Showing posts with label erica jong. Show all posts
Showing posts with label erica jong. Show all posts

Monday, July 11, 2011

But Erica Jong, We're Raunchy, Too! The Young Feminists Cry

Yesterday I was thrilled to see an op-ed in the NY Times by Erica Jong, one of my favorite authors, poets, and sex-pots.

My thrill lasted for about 15 seconds.

In "Is Sex Passé?" Ms. Jong begins:

What could be more eternal than sexuality? The fog of longing, the obsession with the loved one’s voice, smell, touch. Sex is discombobulating and distracting, it makes you immune to money, politics and family. And sometimes I think the younger generation wants to give it up.

People always ask me what happened to sex since “Fear of Flying.” While editing an anthology of women’s sexual writing called “Sugar in My Bowl” last year, I was fascinated to see, among younger women, a nostalgia for ’50s-era attitudes toward sexuality. The older writers in my anthology are raunchier than the younger writers. The younger writers are obsessed with motherhood and monogamy.

Umm, what? What younger women are you hanging out with, Erica? (Can I call you Erica?) Even trying to imagine having a "nostalgia for '50s-era attitudes toward sexuality" makes me feel a little nauseated. I think I can say, with complete certainty, that not one woman in my circle of friends would share that sentiment.

But, I told myself, this is Erica Jong, visionary behind the "zipless fuck"—read Fear of Flying if you don't know what I'm referring to, for chrissakes!—so I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. Undoubtedly plenty of younger writers (along with a large group of older writers, I'll wager) are "obsessed with motherhood and monogamy." Sure. Wait, though: since when are motherhood and monogamy mutually exclusive? Jong herself is an obvious example that they're not. Yet even if these young writers are "obsessed" with motherhood and monogamy, how does that equate a disinterest in sexual passion, or let's get real, even a raunchy attitude toward sex? Aren't monogamous mothers capable of "discombobulating and distracting" sex?

C'mon now! Where is this all going?

While I do have to agree that “Daughters always want to be different from their mothers,” holds an element of truth, when Jong goes on to say, “If their mothers discovered free sex, then they want to rediscover monogamy,” she’s overlooking a huge factor. Not all of our mothers “discovered free sex”! And honestly, even if they did, that might not be an aspect that any of us witnessed about our mothers. Sure, I know my mother had some single years, but during my lifetime, she was a happily married woman. She was also open to talking to me about sex. I guess my point is, it’s not always so black and white. Not always one extreme or the other. Just because Jong was part of the “free sex” movement, I don’t think we can claim that all young women have mothers who were. Plenty of the young women today who yearn for married with children bliss have happily married mothers as role models.

Jong continues to make claims throughout the piece that I find disappointing and even confusing, such as when she discusses how the Internet offers “simulated sex without intimacy, without identity and without fear of infection”—okay, so what? Does she think that in between our daydreams of wearing a “man-distancing sling” and breast-feeding “at all hours so your mate knows your breasts don’t belong to him” we are all getting off to Internet porn? It's not entirely clear, as she uses vague language about "Internet sex" that makes me nervous that she's never, in fact, used the Internet. “Clearly the lure of Internet sex is the lack of involvement. We want to keep the chaos of sex trapped in a device we think we can control,” she writes.

I would argue that the “lure of Internet sex” (if that's what we're calling it) is indeed about control, but not necessarily as a means to avoid the “chaos” of actual sex. Without getting into the dreaded Feminism and Pornography argument (pleasegoddon’tbringmeintothat), I think it’s worth noting that, perhaps young women (and men) are going to the Internet to find sexual pleasure when they don’t have a partner. I mean, DUH. Of course it’s about control! Controlling your orgasms. Does that mean our generation doesn’t care about sex?

No. It just means we have more options.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Poetry Slam Tuesdays: Erica Jong, Again

I know, I know, I feature Erica Jong and Bukowski poems all the damn time. But I can't help it.

This is why:

Woman Enough
by Erica Jong

Because my grandmother's hours
were apple cakes baking,
& dust motes gathering,
& linens yellowing
& seams and hems
inevitably unraveling
I almost never keep house
though really I like houses
& wish I had a clean one.

Because my mother's minutes
were sucked into the roar
of the vacuum cleaner,
because she waltzed with the washer-dryer
& tore her hair waiting for repairmen
I send out my laundry,
& live in a dusty house,
though really I like clean houses
as well as anyone.

I am woman enough
to love the kneading of bread
as much as the feel
of typewriter keys
under my fingers
springy, springy.
& the smell of clean laundry
& simmering soup
are almost as dear to me
as the smell of paper and ink.

I wish there were not a choice;
I wish I could be two women.
I wish the days could be longer.
But they are short.
So I write while
the dust piles up.

I sit at my typewriter
remembering my grandmother
& all my mothers,
& the minutes they lost
loving houses better than themselves
& the man I love cleans up the kitchen
grumbling only a little
because he knows
that after all these centuries
it is easier for him
than for me.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Poetry Slam Tuesdays: We Have Said No Enough

Since today on the way to the mall (yes, the mall, I said that), I said to Lauren, "I am Erica Jong," it seems only fitting to feature her for today's slam. Enjoy.
You Hate the Telephone
from Ordinary Miracles, by Erica Jong

You hate the telephone
but will not see me
face to face
so I am left
beseeching you
long-distance,
trying to thread our love
along the telephone poles
of Vermont,
trying to tunnel it
under the Atlantic
as if it were
a rare fossil
I'd unearthed,
or an offshore pipe
bearing precious oil.

But it is your face
I love,
your funny grin
that now seems
cruel around the edges.
You do not wish to be
cruel—you,
the kindest person in the world,
but driven to curious
rages
when you feel
pressured, frustrated,
saddled with
an albatross of love
like an ancient
mariner
who tells his same sad story
to the wedding guests.

The telephone will not
suffice.
Coleridge would have
loathed it,
& so would his
mariner.
It is our modern
Person from Porlock,
interrupting poems,
interrupting loves
& forever
keeping us at arm's length.

I would look you in the eye
again, saying yes, yes, yes—
we have said no enough,
for the rest
of many lifetimes.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Writing, Slacking Off, and Erica Jong

What a slacker. I haven’t posted in over a week. Which also means I haven’t written anything, not one word, for over a week. I should be embarrassed when my friends introduce me to people as a writer. Yeah, a writer who not only isn’t getting published, isn’t actually writing anything.

But I have been reading. That, I can’t stop, even amidst my extreme laziness and pessimism about my “career.” So last week, after loaning Fear of Flying to a friend and talking about Erica Jong to anyone who will pretend to even halfway listen, I started rereading Ordinary Miracles, my favorite collection of hers.

It feels almost masturbatory that I like Erica Jong so much, because reading her writing is rather like listening to my own brain. It scares me. But she’s much braver with her writing than I could ever be. Basically, she’s my literary hero.

But nevermind that. I think I read this poem six times yesterday:

"What You Need to Be a Writer"

After the college
reading,
the eager
students gather.

They ask me
what you need
to be a writer

& I, feeling flippant,
jaunty
(because
I am wearing
an 18th century
dress
& think
myself in love
again),
answer:

“Mazel,
determination,
talent,
& true grit.”

I even
believe it—

looking
as I do
like an
advertisement
for easy
success—

designer dress,
sly smile
on my lips
& silver boots
from
Oz.

Suppose
they saw me
my eyes
swollen
like sponges,
my hand
shaking
with betrayal,

my fear
rampant
in the dark?

Suppose they saw
the fear
of never
writing,
the fear
of being
alone,
the money fear,
the fear fear,
the fear
of succumbing
to fear?

& then
there’s all
I did
not say:

to be
a writer
what you need
is

something
to say:

something
that burns
like a hot coal
in your gut

something
that pounds
like a pump
in your groin

& the courage
to live
like a wound

that never
heals.

Good inspiration for my lazy ass. So, long story short, sorry about my temporary leave of absence from blogging. After finishing my internship last week, minus the job offer I’d been setting myself up for the last three months, my ambition, ego, and optimism was pretty much shot to hell.

Hmm. That actually should have given me even more inspiration to write. Unfortunately it pretty much only gave me the inspiration to lie in my bed watching Netflix and eating Thai food.

I have high hopes for this week.

Monday’s job search tally:

Job applications sent today: 1
Replies from previous applications: 0

We’ll see how the rest of the night goes.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Two Interviews, Two Kick Ass Female Artists

This probably warrants two separate posts so I can ramble on about each woman’s individual awesomeness, but, alas, I must go don a black apron and try to look cheery while delivering beer and burgers, so I don’t have time.

Time
interviewed Erica Jong last week. She has a new poetry collection out—will someone buy this for me, please? —and without even reading it, I recommend it. I recently snagged her poetry collection “Ordinary Miracles” at Myopic and immediately read it cover-to-cover. She’s a genius.

Next up is the NY Times article “Wild Thing” about Neko Case. Her new album, “Middle Cyclone” comes out next month. Paste also had a great cover story on her this month. I’d link to the site, but it’s fucking terrible, so do yourself a favor and just go buy the magazine, because it’s fucking terrific.

I can’t believe I was two tables away from Neko at Kuma’s Corner this summer and didn’t take the opportunity to swoon all over her. But I did stare at her a lot while whispering, “I think that’s Neko Case! That’s Neko Case!”

But can you see why I might be intimidated?