Thursday, January 8, 2009

…and that Sultry Southern Sexpot Susan Sarandon (…Part II of Art, Sport and now Sex)

People often ask what drives me.* I reply: women, art, and sports.** Given that my recent posting (see below) discussed an intersection of art and sport, I was surprised that I had the self-restraint not to pull sex into the discussion. Well, turns out I don't. My mind started wandering and my pen followed. But for the sake of brevity, I will limit this posting to how these themes collide in... North Carolina.

I have an affinity for the Carolinas, partly because of a fling I had with a young woman one warm winter in Durham. Mary--that was her name--taught me that there are nine different types of intelligence, one of which is physical intelligence. This revelation cultivated a deeper appreciation for the intensity and aesthetics of sport. It elevated athleticism beyond mere "skill." Jeter's backhanded grabs were not mere training but a form of genius that could be as graceful as a Raphael and explosive as a Picasso, or as sloppy as a Pollack and banal as a Warhol; all of this in the utilitarian pursuit of victory. I was a born-again sports fan. Then I looked into Mary's eyes and forgot what we were taling about. Which is good because that is a rambling diversion from the following segway: Homeward bound from this romantic romp, I passed the Durham Bulls baseball stadium and realized it had been too long since I had last seen Bull Durham, that classic rumination on sex and sport starring...

Susan Sarandon playing Annie Savoy--another sultry southern sexpot from North Carolina. Annie is intensely seductive in a unique way. Physically, the actress does not awe me, but the character deeply and lustfully draws me. She is an independent woman ("I don't believe a woman needs a man to be fulfilled") with high standards for philosophy (metaphysics v. theology), poetry (Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman) and men ("I'd never sleep with a player hitting under .250 unless he had a lot of RBIs or was a great glove man up the middle"). The subtle irony, hidden messages, double entendres and self-awareness packed into this last line are succintly brilliant.

Annie also taught me four valuable lessons. One: never wear socks during sex. ("You think Dwight Gooden leaves his socks on?") Two: poetry is an aphrodisiac. She had me writhing when she teasingly purred the ebb and flow of Whitman for foreplay. Three: the small of a woman's back is so hot it could light a fire. And four: kisses should be "long, slow, deep, soft, wet and last for seven days."

Ok, so the last one came from the Crash Davis character, but he gets Annie in the end. And she knocks my socks off.

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*Ok, people don't "often" ask me this. But they should ask me more often. I really like this question because it reveals a lot about a person.

**This is only 2/3 correct. Really I say "women, art, and whiskey." The first two remain true, but getting drunk is getting boring. Sports are closing in on the third spot, but not quite there. Plus, even these numbers are inaccurate, as I should also include friends and family up there. But by the time I get this far into clarifications, people are bored.

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