Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

I will buy you a new life.

I have a lot of bad thoughts right now and it's hard not to say them. I got to the end of that sentence and my fingers paused on the keys: the physical realization of not being able to express unspeakable things.

So I'll just talk drivel. The first thought in my head. "I will buy you a new life." I love that idea. It's the most basic spinal concept of Subtleties, if that wasn't obvious. I quoted the song in the story, wrongly, but never went back and corrected it because it seemed fine for Xander to get the song wrong too. They say it's the Cinderella Complex when you want someone to come and take you away, rescue you, give you a new life, and of course in reality marrying doesn't guarantee you'll suddenly become a fulfilled and happy wife-person. Marrying money isn't a guarantee either. But slash is all about rescue and romantic fulfillment, I've noticed. Except when it isn't, but you've got to make sweeping statements or civilization will collapse.

I think when I build romances of slavery I'm really talking about marriage. Except that "marriage" is the antithesis of erotic to me, so I need a radically different approach to it. Marriage is my parents. I wonder what my mental template would be, though, if I'd grown up taking gay marriage for granted as a kind of social, emotional model. I might still find it mundane. I mean, clearly I have a certain leaning toward the dark side when I find slave scenarios to be the ultimate in schmoop. Not all, but some. The ones that exist in my own private headroom. Headroom, bedroom. Dungeon of the brain. A private cell, bed and bored. My own private Idaho--I maybe need to rewatch that, because I forget what it means. And id-a-ho. An odd word when you break it down.

I ramble. And I'm not drunk, I only kind of wish I was. But thank god I've killed seventeen minutes. Minutes are cockroaches, you kill them and they go on and on, an army, an endless scuttling that will outlive you.

Unrelated link of the day.
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