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A pleasant coincidence today: the novel I’m currently reading, The Children’s Bach by Helen Garner, contains a passage about dancing, and the story I posted today, “The Dance Lesson,” is also about dancing. I suppose that’s the extent of the similarity, but I do enjoy when this happens. Here’s the paragraph from The Children’s Bach:
People danced there, in the daytime, in the middle of the morning, down the aisle between the two long rows of tables. The songs they favoured were South American ones with titles the Australians passed over in ignorance, thinking them Italian: the songs were more passionate, more driven, more intellectual than anything we know of here. They danced in each other's arms, with their elbows up high and no expression on their faces: it was all form and precision. They did the tango, the rhumba, the samba. They knew the steps. They never stumbled. Their arms and legs were long and sinewy. The dresses were a spray of light. The men's trousers hit the shoe just right.
Not long ago a reader commented that the illustrations to my stories lacked mature (though not old) fully-figured women. While I agree that I tend to prefer lithe female models of modest breast and perhaps boyish bottom, I think over the years I have included a fair number of women with other shapes. However, in response to that comment, I’ve created a woman of some heft and maybe a bit on the other side of thirty-five. She shows up in today’s story “Flamenco,” which is about a couple preparing for their participation in a parents’ talent show at the local high school. Tomorrow’s story “Talent Show” continues with that event. In the next week or two this woman will appear in a few more stories. (If you have an interest in seeing a character with a particular feature or features, don’t hesitate to let me know.)
After not posting anything to SoL for quite a number of years, I resumed in December of 2020, and since then I’ve posted at least one piece (mostly flash fiction) every day. I have a couple more little stories scheduled, but then I’m taking a vacation, the length of which is undetermined. I’m curious how it will feel.
Deciding whether to code my story no sex, minimal sex, some sex, much sex, or stroke gives me pause. I don’t set out to write a story with a particular amount of sex. It just happens. Almost everything I post here is a sex story. Curious about how I’ve coded so far, I did a category search, and I discovered:
No sex – 44
Minimal sex – 163
Some sex – 386
Much sex – 277
Stroke – 124
That totals 994.
My total number of posted stories is 1134. So the other 140 stories much be off the charts sex.
I didn’t enter this year’s Halloween Contest, and my excuse is that reading the stories then affords me greater pleasure.
I did post one Halloween story, though—one of my little ditties. I am eager to read Ashley’s poem. If she’s not too quick I might predict the rhymes. Could she possibly make use of Lapsong Souchong? If not, I’d certainly settle for quim.
As often is the case, my illustration is decidedly bare, going beyond the characters’ limited dress. Lisa here is wearing more than she typically does. But you’d think there would be a box of cereal evident somewhere in that kitchen. Okay, let’s just say Nils and Lisa are expert housekeepers. And you know what they say: clutter rhymes with peanut butter.
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