Category: Storytelling

  • LE Fiction, Andreia Rosanova

    LE Fiction, Andreia Rosanova

    Eva’s Garden

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  • New Calls: Sexual Congruency, Dreams and Demons

    “Censor the body and you censor breath and speech at the same time. Write yourself. Your body must be heard.”
    — Hélène Cixous, The Laugh of the Medusa

    Go to our Submissions platform.You’ll find descriptions of our current publication interests on Limit Experience Magazine’s Duosuma page.

    Today, we opened

    Sexual Congruency and the Wilds Within. Read the topic parameters and get the closing date here.

    Dreams and Demons. Get details here.

  • LE FICTION, Andrew Parkinson

    LE FICTION, Andrew Parkinson

    BIO:

  • LEM Conversations, Andreia Rodrigues

    LEM Conversations, Andreia Rodrigues

    Rodriguez features  the cultural anomaly of a sexually vibrant aging female figure not as a fading or invisible victim but as someone armed with the courage to be seen by the male gaze on her own terms. She does this through inner curiosity and psychological awareness.

    Because the power to transgress the female sexual ceiling is picking up speed for women in the 21st-century, we wanted to look back at where erotica found its origins and how the ascension of digital media and its relationship to time, the instantaneous in particular, allows  this platform to explore its ability the deliver an up-leveling of conscious aging.

    The idea of a erotics seems to go back to Socrates and the claim that “ta erotika” was his only area of expertise. Since the Greek sense of poetics around love, Eros, parallels the focus on philiosoohical process of “erotan”, to ask a question shares the same root as love itself.  Perhaps to love is made possible through questioning. Certainty, then,  may divide the emotional aspects of the erotic by its proximity to fragility. 

    As Power dissolves in the moment you reach for it, surrender is at the center of erotica itself. To contextualize the erotic is akin to love, an imperative that clarifies the confused hyper-state of arousal; its boundaries in media bookended by the performative and goal driven pornographic tone and the continuum of pleasure in its expression of love, self, other, erotica which informs the chasm between love and power.

    Eva’s Garden works as a metaphorical  exploration of  the space between this libidinal quandary.  Eva allows herself to expand between each  edge through her acceptance of her corporeal reality, being in the last third of her life. Time itself becomes the biological imperative creating tension with the Self’s sense of want. What lives beyond that impetus toward wholeness and the cultural language that dilutes the power of the aging female form is the body’s effort to ceases responding to nature’s reproductive imperative. Freedom to restructure itself neurally opens up with nature now in the back seat instead of being the decision maker.

    In the world of the garden, Eva shifts with the neural changes the hormonal wave of maturity carves out as a woman goes through different stages of life transformation. A symbolic mapping of Aphrodite’s trials put before her daughter, Psyche, similarly require Herculean aspiration to meet and conquer, to reinterpret the wisdom of an experience-informed psychology of the masculine gaze that is alchemically of service to the libido.

    As a result, Eva emerges into a seasoned understanding of her desire. Like Psyche, Eva gives birth to Pleasure, new life unadulterated by the tirade of patriarchal dynamism. Through Rodrigues’ development of a pathway to her future self, womanhood in the last third of life may be a little less sexually fettered.

    Praia Grande from my Balcony.

    “…I wasn’t just telling a story; I was feeding my infinite solitude.” – A.R.

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  • Flaneur with Us: Bios

    Flaneur with Us: Bios

    Urubamba Mountain Range
    From My Balcony, Buenos Aires

    The Strange Hotel, Buenos Aires

    AGELESS SEXUALITY SERIES

  • BECOME A MEMBER

    BECOME A MEMBER

    Writing in my garden in Peru, I switched to paper and pen out of necessity; my laptop was "liberated" from me at a coffee shop on the coast of Lima.

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  • LE Fiction, Robert Pope

    LE Fiction, Robert Pope

  • LE Poetry, Christie Chandler-Stahl

    LE Poetry, Christie Chandler-Stahl

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  • Under Love’s Influence

    Under Love’s Influence

    MARA ROSE, 30s

    JOSHUA, her husband, 30s

    CHORUS 1 and CHORUS 2: Any age or gender. 

    Setting: An empty stage, populated only by the actors. 

    The dialogue takes place in MARA ROSE’s mind.  When writing to JOSHUA, she speaks directly to the audience. The shifts in time can be depicted by changes in light, or just the actors’ body language. The CHORUS can speak from a distance or more closely interact with MARA ROSE and JOSHUA, to the director’s discretion. The pace should be quick, the dialogue at times overlapping with only a few significant pauses.

    MARA ROSE: To my nearby darling: Today is the first Valentine’s Day since we met…wherein we’ll not be in each other’s arms. 

    JOSHUA: When you’re away, please write to me. Letters from my Valentine will speed my heart, and warm me.

    MARA ROSE: Words drawn on paper are too remote, not real the way your touch is. I need your body beside mine!

    JOSHUA: Wrong. You need nothing, outside yourself.

    MARA ROSE: Perhaps, maybe not. I’ll miss you till I ache.

    JOSHUA: I feel the same, my love. Aches heal. You’ll heal.

    CHORUS 1: Heal.

    CHORUS 2: Ache.

    MARA ROSE: This place—

    CHORUS 1 and CHORUS 2: St. Vincent’s Rehabilitation Facility.

    MARA ROSE: This place is so pretty.  On the outside, at least. But still I grind my teeth with my fellow inmates.

    CHORUS 1: What a miserable vacation this is!

    CHORUS 2: I need a drink!

    CHORUS 1: Miserable!

    CHORUS 2: Drink!

    JOSHUA: It’s not so bad, my Darling Mara Rose. You’ll see. The days will fly by.

    CHORUS 1 and CHORUS 2: Ha!

    CHORUS 1: Does he not know how long a dry day lasts?

    CHORUS 2: Tick. Eternity. Tock.

    JOSHUA: There must be at least three heated pools here.

    MARA ROSE: Good. Maybe if I drink enough chlorinated water, I’ll black out till my time is done.

    JOSHUA: Don’t joke about that!

    MARA ROSE: At least my humor’s dry.

    CHORUS 1: Black humor. 

    CHORUS 2: Bitter ale.

    JOSHUA: Yes, Honey. That’s the “spirit.”

    MARA ROSE: Sorry, I don’t mean to “wine.”

    JOSHUA: I could trade sober barbs with you all day.

    MARA ROSE: I could try, I mean I could give it a “shot.”

    JOSHUA: Which brings us here.

    MARA ROSE: Which brings ME here. You’re free to go, no addiction binds you to this place.  Or anywhere. You’re truly free.

    JOSHUA: But I’m here with you, even as I leave.

    CHORUS 1: Leave.

    CHORUS 2: Here.

    MARA ROSE: Oh god. Will you become possessive of my illness? Will you smell my breath with eyebrow raised, disguise it as a kiss? Will you measure how much juice I drink, worried it’s whetting my appetite, a chaser to something stiff? Will it become “our” alcoholism?

    JOSHUA: Don’t be absurd. Although of course what’s yours is also mine. Sickness. Health.

    MARA ROSE: I would have spared you…this. All this.

    JOSHUA: You’re getting the help that you need. As such, you’re helping me.

    CHORUS 1: Help.

    CHORUS 2: Me.

    MARA ROSE: I promise to no longer mistreat your wife.

    JOSHUA: My lovely wife. My perpetual Valentine.

    CHORUS 2: To pour much liquor down her throat, and numb her till she feels nothing, rapidly approaching nothing herself.

    CHORUS 1: (Moving hands together until a dramatic clap) Closer closer closer closer CLOSER CLOSER (CLAP)!

    CHORUS 2: In time we go from live to dead, no abstract between the two. You know this, you can’t blur it, and so you close your eyes.

    MARA ROSE: Eyes closed, I move—gratefully—toward that which I fear. And to the abyss beyond it.

    CHORUS 1: Death hardly frightens you then.

    CHORUS 2: Not quite. It just seems less real.

    MARA ROSE: With every drink, I’m closer to forgetting irrefutable, depressing facts. For a moment, I feel less mortal, less made of meat that’s doomed to decay, when my mind is enhanced by chemical madness. Immortal truths of light and air unravel in my consciousness…at cost to my liver. The false disconnect between brain and body kills me slowly.

    JOSHUA: Last week, it damn near killed you fast. Live awhile yet, my love. The future’s bland without you in it.

    MARA ROSE: Well…For you, I suppose I could be swayed. To stay—in this constructive castle.

    CHORUS 1: Bland. No booze.

    CHORUS 2: My teeth grind.

    JOSHUA: (Hugging her) They’ll let me visit you soon. We’ll walk the hospital grounds together, grounds that soon may feel hospitable. If your teeth still grind, I’ll kiss you anyway.

    CHORUS 2: Did you imagine this would come to pass—

    CHORUS 1:  —when you placed gold upon her hand?

    CHORUS 2: Remember what you said that day.

    CHORUS 1: Recall your wedding vow!

    JOSHUA: (Reciting his wedding vows) The future cannot be seen, nor determined, by any fixed point of the present. I am humble regarding that which I cannot know. And yet, I know myself, and you, well enough to face no doubt: I’ll always love you, Mara Rose. Whoever you become.

    MARA ROSE: What did I say, then? I forget, though for once I hadn’t dulled my sense with drink. 

    CHORUS 2: Drink. Drink. Drink!

    CHORUS 1: The external toxin that’s practically part of you. 

    MARA ROSE: I was drunk off a different chemical, though. That which comes from nature, unmade my man.

    CHORUS 1 and CHORUS 2: (confused) …Weed?

    MARA ROSE: Adrenaline! 

    JOSHUA: And you know you’ll get more of that natural high, starting now. Alcohol does not exist outside regular physics: Whatever we suppress comes back in kind. All displacement eventually compensates itself. Your mind, my love, will do for you what you have done for it: Intoxicate to ecstasy. Soon you’ll have moments of euphoria…and be able to relive each one. 

    MARA ROSE: Relive moments. Yes. My wedding. I must have vowed before man and god: All of me is in love with you. On a subatomic level, that which can’t be broken down—I AM my love for you. My Joshua.

    JOSHUA:  Yup. That’s what you said, to effect. I’m still not sure about that metaphor, but I like the sentiment. 

    MARA ROSE: (Back to her letter) It’s that emotion, that intellectual knowledge of emotion, I’ll use to stay well. My bones are dry, and they love you.

    JOSHUA: I can imagine you without a glass in your hand. 

    (flashback to the time they met. MARA ROSE is drinking. JOSHUA is not.)

    MARA ROSE: Hi!

    JOSHUA: Oh, hey!

    MARA ROSE: You’re not drinking.

    JOSHUA: I don’t drink. It’s not my thing.

    MARA ROSE: Then how do you make a fool of yourself?

    JOSHUA: With surprising ease.

    MARA ROSE: How will I convince you to dance if you’re not drinking?

    JOSHUA: …You want to dance with me?

    MARA ROSE: Sure. Or I could just have you dance for my amusement, judging all smug from the sides. “Faster puppet! More rhythmic!”

    CHORUS 1: Hey Mara Rose! You look stupid!

    CHORUS 2: You should drink more! 

    CHORUS 1: That’ll make her look even stupider.

    CHORUS 2: Yes, but she won’t care as much. Faster, puppet!

    CHORUS 1: More rhythmic!

    MARA ROSE: I’d never do that to you. I’m not a bossy, nasty drunk.

    JOSHUA: Well you definitely don’t seem nasty. Or drunk.

    MARA ROSE: Give me an hour.

    JOSHUA: An hour?

    CHORUS 1 and CHORUS 2: Yeah right!

    MARA ROSE: I hold my liquor well.

    CHORUS 2: For now.

    JOSHUA: Lucky liquor. I’m Joshua.

    MARA ROSE: Mara Rose. And don’t worry, I’m really not going to insist that you dance.

    JOSHUA: (Disappointed) Oh.

    MARA ROSE: I’d rather just sit with you and engage in conversation.

    JOSHUA: (excited) Sounds great!

    (Time shift, to the present)

    MARA ROSE: How strange. I didn’t get wasted that night.

    CHORUS 1: Wasted. 

    CHORUS 2: Night.

    JOSHUA: I must have been sufficiently charming on my own merits.

    CHORUS 1: Did you just pontificate on how you wish you were less cerebral? 

    CHORUS 2: Kill metaphysics with itself?

    MARA ROSE: (quickly, dismissively) Whatever, I guess. (beat) But it’s not only that.

    I drink because I am…an alcoholic. The tautology is brutal, elegant in its simplicity. Red wine is called that because it looks red. Drunks are called drunks because they’re drunk. There’s no mystery, no underlying cause to the phenomenon. That is: I’m an alcoholic. No why, only what.

    JOSHUA: I almost lost you. I didn’t.

    MARA ROSE: Am I a good gambler, because I won?

    JOSHUA: There’s no such thing as a good gambler. 

    CHORUS 1: Chance eventually makes you its bitch.

    CHORUS 2: What a tasty gun is booze, loaded in your hand, brought to your tongue. Dragging you to heaven. 

    CHORUS 1: Be careful not to mix metaphors. Metaphors aren’t drinks!

    CHORUS 2: At least I’m not slurring my words. 

    MARA ROSE: (Interrupting CHORUS 1) I would feel dazzling. The eyes of my friends reflected my buzz as we shared wine and laughter. I was so funny, everything danced…and in the morning we remembered little. Sunlight can’t recall the magic dark. Before the blackout is the darkening.

    JOSHUA: None of that matters; you require no veneer. I only see one of you, and you’re no less beautiful for that. You’re still whole.

    MARA ROSE: Your love’s my favorite elixir. Great high, no headache! 

    JOSHUA: I do what I can. 

    MARA ROSE: Well, so does everyone, you just do it better. I worry, though. We’re beautifully in love. According to the classics, shouldn’t one of us die soon? And seeing as I’m the one with the disease….

    JOSHUA: Shut up. Get that out of your head. Don’t even think of hurting me that way. That’s not romance, that’s melodrama. Suck it up and stay awhile.

    MARA ROSE: Until the world spins one time too many, and we’re no longer on it.

    JOSHUA: But how many spins, how many rotations, have we until that dread time comes? How many nights of your sleeping head by mine? How much bread will we break for each other? Our flesh will be solid until it is naught. For all purposes, we have eternity to touch.

    MARA ROSE: Oh god, it should be enough! And yet…I’m afraid. Of a future with no more liquid hope—A bottle held fast in the same space I breathe.

    CHORUS 2: Breathe.

    CHORUS 1: Heal.

    CHORUS 2: Drink. 

    MARA ROSE: It tastes so sweet and hearty, as if joy could be distilled, bottled, and corked. Emotion fermented by fruit. Born fully formed in the throat.

    CHORUS 2: Poison is easily brewed to taste sweet. 

    CHORUS 1: Do not conflate pleasure with happiness.

    MARA ROSE: I love my body, but sensual pleasure is not enough. That’s a dead end, as sure as the same body someday must die.

    CHORUS 2: And yet?

    MARA ROSE: I want to leave myself—swim away from the gravity that brings me down, pulls at my breasts, my face, ever closer to the dirt. Free myself from Earth, my breasts, my ego. 

    JOSHUA: I love your breasts.

    CHORUS 1: You crawled from the water, you walked upright—Why would you return there? Fish aren’t happy. They’re just simple.

    CHORUS 2: Simple. Stupid.

    CHORUS 1: Don’t envy them, Stupid!

    JOSHUA: I need you here.

    MARA ROSE: Could I be partway here? Drunken revelry’s the compromise between too much consciousness and death. You still can hold me, feel my bourbon breath even as I float above it.

    CHORUS 2: Don’t kid yourself: The serpent’s fruit only offers false wisdom.

    CHORUS 1: Nothing appears more beautiful, less sinister, than what harms you!

    CHORUS 2: Shatter your idol. Break the glass.

    MARA ROSE: What’s broken in me must break, dissolve. The antimatter of my illness, my antibody, if you will. 

    CHORUS 2: You were damn near destroyed by the chemical explosion erupting in your veins.

    CHORUS 1: Do you remember what number your blood was, as they hauled you away in a stretcher? 

    CHORUS 2: You didn’t ask. You didn’t need to know. 

    MARA ROSE: I got the point. 

    CHORUS 1: She’s very perceptive.

    CHORUS 2: Why waste that? Is the world so dull that you must dull it further?

    CHORUS 1: Through a wine glass, dark and cloudy.

    CHORUS 2: Break the glass.

    CHORUS 1: Red wine is called that because it looks red.

    CHORUS 2: Blood. Red. Break. Glass.

    JOSHUA: Look at me. Focus on the human that loves you. The rest is ephemeral, of no matter.

    MARA ROSE: I love drinking, while thinking of you. I stumble home smiling. Toasted. Warm.

    JOSHUA: On nights you came home drunk, you’d slam the door open and jump in my lap. You’d swallowed fire, that my touch alone would fuel and quench.

    CHORUS 2: Fuel.

    CHORUS 1: Quench.

    MARA ROSE: Life seemed to get easier with every drink. (beat) But it never gets easier.

    CHORUS 2:  Just more lush. And therefore, better.

    CHORUS 1: Lies, lies, lies!

    CHORUS 2: We’re lying to you. You know that, right?

    MARA ROSE: I know; I don’t care. I want a drink. I WANT A DAMN DRINK! (beat) Or five.

    CHORUS 1: Or ten.

    CHORUS 2: No you don’t. We want you to drink. 

    CHORUS 1: But you’re the one calling the “shots.”

    CHORUS 2: Will you drink? Will you?

    CHORUS 1: Will you?

    CHORUS 1 and CHORUS 2: Will you? Will you?—

    MARA ROSE: (interrupting, with violence) NO!

    (CHORUS 1 and CHORUS 2 recoil. Pause.)

    MARA ROSE: (with weary resignation) Dammit.  No. At least…not today. I physically can’t. I wish I were stronger…this is where I am. 

    JOSHUA: Mara Rose? You’re the perfect amount of human. You need to wake up, and come home. I’ll make love to you. You can drink your own endorphins.

    MARA ROSE: (Going back to the letter) Joshua, my husband, my Valentine. March comes closer. Soon I can leave the prison that I—with help from others—walked inside. Healed. (beat) Or nearly healed.

    CHORUS 2: Well, sober at least.

    MARA ROSE: No small feat, that. And in the meantime…

    JOSHUA: In the meantime….

    MARA ROSE: Dream of my body, beside yours, and whole. 

    MARA ROSE, CHORUS 1 and CHORUS 2: Dream of me.

    JOSHUA: Always.

    END

    Alaina Hammond is a poet, playwright, fiction writer, and visual artist.

  • LE Nonfiction, Gina Moriarty

    LE Nonfiction, Gina Moriarty

    100 Words / 12 Hits / Gravity

    The first time my boyfriend ever tried LSD, I put two hits in a beer bottle a half hour before I told him about it. He was already rolling so he fucking loved it. 

    “Let’s candy flip on the coast.” 

    Before our trip, I traded a half ounce of Medicinal Gelato for two strips of Rick and Morty perforated paper. I sold ten hits, one strip, and the profits funded a ball of cocaine. We stopped along the turnpike every hour on the hour to sniff lines in the family bathroom stalls. The ball didn’t make it to the beach.

    *

    1:53 AM. The motorcycle revved into the parking lot just in time: Ocean City liquor store closed at 2. Neon lights fizzled in the salty breeze. We were in and out, but we had a dilemma: until you’ve packed for a motorcycle trip, you’ve taken the luxury of luggage for granted. The pannier was crammed full, and all our clothes jammed in a duffel bungie-tied to my backrest. Now what? We hit Coastal Highway, full speed. Him driving, me on the back, with a case of Budweiser and a bottle of cheap tequila across my lap. Let’s call it carry-on. 

    *

    We ate Rick and Morty LSD on the Fourth of July. Three days in advance a friend hooked us up with one room two blocks from the beach. Three Cheers. Second Floor. One hit each. Sul-sul. This batch made me speak Simlish: A language from the Sims. A strategic life simulation computer game. Auschten-Dorf. Holographic vision. Beach and back. Sisaroom? The condo was brand new. Aventurescence. Pleasant. Ah, docka morpher. Tequila. OJ. Tequila. I expected an explosion. Boom. Big boom. Back to beach. Ooh be gah. Beachside at sunrise, the sun shone green like a traffic light traversing the atmosphere. 

    *

    Sunshine. Sugar Cubes. Lucy. Liquid Love. Uncle Cid. Windowpanes. Doses. Paper. Blotter. Stamps. Lysergic-Acid-Diethylamide. One hundred hits are known within the psychedelic community as a sheet. Ten sheets, a book. One-hundred sheets, ten thousand hits, we call that a Bible. On the beach, I suggested we call it a passport instead. The nomenclature of a traveler’s visa derives from the Latin phrase Charta Visa: “paper that has been seen,” and U.S. citizens refer to their passport as a “blue book.” So, why not? Ingesting that much LSD is a spiritual journey, but ten-thousand stamps sure make a lot of trips. 

    *

    Clothed with surge, heavy with undercurrent, our feet and our hands in the tide. We let the waves drag the beach snug around our shins. 

     “Do you feel it? The waves, the energy? More than the water. That pull – a deep force beneath – in and out… in and out…in.” I felt connected to the core: beckoned from the nucleus. 

    “What has the moon to do with the tide?” he asked the summer night’s sky. 

    “How can the moon affect the Earth breathing?” I breathed deeply. In and out. I suggested, “It’s all connected by a remarkable something. Maybe it’s love.”

    *

    I promise, you don’t know what tie-dye is until you’ve watched the rising sun’s rays tickle through the ocean foam while you’re tripping on LSD. The swells of water twist and turn vibrant shades of pinks and violets into turquoise, cobalt, white and emerald green colored braids. A fluid rainbow fashioned from the Earth, the wind, and the water. The involuntary tug, infinitely heaving. Swirling streams of shades into a mirror of humanity. In Portuguese, the word cafuné means to lovingly run your fingers through someone’s hair. That’s what the sky was doing: caressing strands into the ocean’s chaotic locks.

    *

    Lights off – useless. I could sense his signature with my eyes shut; his aura glowed sultry shades of pinks, blues, orange. Perception vibrated. His energy was enveloping. It pulsated, savage, and intimate. When my eyes blinked open, I engulfed his white swirling energy. I breathed him in, consumed by desire, and a carnal urge to bite. My lips slid sideways across the bridge of his nose. My incisor punctured skin. The movement sent us slipping, polished with passion, we plummeted to the rented condo floor. My lips were wet and red with his blood. We chuckled, convulsing, still connected.  

    *

    Wearing shorts on a Harley is frowned upon. The pipes will burn the skin off your shin faster than you can cuss. Riding the east coast beneath the July sun, jeans were out of the question. Sunscreen made my butt cheeks squeak. When I shifted, my skin sounded like the beginning of “Money.” To achieve this noise in the recording studio, Pink Floyd tore pieces of tape. Sweaty thighs against black leather make the same sound: riiiiiip. Red splotches appeared like bruises. When traffic stopped, the asphalt replied with ripples of heat. High-fidelity first-class traveling.  No way to get away.

    *

    Map Quest lied. The three-and-a-half-hour ride became five. From Ocean City, MD to AC, New Jersey, we rode painfully hungover with the coast on our right. Traffic was a bitch. We rode the berm. One side of my body burned bright red. On the AC Expressway, the Jersey skies opened and cried. The lobby was filled with flashy sundresses and sandals. We were holding hands and dripping rain. Sunburn singed my shoulders. 

    “One smoking king. Floor 7.” 

    Pot fumes greeted our arrival as if Cheech and Chong were down the hall. I sparked a joint before our door clicked shut.

    *

    We meandered Old Philadelphia Pike and took back roads home. I watched red teardrops on my GPS, set to “search along” our route for restaurants. The town names of south-central PA, nearby Amish Country, are coined with silly, sexual innuendos. First, Intercourse. Now, Bird-In-Hand. Fertility Village ahead. Signs for horse-and-buggy crossings punctuated the otherwise empty roads. “Smokehouse BBQ and Brews” appeared promptly. I tapped him, stretching my arm across his shoulder, I waved my phone in his face. He nodded and signaled the turn. Two-and-a-half hours since we left Atlantic City. We stopped once for gas. Still six hours from home.

    *

    “Pump the brakes,” I yelled, pinching his sides. 

    He couldn’t hear me. I should’ve let him buy the expensive headsets. I wanted to spend our money on drugs, but now that all the drugs were gone, I was beginning to doubt the expenditures, our priorities. For roughly nine rough hours I sat behind him, with nothing to amuse me besides the steady scenery, the rolling hills of Pennsylvania. I played Grateful Dead renditions through the Bluetooth radio, barreling a parade from the saddle bags. I hoped the melodies would distract me from how quickly the asphalt whizzed beneath my feet. 

    *

    8:57 PM. The sky had darkened by the time we pulled into the driveway. Darkled. Nine-hundred-and-eighty-nine miles in total. 11 miles shy of 1000. I dismounted first, hamstrings aching. Riding a motorcycle can be a real pain in the ass. We untangled our luggage and collapsed beside each other on the couch. After twelve hours, the physical separation from feet to floor, from chest to back, was unfamiliar. I was ungrounded, cold without him. We went to bed immediately, slept tucked together, like when the bike turns hard into a steep turn, and the pressure smushes us together like one. 

    BIO

    Gina Moriarty is an emerging writer who earned her MFA through Chatham University in Pittsburgh. Her thesis was the recipient of the Katherine Ayres Award. She writes emotion driven narrative nonfiction. Typically, her work covers the themes of addiction, heartache, and coincidence beneath an umbrella of hope.

  • LE Select FICTION

    LE Select FICTION

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  • LE Literary Journalism

    LE Literary Journalism

    My childhood best friend’s social media post about the recent death of her mother, a renowned artist, triggered a memory for me as the tributes and condolences poured in for the family who mourned the loss of a powerful matriarch, the rock of their particular clan. This woman’s middle daughter (my friend’s older sister), as well as, I believe, a young cousin, had been assaulted by an uncle and had sought abortions in the late 1970s.  These facts were common knowledge in our small Ontario community, but the general feeling seemed to be that “Uncle T” had issues because he and his wife had never been able to have children of their own, and they subsequently adopted… a preteen girl. 

    Those were the days! I wonder what happened to the girl who was adopted into that family clan.  She was my age, but never fit in with nor was accepted by our friend group, though my best friend would have been her adoptive cousin; we teased her as being a “Lezzie” and were unspeakably cruel in the way that only preteens can be. Of course all of that is water under the bridge of time.  It’s not time to remember that; it’s time to celebrate the life of the family matriarch, the artist: all her achievements and the lives she touched.  Who knows what she struggled with in the Uncle T years?  Was he her brother? Brother-in-law?  I don’t even know.

    Does every family have a dark secret that may or may not eventually come to light? It’s a bold claim that we all have an Alice Munro skeleton in the family closet, because Munro’s condoning of her husband’s abuse of her daughter seems unthinkably horrific, incomprehensible. Not every family holds that particular secret–though no doubt a fair number of them actually do–but the differences between that situation and those of other families may be simply ones of degree.  And of course we’re not simply talking about a secret within a family; rather, it is a question of a suppressed truth. So much sacrificed for the sake of decorum, in that case the preservation of a grande dame of the Canadian literary scene. In other cases, perhaps less extreme (or perhaps not), other sacrifices were made as transgressions were (the cliche is so apt I can’t help but use it) swept under the rug.

    Are we about to enter the Me Too Two era?  I almost hope so, though (again I can’t resist the cliche) the shit will totally hit the fan.  Without even stopping to think, I can list a litany of parallels.  My late mother condoned sexualized behaviour initiated by her partner (and others) towards me, on the commune where we both lived in the 1970s.  She died without my forgiveness.  Without revealing details that would compromise anyone, I can allude to the crimes I’m aware of in my friends’ lives, perpetrated by parents, siblings, roomers, priests, teachers, family friends.  I sometimes think that anyone who does not have such a story… simply hasn’t told it yet.  Is there a common thread? Yes. Power.  The corruption of it, the colonialism of it, the condoning of it.  

    And what can we do?  Fight it, yes.  But first, let’s at least acknowledge what has happened. Let’s own it, and let’s try not to be complicit in the great cover-up. One more cliche: Let the chips fall where they may.

    BIO:

  • LE Nonfiction

    LE Nonfiction

    The Specificity of Desire

    Suzanne Lea

    Desire is such a curious thing, universal yet utterly subjective. The earliest teachings of Buddha instruct that the root of suffering is found in desire. If you want more than you presently have, then you will never be satisfied with what exists at your fingertips. This may be true but it is my belief that the root of success may also be located squarely at the center of desire. Desire instructs us. Propels us into motion. Why did the chicken cross the road? Desire. Why else?

    I have always been curious about what makes other people tick. WHY they do WHAT they do? I can spend hours sitting quietly on a bench in the mall, watching people walk by. I wonder about what they are wearing, who they are with, what they may be buying. I am a bit of a voyeur, I suppose, but really, people are just so fascinating. Recently, I had an opportunity to explore the nature of desire. It was my intention to find something new and unique to say about it. Legitimate research using books, professional journals and citable sources. Instead, I stepped quite close to the subject and found myself considering desire on a more personal level. What I discovered was not at all what I had set out to find, but in the end, I believe it was exactly what I was looking for.

    Note: Upon reflection, I am aware that this story may become a little unseemly. Still, if you continue reading, it is important that you try to consider exactly how these sorts of things develop. In hindsight, it is always easy to see the size and shape of choices, but life doesn’t happen in hindsight. Instead, each progression of events is a ripple, so natural and seamless, as to appear almost inconsequential. After the fact, everything is obvious. Fortunately, the things I gained from this experience turned out to be immeasurably valuable. (And the rest? Eh, the rest was easily discarded.)

    Here’s how it happened:

    I had been ruminating about an independent study project slotted for my summer break. I needed a way to make-up a few academic hours but I also needed a summer job. The subject of my proposed research project was Gender and Sexuality in Contemporary Culture. A large canvas to cover indeed. I enjoy both pop-culture, and an academic examination of Gender and Sex, as much as the next person, maybe even a bit more than some. Still, no one, least of all my academic adviser, wanted to read a 50 page document in which I regurgitated statistics about television vixens or sexist food advertising strategies. Serendipitously, right before summer break began, someone suggested I try exploring the “specificity of desire” – the unique fingerprint of individual desires. This idea sounded as good as any I had considered. What follows is the evolution of that project. This is the (almost) completely true story of how I became a phone-sex operator.

    NOTE: At this point in the story, I want to make a confession. I really want you to like me so I feel inclined to tell you what I think you want to hear, and I think you want to hear that I am not the kind of girl who would consider taking a job as a phone-sex operator. At the risk of disappointing you, dear reader, the truth is far less flattering. Taking the job was not a difficult decision to make. Almost as soon as the idea popped into my head, on some level I already knew that I was going to make it happen. That is just the way I operate. “Wow, that stove eye looks hot. I think I’ll touch it and find out.”

    As it turned out, the real challenge was not deciding to take the job. The real challenge was explaining this plan in a way that did not make me (1) sound like a lunatic or (2) feel like a prostitute. Nevertheless, I did rationalize this peculiar decision, to my closest friends, to my academic advisor, and to myself. I explained that I only intended to be employed in this questionable profession for a short time and then I reminded everyone that it would be criminal to decline the chance to make money by earning class credits. Privately, the thought of doing something so naughty was absolutely irresistible. I was bored and I needed to be reminded that I was still capable of surprise. Besides, how hard was it really going to be, sitting in an air-conditioned house, talking on the telephone?

    NOTE: In case you are thinking that I am very clever for coming up with this money-making / credit-earning scheme, please consider carefully. Nothing can prepare you for phone sex with strangers. Nothing, that is, except maybe previous phone sex with strangers.

    In order to get approval for this unusual scheme, I performed a little song-and-dance routine for my academic advisor and eventually got a (reluctant) thumbs-up. I poked around the internet for a while, called a few friends, peeked into a few cyber-windows, and eventually found an agency. Within two weeks of submitting an online application to a national chat line service, I was hired, trained, and given an access number. The training consisted of some dirty Instant Messaging with a professional operator. She typed something dirty and I typed an equally dirty response, then she analyzed my banter. After only about an hour or so, she suggested I say ‘cock’ more often and then she pronounced me ready-for-service.

    NOTE: This leads me to a frequently ignored fact about phone sex: Only men call. It does not matter who answers, the caller is almost always male. The reasons for this gender anomaly are perhaps better left for another day, but I thought it was worth mentioning – men make almost all of the dirty calls. But really, is that surprising to anyone?

    Once training was complete, my next task was to design a character that would entice potential callers into pulling out their credit cards and picking up the telephone. I was instructed to try to sound sexy but remain accessible. I was warned to avoid cliché stripper names, which meant I had to abandon my hopes of calling myself Hunny Potter. “Choose a name that won’t make you giggle when introducing yourself” my trainer suggested “Choose something feminine and familiar.” I decided to choose a name that was enough like my own that I would not forget who I was supposed to be. With my name chosen and my identity outlined, it was time to set up my first audio profile.

    Hi, I’m Jenny. I’m 5’8”, 27 years old, long dark hair with an athletic build. I have a boring day-job so at night I really want to get WILD. There’s no need to keep listening to these recordings. Go ahead and choose me, at extension blah, blah, blah. We’re gonna have so much fun.

    (Wait for it, wait for it… my purring tagline)

    Come on, you know you want to.

    And although NOTHING in this description was even remotely true, they did want to. They wanted to call and they wanted to talk to Jenny. They began calling within twenty minutes of signing-on and they called regularly until I finally deleted my listing. Suffice it to say that at a minimum of twenty calls per week, it doesn’t take long to decide if professional telephone sex operator is the right occupation for any reasonable person.

    The calls ranged in length from thirty second calls to thirty minute ‘pre-paid’ calls. Every call was different. Some callers wanted to tell me things, some wanted me to tell them things. Some calls were lewd and disturbing while others were ordinary and tame. No matter the call, my objective was the same: be good at the job, but not TOO good. Keep them engaged for a minimum of six minutes. That, ladies and gentlemen, is how to earn maximum dollars as a phone sex operator. Long calls equal more money.

    The pay scale for most agencies breaks down about the same: under six minutes and the operator earns .10 cents per minute; over six minutes and s/he earns up to .40 cents per minute. It is easy to see that a few minutes can make a substantial difference over a week’s time. Unfortunately, anyone who has ever tried to slow down sex, without stopping it completely, knows how tricky that can be. When it comes to sex, there is a kind-of ‘point-of-no-return’ and that point is not always easy to recognize, especially with a total stranger who is panting obscenities into the telephone receiver. Add a price tag of $1.99 per minute and you can see why this is a skill that must be cultivated in order to be a successful operator.

    Once I had secured my employment, it occurred to me that I might actually be bad at phone sex. Admittedly, I have been kissed before but I do not have much experience talking about it. I wondered if my imagination would hold up under close inspection. My trainer’s only advice, “In for a penny, in for a pound.”  (Sadly, her advice was far less valuable once I realized she was a phone sex operator who billed herself as a “telephone actress” without an ounce of irony.)

    In addition to my concern about my own sexual imagination, I had worried about a couple of other things. Firstly, I was afraid that phone-sex might be too weird or terrible or disturbing. Although I am not a complete innocent, I really did not know what to expect. Secondly, and maybe worse, I was afraid that the illicit nature of the job might actually turn out to be something I enjoyed. I knew that it would be understandable, possibly even redeeming, if I was a terrible phone sex operator. If, on the other hand, I sat around all day with my hand shoved down the front of my pants, waiting for the telephone to ring…well, that would be very unfortunate.

    As it turns out, although I wasn’t a “natural”,  I adjusted far more quickly than I had expected. By the end of the first week, I was quietly doing house work or eating dinner while engaging in some pretty salty conversations. Luckily, when an operator purrs “Mmmm” into the telephone, it is almost impossible to discern whether it is sexual ecstasy or simply that she has a mouth full of red beans and rice. During most of the calls, I was either totally disinterested or mildly repulsed. There were a lot of times when I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing, and a couple of times when I wanted to hang-up and take a shower. Still, hidden amongst the sometimes silly, frequently vile, interactions were a couple of times when I was genuinely engaged and even once or twice when I was a little turned-on. Not many times, of course, but to be completely honest, there were a few.

    I remained an awkward operator, embarrassed most of the time, and that NEVER got any easier for me. Each time I said hello, my hands trembled a little and my stomach flipped. I stumbled through the initial greetings and struggled to make small talk. It was difficult not to ask personal questions to ease the awkwardness. “Where do you live?” “What do you do for a living?” After a while I realized that if I could make it through the first few minutes, I usually picked up a kind-of rhythm. I never got very good at it but after a while, I also was not completely terrible. Turns out, when it comes to phone sex, not being terrible is pretty much all that is required. These men are not calling for subtlety or nuance; they are calling for telephone sex. I did not have to be talented; I just had to be willing.

    To clock-in each day, I dialed an 800 number and typed in a code. After that, my telephone would only ring from the chatline switchboard, until I called again and retyped the code to clock-out. When working, I would pick up the receiver after the first ring and immediately hear a ‘whisper message’, the switchboard operator preparing me for the caller. The best whisper messages announced ‘prepaid’ calls. A 15 to 30 minute call prepaid with a credit card. These calls offered just enough time to relax and get acquainted, but not so long as to fall in love. 15 minutes may not sound like a lot of time, I know, but once the call has been made and the caller is sitting with his cock in his hand, I imagine it can feel like an eternity if done properly.

    Bad calls were known as ‘hard-core’ or ‘cum’ calls. The whisper message before one of these calls was hissed into the phone like an air-raid siren announcing incoming fire. “John wants a blowjob. HARD CORE, HARD CORE!” Sexline operators translate “hard core” to mean a battle of wills. A battle to postpone orgasm by any means necessary. Sometimes I would try a sneaky-distraction: “Tell me where you’re sitting so I can imagine you. Sofa, recliner? Mmmm, I love a big old recliner.” Inside, I would be thinking, “Really, Jenny? Really? A recliner. Is that what does it for you?” With other callers, I would use the subtle shame approach, “God, I love a man who knows what he wants but waits on me. You don’t want to finish TOO fast and leave me all hot and bothered. That wouldn’t be very nice.” Again, I’d have to wonder if nice was a real concern to this man whose only instruction thus far had been, “Suck it good, slut.”

    Note: I am sure if given a few minutes and a frosty mug or two, most of you could come-up with almost every scenario. A dude in lacy panties, a guy who wants to be called names because his penis is tiny and (my personal favorite) the man who wants you to put your feet on his ‘junk.’ Simply try to imagine all the things no self-respecting person would admit to enjoying and that is what phone sex involves.

    The biggest surprise during my experience was the nature of the hang-up. The closing of every call was exactly the same. Click, THE END. It never varied, not one bit. No matter the call type or the caller’s disposition, every call ended with, “Pant, pant… click…” No one ever said “Thanks Jenny, that was great.” Or even a simple “Good-bye.” Nope, all I got was a grunt and a dial tone, every single time. EVERY! SINGLE! TIME! The embarrassing part is that sometimes I would still be talking, right in the middle of saying something filthy, and they’d finish and hang-up. It might be a minute or two before I realized I was whispering into a dead line. Look, I was not expecting a love song or a gift card to Target, but for heaven’s sake, an acknowledgement might have been nice.

    After one very strange summer, I decided that I had probably learned everything I could from phone sex. I did not hate the men who had called but I disliked most of them a little. I was not irreparably damaged by the experience but I was altered in some fundamental way. I had come into the project with a fairly broad sense of sexual ethics, believing healthy sex to be any informed and consensual act of shared pleasure by two (or more) consenting adults. As long as there was no coercion, no children, and no animals, whatever grown people wanted to do together was just fine. It could be tender and loving, but it did not have to be. I was comfortable knowing that some couples would caress each other gently while others would make use of a brass-handled hair brush and a couple of little wooden clothespins. What I mean to say is—  I knew from the start that pleasure for one might not be pleasure for another and that made perfect sense to me. These men, however, managed to reduce sex to a bodily function, like having a shit or blowing your nose, and that, though not surprising, was a little disappointing.

    On the day I told my best friend that I had finally decided to resign my position as a “telephone actress” and begin the process of piecing together my research, his only question was, “Did you learn anything from the experience?” I did not know the answer to that question then, but after taking some time to process, I believe I do now. The answer is both yes, and no. Yes, I did learn a bit about professional phone sex (say cock a lot) and about kink culture (say cock a lot), but I did not have any startling revelations about the nature of desire. Working as a phone sex operator simply confirmed many of the things I had already come to believe over the years:

    (1) People usually desire most things which are forbidden to them.

    (2) No one is ever as normal as they seem.

    (3) Sex without context is no more significant than a finger in another person’s ear.

    (4) Pushed far enough, every open-minded, sexually-evolved person will eventually furrow their brow and say, “Well now, THAT is just plain weird!”

    I am still not sure whether desire is located at the heart of suffering or the center of success but perhaps these two locations are not mutually exclusive. As Lawrence Block famously said, “Look for something, find something else, and realize that what you’ve found is more suited to your needs than what you thought you were looking for.” If desire is wanting, then perhaps happiness is seeking and that, dear reader, makes perfect sense to me.

    BIO:

    Suzanne Lea is a coffee drinking, bleeding-heart liberal, book-worm with an affinity for dark chocolate and swear words. She has been published in numerous ‘zines and journals, as well as the print anthology Crooked Letter i: Coming Out in the South, with a foreword by Dorothy Allison, published by New South Books.

  • LE Author Conversations

    LE Author Conversations

    SUBHAGA CRYSTAL BACON

    LE  Limit Experience Journal’s mission revolves around giving voice to the libidinally marginalized. Had you worked explicitly with this topic before submitting your piece to LEJ? If so, what aspect of the topic keeps you engaged. If it’s a new arena, what enticed you this time?

    SCB I love the phrase “Libidinally marginalized!” I have lived with the topic for the better part of my life although I’ve more recently begun to write from and about it. My forthcoming collection, Transitory, from BOA Editions, is a chronicling of and reckoning with murders of Transgender people in 2020 interspersed with stories of my own experience as a Queer person. My new work in progress is more explicitly exploring the forces of family, community, and society that marginalized me in this way. 

    LE  Sigmund Freud considered the libidinal energies to center around sexuality. His protege Carl Jung expanded the notion of the libido to include a more generalized richness of creative output. In terms of your work how would you describe your professional relationship to the libidinal realm?

    SCB Interestingly (to me, at least) my first engagement with LEJ was with the Sacral/Sacred issue which featured some poems of mine that are more aligned with Jung’s interpretation. How do we characterize embodied consciousness, which to me is the “creation point” for all of life?  So for me, the libidinal energies are interwoven: the sexual and the creative cannot be separated. My exploration of the sexual has fed and been fed by the explosion of greater creativity.

    “For me, being embodied is a form of libidinal well being.” – SCB

    LE  How do you contextualize libidinal well being and is it necessarily part of a circuitous self-discovery process that you enlist in when putting time into the endeavor you’ve set before yourself as a creative?

    SCB Wellness of Being is my innate state. Even when I am experiencing discomfort, which is fairly regularly on a day-to-day, moment-by-moment basis in the world we live in, I am sourced by Being and resting in it. For me, being embodied is a form of libidinal well being. I’m alive with my own creative source. I feel my own sexual energy as inextricable from creativity. 

    LE  Describe your relationship to the ego while working in terms of how you deal with what some consider the last effort of the creative process, offering the effect of your process to the external gaze.

    SCB There’s a way that ego is the driving force in creating. We are; I am. There’s a driving force in me that moves me to attune, listen, feel, and then create. The end point, or what you call the “last effort” feels essential to me. I write to be read, to share my lived experience with others who can relate to or glean something from it. Even though I am part of two writing groups who help me to refine my work, editors do a big part of that. I send work out, often in the white heat of “completion,” and then when work is declined by editors, after a point I revisit the work to see how I might continue to refine it. 

    LE  What percentage of your creative engagement is never seen by anyone but you? What does it mean to you to maintain this private space with the passage of an idea, an image, an impulse?

    SCB The best metaphor for this for me is the iceberg. So much of my creative force is internal. I spend a lot of time alone and alone in nature–a very wild, spare, unpopulated place. A lot of my creation happens there. Or it happens inside of me as a feeling, or an impulse. All of that is essential and private and unseen. Then it emerges above water so to speak and is seen by others. It’s essential for me to have this privacy. Without it, there would be no externalized “work.”

    LE  Which writers, filmmakers, musicians, and artists inspire you to be more daring and dangerous with your transparency as a person and as a creator?

    SCB Joni Mitchell has long been an inspiration for daring and dangerous transparency. I think of albums like Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter which is a great examination of collective and individual shadow. For poets: Diane Seuss, Dana Levin, Dustin Pearson, Luther Hughes, Nickole Brown, Jennifer Martelli–these are the ones that first come to mind. I’m drawn to and nourished by poets who reveal themselves with daring and authenticity. 

    LE What question would you most like to ask an experiencer of your work?

    SCB Do you feel me? Did I move you? (that’s two, but they’re closely related).