why is every book that i read for class about masturbation
seriously this just happened back to back:
Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home: Although I did not allude to masturbation until I was sixteen, I began the assiduous practice of that activity soon after I got my first period. I didn’t know then that there was a word for the oddly gratifying motion of rocking back and forth in my chair as I drew at my desk…Nor did I know that there was a word for the inevitable result of this shifting about in my chair…the implosive spasm so staggeringly complete and perfect that for a few brief moments I could not question its inherent moral validity.
so then I hopped on over to the book for my other class and…
Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses: At night she took to walking out into the pampa and lying on her back to look at the galaxy above, and sometimes, under the influence of that bright flow of beauty, she would begin to tremble all over, to shudder with a deep delight, and to hum an unknown tune, and this star-music was as close as she came to joy.
IT’S EVERYWHERE.
