elena's got balls, and by that i don't mean hairy musky balls, i mean a fearless attitude. clearly she can get away with more than i can--she wields more influence over more Deaf people than i do, enough to get the respect she demands--but risks at least as much as i do by speaking up and speaking out.
i wonder--if she doesn't have a verdict that proves that she's not just making allegations--has she been threatened with legal action? name is everything.
ELENA'S GOT BALLS AT SORDISMARADICAL.COM
and i think zeus has left for real this time--but i know...and maybe i'll say, someday, but at the moment it's just fudging.
as elena's pointed out, i've dealt in self-destructive sexual compromises. i've allowed and sometimes felt i deserved abusive relationships to unfold, and not just romantic ones. i've detailed recovery with its roach-infested shirts that are actually large shards of dried blood i've munched appreciatively mornings after four or even seven dozen slashes have graced each arm.
i'm keeping this hand at my vest. small realizations have led to this, realizations like:
larry pearce with his forkfuls of spiced ramen and shining eyes, his admiration of my breasts, his thunderings that i should major in biology and then figure out the rest later, his pleas to take a bite of mango from his thumb and knife, his demands that i get my life started despite being raped and mocked...his insistence, time and again, that i wasn't incapable of normal or intellectual conversation--
--and he hates me. fucking hates me. some stupid fucking rumors thanks to louise about me spreading rumors that we'd fucked reaching him late, freezing him key lime--
--and cathy could pale at these revelations and read into them much more than there ever was, and think his impropriety should cost them some aspect of their marriage--
--and regardless of any immature or adult decision either of them makes upon, say, hearing about this post--
--it's those small favors, those obvious favors from men who saw and understood that i was worth a whole lot more than my plain face and tiny astigmatic lensed eyes--
--that grounded me in myself, those men who shoveled coals into my deep, secret yearning, its shy blue flames too thin and cool to fan themselves uproar--
--and gave rise to the resilient woman within. and he was the first.
to deny it is to kill myself.
(and gloria, gloria, gloria.)
p.s.: elena, take the deaf-world (shitstorm) by storm.