I really find it unwise to stop ducking anyway. so the calm confuses me.and noise.ive studied human behavior, so i am aware this fits the description. it takes no genius to calculate the events and time span to consider how long before ….the reliving all in splices stops—but then, i am an anomaly according to my mysterious Dr. Rothschild I have written here about. she has a different name in real life.and I was her case study—so there’s a peer reviewed case about me in some journal over how I survived complex early on abuse/physical/emotional/sexual perpetual-over-time and walked away.i don’t care about statistics as it’s all predetermined in my mind —by them. what do they know but i do read their studies and I have a degree. Dr.Freud I really like him because he was literate and had imagination—wasn’t it all basically theory?what did Dr.Rothschild decide about me in the end well—the anomaly. She had no explanation why I keep getting up after and won’t back down
they say you re-live your trauma. over and over. so how long before it finally goes away?but which one?there have been so many back to back.
when does it stop?when does the warmth and safety ever come
