Lip Service
M. J. Rose
(Lady Chatterley's Library)
The success of Vox --- that tiny, sassy novel of telephone sex --- has obviously opened the flood-gates, and Lip Service is one of the driblets we have to put up with. One quickly wearies of the heroine, burbling into the telephone how "wet" she is, while her caller describes in tedious detail how busy his tongue is going to be when they finally get together. He asks all sorts of questions about how she tastes, and what she does with herself when she is in the bathroom. Presumably, she has no trouble chatting idly with any anonymous passion-pot who wants to get into her ear, but all we want is to get her to put down that dratted candle (candle!) and get on with her life and stop making so many slurping, panting, squishing, wet noises.Our suggestion: if you are one of those people who are goes gaga over anonymous voices on the telephone, let your fingers do the walking to the nearest Sex line, which will give you --- we suspect --- a bit bigger bang for the buck than Lip Service.
Reflections
Carol E Parrish-Harra
Edited by
Maggie Webb-Adams
(Sparrow Hawk)Sometimes, we think if we have to read yet another neo-Buddhist "let-me-comfort-you on-your-journey" tome we'll scream. Reflections is an excellent example --- an overweening mix of Lao T'se, the I Ching, Dr. Joyce Brothers, and Baba Boo Bubby.Master says, "Remember this, for when life is hard, you will need to know what you have seen."
Not "A Master..." or "The Master..." but just "Master." Whatever he's saying is, to put a kind face on it, totally indecipherable.
One of our friends who puts "a lot of energy" (her words) into meditation, and calming the mind, and loving the self, says that when her lungs give out on her (she has emphysema) you can throw that "now let's center ourselves" nonsense out the window (try not being able to breathe and going with the flow at the same time).
She says, too, that she's damn sick and tired of hearing that the Awfuls of Living are part of being on the path, our woes were sent along to teach us patience and humility.
The heart of the soul emits a celestial flame.
As holy hearts sing, tones burst into the light.
Love flows, fervor grows, grace abounds...Here we are with the baby screaming, the electric company about to shut off the gas, Mumsie phoning every five minutes with that "I told you so!" --- and Parrish-Hara is intoning,
Ripples move outward, ever expanding
taking light to dark corners awaiting, awakening...We're thinking that if we could send the kids over to board with Parrish-Harra for a few weeks in her nunnery or ashram or bikkhu or whatever the hell they call it, then we'd have some time to work on being on the path.
You are stubborn and must be moved through difficulties so you can be more flexible for our use...
Awk. As an old girlfriend of ours used to say when we used the first person plural in such an all-encumbering fashion, "We? We? Who 'we?' You got a frog in your pocket?"