February 10, 2006

Ut-Slay (WARNING: Contains A Moderately Bad Word, Repeated Many Times)

I have decided....to live. I admit I was fading. Then someone mailed me a newspaper article about gods, and it was GREAT article, except I realized I had accidentally indicated to the BOTH a reporter and a ROOM FULL OF 135 people who showed up to hear me talk that, HEY! I'm a slut! Yep. THAT got me out of bed. Nothing to pump a great big old SHOT of adrenaline right through old pink blood-pumper like realizing you told 135 of your dearest just-met friends that you are a trollop....

Oh dear. And sluts everywhere are falling out of their chairs laughing that I should dare to aspire to walk in their spike-heel thigh booted footsteps.

There's this story I tell about how I came to write Between, Georgia, and it came up during the post-chat Q and A, how I get my ideas. I realized that if I leave out this one little KEY PIECE of information, tthen the whole thing is VERY easily misinterperted, SO easily misinterpreted that I might as well write SLUT BAG on my Hi My Name Is...sticky tag.

The front of the story goes like this. I will indicate the KEY piece of information I left out at the appropriate time...

I lived in Athens as a very young woman---maybe 19. I very busy at that time, what with my full drinking and failing out of colleges schedule, and when I was NOT tied up with with that, I had to get all the way to the end of SUPER MARIO BROTHERS in a single tequila fueled run and fill out forms to stop my report cards from being mailed directly to my parents. I also discovered that this extremely full schedule and the irrational mood swings caused by not sleeping for 40 hours at a stretch meant I was a bad dater. Now, granted, I WON SUPER MARIO BROTHERS and accomplished many other similarly vital and great works in my insomniac sprees of busy-hood, but in the process, I broke hearts and had mine broken with mad abandon (important to note here, not in a SLUT BAG manner) and I got tired of being glared at by the heartbroken and glaring at the heart breakers on a campus that claimed to have thousands of millions of students, 99.99999999% of which I had NOT DATED, and yet, everywhere I went I found that fate would insta-cast me either as the glare-er or glare-ee, or in some schizophrenic situations...BOTH.

ATHENS. IS. SMALL.

I decided not to DATE anyone from Athens. So, I started dating exclusively in ATLANTA and would drive over there to date, and HERE IS THE IMPORTANT KEY PIECE I DID NOT SAY: I had a good friend over there, and went I went to Atlanta to go out and meet the potentially date-able, I would STAY AT HER APARTMENT. See what a difference that makes? I wasn't driving over to Atlanta and assuming I could, you know, find a place a sleep. I was going out with friends and meeting their friends and etc etc exactly like every other dating 19 year old NON-SLUTS, but one town over, in case of heartbreak.

Yeah, so when I said I dated in Atlanta, without CLARIFYING exactly where I was SLEEPING, 135 people and a reporter took that to mean "Hooking, Or maybe just had wild orgies with total strangers I met in bars where even the STOOLS are so thickly coated with venereal diseases that you need to put on a full haz-mat suit just to safely sit and drink a beer." NEAT!

And after I had gone to so much trouble to point out that gods in Alabama (especially Arlene's um....nametag) is NOT autobiographical, too.

Oh well, the crowd clapped for the slut and MANY OF THEM bought my slutty book and the article that came out of it is a VERY complimentary, very POSITIVE about my talk and my book, and it points out that I confessed to being a massive slut in the most cheerful and delicate and NONJUDGMENTAL language, and as long as I NEVER have to introduce anyone who was at that talk to my mother ("OH! You raised the slut! Well, at least she got a lot of good DIRTY RESEARCH out of it, but yish, Lady, I feel for ya!) and can hide the article in the BOTTOM of a SECRET box of memorabilia that my dad will not ever see or read it, I am going to chalk it up as a nice keepsake. Did I mention that I look wildly drunk and lascivious in the CANDID PHOTO? No? Well. I kinda do.

Maybe I better hide that box in, say, GUAM.

Posted by joshilyn at February 10, 2006 12:28 PM
Comments

Where can we see the article?

Posted by: Corrie at February 10, 2006 2:18 PM

I feel relatively sure that this article did NOT include the sentence "Joshilyn confesses to being a massive slut in the most cheerful and delicate and nonjudgemental language." I just don't think so. So I'll bet it's only you reading it that way. Besides, who on earth is responsible for their twenties, for crying out loud? I sure don't want to be...But don't tell my husband, who I married at 22, or the children I had at 25 and 29, respectively. They might take it the wrong way. ;)

Posted by: Amy-GO at February 10, 2006 3:07 PM

Um, yeah, we NEED to see the article and photo. Really, we do.

Posted by: DebR at February 10, 2006 3:29 PM

If you hide it in Guam, then we will all just have to charter a Guam-bound jet... hope you're feeling way way better!

Posted by: Cornelia Read at February 10, 2006 6:15 PM

Where is the photo? We need to see it. :o)

Posted by: Martha O'Connor at February 10, 2006 6:30 PM

So, what you're saying is, there's something wrong with going one town over so you can slut your way through the male population without your Mama finding out? Interesting. Perhaps I should have thought of that.

I kid! I kid! I was too busy birthin' babies (with just the one guy!) to slut around. But, boy it sounds like fun. I mean, boy that sounds awful!

Posted by: Contrary at February 11, 2006 7:34 PM

Athens misses you. . .

Besides, what happens in Athens stays in Athens - until someone graduates, flunks out or bails - then the rumors are spread to the four corners of the globe!

Posted by: Marshall at February 12, 2006 10:26 AM

Joss, being a slut was not all it was cracked up to be, but I don't regret it either. I learned a lot, my husband appreciates it. And I know A LOT OF PEOPLE. Oh, please Lord don't let my mother know, Florence is much (tens of thousands of people) smaller than Athens. Now I just wish I had your talent so I could utilize what I learned in my adventures.

Posted by: Cele at February 12, 2006 1:05 PM

Poor Joshilyn....

I guess people want fiction to be true, especially when it's well written and they get attached to the characters.

And as an aside ... I lived in Athens for four years in the 1980's - when were you there?

Posted by: Lauri at February 12, 2006 6:45 PM