Sep 13, 2016

My erection beat time in my underwear (update)

(This was posted quite a while ago---we promised to steal a quote from acclaimed author Manil Suri---and there's an update now (finally), scroll down:)

You remember our post about Walter Kelly and Pogo Possum, the comic strip, where the mice of the world meet to invent a worser mousetrap. Along those lines, the writers of the world have met to write a worser sex scene, and now we know who won, Manil Suri, a professor of mathematics in India, apparently, for a section in his novel The City of Devi, a story of three characters interlocking in inter-galactic intimacy:

“Certainly explode at this moment somewhere in a distant galaxy Supernovas. The hut around us disappears, along with the sea and the sand. Only Karuns body, firmly intertwined with my remains. We race as superheroes past suns and solar systems, we dive through swarms of quarks and nuclei. Statisticians the world over rejoice in the face of our groundbreaking fourth star.“

We will steal this folks, statisticians the world over rejoice, trust us. Talent borrows, know who... steals.

Some more: Susan Choi’s "My Education" made a good stab at first place with her “magma” that “still heaved and groaned and was yearning to fling itself into the air” also taking a geophysical line. Also in competition was Woody Guthrie’s House of Earth: “in the fires of her stomach she strained and moved to bathe his blood into the rumble and the thunder of her own.”

And then there is Rupert Thompson, with: “I closed my eyes as well and penetrated her. I imagined the stiff meat and the smooth ring of muscles before. Mauve and yellow flowers fill the black screen of my eyelids, the petals expectorant and down floating, to soften gray stone. I kissed the soft stubble in the hollow of her armpit, then I kissed the smaller trough on her collarbone. “

And finally, Eric Reinhardt, “The Victoria’s System”:

“The zipper of her skirt between her fingernails stuttered like a motor boat on a calm sea … My erection throbbed every second in my underpants.”

(Update:) The steal is official. Here, from Chapter 15 of This Is Heaven [context: our characters Juliette and Romeo have just left the scene, holding hands]:

The cell-phone rang.

It’s Maurice. He’s stuck. Writer’s block. He can’t think of any decent trivia-wise. Nothing with a snap-your-finger feel. “Does it matter?” I ask.
“Certainly,” he says, “that’s why we are in the business of writing, isn’t it, to feel inspired, and by feeling inspired becoming more inspired.”
“You sound like an expensive graduate course of something,” I say.

He falls silent.

“I’m sorry,” I say, “I apologize. I went too far.”
“Indeed,” he says.
“The trivia,” I say. “Think of it as a commission. Quick and dirty. Deadline approaching, copy editor leering over your shoulder.”
“Well, nobody is leering over my shoulder.”
“Ben still asleep?”
“Hold the line,” I say.

‘Hold the line,’ I said, because Juliette’s friends are upon us, the children of vampire trivia. “We missed you yesterday,” Alex has said to them in the meantime. 

Well, they have been busy finding accommodation and stuff, somebody had sent them on a wild goose chase for a motel without GPS and they got lost behind the Okefenokee Swamp. They’ve rented tents now on a camping ground nearby.

Juliette, have we seen her? No, we haven’t, we have no idea that Juliette is losing her virginity as we speak, possibly in a real-beautiful way to a really beautiful kid who calls himself Romeo, can you believe this, this happens only in soap operas written by the washed-up screenwriter, but it does happen, against all odds, statisticians the world over rejoice. We have no idea. 

“Today,” I say a bit out of turn, “today is your day.” 
“Trivial pursuit, vampire trivia.” I wave my copy of the program to cover the act of slipping an active, connected cell phone into a pocket of my shorts. “You’re into this, aren’t you?”

No, they are not. They are serious. 

Stay tuned, more is coming soon. We're are almost done with the first draft now, finally. Four more chapters to write.

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