Tis’ the Season for Sex & Death

“In the Leaves” : Carrie Bagalio

“With every opening
carving a rough history
of bedroom scenes
the plot hard to follow
the text obscured
in the fields of sheets
slowly gathering the stains
of seasons spent lying there
red and brown
like leaves fallen”
- The Slant, Ani DiFranco

The fall season feels like death. It’s partly because my health is so poor during fall due to my allergies and the harvest. The humid moldy air is quite oppressive. So, in typical cyclical fashion, The Cold of Death has descended upon me. Between the combination of allergy meds, sinus meds, sleeping pills and occasional dose of Nyquil, Sally hasn’t been feeling too sexy these days. Plus, I’ve been awfully cuddly and romantic, which has put a damper on any potential hard core Fuck Meetings.

I blame my romantic cuddly mood on the season's changing. Fall discards the frivolousness of the summer and replaces it with a serious approach. We are more prone to engage in a stable partnership during the dead of winter. Curling up by the fire place, rolling around in the sheets until 2 pm while the wind whips against the walls, or hot chocolate on the couch with a good movie, are all appealing during the winter months. By spring, we’re ready to escape the heaviness of the relationship to frolic and flirt with fresh meat.

Even so, the impending freeze is not the cause of my melancholy like it is for most people. The freeze kills the toxins in the air, spiders and the bugs. In addition, naked bodies rubbing together cause friction and heat, and, readers, that can’t be bad thing. Driving through the brightly colored foliage in the fading light of a fall evening does, however, produce feelings of sadness.

His Death Fits like a Glove

I kill.
I burn.
I wrap my arms around him till the fire is gone.

I mourn.
I forgive.
I soar with wings out stretched again.

Can you recall how the Earth looked during an intense moment of grief? What was the sky like? How did the air seem? Grief causes time to stop. I can recall exactly how the sky looked the day my best friend’s mother lost her battle with cancer. I remember the pattern the clouds formed that day and the texture of the chilly fall air. I can see, like it was yesterday, the leaves blowing across my windshield in the eerie yellow light on the day my dad died. And lastly, I remember sitting on my knees, staring out my window across the street at the red and brown trees, sobbing, when I heard my dear friend Brian had committed suicide.

“I don't know what takes hold
out there in the desert cold”
~A Sorta Fairytale~Tori Amos

Brian was a slightly depressed young man who’d fallen into a deep depression during the height of his drug use. Faced with expulsion from the university he attended and the loss of his love, he shot himself on a peaceful archway above a park we frequented. Brain’s funeral was difficult. My friends and I huddled together in a circle and cried on each other’s shoulders. No one said a word. There were no words just hugging and touching.

Later that night, I went over to my boyfriend’s house. Exhausted, I collapsed on the bed next to him. He woke up, put his arm around my waist, and whispered in my ear, “Are you ok?” Instinctively, I kissed his mouth while his hand slid under my skirt. I swung my leg around him, and got on top to undo his pants. I rode his dick hard, but it wasn’t a simple emotionless fuck. It was comfort sex, much like comfort food: rich, filling, and pleasing.

It felt good to hold him close, to feel alive, and moving. Sex is life-affirming because we release and surrender to our primitive nature. Death is the ultimate mystery, but it’s also life-affirming to go home after one has lived. In death, supposedly, we merge with the divine. During sex, we also merge to experience the “other” deeply -to step into their shoes for a moment and see their life as they see it. Through sex and death we experience the intensity, the bliss, and yes, on the opposite end, grief, all wrapped up in a ball of chaos called the human experience.

As I finished writing today, this song popped on.

Still Lost- Cowboy Junkies

Here we stand at the end of paths taken
guiding light inspiration, the slow decline
crumbling foundation, the stations, and now the cross
we're still lost, we're still lost

Settling now, once again
what was begun, will meet it's end
running now, time to hide
go inside, it's time to hide

Here we stand at the end of paths taken
guiding light inspiration, the slow decline
crumbing foundation, the stations, and now the cross
but we're still lost, we're still lost

Waiting now, dull root twinning
keeping watch, for new roots shining

Here we stand at the end of paths taken
guiding light inspiration, the slow decline
crumbling foundation, the stations, and now the cross
but we're still lost, we're still lost

There you stand at the edge of salvation
guiding light inspiration, the slow decline
crumbling foundation, the stations, and now the cross
but we're still lost, we're still lost

Beautiful song- perfect for a nice reflective walk along the river. I think I’ll go.

~Sally S.