I haven’t yet shared the bit of writing that started me off on my Under Water City journey.. so here it is! As usual, my life moves are sparked from something I wrote in a wrinkly notebook on a cafe table or on my couch in yesterday’s stretchypants. A warning, there’s a bit of sexy content in it, so if you’re averse to sexy talk of the homosensual kind avert your senses;) Also if you’re a family member. In other words, Mum, don’t read this. If not, read onnnn!
Sometimes i wish the city was under water
so i could put on my goggles, see everything kind of foggy, and swim around.
I kind of see things better from a distance anyway, with something between me and the thing I’m looking at.
I would swim, float up to doorsteps, flutter my ways through windows, wouldn’t have to worry about opening taps or bottles or jars because there’d be liquid all around. And plus they would rust off if I did need to open them anyway.
God I think the best times I ever feel are when I’m making love really good and someone is licking my pussy, her tongue a little bit inside, and grabbing my hip flesh and I’m moaning and she’s smiling… or when i’m in the pool.
Concrete’s so harsh and inflexible and uncaring. Concrete would never grab my hip flesh or caress my entire body, like lovers and water do, licking, undulating on the hip part just above the bottom half of my stretched out, pseudo bikini, holding me, resisting a universal law – of physics – to make sure I don’t fall. Water breaks laws for me. Concrete doesn’t care if i fall.
And when I do, because I inevitably do, concrete makes sure there’s dirt there where the skin opens.
Water doesn’t care about borders, laughing between nets and over the sides of dams.
So there i’d be, floating up the sides of buildings, who needs elevators when you can do the frog kick up? I’d backstroke over to Steph’s house any time I wanted, I’d laugh looking down at all the bottom feeders still trying to walk in the lines on the streets at the bottom of the city. Stupid bottom feeders, don’t you know you can swim around? Don’t you know how to swim? Swim faster bottom feeders, sucks that your hands aren’t a little webbed like one of mine. Sucks that you didn’t spend all that time in the pool learning how to move as a kid, and at physio instead of learning how to drive and running on the sidewalk to keep slim and fit and show off your asses to the neighbourhood.
But that’s the concrete talking.
I never think negatively when I’m in the water. I never curse or scowl at someone just for a reaction. I stare up, lining my laps with the lines in the ceiling, meditating on the rhythm of my breathing, meditating on the feeling of my muscles contracting without hurting me, meditating on what I want for dinner.