Screengrab by Various Today in Hooksexup's film blog: Scott publishes his new book, Zooey Deschanel, You Will Be Mine. Plus, the top ten biopics of all time!
Dating Advice From . . . Glassblowers by Ariana Green Q: How does your job affect your skill set in the bedroom? A: I work with beads, so I don't do much blowing. Working as a glassblower makes you immune to double entendres, by the way.
I thought about the woman with the carrot in her vagina. Did the cameraman adjust the carrot, moving it a little this way or the other, pushing or pulling? I wondered how these things could be orchestrated. I wondered if the woman had family, if she told her mother about the photograph, if she married the man who took it or perhaps had children with him. I wondered if the photographer might have been a woman. Would it be easier to have a woman moving your carrot a little further in, a little further out? I wondered about the hundreds of people who had seen this photograph since then. I thought about that woman with the carrot and her ability to bring a whole new generation of teenagers to orgasm. I wondered whether the red-haired boy who found the picture had masturbated using this image. If I also masturbated using it, would that mean that the red-haired boy and I could be lovers?
I saw the blue-tiled wall approaching. Half the race run. I kicked and my arms windmilled and I reached out for the tiles, felt them beneath my fingers, was about to turn and head for the finish line when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I bobbed to the surface, panting. One of the teachers was leaning into the pool and tapping my head. My tight wiry hair had spilled out from the neat plaits. There was a waterfall of hair in my eyes but I could see that there were no other swimmers in the pool. The others had finished. I was only half way through.
I gasped, found words, realised I was quite puffed. I had held my breath for quite a way. I always found it difficult to coordinate my breathing with the flailing of my arms.
I had just procured my first piece of pornography.
"I can finish," I gasped. It was only another hundred meters.
"They're waiting to start the next race. You can get out at this end. Better not hold the races up."
I nodded, ducked under the little colored floaties marking the lanes. I emerged from the pool in my one-piece and everyone was watching me. I knew that I should be embarrassed, but I wasn't. I sat with my towel and my school bag beside me and the photo of the woman with a carrot that I would sneak home and stash under my bed. I had just procured my first piece of pornography. There would be many more.
On the Story Bridge with my husband, I suddenly sat up, rigid in my seat. Twenty-six years later. We had been discussing the preparations for a dinner party — should I do the fish? Hadn't I done the fish for them once before?
"He was an amputee," I told him, suddenly. My husband looked at me, confused, and I told him about the arm in the vagina. "It must have been going around in my subconscious, all this time. Some part of my brain has been working on that conundrum since the day I saw it."
Girl Meets Toy by Janice Erlbaum
The virtual pet that embodied my breakup.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Krissy Kneen is a writer with an MA in creative writing. Krissy is one of the founding members of Eatbooks Inc, a micro-publisher, and has written and directed award-winning short films, broadcast documentaries and drama for SBS Television and the Austalian Broadcasting Corporation. Her memoir Affection – a Memoir of Sex, Love and Intimacy will be published by Text Publishing Australia in 2009.
, featuring curious yet marvelous infusions of cucumber and rose petal.
