Notes, from the Upper West Side, a novel by Dan Wrench. Chapter 78 That laugh-like sound. My phone call with Kami was scheduled for late in the night on the day before Fuck Day 2, and on that same day only earlier, I had my regular session with Jessica. Originally, the Kami and I wanted me to call her in the afternoon at like 3, but my routine meant that at 3 I'd be on a bus somewhere and probably with Sammy, so I texted Kami back after thinking about it, and rescheduled our call for that night, late, which meant I'd have to make the call from work somehow.
Kami texted back 2 hours later, and P it said, I had to search the internet to find out and payment, no problem. So when I got up that morning, I was really looking forward to both the phone call with Kami and the session with Jessica. I'd wanted to see Jessica pretty bad ever since that time when she told me even squares go to the gym. She'd been on vacation with her husband, AKA the Hubster.
They went to Hawaii. They probably fucked in a Lanai. They probably felt the warm breeze drifting in from the ocean. Assholes.
So she hadn't seen me since I started my metamorphosis from Pawnter to demigod. I thought I might get an amazed look from her when she saw the new me and heard about my ability to hold it back in the homestretch. A look that would bring the bedroll fantasy just a little bit closer to the real world. The other reason I wanted to see her was to spit it out about the bell ringing thing.
That thing that has no word but which is named by me with a mental image of my cock as a candle wake reaching to the top of my head. And the special dimension of sex. Ness. Where love and fucking are the same thing.
It was good to get it all out I guess, but she pretty much shot me down on both counts. She didn't look even slightly amazed when she saw the new me. I guess I hadn't lost enough weight yet for her to notice the bulky boy muscles. And the part about holding it back in the homestretch.
When I heard my voice telling her about it I realized it didn't sound even slightly like a run up achievement. It sounded like I wanted a gold star for getting regular blowjobs from a midtown chamber made. So I backed up a little and told her I could now control my orgasms and get these big stiff rods. I told her that fucking Fern's face was just a means to that end.
I'm training myself. I cried. I furrowed my brow like a scientist. She seemed to understand what I was getting at but she was still not what you would call amazed.
And she was a little critical of my bell-winging sexness idea. She didn't sigh or roll her eyes or anything but she at first didn't believe me when I said I thought it up all by myself. I was a little insulted by that. And at the same time I was a little flattered.
Weird right? I think you're talking about erotic ecstasy. She said, there are many cultures historically that if regarded the erotic as the essence of love rather than as something to be transcended by love. Nah, I said, she looked a little surprised.
I'm not saying nah to the history thing or the culture thing I said real quick. I was only saying nah to the word ecstasy. It just seems a little abstract and girlified. This concept I'm cooking up, it's full of dick.
This thing you're calling sexness. The image of the wake or the ringing bell that seems more concrete than. Yeah, I said. I like the ringing bell more and more because the clapper is the dick and the bell itself is the brain.
I want to say something like soul but that sounds too abstract and girlified. I was going to say it sounds too jesusy but something like soul. The totality of moi. I get cackled.
That laugh like sound you make is a defense mechanism. She said well she smiled at me. You don't need to defend yourself from me. This is your session.
That laugh like sound I make. Fucking therapist. Well you've seen your thought this through very thoroughly. She said and to be honest I didn't expect that from you.
So this is a very special girl. Why do you suppose that's so? Fuck if I knew why. Now that I think about it, maybe it was because she framed her content me on that first day we met.
I never had a chick frame or content me before but back when Jessica asked me I was still pretty miffed at her calling the gigcack a little laugh like sound. So I kind of forgot about the content framing. I stumbled around looking for an answer for a few seconds when I noticed she had the I'd love to interrupt you but it's against my personal creed look on her face. What's up Jessica I asked you look like you're on the verge of blurting.
Man I wanted to see her. She said you've been married a long time. Really? Ten years is a long time?
Well it's more than seven. And when people are in relationships that long I don't even mean marriage is necessarily. There are partners friends who spend a lot of time together, business associates even. There can be the death of a thousand cuts I like to call it.
Death of a thousand cuts. You made that up. She gave me a little grin and narrowed her eyes slightly. You know she went on.
You meet someone and you make a little tiny compromise one day. Not so much that you'd notice. The next day she calls you a little tiny insulting name or condescends to you or suggest to you that you're not very attractive to her. Or that you're in some way intrinsically.
City. Not so much that you'd care. Not so much that it affects your self esteem on the first day, week or month. But over time, over the course of years, you find yourself thinking that you're ugly, ungainly, undeserving of sexual pleasure.
And living with a person who needles you like a sibling or an ego-policing parent. And it all began with that little cut you barely noticed years earlier. I wasn't getting cackling anymore. She had just described the last ten years with my cunt of someone else's cock-stuffing wife.
Then it hit me. She wasn't talking about me and Corinne. She was talking about herself and the hubster. I guess that vacation to Hawaii was something of a reckoning.
Maybe she formulated this whole thousand cuts theory on the flight back from Oahu. I must have looked at Prester, Downcaster, and mortified even because she stopped herself mid-lecture and said, I'm not putting the blame on Corinne. Or on you. She might be feeling the same way in fact.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. I said, has she been running this thousand cuts grift on Wayne about me? Paul. She said, she was kind of stern.
Like, I just called her a cunt or something. This is a theory. It is not a grift. Yeah, well, my laugh-like sound.
It's a laugh. She sighed like I really was the evil customer at a bodega. Alright, I understand. I did not mean to question the validity of your laugh.
I'm certain I could have found better words with which to express myself. Okay, thousand cuts is not a grift, I said. But has Junior been running this theory on Wayne about me? Do you really think Wayne and I compare notes that we discuss you and Corinne?
Well, I don't know. I said, why not? Paul. She seemed more shocked than angry.
Firstly, it would be thoroughly unethical. Firstly, it would contaminate our analyses. Oh yeah, I said, sure. Notes from the Upper West Side is a work of fiction.
The people depicted in this work do not exist. Notes from the Upper West Side. Copyright 2021 by Dan Rench.