The Mutiny Always Rings Twice

And when, late on a weeknight, you are wakened by short, meaningful raps at the door and open it to find Anna in a hooded, velveteen robe, eyes dark and mysterious, blindfold in hand: you know your time has come and you follow without question.

She picks up your laptop and waits for you at the door, reminding you not to leave home without ample snark, a few good literary jabs and shimmery, sparkling eye makeup.

Your heart races. You swallow down parental warnings to avoid using fuck as a verb, drinking homemade punch out of crystal goblets handed to you by good-for-nothing “bois” and bringing sepia-colored Shame on the family.

You are sweaty-palmed and slightly nauseous over urban legends about hazing, mutinous readers and the potential for an unruly comment thread to turn into an impromptu session of Circle the Fat.

But mostly, you feel jittery and excited. Hoping against hope as she blindfolds you, that when the cool, silky fabric is ultimately removed you’ll find yourself at the intersection of Good Storytelling, Meaningful Prose and Cultural Context, but that until it is you have to go out on faith, friendship and sisterhood because you won’t know for sure till you get there what’s in store for you down the road ahead.

10 thoughts on “The Mutiny Always Rings Twice

  1. hmmm….the barmaid,the Anna AND the blindfold…..verry interesting;

    welcome home barmaid,hope to drown my sorrows in the shiraz of ur writing.

  2. crystal goblets

    we were more of a beer/indian stainless-steel cup crew ourselves. the only thing worse than using the not-to-be-used crystal was breaking the not-to-be-used Crystal.

    can’t wait to read your entries!

  3. See that faint black mist up at the horizon? No, no, don’t open your blindfold, stay put. It’s not yet time for the sights and sounds of a self-assured world. Now open your heart’s eyes. Do you see it? It looks like a gray ocean, with little gobs fading in and out, like a baby kaleidoscopic, not fully grown yet. Do you hear a faint hum, dub-dubbing, looking up now and then, not sure if it should go on with the beat? That is the sight of the swelling of our hearts and those sounds are our feelings of kinship. For long we too were waiting “at the intersection of Good Storytelling, Meaningful Prose and Cultural Context.” For what, we really can’t say. We’ll know when we see it. We feel it’s there when it’s devoid of that instinct of distrust. We believe it when what we read lifts us and leaves us permanently in the shadow of that heightened experience of you, taking us with you, encouraging us to leave our whims and silly fantasies by the wayside. Would you welcome us with a look of askance, or with an open heart? Do you want us to say what you write is “one of the best” or “the best in the contemporary,” or “the best ever written in the history”? See, we are still gray gobs and a faint hum-dub. We are not sure if we can flatter you convincingly. But when we feel it occasionally, when we shed our fear of acknowledgment, we will gather our freedom and we will say that this is that kind of account, that kind of Story, that kind of Prose that comes across in front of us as if it’s a note carried by a bird that just flew in, landed on the perch and we said suddenly, “What a majestic bird, most beautiful I ever saw!” For us these moments then become those types of moments when it feels like we are witnessing what we knew all along, that life is not a progression from poor to rich or from small reach to big reach, but rather it is a progression from small heat to big heat, from small intensity to big intensities. Like the distant, remote, indifferent, small intensity light, much like glow of a church light at a distance that gradually progresses into a bright white intensity of forgiveness as one gets nearer. Whoever you are, don’t try too hard.

    Regards, Crazyfinger

  4. hmmm….the barmaid,the Anna, the blindfold AND Anna cracking the whip!…….verry interesting ;).

    BarMaid, your blog has become an addiction for me. Can’t wait to see your posts at SM.