In a writing class, we had to imitate the style of Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club, and I chose to write about Fear of Flying by Eica Jong…

First Assignment:  Fight Club

Jody gets me into the feminist movement, after that Jody’s pushing a copy of Fear of Flying into my hands,saying that the first step to sexual liberation is reading Erica Jong’s novel.  For a long time, Jody’s been saying that it changed her life. People are always asking me, can you believe Jody and that book?

With the book in my hands, Jody says, “Isadora Wing feared more than airplanes!”

With all this energy coming from Jody, I can almost feel the power of the words hitting me.  Most of the excitement comes from Isadora’s sense of adventure, and it travels out in a wide radius.  To make an Isadora, you just add excitement with honesty, a lot of honesty.

You follow Isadora’s free-spirited ways and the book will blow your mind.

“This isn’t really hard,” Jody says.  “We just need to read it like a textbook.”

I read the book cover to cover and say, Jody, Isadora lived for herself.

The cafe we’re sitting in closes in ten minutes.  You take muffins and croissants and scones and mix it with designer coffee and that’s the cafe.  Then add the folksy music.  You’ve got Cafe Roundabout.

I know this because I practically live here.

So, mix sexiness with literature, and you have Erica Jong.  A lot of folks see her as a mix of humor and wisdom and bite.  This says it.  Some folks, they use he word bawdy while talking about her.

So Jody and I are on top of our form with the discussion of the novel, and we witness our thoughts converging.  Look at the subtext.  It’s a female sexual adventure story, and this for a woman is always met with criticism. It’s so daring for it’s time, the feeling you get is exhilaration as if you’re living her very own sexual adventures.  You do this automatically.

With several million readers you look out over the edge of Isadora’s sexuality and your findings below are shaped with a kaleidoscopic view of the people she’s slept with, standing down there, looking up at her.  The broken glass is a prism right below us.  A window blows open in your mind and then comes the knowledge as big as a universe right below you, a kaleidoscopic prism reflection of yourself as you look down over the chips of your own sexuality.

Isadora Wing.

She is Everywoman.

Somewhere across Europe with Adrian Goodlove, across her hang ups and her hung-up conscience, her fears are running rampant, testing every scrap of her courage.

The old saying, Nothing ventured, nothing gained, well, look, it works in this case.

With a suitcase full of growing pains and the hopes of Adrian Goodlove between her legs, Isadora can only live in the moment.

She’s down to her last ten minutes.



I volunteered at the animal shelter today, convinced more than ever that every dog, (actually whether they are kennel dogs or not), just like people, have issues.  One little chihuahua who was recently spayed thinks she has just given birth and she carries her little stuffies around as if they are her puppies.  She nurses them and refuses to leave her kennel as she doesn’t want to leave her “puppies.”  I feel sorry for the hormonal crap we women have to put up with.

Another dog I walk gets so amped up it takes me fifteen minutes to get his harness on.  He’s high strung in the kennel but once outside, he does beautifully.  He even went swimming in the dog pool today.

My favorite dog has been taken off the adopted list because she needs an expensive surgery. Hopefully, a rescue will take her and pay for it.  I don’t get to see her anymore, except through the glass door, and I try not to look in as she sees me and gets excited and I cannot go in and be with her.  This is really hard and one of the things I have to deal with working at the shelter is that I don’t have any control over what happens to the dogs.  It’s hard not to have favorites and fall in love with them.

I have been walking our longest resident there since he was a puppy.  He’s nine months now.  Luckily, he has an easy personality as dogs aren’t meant to be in a kennel this long.  When I take him outside, he doesn’t want to go for a walk.  He stalls, and so I just stand there with him.  Today, one of the other volunteers told me to try and walk him where he can see another dog, or people, up ahead of him as he loves dogs and people so much he will walk to try and catch up to them.  All these quirks and eccentricities work themselves out when they get adopted and live in a home.  They are just reacting to stress, and they react in different ways.

They all have their complex little personalities.  Another pittie  puppy whimpers a lot when he sees other dogs on the street as he wants to play so badly.  You just feel like you want to do something for him.  The shelter has playgroups two times per week so he does get to play with other dogs then.  Another dog is so tiny that even the smallest collar and leash doesn’t fit her.  She’s about a fourth the size of my purse and you have to be careful that she doesn’t get squashed.  Another dog will only eat the highest value treats — they are so funny, and picky, just like us.  Another one insists on just laying in whatever piece of sunlight she can find.  Little couch potato dog.  She’s adorable, and everybody stops and makes a big deal over her.

These dogs are so much like people I know in that they all have something you need to know about and make allowances for.  I could list all my friends and tell you their deal, but I’ll spare you.  And of course I have my issues too, and so do you.

Truth.  One dog fixates on orange balls so we only allow him to play  with the green ones…