I finally broke down last night and told Mrs GVB that I love another woman. We were in bed at the time, and I had just finished reading Assassination Vacation by Sarah Vowell. From the back flap of the dust jacket, Sarah, as I refer to her, stared at me with those ultra-liberal, ultra-literate eyes from behind the whimsy of that semi-tomboy haircut, and I lost it.
When Mrs. GVB seemed skeptical of my latest love, I showed her the picture.
“Whatever. Add her to the list.” Eye roll.
The list. Where is that list? Ah, here in the bedside table next to my copy of Music for Torching by AM Homes (who, incidentally, is also on the list). How can you not love a woman who tells the world: "I'm a fiction writer. I'm a big, fat liar"?
It is a sign of the maturity of the GVB relationship that I no longer have to scratch a name off the bottom in order to add one to the top. That's a good thing, because I can't bear to part with Natalie Merchant just yet. You never know...
How can you not love a woman who writes like this?
When writing of John Noyes, the founder and patriarch of the Oneida community in New York, Sarah has this to say:
Noyes broke down the sex act into three parts – the beginning, marked by “the simple presence of the male organ in the female,” the middle, involving a “series of reciprocal motions,” and of course the end, an “ejaculatory crisis which expels the seed.” Naturally, one’s thoughts turn to canoeing….
How hot is she? I’ve got to go read some more.
Brought the bike into work today and will brave whatever this shitty weather throws at me for a nice long ride home this afternoon. 25 miles, give or take. Rough.
9 days and counting to the Sun Run. Oy.
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