pop-porn
since we aren't allowed to show people copulating, we find other ways to get off. in telugu movies, beating women up is very popular. this sequence is most effective when she's in a saree, looking very pure and virginal. the guy yanks her about and starts off with some slapping. she falls about, her pallu slipping off. then he grabs her hair - of which she has plenty and it's plaited for maximum grabbing advantage - and whips her about the room, toppling things over. (this works great in the kitchen when there's the additional thrill of her catching fire) the orchestra really gets warmed up now: clattering utensils, woman screaming, four-year-old wailing in the doorway. then the tempo rises and he throws her on the floor, kicking vigorously. by now her saree's more or less given up the half-hearted struggle against immodesty and she's thrashing around in the grip of an orgiastic helplessness. in a while, she goes limp against the floor and he hauls one last kick at her behind before grunting in satisfaction and heading off, nearly ripping the door's hinges in his progress.
in malayalam movies and soaps, women cry. they cry in the most keening, breathless, continuous way imaginable. this sound fairly forms the background score of most of the serials my mom watches every evening. there once was a talk show that was also very big around here, and every week they'd find one woman to sit on the panel and cry. that seemed to be her only contribution to the debate. and it sounded like that mic was lodged up her nose, it caught every ragged breath and sigh. and you know it's porn because of how cynically manufactured the throes are. in movies the man stands around saying nasty things, most likely casting aspersions on her character or threatening to kill her lover. she'll hold her pallu to her face and get into her act. her mother soon joins in. her sister, their maid. large panting women, dripping wet and grunting with the effort of their pose.
a fuck is still just a fuck, but sex repressed is an ugly ugly thing.
in malayalam movies and soaps, women cry. they cry in the most keening, breathless, continuous way imaginable. this sound fairly forms the background score of most of the serials my mom watches every evening. there once was a talk show that was also very big around here, and every week they'd find one woman to sit on the panel and cry. that seemed to be her only contribution to the debate. and it sounded like that mic was lodged up her nose, it caught every ragged breath and sigh. and you know it's porn because of how cynically manufactured the throes are. in movies the man stands around saying nasty things, most likely casting aspersions on her character or threatening to kill her lover. she'll hold her pallu to her face and get into her act. her mother soon joins in. her sister, their maid. large panting women, dripping wet and grunting with the effort of their pose.
a fuck is still just a fuck, but sex repressed is an ugly ugly thing.
posted by Deepa at 7:13 PM
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