shanmonster: (Liothu'a)
This is a tiny essay written as analysis of Grimm's story The Dog and The Sparrow. I think I am succinct in my writing, but I'm displeased with the way my two ideas are tied together. I'm not certain how to bring the ideas together better while keeping it within the prescribed word count.

Read more... )
shanmonster: (Liothu'a)
[UnHinged]Late Friday night, as part of the UnHinged Theatre Festival sponsored by Flush Ink Productions, I and seven other playwrights were taken to previously undisclosed locations around the city where we would be given 24 hours to write a play. Each of these places was calculated to be unsettling in some way or another. I was nervous, but not because I'm afraid of haunted houses or anything like that. It's just that it's been a long time since I last wrote for stage: about fifteen years. It's also been a long time since I've written under a hard deadline--maybe fifteen years since I last did that, too. What if I got writers' block? It's happened before. What if my play just sucked? That was a possibility. After all, I'm awfully rusty.

So off I went to the Rum Runner to meet up with all the other writers and the other people involved for the first time. It was confusing. I was trying to go over various story possibilities in my mind while dealing with questions about tech issues. They wanted to do a Blair Witch Project sort of idea, with streaming video of us during the writing process, but the video stream website was confusing. I felt like I was being bombarded with irrelevant material while all I wanted to do was start writing before I got too tired. It was already too late, though. I was tired--verging on exhausted. Although I'm typically a night owl, for the past few months, I've been sliding more and more into a diurnal state, and now I had to mix it around.

We finally received our locations. One writer, who had a fear of ghosts, was being sequestered in a theoretically haunted hotel room. I was a little envious. It sounded cushy. He'd have a warm place and a bed, when he was too tired. One was writing in a creepy, cold basement in an old building. I was being placed in a ramshackle warehouse with a theatre space. Another was in the emergency room of a hospital. I didn't envy her. In my opinion, that is the most stressful of all locations. I don't recall the other locales. My mind was too busy.

This big, black room became my home for the next fifteen hours. )
shanmonster: (Tiger claw)
(Read Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf first.)

The animal I really dig,
Above all others is the pig.
Pigs are noble. Pigs are clever,
Pigs are courteous. However,
Now and then, to break this rule,
One meets a pig who is a fool.
What, for example, would you say,
If strolling through the woods one day,
Right there in front of you you saw
A pig who'd built his house of STRAW?
The Wolf who saw it licked his lips,
And said, "That pig has had his chips."
"Little pig, little pig, let me come in!"
"No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!"
"Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!"

The little pig began to pray,
But Wolfie blew his house away.
He shouted, "Bacon, pork and ham!
Oh, what a lucky Wolf I am!"
And though he ate the pig quite fast,
He carefully kept the tail till last.
Wolf wandered on, a trifle bloated.
Surprise, surprise, for soon he noted
Another little house for pigs,
And this one had been built of TWIGS!

"Little pig, little pig, let me come in!"
"No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!"
"Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!"

The Wolf said, "Okay, here we go!"
He then began to blow and blow.
The little pig began to squeal.
He cried, "Oh Wolf, you've had one meal!
Why can't we talk and make a deal?
The Wolf replied, "Not on your nelly!"
And soon the pig was in his belly.

"Two juicy little pigs!" Wolf cried,
"But still I'm not quite satisfied!
I know how full my tummy's bulging,
But oh, how I adore indulging."
So creeping quietly as a mouse,
The Wolf approached another house,
A house which also had inside
A little piggy trying to hide.
"You'll not get me!" the Piggy cried.
"I'll blow you down!" the Wolf replied.
"You'll need," Pig said, "a lot of puff,
And I don't think you've got enough."
Wolf huffed and puffed and blew and blew.
The house stayed up as good as new.
"If I can't blow it down," Wolf said,
I'll have to blow it up instead.
I'll come back in the dead of night
And blow it up with dynamite!"
Pig cried, "You brute! I might have known!"
Then, picking up the telephone,
He dialed as quickly as he could
The number of red Riding Hood.

"Hello," she said. "Who's speaking? Who?
Oh, hello, Piggy, how d'you do?"
Pig cried, "I need your help, Miss Hood!
Oh help me, please! D'you think you could?"
"I'll try of course," Miss Hood replied.
"What's on your mind...?" "A Wolf!" Pig cried.
"I know you've dealt with wolves before,
And now I've got one at my door!"

"My darling Pig," she said, "my sweet,
That's something really up my street.
I've just begun to wash my hair.
But when it's dry, I'll be right there."

A short while later, through the wood,
Came striding brave Miss Riding Hood.
The Wolf stood there, his eyes ablaze,
And yellowish, like mayonnaise.
His teeth were sharp, his gums were raw,
And spit was dripping from his jaw.
Once more the maiden's eyelid flickers.
She draws the pistol from her knickers.
Once more she hits the vital spot,
And kills him with a single shot.
Pig, peeping through the window, stood
And yelled, "Well done, Miss Riding Hood!"

Ah, Piglet, you must never trust
Young ladies from the upper crust.
For now, Miss Riding Hood, one notes,
Not only has two wolfskin coats,
But when she goes from place to place,

- by Roald Dahl
shanmonster: (Liothu'a)
As soon as Wolf began to feel
That he would like a decent meal,
He went and knocked on Grandma's door.
When Grandma opened it, she saw
The sharp white teeth, the horrid grin,
And Wolfie said, ``May I come in?''
Poor Grandmamma was terrified,
``He's going to eat me up!'' she cried.
And she was absolutely right.
He ate her up in one big bite.
But Grandmamma was small and tough,
And Wolfie wailed, ``That's not enough!
I haven't yet begun to feel
That I have had a decent meal!''
He ran around the kitchen yelping,
``I've got to have a second helping!''
Then added with a frightful leer,
``I'm therefore going to wait right here
Till Little Miss Red Riding Hood
Comes home from walking in the wood.''
He quickly put on Grandma's clothes,
(Of course he hadn't eaten those).
He dressed himself in coat and hat.
He put on shoes, and after that
He even brushed and curled his hair,
Then sat himself in Grandma's chair.
In came the little girl in red.
She stopped. She stared. And then she said,

``What great big ears you have, Grandma.''
``All the better to hear you with,'' the Wolf replied.
``What great big eyes you have, Grandma.''
said Little Red Riding Hood.
``All the better to see you with,'' the Wolf replied.

He sat there watching her and smiled.
He thought, I'm going to eat this child.
Compared with her old Grandmamma
She's going to taste like caviar.

Then Little Red Riding Hood said, ``But Grandma,
what a lovely great big furry coat you have on.''

``That's wrong!'' cried Wolf. ``Have you forgot
To tell me what BIG TEETH I've got?
Ah well, no matter what you say,
I'm going to eat you anyway.''
The small girl smiles. One eyelid flickers.
She whips a pistol from her knickers.
She aims it at the creature's head
And bang bang bang, she shoots him dead.
A few weeks later, in the wood,
I came across Miss Riding Hood.
But what a change! No cloak of red,
No silly hood upon her head.
She said, ``Hello, and do please note
My lovely furry wolfskin coat.''

- by Roald Dahl


Jul. 27th, 2011 05:48 pm
shanmonster: (On the stairs)
One day a fisherman's penis got tangled up in his harpoon line.
The fisherman was never really good at catching seals
and as both prey and hunter tugged and hauled in opposite directions,
the man felt all the strength gush out of his penis.
He was relieved, if the truth be known.
He went home and dressed up like a woman.
He called himself Vagina and announced he was in need of a husband.
His mother was not happy about this.
She threatened to kick her son, who was now her daughter, out of the house
if he didn't again dress like a man and go out on the hunt.
Vagina knew a little magic, so she stripped the skin from her body
until she was just a skeleton. Her mother dropped dead in fright.
Vagina put her skin back on and started to behave
more and more like a woman. She fretted with her hair
and drew little tattoos all over her arms. Monthly
she made cuts at her groin so she could bleed.
She spent her days quietly softening fox skins with her teeth.
Vagina was still having trouble getting a husband
when a neighbor agreed to loan hers. When Vagina
removed her dress, the neighbor's husband
noticed her penis and called Vagina a madman.
Again, Vagina removed her skin as if to prove deep down
there was no difference between women and men
and their skeletons. Instead of consenting to have sex,
the man was so frightened he fell dead, like Vagina's mother, on the spot.
Vagina thought at least she could adopt
and then a child would provide her with company.
There was an orphan no one else would have.
Vagina tended to him like the kindest of mothers
until one day the boy demanded blubber.
"Can't you see I'm a woman?" Vagina said,
"I'm not allowed on the hunt. Find yourself a father,
a husband for me, and then we'll have plenty to eat."
The orphan was sharp. He had seen Vagina pissing
while standing up. He accused his mother of being a man.
Vagina, on impulse, became a skeleton again.
The orphan, instead of being scared, ran his fingers
over his mother's eyeball sockets and ribs. He drew a circle
around her pelvis and laughed. Vagina was forced
to use stronger magic. She reached into her chest
and pulled out her entrails. "There," she exclaimed,
"do you still insist on having some blubber?"
The orphan hugged his mother as some dogs
burst their way into the igloo,
stealing, among other things, Vagina's intestines.
She shouted, "Stop!" and chased the dogs
for miles. But before she could catch up, the biggest dog had eaten her heart.
And everyone knows a person is nothing without that.
Slowly Vagina wasted away as the orphan watched.
The orphan buried his mother beneath a pile of stones,
loving her in spite of her magic and foolish penis.
Loving his dead mother in spite of her skeleton games,
the orphan went to search for seals and whales and blubber on his own.

- by Denise Duhamel
shanmonster: (Default)
After a conversation with [ profile] amelielee, I've dusted off a few of my fairy tale anthologies and started reading. Last night, I read Henry Morley's Melilot. The moral of the story seems to be that if you are completely subservient and always puts the needs of others ahead of your own needs--even so much as not eating when you are starving to death--that good things will happen to you. I can't say I agree with this philosophy, but it is a cute story.

I also read Christina Rossetti's Goblin Market, which has a more believable moral: don't eat stuff offered to you by creepy, suspicious people. ESPECIALLY if they're extremely demanding about you eating it. Yikes. The story also has an overt sexual undercurrent going on, with plenty of veiled references to lesbian sex, incest, orgies, and bukkake. Those Victorians had their kink on, that's for sure.

For those of you folklore and fairy tale buffs, can you point out some stories which deal with characters being born with the caul? I'm aware of folklore about the caul itself, but not really any fairy tales, legends, or myths. David Copperfield isn't quite what I'm looking for, here.

I spent most of yesterday writing and brainstorming for the epic bit of fiction I've been writing. All of this research ties in, and I was excited to have an epiphany while in the shower. It was my own eureka moment, and it didn't even involve water displacement. Thanks, Archimedes, nonetheless.

Apropos of nothing, I want to make myself a set of flag poi. I got to play with some last week and thought they were flashy and fun. And there's really nothing to them, construction-wise. I also want to make myself a set of voi (veil poi). I just need to figure out the right amount of silk.

I joined a spin dance group, and got to do a few hours of practice last week. In about an hour, I went from not being able to use a hula hoop to getting so that I can work it up and down my body, up and down my arm, neck, and chest, and to being able to dance and travel while hooping. I must get my own hoop. I'd love to have one or two ninja hoops, because they're easy to travel with, and I do a lot of biking and busing. Oh great rich generous people, you know what I'm hinting! Hahahah!

It's nice to be spinning poi again. For one, it's working out the pull in my rhomboids/traps from my New Year's mishap. And for two, I'm not nearly so rusty, and managed to pull off a couple of split jump double-kick direction changes. Shazam! I've been practicing at the gym where I work as a warm-up to the classes I teach, and have taken to carrying my poi around with me again.

Link time? Ok.

Saudi Arabia Captures Israeli Vulture For Being Mossad Spy: "Saudi Arabian officials have reportedly arrested a vulture suspected of being a Mossad spy, after the bird, tagged by Israeli scientists, flew into Saudi territory." How does one interrogate a vulture, I wonder?

Man Shoots Christmas Ornament Hung From Friend's "Junk" Using High Powered Rifle: A Darwin Award winner in the making, methinks.

Power Balance Maker Admits Bands Are Worthless: The cure-all rubber bracelets, surprisingly enough, don't cure much of anything.

And now, just because she's in such amazing shape, here's Monica Brant demonstrating her leg workout:

shanmonster: (Purple mohawk)
So I dusted off an old story I wrote years ago and submitted it to a local contest. I don't have anything recent that works on its own, and since there's no entry fee, what the hell, right? Maybe I'll win. I could use some cash....

Anyhow, here's the story, should you care to read it.


Thumbing to Sugar Daddy Oberon )
shanmonster: (Dark)
Ok, I think this one is the most depressing of the bunch:

The Woman Who Married Her Son's Wife

Once there lived an old woman who desired her son's pretty young wife. This son was a hunter who often would be gone for many days at a time. Once, while he was gone, the old woman sat down and made herself a penis out of sealbone and skins. She fastened this penis to her waist and showed it to her daughter-in-law, who exclaimed: "How nice..." Then they slept together. Soon the old woman was going out to hunt in a big skin kayak, just like her son. And when she came back, she would take off her clothes and move her breasts up and down, saying: "Sleep with me, my dear little wife, sleep with me...."

It happened that the son returned from his hunting and saw his mother's seals lying in front of the house. "Whose seals are these?" he asked his wife.

"None of your business," she replied.

Being suspicious of her, he dug a hole behind their house and hid there. He figured that some hunter was claiming his wife in his absence. Soon, however, he saw his mother paddling home in her kayak with a big hooded seal. Mother and son never caught anything but big hooded seals. The old woman reached land and took off her clothes, then moved her breasts up and down, saying: "My sweet little wife, kindly delouse me...."

The son was not pleased by his mother's behaviour. He came out of hiding and struck the old woman so hard that he killed her. "Now," he said to his wife, "you must come away with me because our home place has a curse on it."

The wife began to quiver and shake all over. "You've killed my dear husband," she cried. And would not stop crying.
shanmonster: (Default)
I went employment exploring today. I had to take my record of employment to the employment office in order to apply for employment insurance. Here's hoping I qualify, because it will get me some much-needed cash until I can find another job. The employment office is on the 400 block on Weber Street, so I decided to go for a walk and find it.

After locating Weber Street without any difficulty, I checked the numbering order on the street. I was on the 100 block, and the numbers went up to my right. So off I trundled to the right. The blocks are quite large, and it took me twenty minutes to finish the 100, 200, and 300 blocks. And then they skipped from 300 to 500.

What? )
shanmonster: (Don't just sing it--bring it!)
Time for another Inuit folktale. This one has a happy ending!

Once there lived a man who had two wives. His name was Eqqorsuaq. And he was so jealous of these wives that he would keep them locked up in his hut. He would thrash them if they did not behave themselves. Or he would thrash anyone who happened to lay eyes on them. He killed a man named Angaguaq because rumour had it that Angaguaq had slept with one of the wives. Which he hadn't done. Eqqorsuaq was a somewhat mean-spirited person.

Finally the two women got a bit tired of their husband. They left him and fled along the coast until they were all worn out and hungry. When they could go no further, they saw the huge carcass of a whale washed up on the beach. They crawled in through the mouth and hid inside this carcass. The smell was foul, but better a foul smell than another thrashing.

Now Eqqorsuaq was in a furor. He searched high and low for his wives. He questioned everyone in the village and threatened not a few. But no one seemed to know about the missing women. At last the man paid a visit to the local witch doctor, who told him:

"You must look for a body of a big whale which is on the Skerry of the Heart-Shaped Mountain."

And so Eqqorsuaq set out for the Skerry of the Heart-Shaped Mountain. He sang old drum-songs all along the way, for he looked forward to the pleasure of thrashing his wives. At last he arrived at his destination and saw the big whale. But the stench was so awful he could get nowhere near it. He called out again and again for the women, yet there came no answer. Perhaps they were no longer here. Eqqorsuaq camped on the beach for three days and then went home, determined to thrash the witch doctor.

Meanwhile the two wives lived on inside the whale. They had grown so accustomed to the stench that it did not bother them. They had plenty of food to eat, however rotten, and a warm place to sleep. It is said they were very happy in their new home.

Old Age

Apr. 18th, 2006 09:56 pm
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
Yup. Time for another Inuit folktale.

There was a woman who was old, blind and likewise unable to walk. Once she asked her daughter for a drink of water. The daughter was so bored with her old mother that she gave her a bowl of her own piss. The old woman drank it all up, then said, "You're a nice one, daughter. Tell me--which would you prefer as a lover, a louse or a sea scorpion?"

"Oh, a sea scorpion," laughed the daughter, "because he would not be crushed so easily when I slept with him."

Whereupon the old woman proceeded to pull sea scorpions out of her vagina, one after another, until she fell over dead.
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
Yes, it's time for more Inuit folklore.

Once there was a big narwhal hunt to which everyone went but an old woman named Tuglik and her granddaughter Qujapik. The two of them were getting rather hungry, but they hadn't any idea of how to hunt for their food. Yet old Tuglik knew a few magical words, which she uttered during a trance. All of a sudden she changed into a man. She had a seal-bone for a penis and a chunk of mataq for testicles. Her vagina became a sledge. She said to her granddaughter:

"Now I can travel to the fjords and get some food for us."

The girl replied: "But what about dogs to pull your sledge?"

And so strong was the old woman's magic that she was able to create a team of dogs from her own lice. The dogs were barking and yelping and ready to go, so Tuglik cracked her whip and off she went with them to the fjords. Day after day she went off like this, and she would always return in the evening with some sort of game, even if it was only a ptarmigan or two. Once, while she was away hunting, a man came to their hut. He looked around and said:

"Whose harpoon is this, little girl?"

"Oh," said Qujapik, "it is only my grandmother's."

"And whose kayak is this?"

"Just my grandmother's."

"You seem to be pregnant. Who is your husband?"

"My grandmother is my husband."

"Well, I know someone who would make a better husband for you...."

Now the old woman returned home with a walrus thrown over her sledge. "Qujapik!" she called out. "Qujapik!" But there was no Qujapik at all. The girl had gathered up all her things and left the village with her new husband.

Tuglik saw no point in being a man any longer--man or woman, it's all the same when a person is alone. So she uttered her magic words and once again she was a wrinkled old hag with a vagina instead of a sledge.


Apr. 3rd, 2006 08:59 am
shanmonster: (Dance Monkey Dance!)
From [ profile] overheardnyc:

Old lady: Good lord, I thought maybe you'd fallen in the toilet again.
Old man: That wasn't my fault and you know it!
Old lady: That is the last time I ever clean the toilet seat and let you sit on it right after.
Old man: Can we just enjoy the show?

--Majestic Theatre, West 44th Street

And from The Virago Book of Fairy Tales comes another fun Inuit tale: )
shanmonster: (Don't just sing it--bring it!)
I'm reading Angela Carter's The Virago Book of Fairy Tales, and thought I'd share one of the shorter stories with you.


Sermerssuaq (Eskimo)

Sermerssuaq was so powerful that she could lift a kayak on the tips of three fingers. She could kill a seal merely by drumming on its head with her fists. She could rip asunder a fox or hare. Once she arm-wrestled with Qasordlanguaq, another powerful woman, and beat her so easily that she said: 'Poor Qasordlanguaq could not even beat one of her own lice at arm-wrestling.' Most men she could beat and then she would tell them: 'Where were you when the testicles were given out?' Sometimes this Sermerssuaq would show off her clitoris. It was so big that the skin of a fox would not fully cover it. Aja, and she was the mother of nine children, too!

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