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: with serpents for arms the lovers are the hydra of the tale ( )
08:23 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
"Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

-Silvia Plath Lady Lazarus

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19:56 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
Shes not your usual society girl.
Shes got a much darker centre and a much greater secret.
Shes girly and shes flirty and theres sort of an ease about her.
You begin to discover that everything that you see on the surface has no relation to whats going on underneath.

- tumblr

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19:58 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
Flesh and blood and skin and bone
Whats mine is mine and mine alone


- the waifs

@: with serpents for arms the lovers are the hydra of the tale

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15:27 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
My womanhood is not delicate or generous. It is a snarling, wounded animal caged in gleaming bars of pride and hidden away in the blackest part of my heart. It is wily and ruthless and jealous of the company it keeps, and it bleeds day and night from a secret, raw need for the worthy one. It waits in the dark and howls out a lament for the one with a muzzle in one pocket and bandages in another, the man with teeth like knives and eyes full of starlight.
I am a pillar of light and flame bottled up tight against intruders, and no man may open me or he will burn. Kisses from these lips are curses to the boys that steal them, and any one who looks at me too lingeringly calls down destruction upon himself, as though I am this centurys arc of the covenant. Why? Because I already belong to a bountifully cruel man with tenderness only for me. He is the supper-massive black hole at the center of my universe, drawing me closer with every second of these lonely nights and shuddering in anticipation for the day when he may swallow me up. On that day, he will come for the girl who thrills at silk scares around her wrists and a kingdom at her feet, and I will kneel for he who fears nothing but the curve of my mouth, the sound of my smallest whisper. I will wander through the halls of his heart with bare feet and loose hair, unafraid of what I might find there, and he will put the animal in me at rest with gentle words and firm hands. Together, we will make this world tremble.

So do not touch me, brother mine, or we will make you understand what it is to burn.

S.T. Gibson

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18:48 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
Courage in women is often mistaken for insanity.

Iron Jawed Angels

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15:45 

the female of the species more deadly

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
The Female of the Species

WHEN the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can.
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,
They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws.
'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,
For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away;
But when hunter meets with husbands, each confirms the other's tale
The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man, a bear in most relationsworm and savage otherwise,
Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise.
Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact
To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.

Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,
To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.
Mirth obscene diverts his angerDoubt and Pity oft perplex
Him in dealing with an issueto the scandal of The Sex!

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same;
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pitymust not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversionsnot in these her honour dwells
She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.

She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great
As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate.
And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim
Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.

She is wedded to convictionsin default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him who denies!
He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild,
Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.

Unprovoked and awful chargeseven so the she-bear fights,
Speech that drips, corrodes, and poisonseven so the cobra bites,
Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw
And the victim writhes in anguishlike the Jesuit with the squaw!

So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer
With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her
Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands
To some God of Abstract Justicewhich no woman understands.

And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not governshall enthral but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail,
That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the Male.

- Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

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16:27 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
entirely devoted to the subject of The Female Body. Knowing how well you have written on this topic this capacious topic
letter from The Michigan Quarterly Review

1.

I agree, its a hot topic. But only one? Look around, theres a wide range. Take my own, for instance.

I get up in the morning. My topic feels like hell. I sprinkle it with water, brush parts of it, rub it with towels, powder it, add lubricant. I dump in the fuel and away goes my topic, my topical topic, my controversial topic, my capacious topic, my limping topic, my my topic that is out of the question and anyway still cant spell, in its oversized coat and worn winter boots, scuttling along the sidewalk as if it were flesh and blood, hunting for whats out there, an avocado, an alderman, an adjective, hungry as ever.

2.

The basic Female Body comes with the following accessories: garter-belt, panty-girdle, crinoline, camisole, bustle, brassiere, stomacher, chemise, virgin zone, spike heels, nose-ring, veil, kid gloves, fishnet stockings, fichu, bandeau, Merry Widow, weepers, chokers, barrettes, bangles, beads, lorgnette, feather boa, basic black, compact, Lycra stretch one-piece with modesty panel, designer peignoir, flannel nightie, lace teddy, bed, head.

3.

The Female Body is made of transparent plastic and lights up when you plug it in. You press a button to illuminate the different systems. The Circulatory System is red, for the heart and arteries, purple for the veins; the Respiratory System is blue, the Lymphatic System is yellow, the Digestive System is green, with liver and kidneys in aqua. The nerves are done in orange and the brain is pink. The skeleton, as you might expect, is white.

The Reproductive System is optional, and can be removed. It comes with or without a miniature embryo. Parental judgement can thereby be exercised. We do not wish to frighten or offend.

4.

He said, I wont have one of those things in the house. It gives a young girl a false notion of beauty, not to mention anatomy. If a real woman was built like that shed fall on her face.

She said, If we dont let her have one like all the other girls shell feel singled out. Itll become an issue. Shell long for one and shell long to turn into one. Repression breeds sublimation. You know that.

He said, Its not just the pointy plastic tits, its the wardrobes. The wardrobes and that stupid male doll, whats his name, the one with the underwear glued on.

She said, Better to get it over with when shes young. He said, All right but dont let me see it.

She came whizzing down the stairs, thrown like a dart. She was stark naked. Her hair had been chopped off, her head was turned back to front, she was missing some toes and shed been tattooed all over her body with purple ink, in a scrollwork design. She hit the potted azalea, trembled there for a moment like a botched angel, and fell.

He said, I guess were safe.

5.

The Female Body has many uses. Its been used as a doorknocker, a bottle-opener, as a clock with a ticking belly, as something to hold up lampshades, as a nutcracker, just squeeze the brass legs together and out comes your nut. It bears torches, lifts victorious wreaths, grows copper wings and raises aloft a ring of neon stars; whole buildings rest on its marble heads.

It sells cars, beer, shaving lotion, cigarettes, hard liquor; it sells diet plans and diamonds, and desire in tiny crystal bottles. Is this the face that launched a thousand products? You bet it is, but dont get any funny big ideas, honey, that smile is a dime a dozen.

It does not merely sell, it is sold. Money flows into this country or that country, flies in, practically crawls in, suitful after suitful, lured by all those hairless pre-teen legs. Listen, you want to reduce the national debt, dont you? Arent you patriotic? Thats the spirit. Thats my girl.

Shes a natural resource, a renewable one luckily, because those things wear out so quickly. They dont make em like they used to. Shoddy goods.

6.

One and one equals another one. Pleasure in the female is not a requirement. Pair-bonding is stronger in geese. Were not talking about love, were talking about biology. Thats how we all got here, daughter.

Snails do it differently. Theyre hermaphrodites, and work in threes.

7.

Each female body contains a female brain. Handy. Makes things work. Stick pins in it and you get amazing results. Old popular songs. Short circuits. Bad dreams.

Anyway: each of these brains has two halves. Theyre joined together by a thick cord; neural pathways flow from one to the other, sparkles of electric information washing to and fro. Like light on waves. Like a conversation. How does a woman know? She listens. She listens in.

The male brain, now, thats a different matter. Only a thin connection. Space over here, time over there, music and arithmetic in their own sealed compartments. The right brain doesnt know what the left brain is doing. Good for aiming though, for hitting the target when you pull the trigger. Whats the target? Whos the target? Who cares? What matters is hitting it. Thats the male brain for you. Objective.

This is why men are so sad, why they feel so cut off, why they think of themselves as orphans cast adrift, footloose and stringless in the deep void. What void? she says. What are you talking about? The void of the Universe, he says, and she says Oh and looks out the window and tries to get a handle on it, but its no use, theres too much going on, too many rustlings in the leaves, too many voices, so she says, Would you like a cheese sandwich, a piece of cake, a cup of tea? And he grinds his teeth because she doesnt understand, and wanders off, not just alone but Alone, lost in the dark, lost in the skull, searching for the other half, the twin who could complete him.

Then it comes to him: hes lost the Female Body! Look, it shines in the gloom, far ahead, a vision of wholeness, ripeness, like a giant melon, like an apple, like a metaphor for breast in a bad sex novel; it shines like a balloon, like a foggy noon, a watery moon, shimmering in its egg of light.

Catch it. Put it in a pumpkin, in a high tower, in a compound, in a chamber, in a house, in a room. Quick, stick a leash on it, a lock, a chain, some pain, settle it down, so it can never get away from you again.

Margaret Atwood, The Female Body, from Good Bones

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19:36 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
A warrior feeds her body well. She trains it, works on it. Where she lacks knowledge, she studies.
But above all, she must believe in her strength of will and purpose and heart and soul.

David Gemmel

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19:16 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
She had that rare virtue of never existing completely except for at the opportune moment.

One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel García Márquez

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10:29 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
Being born a woman is an awful tragedy. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars
to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recordingall is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery.
My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy.
Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.

Sylvia Plath

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12:43 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
MACBETH : Stars, hide your fires;
Let not light see my black and deep desires.

William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act I Scene IV

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17:35 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
Film noir has a mood that everyone can feel. Its people in trouble, at night, with a little bit of wind and the right kind of music. Its a beautiful thing.

David Lynch

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00:29 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.

One must be cunning and wicked in this world.

- Leo Tolstoy (War and Peace)

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20:46 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
Ill swallow my blood before I swallow my pride.

Al Capone

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15:05 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
But women can never be careful enough, can we? If we take naked pictures of ourselves, were asking for it.
If someone can manage to hack into our accounts, were asking for it. If were not wearing anti-rape nail polish, were asking for it.0
If we dont take self-defence classes, were asking for it. If we get drunk, were asking for it.
If our skirts are too short, were asking for it. If we pass out at a party, were asking for it.
If we are not hyper-vigilant every single fucking second of every single fucking day, we are asking for it.
Even when we are hyper-vigilant, were still asking for it. The fact that we exist is asking for it.
This is what rape culture looks like.
This is what misogyny looks like.

from "What Happened to Jennifer Lawrence Was Sexual Assault"

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20:00 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
I think its weird that teenage girls know more about giving blowjobs than they do about masturbation.
It makes me sick to my stomach that so many young girls think sex is just about a guy finishing.

Elizabeth Olsen

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16:20 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
Forgive me, for all the things I did but mostly for the ones that I did not.

Donna Tartt, The Secret History

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12:25 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
Comparison is an act of violence against the self.

Maya Angelou

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21:28 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
In the wrong light anyone can look like a darkness.

Richard Siken, War of the Foxes

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10:52 

the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
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