Shallow (1313 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: crap:non-fiction
Rating: 1.93 on 47 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Circe <fickle.muse.at.gmail.com> (View user info) at 2004-12-24 11:21:51 EST
They dance, the modern day priestesses. They shimmy and spin and dance to the glory of themselves, sweating and glistening, lithe bodies moving amongst each other easily, individual and yet as cohesive as a school of mindlessly spawning fish. The fuck-me perfumes they wear aren't enough to cover the scent of their desperation and lust; gotta get laid, gotta get a man, gotta have someone to take care of me before I get old and ugly and before I'm not a hottie anymore, gotta dance gotta fuck gotta kiss gotta smell like sex gotta gotta gotta.
Priestesses of the Church of Tiffany's and the Gods of fashion. This is their frenzied worship.
They watch, the modern day hunters. They are weakened by excess and made slack and thick and slow by the ease of their lives. They hunt the big sale, they gather contacts. They watch the feverishly writhing, sweat slicked bodies on display and talk amongst themselves, false bravado and bullshit macho posturing dripping from every word.
Now and then, one of the hunters breaks from the pack and singles out a priestess, dripping sweat and pheremones. He speaks, she tosses her hair. They drink to begin the age old ritual and slip away to consumate it with pleasure and guilt, mess and sweat and the wet smack of flesh on flesh.
And behind the circling and the swaying and the sweaty rituals is the throb. Always there; pervasive, deep, primal, inarguable. It's overlaid by rhythms and underlaid by melodies and twisted around and through the syncopation of a drum machine but by god it's there, and it's heard not with the ears but with the reptile hindbrain, felt not with the skin but between the thighs: Throb-throb-throb-throb.
It's a shallow interaction, or the deepest possible - the oldest, in either case. It was here long before these lights and this tribal throbbing ache, long before multicolored cocktails and fashionably gay barmen. They fool themselves, the hunters and the priestesses, these idolators worshipping at the altar of Fuck. They tell themselves they're edgy but they know they're not, oh they know, the same lizard mind that responds to the throb as if to a siren song knows it and knows it well, but they didn't care yesterday and they won't care tomorrow and they damned sure don't care today, and so it's "Hi." (throb) "Where are you from?" (throb) "What do you do?" (throb) "Can I buy you a drink?" (throb) "Wanna go back to my place?" (throb)
And again.
And again.
User Reviews
Submitted by Rawrg (user info) at 2005-02-16 07:27:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Worshipping at the Alter of Fuck.
You are an old-school Greek Diety.
Submitted by Yams (user info) at 2004-12-31 19:35:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
"Submitted by Bigmike (user info) at 2004-12-24 18:20:55 (#)
Ranking: 1
My own personal philosophy is (was) one of pacifism.
Ignore the priestesses. Become the hunted. I think that women find a man who ignores their obvious primping to be a curiosity.
It's a mellow man that knows what he is missing.
Whenever I wanted to meet a woman, I was just mellow about it. I didn't think about it. I paid no attention to it. Ultimately, it came to me.
Women can smell desperation. Don't think for a minute that they cannot.
This post hit me the wrong way for some reason. I really didn't smile, but it was worth a +1 anyway."
If there is a man who has had a revelation, this be he.
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2004-12-28 22:24:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
How could you let me miss this?
Tart!
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2004-12-27 13:39:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I've been done with the club thing for some time. All the pent up, heartless, meaningless sex underlying this post makes me want to go back.
Did I take this the wrong way?
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2004-12-25 13:52:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You make me very glad, once again, that I managed to miss out on all this.
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2004-12-25 10:53:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
That's sweet, ladies. Yeah, let's all laugh at Circe because she's drunk and has had her spirit BROKEN by small blonde demons masquerading as her children.
"Oh, I wanted a different game."
"Mummumumumumumumumumumumum gimme now."
"He hit me!"
"She spat"
"He swore!"
FUCK EVERYTHING.
I need another drink.
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2004-12-25 10:40:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!
Submitted by FilthyAssistant (user info) at 2004-12-25 09:49:09 (#)
Ranking: 2
It's alright Circe, if I lived in a country entirely peopled with criminals and ne'er-do-wells, I'd be irascible too.
<insert shit eating "you can't hit me" grin here>
Submitted by FilthyAssistant (user info) at 2004-12-25 09:49:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
It's alright Circe, if I lived in a country entirely peopled with criminals and ne'er-do-wells, I'd be irascible too.
<insert shit eating "you can't hit me" grin here>
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2004-12-25 09:23:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Dear EVERYBODY WHO FEELS THE NEED TO INSULT AUSTRALIAN NIGHTCLUBS:
That's actually a club in London, England.
So, you know.. fuck the lot of you.
(My Christmas is finished, and I don't need to be merry anymore.)
Submitted by creep_firebombing (user info) at 2004-12-25 07:23:44 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Clubs in Aus aren't really this shitty, right?
You REALLY gotta come to the states. A clubbing experience with me would melt your panties off in a number of ways.
Submitted by creep_firebombing (user info) at 2004-12-25 07:22:06 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Now I want to put on some techno music and fuck you like my life depends on it.
Also:
Submitted by Bickerstaff (user info) at 2004-12-24 13:57:56 (#)
Ranking: 2
I love clubs, man; I love stone-simple ritual
and caveman logic and a place where chicks REALLY
have all the power and the smartest guys in the room are the
ones who know that they can stay on the dance floor only
by the grace and permission of the babes in charge.
Submit brothers, you aint shit out there; trust that
they got you all figured out and can see through your punk
ass as easily as they accessorize their designer knock-offs.
Man alive, that sorta tranparency is comforting, isn't it?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Even this guys reviews are fucking gospel.
P.S. I used to go to some of the Euro-trash glitzy clubs in D.C. and pick up ditzy college chicks by the carload. In all honesty, I don't miss it.
Submitted by DanielH (user info) at 2004-12-24 20:46:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was awesome. It reminds me of a poem I published (on a San Fran-based ezine) several years ago. :
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
They
They are the ones who stop on the sidewalk
To touch a high heel for no reason- just before daybreak
I've seen them at the shore ripping away their stockings
Like second skins.
In town they turn every head but their own,
Gazing to a point a step beyond your eyes
To burn your guardian angel to ashes.
A clasp of silence slows you
As the python of their lingering scent loosens its grip.
They are the ones turning to toss their hair,
Striking fire in your loins as if by accident.
They are drawn to mirrors.
In club restrooms they stand lifting and dropping
Their hair like silver coins. When sisters approach, they
Speak with their eyes. They lock the stalls together,
Whispering, fabric ripping.
They smile in perverse pleasure at your stumbling small-talk,
Icing you in the empty rooms of their eyes
Because you have nothing they haven't already had.
They have a map to the darkest doors of your soul.
They're waiting there,
Crossing their legs up ahead in your headlights
At that forgotten country crossroads beside the
Abandoned store that only you could remember-
Vanishing behind windy oaks as you slow.
The dance floor crowd turns to shadow
When their hips roll their allure to form,
When you can no longer tell the dancer
From the dance.
Hands thrown open upon the wind,
The night awakens to its own consciousness
Within their eyes; the air turns to black wine in
Their mouths as they run your dreams through their hair
Until it sparkles in perspiration,
Until you sit up in bed, a white cleft in the night. Wet.
They drop like cats through the dark,
Turning the corners of night as starlight trickles
From leaf to leaf, then they are the darkness,
Spilling into your dreams
Quietly as mist filling the dark intervals of trees.
They close their fingers to an inch of moonlight
To hold the elementals in thrall, scratching starlight down your back
As the seasons change in their eyes.
Glamours swirl with the sharp cold of autumn lingering about their
Torn-away cloths as they roll secret storms between
Their palms, crushing lightning into their fingers as winds
Whistle through their hands- opening, legs parting to
Dark flames where the wolves crouch. Primal spirals.
Across the dance floor's booming smoke you glimpse them
Like the silhouette of a dream; the world stops like a snapshot
Around their accelerated stillness. They appear to be awaiting nothing.
Then they're gone.
They move with the equipoise of ancient youth, collective memory
Of the huntress swallowing the manna of high priestesses
On slabs of stone.
Through the other's eyes they watch the horned moon rip the night
In borrowed light; they passed its iced truth one to the next like a
Chalice of jimson tea raised to the bloody mouth of time,
Back to the Daughters of Dionysus licking starshine from the other's
Flesh, braiding ecstasies through the turnings of dreams until
On a sidewalk they stop to touch a high heel- and in the passing
Dream the other's eyes they meet at the shore on the edge of the wet
Dawn to rip away their stockings like the veils of heaven.
Fingers entangled in the other's hair,
They gasp in colors Hendrix mixed
Untangling his fingers from the strings.
"Not necessarily stoned, but, beautiful."
Submitted by Nomad (user info) at 2004-12-24 20:39:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You are FUCKING AWESOME.
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2004-12-24 20:15:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
i hate clubs.
i like the throbbing though
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2004-12-24 19:43:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by shandythedog (user info) at 2004-12-24 18:37:44 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
the all consuming power of the sluts throbbing is demonstrated very well in winter in canberra.
at 3am wretched people will be milling and staggering around outside the bars, perhaps harbouring a final hope of getting a root, but realistically considering the horribly long taxi rank Queue of Failure.
the striking thing is that the men are all wrapped up nicely in warm coats and jackets, but the sluts are all in skimply little numbers with their flesh on display. it always amazes me how driven they are.
though whehter they are driven by the primal god of fuck, or by the social anxiety that doreen has a better dress and will probably get a boy first, i'm not sure.
Submitted by Bigmike (user info) at 2004-12-24 18:20:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
My own personal philosophy is (was) one of pacifism.
Ignore the priestesses. Become the hunted. I think that women find a man who ignores their obvious primping to be a curiosity.
It's a mellow man that knows what he is missing.
Whenever I wanted to meet a woman, I was just mellow about it. I didn't think about it. I paid no attention to it. Ultimately, it came to me.
Women can smell desperation. Don't think for a minute that they cannot.
This post hit me the wrong way for some reason. I really didn't smile, but it was worth a +1 anyway.
Submitted by FilthyAssistant (user info) at 2004-12-24 18:18:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Holy shit, is that what passes for a club in Australia? Looks like someones stuck some toy light sabers to the ceiling of their garage
Submitted by shandythedog (user info) at 2004-12-24 18:04:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
throb
Submitted by gabrielpm (user info) at 2004-12-24 14:03:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Horrible!
Submitted by Bickerstaff (user info) at 2004-12-24 13:57:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I love clubs, man; I love stone-simple ritual
and caveman logic and a place where chicks REALLY
have all the power and the smartest guys in the room are the
ones who know that they can stay on the dance floor only
by the grace and permission of the babes in charge.
Submit brothers, you aint shit out there; trust that
they got you all figured out and can see through your punk
ass as easily as they accessorize their designer knock-offs.
Man alive, that sorta tranparency is comforting, isn't it?
Submitted by precision (user info) at 2004-12-24 13:33:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This made me think of the "old" days on the internet, when all you had was news groups, but back then it was called the Usenet, and the "adult" section was called Throbnet...but I digress, +2's for Christmas!!!
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2004-12-24 13:14:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Score.
Submitted by Ex_Lux_Astrum (user info) at 2004-12-24 13:02:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
... mammals, birds and critters in between - fluff and strut and vainly preen
...genitalia swell in rainbow color as emotions bloom and thought gets duller;
sexy baboon bitch arches her swollen package: the toothy dudes squeal and sport wood.
Submitted by MANICMOTHER (user info) at 2004-12-24 12:59:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by tinactin (user info) at 2004-12-24 12:41:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
well done, as usual
Submitted by polyamorousaj (user info) at 2004-12-24 12:35:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
That's hot.
And Merry Christmas! If I've got my math right it should be... 1:30 AM on Dec. 25th where you are.
Thanks for the lovely voicemail. I'm no longer an Aussie ear-virgin!
If anyone emails me their number I'll call you with a personalized Christmas greeting at some point tonight or tomorrow. I'll also ask seductively what you're wearing and breathe heavily into the phone. Just ask apollo...
what?
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2004-12-24 12:30:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Hidden - wuss.
Poly - No. I'm not allowed to spank anyone but LadyPlural. And myself. And .. well... ah fuck it. Yes, you'll be spanked with the flat edge of a breadknife.
Submitted by polyamorousaj (user info) at 2004-12-24 12:26:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Do I get a spanking?
Submitted by hidden101 (user info) at 2004-12-24 12:23:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
battery acid???
wouldn't that be bad for my naughty bits?
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2004-12-24 12:22:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Poly - okay. But I'm telling you, it better be clean. Or you're grounded, and no playing Halo for a week.
Submitted by polyamorousaj (user info) at 2004-12-24 12:16:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Very nice.
I just listened to your voice mail. You have a sexy accent. I love it when women tell me to clean my room. :)
I'll email you a picture tonight and you can see for yourself that it was just the one little pile of clothing (clean, mind you) that I've yet to take to Goodwill. I put it there to hide Christmas presents.
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2004-12-24 12:14:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Hidden - can I mainline battery acid while I go down on you?
Submitted by The_Walrus (user info) at 2004-12-24 12:12:44 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Only Circe can make something so basic sound so incredibly fascinating.
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2004-12-24 12:08:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by hidden101 (user info) at 2004-12-24 11:38:45 (#)
Ranking: 2
bitter because you don't get any action at the clubs?
Mmmmmmmmyep.
That said, I hate even the parties that I occasionally go to. All the people in such a... mass of bodies, all trying to I don't know what, and it's scary. *shudder*
Submitted by hidden101 (user info) at 2004-12-24 12:08:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2004-12-24 11:48:30 (#)
Ranking: 0
Freakin' hell, Hidden. I knew, I just KNEW, somebody would say that. It was either gonna be you or Shlongy.
===============================================================
i knew Shlongy would say it, so i just said it to beat him to the punch.
and i'm also bitter and alone on Christmas...
wanna fuck?
Submitted by Yams (user info) at 2004-12-24 12:04:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Can you dissapoint? Nay, I submit that you cannot.
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2004-12-24 12:02:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
SilvrWolf - Heh. I didn't use the words thighs, skin, pleasure, and throb by accident you know.
Merry Christmas. :)
Submitted by DJMattB241 (user info) at 2004-12-24 12:02:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
fuck the clubs.
dance music should be experienced at concerts.
then, people actually go for the... you know... MUSIC.
i wish daft punk would go on tour.
Submitted by SilvrWolf (user info) at 2004-12-24 11:55:36 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I love your style. Is it wrong that this kinda turned me on a little?
Submitted by the_mysterious_stranger (user info) at 2004-12-24 11:52:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I was planning to do a post on this topic sometime ago, too, but this is waaaay better.
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2004-12-24 11:48:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Freakin' hell, Hidden. I knew, I just KNEW, somebody would say that. It was either gonna be you or Shlongy.
Congratulations!
Fucker.
(In actual fact, I'm bitter because I'm a boring shut in who can't go out on Christmas Eve. But damn you were close.)
Submitted by electrictoothsyndrome (user info) at 2004-12-24 11:46:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Gets old doesn't it?
Is it just me or do most people seem hollow to you? Like there is no substance there that wasn't born from those around them. I guess it's too painful of a prospect to just be yourself...
I'd much rather just stay at home most of the time than put up with that pageant. I am too old for that shit...plus, I fucking hate techno.
Submitted by hidden101 (user info) at 2004-12-24 11:38:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
bitter because you don't get any action at the clubs?
just kidding. i fucking hate that shit, too, and it's even easy for me. this was really good.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2004-12-24 11:34:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
(throb)
Submitted by Spiritoso (user info) at 2004-12-24 11:31:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Blind man's spiritual exasperations held behind the unreasoning mask
Submitted by WiKi (user info) at 2004-12-24 11:30:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I fucking love you.
Merry Christmas Eve.