jaubertmoniker's New Writeups

He's a feminist. He tells that to all his mistresses. (person)

2007-08-07T18:57:39Z

He's a feminist. You can tell by the way he opens the door for you. Isn't that it? Ladies first. He's a feminist. You can tell by the way he never makes you pay.

He's a feminist. He'd rather you wear a burqa, to mitigate the discomfort of having your tits stared at in revealing clothing.

He's a feminist. He listens because he knows it's your nature to talk a lot. Logic is his strong point, he says, emotion yours. You're delicate, and he's considerate. You are biologically designed to care. The motherhood imperative. And that's what he respects about you.

He's a feminist. Men hunt, women choose—and you chose him, he says. He knows you must have good taste.

He's a feminist. You, the fairer sex, you can't be expected to defend yourself. Lecherous, misogynist men want…

Dream Log: January 18, 2005 (thing)

2005-01-18T23:07:39Z

The streets were wet and the air was damp and everything was grey or shades of brown and tan. I rode an early twentieth-century scooter down some familiar streets (and up some unfamiliar ones) to a store where I bought nothing but trouble and a sidelong scowl. The party was nothing to look forward to, and I had known that from the beginning. When the police came, they came in through the front and we tried to get out the back, but I saw (somewhere beyond my natural line of sight) an officer emerging from a hedgerow, ready to intercept anyone who came his way. There was questioning. The rector was interrogated through a window at his parsonage by a hulking man with a great unfortunate arching brow. The figure outside the window grew imperceptibly until his face filled the space there, and the poor clergyman could have been bitten in…