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easy and beautiful !

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Gaudeamus Igitur

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Sunday
Feb212010

The Stuff of Males

Hey Sarah,
 
It's blazoned all over your forehead. Don't be so coy. So it was just a ride home from them. Let's just say that there was an 'element of mutual attraction' and see where it goes from here. Father and son in our writing class!  Could be a good thing! Wow, Markie and Eddy. 

I never found the male body overly attractive in my youth. Probably because of the fact that I was a virgin and without any hands on experience I had no idea what I was missing (a whole wasted decade – at least!) I once glanced at a Polaroid print lying on a ledge in the subway (I was still unmarried then), turned it over out of curiosity and nearly gagged at the image of a lumpy, pasty-white body of a male (from the neck down) with his semi erect penis, the poser most likely being the brunt of some sick joke. But then I read books like Lady Chatterley’s Lover and Desmond Morris' Naked Ape. I shed my virginal skin and like an iguana, my colours changed (not that the Polaroid seemed any more attractive). I even went after a priest (Francis, my university accomplishment). Oh, the confusion of the young. These days they are fairly open about everything: straight, lesbian, gay and bi. It's all OK. What planet were we on?

 I wouldn't mind seeing An Education. The film reminds me of a scandalous affair I recall from my first teaching years at St. Hildegarde's. One of the more brilliant and beautiful students had this long drawn out relationship with the school's choir director, a (still) well known, now silver haired Canadian composer. There they'd be at morning chapel, the sleeves of their black gowns flapping away, he at the organ - she in the choir stalls, their little secret well sealed between them ... Gaudeamus Igitur. By the time I taught her daughter she was on her third divorce, this one from an American tenor, she and her children left in dire straits. Funny how they still went to St. Hildegarde's ... tradition must be everything to some. 

I truly wonder about Candy sometimes. Leafing through her music notebook my eyes fell on these very adult words: "Every time I leave I want to die. I want to hold your hand." She says she's been writing poetry like that since she was little. She's in Gr.3. Rewarding her with the usual stickers for her good lesson, I realized I only had some fish left and commented that my stock was low and that these weren't really great. "You must be a fat fish hater" she quipped. "But a giant whale is kind of interesting!"

The earliest I can make it tomorrow is 6:45. OK. In the restaurant. 

Adria 

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