My Body in Nine Parts by Raymond Federman Read Free Book Online Page B

on tables or even on floors.
    It seems that my sexual organ during our relationship, how else can I say that, our commerce, got us into some very awkward situations.
    But do not conclude immediately that he is perverse or vicious or anything like that. He just likes good fun.
    He’s not obsessed with himself. No, my sexual organ sometimes even goes dormant for long periods of time. But it does not take much to awaken him. The scent of feminine perfume. A smile on a beautiful face. A pair of long svelte legs in silk. A lovely derrière.
    Of course when I was younger, I mean before matrimony, I admit that I sometimes let him lead me into wild places. Especially in Tokyo, when I was a soldier serving with the occupying forces. We had a great time over there in Shimbashi my sexual organ and I. He amazed me with his endurance, though he was always careful not to cause any accidents.
    Then came the middle-age crisis, and for a while he was literally on strike against my desires. He refused to perform. He even embarrassed me at very tempting moments. Try as I would, all was lost for a time. But then slowly, kindly, gradually he became more responsive again. And now we have this understanding which allows us a certain freedom and ease, without too much coaching.
    But to describe him physically, in person, would be, it seems to me, in bad taste. The French would say, de mauvais séant .
    Therefore, again I can only leave it to you to imagine the adventures and misadventures of my sexual organ, to imagine that part of my body, which is as essential to me as the other parts whose story I have already told.

 
MY BROKEN MOLAR

    Today I went to the dentist because of my broken molar. The one that broke last week when I was biting on a piece of chocolate. Hard chocolate.
    It’s one of the upper molars on the left. The third one counting from the back of my jaw. How can I make this clear so that you will know which one I’m talking about.
    â†Yes, that one. The third one on the left, counting from the back. I think it’s a molar. To make sure, maybe I should consult the dictionary to see what it says about molars.
    Molar tooth: a tooth adapted for grinding by having a broad wounded or flattened though often ridged or tuberculated surface.
Specif : one of the cheek teeth in mammals behind the incisors and canines .
    That describes exactly the tooth that broke. So it’s definitely a molar.
    Those guys who write dictionaries are so good with words. They must have a certain intimate experience of what they describe.
    In the case of a tooth, the writer must first spend time examining the inside of a mammal’s mouth. And then he has to find the right words to describe what he has examined. To come up with a word tuberculated takes some thinking and some research. The choice of words makes it clear to the rest of us, uneducated in the subject of teeth, how molars function.
    Even more interesting in this definition of a molar is the term grinding . What a perfect word to illustrate how our molars function. The molars grind food just like a mill grinds grain. The guy assigned to describe molar teeth for the dictionary must have been a poet and a dentist.
    Anyway, now I am certain that it’s one of my molars that broke. The third on the left on my upper gums. One of my favorites.
    Of all my teeth, I like my molars best. Especially those to the left of my mouth because that’s the side I usually chew my food. Grind my food, I should say. It feels more natural to grind on that side.
    I have no idea why I favor the left side of my mouth over the right side. It’s instinctive. I don’t think it has anything to do with the fact that I was born left-handed, but was forced to become right-handed when I broke my left arm at a young age.
    [For details about my being born left-handed, and becoming right-handed see My Nose .]
    Could it be that I chew mostly on the left side of my mouth because of a nostalgic