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Houston Breakthrough 1977-02
Page 14
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Houston Breakthrough 1977-02 - Page 14. February 1977. Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries. University of Houston Digital Library. Web. September 18, 2014. http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/feminist/item/4451/show/4443.

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

(February 1977). Houston Breakthrough 1977-02 - Page 14. Houston and Texas Feminist and Lesbian Newsletters. Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries. Retrieved from http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/feminist/item/4451/show/4443

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

Houston Breakthrough 1977-02 - Page 14, February 1977, Houston and Texas Feminist and Lesbian Newsletters, Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries, accessed September 18, 2014, http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/feminist/item/4451/show/4443.

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

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Compound Item Description
Title Houston Breakthrough 1977-02
Publisher Breakthrough Publishing Co.
Date February 1977
Description Vol. 2 No. 2
Subject.Topical (LCSH)
  • Women--Texas--Periodicals
  • Feminism--United States--Periodicals
Subject.Geographic (TGN)
  • Houston, Texas
Genre (AAT)
  • periodicals
Language English
Physical Description 21 page periodical
Format (IMT)
  • image/jpeg
Original Item Location http://library.uh.edu/record=b2332724~S11
Digital Collection Houston and Texas Feminist and Lesbian Newsletters
Digital Collection URL http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/feminist
Repository Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries
Repository URL http://info.lib.uh.edu/about/campus-libraries-collections/special-collections
Use and Reproduction Educational use only, no other permissions given. Copyright to this resource is held by the content creator, author, artist or other entity, and is provided here for educational purposes only. It may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without written permission of the copyright owner. For more information please see the UH Digital Library Fair Use policy on the “About” page of this website.
File name index.cpd
Item Description
Title Page 14
Subject.Topical (LCSH)
  • Women--Texas--Periodicals
  • Feminism--United States--Periodicals
Repository Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries
Use and Reproduction Educational use only, no other permissions given. Copyright to this resource is held by the content creator, author, artist or other entity, and is provided here for educational purposes only. It may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without written permission of the copyright owner. For more information please see the UH Digital Library Fair Use policy on the “About” page of this website.
File name femin_201109_525n.jpg
Transcript PAINTING BY EDVARD MUNCH Eagle spleen By Susan Plant I Want To Communicate. Eagle Spleen. It is something I have never experienced. I am mad (of course). A vanilla flavored smell hits my nose and is sweet. What corrugated perversion reeks in the heart of Man!? Four tall candles in a golden candelabra fill the room with melted butter mingling with the cocoa sands. A riviera dream floats by my window with a Dada and the time of day. This is what it is to me, this is what I want. My chest swells larger and my hair grows longer. My hands grope and my insides thirst. The blind cat's toes are numb and this is what it feels like to be free. This is what I am free to feel. The physical incidentals make me as transparent as saran wrap. I slink about in a Senator's tunic posing as a private eye. I once was murdered and came back to life. An ennobling and humbling experience. The memory of that out of mind sensation crawls the surface of my body. The forked veins on my left hand remind me of decision-making. Both branches lead directly to my heart. Nestled within that.scarred muscle are the thorns of abnegation. The forest of shame and rage that spawned the bush continues to cat and call from the shores of primitive delectation. In a drawer are a handful of desiccated seeds. They rattle faintly in their dried- up pods when I open the drawer. I am not thinking about them and play the game that they are not there. I had an image last night when I was sitting in the movies. I was a cabin with high, high ceilings. I don't believe I was present, but I know the scene actually took place. There was only one man. He sighed his last sigh of the evening, ran his knotty, sunburnt (though young) hand through the roots of his black curly hair. The walls were white-plastered and the door and the beams supporting the astronomically high ceiling were brown and splintery. His motions indicated that he was worried about something. The man is not characteristically a worrier; feeling worrisome bothers him. His last cigarette has made him slightly sick to his stomach. He takes a drink of tepid bottled water which is, however, purer than the water he drinks at home. Before he got into his sleeping bag, he stood above it, his arms hanging limply at his side and his opulent lips slack. His tongue is slightly swollen. His mind is blank and a headache gathers force. That was just before he got into the bag. That was when the tragedy occurred, when he got into the sleeping bag. The beam directly above where he lay broke and plunged to the floor, one half planting its knife-sharp splintered edge into his heart. It was ghastly, the way the point struck first, forcing his head and his feet to fly up into the air. In the living room we sit face to face pondering one another. We are engaged in writing a book of pornographic poems in bland verse. Of course we cannot touch, for then the fantasies would be arrested. Our imaginations run wild. We feel like throwbacks. I begin crawling on the floor from one piece of furniture to another and he nervously watches. ' mm Indonesian art batik fabrics and accessories LAURA SILVERMAN BENEDYKT ROZYCKI 1012 W.ALABAMA 527-9211 I Want. I want to want. I want to come in contact with strong desires. I want to confront the completeness of my being. I want to feel emptiness. I want to control my self- destruction. I want to release my imagination. I want to contact my sixth sense of awareness. I want to control men so they can't scare me and make my mind stop. Let me illustrate my point. This "wanting" business is full of pitfalls. Too much picking of the brain reveals the forces in oneself that usually exert an unseen influence. Take the few preceding short paragraphs, for instance. You must see that the subject matter is sex, or, as I prefer, lovemaking. I said to myself, "OK. Want." What happens? I start following men. I risk the loss of a deep and loyal platonic relationship for the shallower, more harrowing sexual involvement. Where does it get me? In trouble. Who will be the one to stay around when things get tough. Not the lover, but the man of mind in kind. How much bitterness I harbor against him. How much fear I have of all the rest. I want this writing to be finished. I want to write a book. I want to sit quietly in solitude without the ghost of man surrounding me. I want to talk to the animals. I want to escape by entering reality (ha!) rather than stepping back and out of it. I laugh at the myth of reality, but we've all got one. Stashed away in the back of our minds except when we go shoving it into everyone's face. I want to know everything. I want to be subsumed by energy. I want to keep my head above the ambiguity. I want to be awash with imagery. I want to write children/ stories. I want my lower half to drof off. I want to be able to build a spider's web. The Spider Web Connection. Each of us harbors an exquisite secret. It is a tiny indestructible gem within. Nothing material compares with this bud of infinity. Nothing intellectual can compete with its richness. And yet, the secret is usually hidden from us. I have never seen it, smelled it, felt it, tasted it or heard it; I have sensed it. Hidden this secret may be, but it is hidden within its manifestations. One of these manifestations is desire. And the greatest desire is to know what the inner secret is. The secret selfishly guards its knowledge; its knowledge is of the inner self. The desire to know the inner self leads us through a maze of forest and plain. I cannot reach the fruit of desire but can only tell about my struggles to gather the fruits and to find a pleasant and lonely spot to sit and gorge myself upon it. Every morning I awake beside a refreshing glowing spring on the edge of the forest. I awake from a nocturnal meandering thorugh the underworlds of the inner self covered with the gold dust of my dreams. My hair is tangled with the syntax of the private language of my subconscious. The lingering memory of the long and mysterious discussions within trouble me when my eyes are struck by the day which is the night of my dreams' revelations. But the day is my companion and I am left with the shadow of knowledge. I bathe in the stream to clear my head leaving with regret the gold dust on the bottom of the spring. I brush my hair, helpless to gather the memories which fall about me. Eagle spleen. )cC P'fl"5"d"fl"g -fl-fi-5~d"0"<T00Tfl P 8 g"0"5-5"g"fl"5"0"0"fl"5"5 5"5 (T5 dlTOO 6 5 fl"0"5"5~fl Vg Roots Reveals A FANTASTIC SALE! Save 15 to 40% on selected Roots styles during February. t Roots a a the sexy sexless shoe j 5366 We.thelper Grtcupoht Mall ^^^^^^^ 629-4120 448-5638 IS » B.BXBJLflA.B.fl.fl.fl.fl.B.P.fl.B.B.a-»-B-B-P-0J>.B_B.B.JULftJUUUUU)J.BJLX It* »■» J Houston Breakthrough • February 1977 • Page 13