In times of old, The Furies protected Mother Right. If a mother (or any woman) was harmed, The Furies swooped down and took their vengeance. They were one of the last vestiges of a world that existed before the patriarchy. When we feel righteous anger, it is The Furies who are calling out to us to make what is wrong right again.

Saturday, June 17, 2006

Bound, Unbound, Bound, Unbound 

You never know what'll set you laughing. Or me laughing. Especially as I was in full fury. (It's all right; emotions are a good thing. Protective fury is a good thing. It'll pass. Either before or after I stomp the stuffing out of unsaid person I am furious with. Metaphorically speaking, of course. The stomping part. I just need to keep telling myself that.) Anyway, I saw a poster of an Edward Scissorhands-like man bound up in a leather-strap straightjacket with these words below his feet:

Some mornings, it just doesn't pay to gnaw through the leather straps. —Emo Phillips

Prometheus would most likely disagree. I'm sure he was ready for the metal cutters every day. Don't you think? Me, too. Me, too. (I suddenly flashed on that scene from Monty Python's Meaning of Life. Two men come to a man's house and say, "We've come for your liver." And he says, "I know, I know, but I'm not done using it!" I'm not freaking done with it!)

This post suddenly sounds like some kind of bizarre riddle.

Time to go gnaw on my straps for a bit...

May You Unbind in Beauty!
Posted by: Kim Antieau / 6/17/2006 12:05:00 PM
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