There are different ways to check out one’s ass.
When men in my neighborhood check out my ass, they smile at me and say “God bless you, sweetheart!”. They make me feel like a woman. They admire and respect me the way a woman was made to be admired and respected (and by respect, I don’t mean the pavlonian reflex of leaving the toilet seat down with a whiff of casual hatred).
No, I probably wouldn’t date any of them (I am a child of the urban “intellectual” Western culture, I have my needs like alluding to Cortazar every now and then). But they make me feel right.
When I am in a dead white boy neighborhood, I feel consumed and lonely. They are the people who send me obscene FB messages. They are the toothachingly boring lovers leaving me empty and sad whenever I make a mistake of giving them more credit than they deserve. They are the ones who feel entitled to being entertained at the expense of anything, including my soul. They are dead, and if I only let them, they would be happy to kill me, too.
What have they done to the Earth?
What have they done to our fair sister?
I could treat them as sick children but I swear, these children are bigger than me and they don’t care – so why should I? I could wish that I lived in a different world but I live in this one, and zombies are a part of my life.
It only makes my walks in the Bronx better.
June 14, 2009 at 11:41 am
Entitlement is the eighth deadly sin.
June 15, 2009 at 1:03 am
Yes, the Bronx is famous for its appreciation of pretty women as they walk down the street, although “god bless you sweetheart” sounds a little sugar coated for a red blooded Bronx male. Dead white boy neighborhoods are no good for anybody, and I pity the neighborhood which doesn’t appreciate your ass!
XO