#michaelroth

[missfeee]

ColorComm, C2Miami, #oriontalent, #michaelroth, #supportblackwomeninmedia, #womenofcolor. Another amazing session by IPG CEO Michael Roth.

[wesleyanampersand]

I Wish This Was My Past, and I Wish I Had It On Film

Last Saturday I got back to my room drunk, tired, and depressed, having come home alone once again, continuing a streak yet unbroken in this, my sophomore year.  My eyes fuzzy and aching from within, I didn’t even bother to turn on the lights. I didn’t want to see my rumpled dress and disheveled hair glaring back at me insultingly from the mirror over my dresser.  I shed my clothes lugubriously, feeling my stockings tug as I rolled them down my legs in desperate need of shaving.

Suddenly, I heard what sounded like breathing behind me.  I bolted up, my heart thundering in my chest, and strained my eyes through the oppressive darkness.  Only then, thanks to the stupor hanging over me, did I see the body of a naked man sprawled sensually on top of my comforter.   I opened my mouth to scream, but a sharp, modern yet postmodern voice reached me before my vocal chords could tear the air.  “Don’t, Alison.  I won’t hurt you.” 

Against all my instincts and my good upbringing, I stayed silent.  I looked more closely at the shape on my bed, my eyes finally adjusting to the darkness, and began to recognize the outline staring up, vulnerably, at me: the pointed shoulders, the strong nose, the piercing eyes reflecting what little light emanated from my bedside alarm-clock. He spread his arms, tossing away a dog-eared copy of Madame Bovary, inviting me wordlessly towards him, and a magnetic force more powerful than any made of metal or electricity pulled me forward. He tugged at the strap of my slip. “Freudian?” he said, but I put a finger to his pursed smile. It was then that I knew I was safe, and a feeling of home and security swept over me.  In his arms all my troubles melted away, and after a lengthy and passionate night of lovemaking, I slept deeply for the first time since the fire.