In college I had a neighbor who became a friend who had a father that tied weights to his penis. I mean, the father tied weights to his own penis, not to his son's, which does not make the story any less woah but might help clarify the picture in your head right about now. He was Chinese, the neighbor/friend and his father, and although I am not 100% sure that has any bearing on the story it is somehow tied together in my memory. Like maybe it had something to do with his religion, or maybe I am just a horrible ethnocentric stupid-head and he tied weights to his penis because he was a man and it was there.
Yeah.
I think he also whipped himself. Not that I ever saw it, but the neighbor/friend told us that the father self-flagellated. That phrase, connected to the mental image of his penis, made me think of something kinky but no, apparently he did these things to make himself stronger. (The word flogging is not much better.)
Where am I going with this talk of flesh weighted down? Of strength and piety, penance and penises?
Here. I am apologizing for being a bad blogger, both with infrequent slapdash posts and radio silence to fellow bloggers, friends and the like. I have been busy, overwhelmed, blah blah, clothed in excuses as if I am the only person that has ever needed to put gas in her car. Driving on empty, so I am naked now with barbells hanging from my balls to say I am sorry. And that it will probably happen again.
But that's what friends do, right? Forgive you your sometimes silence? And then pick up where you last left off? Grab your hand and spin you around? Dance?
You know how I love me the universe coming together. Check out this (admittedly shaky but oh-so-worth it) video. The song, the people, the lump in my throat from watching a bunch of probably BO-ey hippie kids dancing in the grass.
Unstoppable, people.
love,
S
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
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11 comments:
Does it make me a freak that I teared up watching that. It just goes to show the power one person truly has over a collective.
I know! I teared up, too! All lumpy throat even after watching it 5 times!
The next time I see somebody dancing alone I am going to dance with them. Definitely!
I just love people being uncool. It takes balls to be as uncool as that first guy. Love it.
your post makes me think of velvet underground's venus in furs. hmmm. your readers are here and just as lame (least i am) at times about reading and commenting and posting, so no worries. :) this video and your post makes me want to wave my freak blog flag high!
I would be interested in consuming the happy pills those first two pioneers were enjoying. Their footwork was.... fancy.
Ok, it's just cruel to tell a story like that and not have a reason why. He must have had some reason to do that, and my brain is trying to figure it out. It's going to keep me up tonight.
I think I have an answer for you, but don't ask me how I know this or why I have remembered it: There is a psychiatric disorder called Koro, one which originated in China, is most prevalent in Southeast Asia and is described in the DSM-IV-TR as a phobia characterized by the fear of genital retraction in males (or nipple retraction in females). Affected men, typically of Asian descent, fervently believe not only that their penises are shrinking, but will ultimately retract into their bodies, disappearing entirely. Perhaps your neighbor's father suffered from this phobia and applied the weights to his penis in order to prevent his body from slurping up his genitals? Just a hunch. . .
Marisa, you pretty much just made my day with that tidbit of Trivial Pursuit Genital Edition. Can't wait for just the right moment to casually drop this info into a conversation!
No, thank YOU. Until you published this post, I had forgotten all about Koro, but as soon as I read your description of that neighbor, the diagnosis popped into my mind. How strange we humans are, storing even stranger facts in the deep recesses of our brains until the right stimulus comes along and, Poof! they are released. . .
Happy Koroing. . .=)
it's been so long since i've danced in the grass. that used to be my life: festivals; live music; long hair knotted up in a bun; pretty summer dresses.
i miss the sense of being so completely carefree.
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