December 7, 1998.

"Shiny boots of leather..."

The topic at Tea today: money shots.

Fast Eddie was expressing his disgust with the whole idea of money shots, which led to his general disgust with porno in general, and guys who think they can watch it with their girlfriends in particular. I had to disagree with his moral stance: money shots appeal to me about as much as volunteer dishwashing (i.e. not at all), but I refuse to take a stand on what's "normal." But I can see what he's getting at. In a perfect world, men would not need to pretend that they're fucking Pamela Anderson Lee to the decreased self-confidence of their actual sex partner...they'd just find women who liked being Barb Wire and be done with it.

I dunno...the whole thing gets into one of the biggest sexual psychoses going, which is the idea that there is a "normal" way to fuck. And I'm not entirely comfortable with people I know dismissing things like porno just because it isn't appealing to them (and therefore it's not normal). And typecasting people who enjoy certain sexual props as unthinking, insensitive, exploitive gits.

You know? I mean, sex is problematic enough without trying to pass some sort of planet-wide bar exam on the subject. And sex is ridiculous enough to make "normal sex" an oxymoronic phrase. Emphasis on the moron.

(Sidenote: The Boy has spent some time over the last few months trying to convince me that the term money shot can be legitimately used to describe high-budget cinematic sequences shown in commercials to attract audience; yet I remain unconvinced. Once a term enters the realm of sex-vocab, it can no longer be rehabilitated to the world of film.)

"I am tired and I am weary. I could sleep for a thousand years."

Mid term this afternoon. One more down, four to go. Ask me anything about the T'ang dynasty. No, not that...I mean, something covered by my hasty cramming. No, not that!

Oh.

Something about Meng Jiao - except the dates. I'm lousy with dates.

Oh, forget it.

Something from the funeral came back to me today, namely the odd relationship formed by the family in the first day of visiting. After 6 hours together in an (admittedly lovely) funeral home, there was a very intimate bond forged. You could see it on the next day, before the funeral - we wore serious, open faces for the new people wishing us sympathy. Which is proper - somberness is expected of the family. But when our eyes met the face of one who had been there the day before, we smiled, just like it was a regular family get-together.

No need to be serious, since we all did it before.

It was nice. I don't think funerals are supposed to be nice, but these moments was very much so.