the intergalactic space traveler's return

(este cuento en español)


Jumping back into the ring after five years of marital fidelity is akin to an astronaut’s re-entry after a long, arduous intergalactic mission: the blue planet is coming up fast, and as I punch in the landing sequence and pray that ground control hasn’t lost my coordinates I worry about my fate in a world grown unfamiliar in my absence and in which, hampered by a now quaint skill set, I'll inevitably be quarantined into geekdom.


My first discovery is that my knowledge of the boy-beastie is far from obsolete, because evolution has been a non-issue in the light years that I’ve been away. Case in point, the friend who hits on me four days into my separation, ergo while I’m still on the ground visibly hemorrhaging from multiple and aggravated wounds. I explain that look I’m really not up for this I hope you understand etcetera. He replies somewhat huffily what do you take me for, besides I’m madly in love with so-and-so and anyway I consider you a friend repeat friend stop and drops out of sight.


Anyway: What is a man…what’s a kiss…what’s sex? I wonder as, much like an amputee feeling her missing limb, I become aware of a blank, curious gap: something essential has been taken away, and while it doesn’t hurt, its absence, I know, makes me a cripple. Don’t worry, you’ll snap out of it. You just have to give it time my friends tell me kindly, in the tone people use to recommend chicken soup for a lingering cold. I nod, faking agreement, then run home to check my intergalactic space travel instruction manual anyway. God forbid I missed some key point in the landing sequence or, worse, an entire section titled MIND THE GAP. But all it says is: thinking is pointless, dancing essential. Like what I need right now is a freaking fortune cookie,


like I have a choice. Cut to 5am, my favorite nightclub and the stranger who lives by the motto my heart belongs to my girlfriend, but my body belongs to me. Since here I am floating in a tin can, convinced that my circuits must be dead, at first I overlook the signal coming in loud and clear that THIS IS GROUND CONTROL. He’s locked on to my ship, and he’s bringing me in. He's hot, he’s articulate, he gets me, I get a thrill, yes, cab, home:


as I step gingerly over the threshold with another man I’m fully expecting the earth to open up under my feet but the dreaded crossing is smooth, flawless, delightful, for ground control with his verve and grace, movie-star looks and wicked rock 'n roll hair, deep sexy kisses and whipsmart banter, has unquestionably been designed to spec and flown in from Paris exclusively for me, solely to be deployed at this precise moment and no other. con't.



17 comments:

elastichica said...

even better in anglais.
...this is ground control to major Girl, you're steeping through the door, and you're floating in the most peculiar way...

girlontape said...

thanks stretchygirl! it needs some fine tuning but now i really like this one too :)

4 wall existence said...

del idm link q te mandé--bajate von südenfed & mgmt-oracular spectacular, geniales los 2-- don't feel i'm stalking u, i'm confined to my room for what it feels gonna be aeons, that's how we livin'

Martín Ludwig said...

¿Cómo anda, Queen? Hace tiempo que no la veo. Tenemos que remediar eso.

Jirafas said...

ingles y castellano, genial historia.
tal vez deba ser porque en este momento estoy escuchando zappa, y entonces el recuerdo se catapulte de manera directa, pero lo cierto fue que terminé de leer y pensé que de algún modo, todos nosotros -the guys-, llevamos adentro un bobby brown.

besos

fede

girlontape said...

un bobby brown en que sentido fede?

girlontape said...

herr ludwig hace rato que usted desobedece las ordenes, a ver como se rescata

4 walls I'm digging this track http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oufd0bP2SLk&feature=related
stayin alive: my favorite song everrrrrr

Martín Ludwig said...

!¿Qué órdenes?!

(Éste debe ser el problema, jamás las recibí.)

girlontape said...

hmmmm....

4 enclosed walls said...

In reference to what Jirafas says "all of us guys carry a bobby brown inside of us" --does he mean there's a fudge-packer, a turd-burglar, a paftah-pooftah inside of all of us men? Not that I feel I'm obliged to assert my manhood, but I disagree. Not to be curt to someone I don't know, but speak for yourself, darling. & I say that most respectfully. Which in a way brings me to a different POV of your story. When you talk about 'an amputee feeling out her missing limb' and 'not that I was in pain' (I'm paraphrasing), you touch upon one of the basic differences/similarities between the genders. Men (I) don't have the luxury of safely pondering "What is a woman, a kiss, a fuck?" We just don't. I do feel pain. To the point where something takes over and off we go, ready for anything, to stoop to the lowest depths if we have to, to quench that thirst. And it's so blinding that it'll turn us into every archetype women use to make fun of us: Neardenthals, idiots, blabbering baboons, the whole lot of it. We gotta have it. So do you girls too. It's not a gender issue then, I say as I'm talking to myself. Seems more like timing, lust ratio and a emotional-priority issue. I could go on, but I'd rather just talk about music. The link u sent me, the 2 songs kick ass but I'm not a big fan of mash-ups. In da club brings a lot of fond memories, I actually wrote a story around it, but u know what? this has gotten way more long-winded than I intended. Product of 8 days and climbing of compulsory hybernation. Hence the commentator's name, lifted from a PIL song which I most duly recommend.

girlontape said...

Dude, I actually don't know what he meant by bobby brown - gayness was not one of the implications that came to mind.
I'm pro lust & sex...of course; my POV is that while I cherish my womanhood, seems like every boy-beastie I come across, AT SOME POINT, feels the urge to crush me with some form of ego-crap (the losing-face issue).
Which is where, like Rodney King, I wonder...can't we all...just...get along? The answer is mostly, so far, no.
I'm talking about falta de codigo: I ain't nobody's mommy-nurse-mother confessor...I just wanna get laid like everybody else, and come away feeling like I can respect the guy in the morning...

55yd=50.3m said...

uh... digressing a bit, i don't know if it's ur thing but if u go to
http://dl.nin.com/theslip/signup
type in your email address & they send u the link to dld the last NIN cd 'the slip'. hey, it's free, whatever

girlontape said...

thanks! signing up as we speak...trent is my copilot :)

55yd=50.3m said...

cool-it's actually better than i'd thought

girlontape said...

downloading....

girlontape said...

all I know is...trent, I need your discipline

55yds of still encroachin' walls til i step out said...

haha! not too shabby, huh?