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2004-06-16

William Hugh Kenner
B. 1.7.1923 Peterborough, Ontario / D. 11.24.2003 Athens, Georgia
Heart Ailments

Home at last, for that portion of Bloomsday which belongs to the female voice anyhow, I delay my bedtime despite my new reason to hasten it.
I have a Mini-Dream.
Tonight before dinner in the East Village, during that portion of Bloomsday which belonged to waterfront masturbation or lectures on Shakespeare, Iíve forgotten, I ventured next door into Toys in Babeland and bought my first sex toy (save a crude, barely-used Spencer Gifts gadget from college days). I paid with my debit card so my bank statement would have a line item reading ďToys in Babeland.Ē
Soft vinyl, lavender, with battery pack attached on a cordóitís hard to describe. A nubby part
This was all by way of celebrating the Bloomsday centennial. Every hundred years on June 16, Iíll buy a sex toy, I figure.
and then another part which I believe is modeled on a honey bear with its tongue sticking out.
After dinner I detoured with my sister through Park Slope, during that portion of Bloomsday which belongs to lemon soap singing in whorehouses; I rented videos. After posting this entry, I think Iíll watch Japanese Story with Toni Collette.
Both parts vibrate. Itís small. I was a little overwhelmed by the selection and may have been drawn to this one by the animal motif. Animals comfort me.
Took the F train to the aquarium and walked back to Brighton Beach along the boardwalk, passing in motion that portion of Bloomsday which properly belongs to drunken reeling home towards kitchen tea.
Even though I am deeply repressed, I worked up the nerve to ask whether the Mini-Dream came with a diagram. The young sales assistant, a graduate student I learned, was kind enough to explain it to me. Itís odd-looking, I tell you.
Itís taking longer to write this than Iíd imagined it would when I started, and then Iíve got the movie to get through.
Thirty-some dollars, plus two more for two double-A batteries.
Still in its wrappings, inside a box, inside a bag folded up inside another bag, my Mini-Dream slumbers. On the cusp of that portion of Bloomsday when I ought to be crying out affirmations
I pluck another figure from the rug, and call down, ďNot yet!Ē

Consolation Site: Modest rather than prudish

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