by KUBOA
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Why were we never
Sweet—
Barney, well what can I say? He’s everything. He really is. A remarkable kid. If I wasn’t his mom I’d be proud to know him. He looks like his dad (narrow shoulders, a sort of girlish smile) but he’s got my self-indulgent proclivities. He is dreamy (again like me) and he’s not organized but, wow, when he concentrates on something it’s like he’s a watchmaker—or a scientist. He bends over his drawing pad and he’s just gone. He’s some place else. It’s a joy to witness.
Listen: that night. I was going to stay away from it but let’s not. Let’s talk, Jimmy. We were so young. I was frightened. You were so lovely naked, so long and slim and blond. Really it was no wonder you had a lot of gals after you. I relished your soft skin, that little tuft of hair around your navel. Lord, Jimjim. What a memory. I best stop now. As you can see, ‘bitching’ is mild compared to where I have wandered. Where I want to wander…Sorry. I’ll try to write more steadily.
xo (look!)
Lor
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Email eros!
Oh, Lorelei! How passionate you are. Did I know this? I admit I get antsy between emails. It was—three days between the last ones and I was gnashing my teeth—but the payoff is sweet.
My memory of that one night was of shame of course. The male thing. I cdn’t actually go thru with it. Was it cuz of the friendship? Because you were so lovely—yr stomach is one of the softest resting places on Planet Earth—and I was so anxious to do it right. Instead I failed and that failure has stayed with me. When I found yr name on yr Sunday School page that ignominy was as fresh as if it had just happened. It slapped me silly. I was deflated, defeated, defunct. Still, you took me in yr gentle mouth—you were so selfless—I dnt know—it hurts that I didnt follow thru. What happened in the days immediately following this? You were with Andrew—wasn’t that his name? Tough looking stud with a lot of hair. Intimidated the hell out of me. You had wanderlust, maybe the only lust I’ve never had. You wanted to be a rock and roll singer.
Oh, I fear I’ll scare you away with this sex talk. You’re a Sunday School teacher!
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Email eros!
Jimmy—Sweet—Lord Jim
I like the sex talk. Is that shameful? I do. I want to talk about it with you—I feel so close to you. Isn’t that odd? You stormed into my life and suddenly I’m full of you and want to talk to you all the time. I’ve been thinking about you during the day—even during Sunday School. Oh my. The email thing is just my odd way of doing things. I’m not too into this ‘virtual reality.’ And I’ve got the church. Doug is so busy it really gives me a lot to do. For instance tonight we have a Bible Study class and I’m not only serving food (women out of the kitchen indeed) but I’m opening the discussion of Paul on the road to Damascus.
And simultaneous with these holy duties I find myself thinking of you and our brand new intimate talk. Let’s talk about it some more. Really. (Jimmy—do you get the idea here? My husband is one of the greatest people I’ve ever known—but—just between us—he isn’t too interested in the bedroom and what goes on there. It’s been a long time, Sweet.)
That night. I don’t recall it as Your Shame. I was so concerned about you—I thought it was me, that I wasn’t desirable. I don’t know. We were so young. I was so inexperienced and I thought you were—you know older (ha, I know it’s only 2 years but at that time it seemed insurmountable—no pun intended). I did the only thing I could think of to do. I took your limp penis in my mouth and felt you bloom there. You were so stiff and vital and so turned on—it excited me so much, Sweet—I wasn’t doing anything charitable, you know?—I wanted to do it—WANTED TO DO IT—ok? I loved having you come in my mouth.
There. I said it. Hello, Sunday School students. Your teacher gives head.
I was hurt afterwards, Jimmy. And because I was hurt I acted cool. I didn’t feel cool. I wanted to do it some more. Instead we just fell back on the friendship. Hm. Here’s something you should know: I’ve only had 4 lovers in my life. Some tart. And I include you. You of the tangly (is that a word? tangly? tangy?) pubic hair and strong slim cock. (Isn’t there something about email that frees you up? It’s so—unreal—so outside of everyday life—and so intimate—I feel like I can say anything to you—my secret desires—ha!)
XO (two capitals!)
L
PS: I said cock, dear. COCK. Ok. Talk to me.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: ‘The well-known pornographical paradox: one has to esteem something highly to enjoy its violation.’(Philip Roth)
Lorelei—oh my dear. How my head is swimming. How full of you I am right now. Hey, will you send me a picture of you? The only vision I have of you right now is that Sunday School picture, which is sort of demure. Not that I want cheesecake (well, ok, of course that’s what I want being a man) but I’d like a nice image of you to ponder.
You did take my cock didnt you? It was sex—we have had sex. It seems so unreal, so long ago. Like a dream. Yet, here you are—as concrete as virtual reality gets. (If it wasn’t for virtual reality, I wouldn’t have no reality at all.) How I thrilled when you said, cock. How I thrill now writing it again. It’s the thrill of the transgressor, you know? Half the kick of sex is getting down into the dirt, dnt you think?
Lemme return the favor (maybe this turns you on, how cd I know?)
When I cdnt—you know perform—I wanted to lick you—yr pretty pussy—but I didnt know how. Damn it. I didnt know how. So. I make myself bold to say: I owe you that. One session of me down on you. As payback, ok? :
xxoo (do two little ones equal one big one?)
J
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Forgive
Lor—
I’ve gone too far. I do that. I’m so sorry. I cn back up. We cn back up. It scares me—yr silence.
With regret,
J
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Forgive
No, no, sweet Sweet—
I was out of town. Sorry. I should have said. We went up to the White River where Doug’s parents have a cabin. We owed Barney that. He had such a good time in the water. We got into a canoe but none of us knew what we were doing so we just sort of paddled around in a circle. Got a great picture of Barney standing next to the canoe peeing in the river.
There’s an image for you. The picture I’ve attached here is from our trip. That’s me in halter top and shorts. Good enough? That is of course Barney behind me—he thought he could catch fish with his hands like a bear.
L
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: You in Photo, You in Remembrance
Oh, Thank God you weren’t put off. You weren’t were you? Do I detect some skittishness? Yr last email was, well, folksy, as if you were talking to a cousin. Maybe that’s best. You know I’ve already forgotten that you’re married. I’m the lonely one. This is too one-sided, isnt it?
Oh, the picture is so lovely. You’re still so slim. And those hips—I loved yr hips always—yr ass. Oh, Lor, why didnt we?
XOXO
J
PS: Oh, oops. I forgot to say, Barney is a doll. I think he favors you—he has yr intense eyes.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: You in Photo, You in Remembrance
Sweet-
I didn’t mean to sound dispassionate. I admit to some skittishness. Only when I get caught up in Barney’s world—being a parent does that to you sometimes, desexes you. Life intrudes. Only when I’m all involved with him—and the church�
��well this begins to seem unreal. I love talking to you. You’re my past—you’re sort of emblematic of my past—of a me I used to really like.
Life intrudes. Isn’t that a funny thing to say? It implies that this—THIS talking with you ISN’T life, is outside of life. What can be outside of life? Hm. Jim, I haven’t been this introspective in—I don’t know—forever. You’re making me think about things. Is that good? Ultimately, is that good?
Good night, sweet prince. It’s late here as I type this. The only light in the room is the glow of this monitor.
Think about my ass and pussy, Jim. Think about it tonight.
XXOO
L
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: ‘(thy temple amid thy hair is as a slice of pomegranate)’ (Joyce)
OHOHOH Lorelei! I did. I did think about that and—you know—used it. Oh how glorious it was. Should we talk about other things too? Should we talk about yr church, my bookstore (which is foundering in this sucky economy), yr class, yr child?
I only want to imagine you in bed with me. This is selfish.
I want you in bed with me. This time I would know what to do. I would love to pleasure you.
I’m still thinking about it—
had to take a break there and do it again. My my my.
XXOO
J
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: ‘(thy temple amid thy hair is as a slice of pomegranate)’ (Joyce)
Sweet—this is bad isn’t it? How did we get here? How did we get to the sex part so quickly bypassing all the steps, all the dailiness? Is it because of the irreality of the web? It doesn’t feel unreal. I can feel you next to me. Do you masturbate about me now? Many times? I will do that too—as soon as I get a clear space away from husband and child. I will think about your promise—and imagine your mouth on me. Can you see me, dear Jimmy?
lots of these: XO
L
PS: I’m home alone Friday night. Doug and Barney are going to his grandmother’s overnight.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: O glorious voice! O powerful ideation!
Glorious Lorelei!
How that phone call thrilled me! Yr voice came back with a Proustian flood of images. I felt like yr voice was caressing me. And it was, caressing me while I stroked myself. Cd you see me—you were so quiet. Yr whisper—did you just come? It haunts me today. We didnt do you, did we? Again, the selfish male. I felt like you got off the phone so quickly afterwards. I wanted to lie there awash in myself—and talk about how close it made us.
Did you feel it? I feel so close to you now. I know we said that getting together is impossible—it’s only a 6 hour drive though—I will still fantasize about it.
Oh, how I want that, Lor. I want you flesh to flesh. I want to hear you in my ear again—
I’ll end here. I cd go on and on about you. Use me tonight when you pleasure yrself, ok?
XXOO
Yr Sweet
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Halloo! Tommy, can you hear me?
Lor—
Haven’t heard from you. Are you out of town again? Am I supposed to know this? I have such a leaky head.
Email me back soon so I know everything’s ok, ok?
XXXXXXXXXXXOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Jimmy
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Fretting
Lorene—
Where are you? Is this my paranoia, imagining you dismissing me? I—I need to talk to you. Can I call again? No, I know I cn’t. Family.
Please reassure me, dear.
XO
Jimmy
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: (none)
Dammit, Lor—I am going to call if you dnt—please—just a quick note. I know you’re reading this—PLEASE!
J
MAILER—[email protected]
Hi. This is the qmail-send program at yahoo.com.
I'm afraid I wasn't able to deliver your message to the following
addresses.
This is a permanent error; I've given up. Sorry it didn't work out.
[email protected]
204.127.134.23 does not like recipient.
Remote host said: 550 [SUSPEND] Mailbox currently suspended - Please
contact correspondent directly
Giving up on 204.127.134.23.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: (none)
Sir—
If you call my home again I will be forced to take action. You have threatened the peace of my family and that is something that I will not abide. Desist or I will be forced to do something I’d rather not.
Sincerely,
The Right Reverend Douglas Hamon, D. D., Bishop
The Church of the Holy Communion
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: catching up
Buddy—good to hear from you again. I thought you’d forgotten me. I don’t know—after Wilson was born I lost touch with a lot of friends who I didn’t want to. You esp. So when I got yr email I was so happy to think we could catch up. I know when I moved to Nashville you thought I was abandoning you or something—sometimes, Jim, and I say this out of love—sometimes you are all about you. You tend to turn everything back to how it affects you. Sorry, buddy. I’m not carping. I’m really happy to hear from you. Jenean asks about you sometimes tho she only met you once. Remember—it was at Sam Cates’ house—that party where he had the thai stick. Damn those were the days. Well not really. Jenean says you were moody and quiet and everyone thought you were superior. I had to tell her you were shy and brilliant. My brilliant friend Jim. Sorry—this is coming out wrong.
Look—I’m happy to talk to you and to feel somehow connected to that past. We had some good times. But, Jim, listen: I don’t really want to dredge a bunch of shit up. Ok? Don’t get mad at me. I just sort of don’t care about it. Get yr head out of high school, Jenean used to tell me and she was right. Life with her here is very sweet—if not as exciting as those days when we used my Mustang as our own private bedroom—but we can’t live in that space forever. Ok? Can we talk about now? I’d love to tell you all about Wilson. He has CP, you know? You knew that, right? It’s a full-time thing I’ll tell you. But more satisfying than—well, than talking about dead days with people who really didn’t matter.
Ok. Sorry. I’m spoiling it. Lorene Enuf. Yes, I sort of remember her. She was stuck up is what I remember. And kind of a slut. What about her? How would I know why she would do anything?
I’ve gone on enough. Lemme hear back from you. It’s so nice to be in touch again.
yr buddy,
Jonny
She And He In A Swivet
‘I love order. It’s my dream. A world where all would be silent and still and each thing in its last place, under the last dust.’
Samuel Beckett, from Endgame
SheIs this how you thought it would be, this life?
HeNo, no.
SheThis blank space, this time of no communion, this silence.
HeNo. The silence. This nihility, zero, zilch, zip.
SheZippo, zot.
HeWordster. The converse of silence?
SheNo.
HeNo?
SheHerme’s silence?
HeNo, not that. Not the lovely pause which each fears to break, which, if broken, perhaps yields something equally lovely.
SheSomething equal to the lovely pause?
HeYes.
SheNot that.
HeNo.
SheThere were times—
HeYes, times—
>
SheWhen we, you and I, we—cohered—
HeI’d like to believe—
SheYes.
HeYou and I, we did, we, like a cartwheel of stars.
SheWe did. Together. Nice of
HeYes. And, others, there were others. We stuck with them, the others. We thought it meant—
SheWe thought it meant we had something, something ineffable.
HeYes. Even without the others, alone, you and I—
SheAh.
HeIt’s late.
SheIt is.
HeIt seems to me that the business of regretting the past would be never-ending.
SheIs this all there is, this? Is that a song?
HeYes.
SheYes, to the first or the second part?
HeBoth. This is all there is.
SheAnd a song.
HeYes.
SheHm.
HeWe could try to move about, to see what is beyond this.
SheIt is beyond us. This.
HeYes.
SheIt is possible still to move. About.
HeIs it?
SheYes.
HeThen?
SheWe could. We could open the door.
HeYes. We
SheIs that what you want at this point? Is that what you imagine can break the spell?
HeIs it a spell?
SheYes. A bad spell.
HeUndeviating?
SheHm.
HeYes. Let’s.
SheMove about?
HeWe could just open. The door.
SheLet’s.
HeOk.
