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Subject: {ASSM} Dana and Dana Naked in School, 7/7 (ff mf mfm mg fg, exhib, voy, NIS,   naked, cussing, sexuality issues)
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Date: Mon, 24 Oct 2005 05:10:03 -0400
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Dana and Dana Naked in School by pseudoRandom

   7.  Sunday, Again

   Dana Partlow

   As I type this, it's a little before 5 Sunday afternoon.  Dana and I
have been together the whole weekend, writing this up -- my place Friday
night, his all day Saturday, now back here, in my bedroom.  I skipped two
Aikido lessons and church to do this.  My wrists hurt, and my ears and toes
have been numb since noon, but once I started, I couldn't stop -- I had to
get it out.  Dana was the same, but he gets obsessive when he's manic.  And
now, at last, we're done.  If anyone ever tells me writing is easy, I'm
going to laugh and laugh and laugh until they start edging away and talking
about soothing drinks.

   I can't stand the sight of my own words.  Just paging through this gives
me the heebies.  We just finished proofreading each other's account, making
corrections.  Not of fact, not without consultation, and even then, when
our memories disagree, we've let it stand.  This is supposed to be as raw
and unvarnished as we can get it.

   Dana tried to flinch once -- he wanted to delete the parts about Emerson
and Thoreau sleeping with their students.  He hadn't told me about Thoreau
until I read it.  He says he doesn't want to make accusations he can't
prove, not in a form like this.  I made him keep it in, though.  At the
worst, it'll be dismissed as hearsay rumors.  But even then, people will
watch the smoke for fires.  There's too much potential for abuse in the
Program as it is.  Emerson spent the week manipulating us with sex.  That's
not how it's supposed to work.

   Spike, when you read this, this paragraph is for you.  We talked about
it, and we're both interested in going out you.  But us three have to take
it slow.  Our friendship is far more important than anything sexual.  We
will NOT wreck that -- clear?  We'll both drop you if it looks like there's
any danger of it.  So here's our proposal: that we try going out, you+me
and you+him, non-exclusively, with our first date all three of us,
together, as friends.  That way neither of us went out with you first. 
After that, we'll see what happens.

   Even if it gets complicated.

   So.  I suppose I should write a conclusion.

   This is what happened, the week I was in the Program: I was stripped
naked before the audience of my peers.  It hurt, a lot.  But I'm stronger
for it.

   Dana Smith

   It's Sunday afternoon, and I'm sitting cross-legged on Dana's bed,
listening to a drum-n-bass track as I stare at the screen.  Looking through
what I wrote, seeing in one place all the people I talked with, instead of
all spread out through the days, I'm starting to see what Dana means about
my place in school.  I take regular and Honors and vo/tech and Whitman
classes, and a few weeks into the year I already know everybody's name --
and they know me.  I see a cross-section of everyone.  And people (at least
those with a sense of humor) seem to like me.  I'm almost ready to think
there's a reason for it.  I should talk with Dr.  Thea about it.

   I should show her this.

   If I can finish.  I'm trying to think of how to wrap up.  That's what
we've been taught, that there's always a lesson at the end, some conclusion
that sums up the essay, some moral to the story.  I've written nine
different ones, but they all sounded dumb, compared to what happened. 
Here, now, feels so much more unbalanced than the story in hindsight.  I'm
starting to wonder if I have anything to say, if there always has to b

   Jeanette is here.  She and Dana are talking, softly, because Dana didn't
want to leave.  I've muted the music so I can listen.  Jeanette doesn't
know but Dana does, I think.  I'm transcribing this as they speak.

   "I'm sorry," Jeanette says.

   "I know you are," Dana says.  "But that's not enough.  It takes trust."

   "I want -- " and Jeanette swallows.  "I want to make it up to you.  I
miss you."

   Dana says nothing.

   "You're my friend," Jeanette says, "my best friend, ma chérie.  That
means something, doesn't it?"

   Dana looks away, finally.  "Yes," she says softly.  "But I don't know
what."

   "Then I will wait."

   Dana looks at her.  "Good."

   Jeanette shifts, glances at me, but I'm watching out of the corner of my
eye, and she thinks I'm not looking.  In French, she says, "What can I
expect?"

   "I don't know," Dana replies in the same language.  "I don't know myself
yet."

   Jeanette hesitates, then leaves.  Dana stares out the door after her for
a long time.  She's crying silently without sobbing, but she doesn't want
comforting, not yet.  These are private tears.

   I think she's just given me my -- no, OUR conclusion.  I don't know what
to expect, between any of us.  Me and Dana, me and Spike, me and Mom and
Scarlett and Ginny and Dana and Jeanette and all.  I just don't know.

   Yet.

   And I want to find out.

   -ENDPostscripts by an obsessive author:

   1) At the start of part 5, when Dana Smith claims the line about all the
virtue seeping out of the world is "by some poet," he is misremembering --
it was Edward Gorey, in THE UNSTRUNG HARP.

   2) The book Dana Partlow mentions reading, FIRST TEST, is the first of
the "Protector of the Small" quartet by Tamora Pierce.  She makes a few
unattributed allusions to this series elsewhere in her account.
   -- http://www.fastmail.fm - Access your email from home and the web 

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