tom de plume
Culture Wars
“I wouldn’t call it a religious experience exactly. I mean, I’m not sure he even touched me.”
“You mean ‘spiritually?’”
“No. Physically. He touched me. Like groped. But I can’t be sure. It was all so fast and … light.”
“Light?”
“Yeah. But it was also maybe just my imagination.”
“So it could have been spiritual. You were in a monastery and hoping for some kind of thing to happen to your soul.”
“And it happened to my body instead?”
“Yeah, sort of veering around the soul and going directly for the clit.”
…
“But then I have this weird dream. I never dream—“
“But you’re at the monastery so anything can happen.”
“Right. So I’m flying around on Brother Antonious’s back and he’s showing me the vineyards and we’re swooping in for a closer look and all the monks tilling the vineyards are naked. And then I notice we’re naked too.”
“I didn’t think they had vineyards there.”
“They don’t. This is a dream, remember.”
“So you don’t really know if this monk groped you or not. Maybe you wanted him to grope you. Was he cute?”
“Oh, yeah. They’re all cute. Because they’re monks. But really they’re just regular guys; you just feel a little strange around them. They’re not quite men so you’re not quite a woman. You’re children of God. That’s the theory.”
“Didn’t work with Brother Antonious.”
“No. He was really white, you know. Kind of extra scrubbed. Like he’d gotten trapped in the rinse cycle for a coupla years. His name was Bob. Before he became a monk he had his own upholstery business.”
“I didn’t even know you went to church.”
“I don’t. I just needed a break and went to this monastery. I could’ve gone to a spa, I guess, but I thought I’d check it out. I was raised a Baptist and we didn’t have monks. We had preachers with veins popping out of their neck telling us we were going to hell. So monks are a novelty. And we couldn’t even dance, much less drink wine.”
“I never went to church either. My parents were socialists. They thought religion was a kind of insurance scam. Once we were out driving around and passed this big tent where some kind of revival was going on. We could hear people singing, so we stopped. A woman came running out of the tent and dropped to the ground and started rolling around while people watched. My father said it was an example of human derangement brought on by the exploitation of capital.”
…
“Why is it waiters in Mexican restaurants never flirt?”
“They haven’t been in this country long enough to understand our expectations.”
“French waiters flirt instinctively. They have to be trained not to flirt. American waiters loiter in the men’s room checking messages on their cell phones. It’s really kind of disgusting when you think about it.”
Culture Wars
“I wouldn’t call it a religious experience exactly. I mean, I’m not sure he even touched me.”
“You mean ‘spiritually?’”
“No. Physically. He touched me. Like groped. But I can’t be sure. It was all so fast and … light.”
“Light?”
“Yeah. But it was also maybe just my imagination.”
“So it could have been spiritual. You were in a monastery and hoping for some kind of thing to happen to your soul.”
“And it happened to my body instead?”
“Yeah, sort of veering around the soul and going directly for the clit.”
…
“But then I have this weird dream. I never dream—“
“But you’re at the monastery so anything can happen.”
“Right. So I’m flying around on Brother Antonious’s back and he’s showing me the vineyards and we’re swooping in for a closer look and all the monks tilling the vineyards are naked. And then I notice we’re naked too.”
“I didn’t think they had vineyards there.”
“They don’t. This is a dream, remember.”
“So you don’t really know if this monk groped you or not. Maybe you wanted him to grope you. Was he cute?”
“Oh, yeah. They’re all cute. Because they’re monks. But really they’re just regular guys; you just feel a little strange around them. They’re not quite men so you’re not quite a woman. You’re children of God. That’s the theory.”
“Didn’t work with Brother Antonious.”
“No. He was really white, you know. Kind of extra scrubbed. Like he’d gotten trapped in the rinse cycle for a coupla years. His name was Bob. Before he became a monk he had his own upholstery business.”
“I didn’t even know you went to church.”
“I don’t. I just needed a break and went to this monastery. I could’ve gone to a spa, I guess, but I thought I’d check it out. I was raised a Baptist and we didn’t have monks. We had preachers with veins popping out of their neck telling us we were going to hell. So monks are a novelty. And we couldn’t even dance, much less drink wine.”
“I never went to church either. My parents were socialists. They thought religion was a kind of insurance scam. Once we were out driving around and passed this big tent where some kind of revival was going on. We could hear people singing, so we stopped. A woman came running out of the tent and dropped to the ground and started rolling around while people watched. My father said it was an example of human derangement brought on by the exploitation of capital.”
…
“Why is it waiters in Mexican restaurants never flirt?”
“They haven’t been in this country long enough to understand our expectations.”
“French waiters flirt instinctively. They have to be trained not to flirt. American waiters loiter in the men’s room checking messages on their cell phones. It’s really kind of disgusting when you think about it.”