Sussurru???

There's a word, something like sussuru-something. I think it means like that little chill or thrill that zips through you when there's some sort of paradigm shift, when you suddenly sense a new beginning, or a new and wildly exciting perspective.

I got that yesterday. I can't forget it. I suddenly imagined myself changing worlds, back to where I was before being a married mom, then a divorced mom, then a married again mom. Back to my thirties before I got stuck in a rut.

Today I taught my last classes for this semester. For the next week all I have to do is final exams and grading b'zillions of lab reports and exams until I want to puke. Just that one pressure, to be done by next Friday at 3 pm. No daily pressures for prepped appearances and performances.

In this new state of mind, I can't remember why I am married.

I do recall being a graduate student at Cornell, chickening out of the PhD program and settling for the MS. At the time I was having a good time running around braless in snug knits and enjoying a female lover. In the midst of this I got the chance to go work on a PhD in the Amazon, in Brazil, and I grabbed it. I left my lover with my guitar and galloped off to the tropical forest to study botany.

I started going to a particular bar, drinking gin & tonics, and eyeing the lovely ladies chatting drinkless. Soon I was buying them drinks and ineptly joining their conversations, which mostly consisted of making fun of men. This was lovely. I assumed they were lesbians until the men started arriving and picking them out and leaving with them. They were hookers. Later I told them all about my misconception and they tried to set me up. I used to get a little drunk and dance on the raised platform they had at the bar. Whenever they played "Rock Around the Clock" I'd be the only one dancing. One evening a couple of rather casual-looking women joined me dancing and passed me a note. They wanted to "tranzar" (do business) with me. Lesbian hookers? Or was I taken to be the lesbian hooker? I pretended like I didn't understand and kept dancing. Eventually they left.

I found out about a gay bar outside the city, so I went to check it out. It was weird. The building was huge, arena like. Tables were sort of in the balcony, where I sat with a drink and watched. Down in the arena area, I saw couples (women) occasionally disappear through a doorway. A very ugly young woman (horrible skin!) tried to talk to me, but I rebuffed her. The whole thing felt really sleazy. I left.

When an American scientist (married) arrived for a research stint and flirted with me, I decided to "try out" a penis again. The first time was dull, but not so bad. Then the desire started to come back and I became an avid nymphomaniac, craving fucking like an addict. One guy I used a lot finally told me it was starting to feel like work. I had a dream in which I sliced off his genitals with a sharp kitchen knife, fucked myself with them until I was done, then rinsed them off and gave them back to him.

Meanwhile I started to get involved with a weird Pakistani who hated agriculture and was doing a project to grow soybeans there. I told him I wanted to have his child. He married me to get a green card, and we had the child eventually after we were both back stateside. That's when my rut began to take shape. I divorced him but married another as my son grew up.

And it's all because I couldn't figure out how to be gay in the Amazon. Whoa! So, where am I now? Attracted to women again, tied to a sweet loving husband living half the world away, wondering what to do next.

Damn!