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Rebecca Coale - aka Becky - is a writer, musician and producer. She and childhood best friend Jessica Donalds created Dating & Hookup and founded J&R Creative Media. Becky blogs about love poetry and modern life & womanhood. She lives with her husband, Howard Coale, and their family in Manhattan and Philadelphia.
I know, I know, I’m on a robot kick. But it’s hard not to get obsessed – and to fear for our future as non-automaton-human-women. For example, this chick is “programmed with 65 different behaviors including the ability to hold a conversation, sing a song, walk, somersault, and to kung fu fight.”
BUT – can she cultivate her dah of guys…? I’m afraid to find out.
This adorable rabbit robot from France is called “Karotz,” which sounds like “carrots,” awwwww. It (He? She?) can do everything: wake you up, tell you the traffic, read you your text messages, pull information from your feeds on Facebook and Twitter and much, much more.
BUT, according to its promotional video, Karotz might tell you that you have a date at the movies. WHA? This technology might be cutting edge, but the idea that your schedule is full of dates is…well…out-dated.
Philémon Chante – Je te mange from Audiogram on Vimeo.
Are you crying out of sadness or joy? Is love made more of longing or regret? These tensions haunt the song je te mange le corps, by Canadian musician Philemon Chante. I dig it.
We open in retrospect – the line, “I had the chance to be with you ” signifying that our lovers are no longer together. But we go on to envision the beauty that love creates between people – evoked by vistas of fertile fields, the lover (bunny!) soaring high and low above a churning sea. Love is also gluttony, with the fragments of the beloved forming a rich chocolate cake. But the cake can’t be enjoyed; the fragments are pieces of the beloved’s broken heart.
The assembling and disassembling of both lovers culminates in the refrain ‘je te mange le corps’ – in English literally, “I eat your body.” At some point, in love, we have no choice but to utterly consume – and therefore destroy? or uniquely possess? – each other.
In the rest of the song, the transcendence of being in love is tempered by heartbreak and regret. Our lover remembers happier times, ultimately symbolized by a mother’s (impassioned, orgasmic) cry of joy, which is an ending contrast to the sad tears of the song’s opening. The mother’s tears of ecstasy also contrast the beloved’s own “eyes of ash.” Love is grand, we like to think, but as we have our go at it, do we most often end up in tears – and tearing each other apart…?
Here’s my translation. The refrain of this song is literally “I eat your body”…but that phrase in English is neither poetic nor really evocative of what is being said, in my opinion, in the French. This translation also attempts to follow the meter of the song so that you can read along.
The Love Competition from Brent Hoff on Vimeo.
Filmmaker Brent Hoff and Stanford University’s Center for Cognitive and Neurobiological Imaging team up to document this Love Competition in which contestants lie in an MRI machine and love someone (or something, or love itself) for 5 minutes.
The “lovers” range from a 24-year-old woman doing chakra meditations, to a 1o-year-old boy, to a couple in their 70s who have been married for 50 years, to a dude in his 20s trying to get over a girl in his dah… And the winner is….?????
photo via Blueberry Morning
Did you know, ladies, that when you reach sexual climax, 80 out of all 80 different regions of your brain ALL hit maximum activity? As seen on MRI scans performed on masturbating women at Rutgers University, your brain on orgasm looks like a cracked out, brightly lit and twinkling Christmas wreath. Therefore, posit the scientists involved (and ABC News – how ironically, I can’t tell) – our womanly orgasms are “all in our heads.”
So what do our brains look like when we’re faking it? Doesn’t seem like any research is being done to that point.
I’m so ready for Don & Company to be back. Alison and I may have to fight over who gets to (libidinously) cover this season of Mad Men (hello, girl, I have Mad Men’d myself already, see me and Don, above) – but in any case, stay tuned for lots of WTF?! commentary and ruminations on lust, ambition, hypocrisy, infidelity, fashion, advertising, woman power, misogyny, cigarettes and America’s cult of masculinity. As well as lots of self -loathing and self-flagellation about WHYYY Don Draper is so hot when he’s also such an a$$hole???
photo via archive.org
The last time I wrote about a love poem, I made myself majorly depressed. I was haunted by Edna St. Vincent Millay’s sonnet 42 about the loves we have, and lose, and can’t remember.
photo via HA!Designs – Artbyheather
All the Moms are talking about it: the hot, new, sado-masochistic erotic novel, Fifty Shades of Grey (the first of three!), which was a viral e-book sensation (described as ‘Mommy porn’) until an imprint of Random House picked up print publishing rights for a whopping seven figures. The book revolves around the sexual escapades (whips, chains and handcuffs included) of a literature student, Anastasia Steele, and young entrepreneur, Christian Grey, who “happens to turn up at the out-of-town hardware store where she works part-time.”
Why does this matter? Well, for one thing, Fifty Shades of Grey is apparently the first piece of erotica your mom has ever read (or at least has been willing to rave about in public and/or to her friends.) This New York Times article is awash with blush-inducing quotes about how women “who don’t read romance” are all over this trilogy, how women who feel uncomfortable admitting they (may) watch porn can talk about this book with their friends, and so on. According to the founder of DivaMoms.com, the book is even re-ignighting marital passion. It’s a revelation! Moms can have sex (or at least read about it) too!
College kids these days! With their out-of-control sexuality, their casual sexcapades, their orgiastic dorm parties, frat house keggers, and study sessions in the Staxxx.
In case you want to be scandalized, or adequately informed about your choice of higher education, Huff Post: COLLEGE has helpfully compiled a list of ‘The 10 Most Sexually Liberated Colleges’ in America. Except, by ‘sexually liberated,’ they do not mean the most tolerant, progressive or multi-faceted campuses when it comes to sexuality. Instead, the criteria are which schools boast the most rampant “hooking up.”
There’s fashion. There’s haute couture. And then there’s dresses made out of condoms.
Perhaps for your wedding, you would like to wear the pictured Cream Condom Gown (no pun intended), made out of all those rubbers you won’t be using any more.
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