A cup of coffee, a picture in my head
I’ve had a bad writing week. It’s trouble focusing, a little bit of winter-related sadness, and life stress. I’ve opened and closed my Pygmalion-inspired novella multiple times without making progress. I suppose sitting around inside, away from the cold, has finally taken its toll on me. Often, I find myself drifting off into a daydream while staring at a blinking cursor, and there is one daydream in particular…
Las Vegas, hands-down, is my favorite city. Maybe because I’m still at that young, party-girl stage. I have tons of fond memories from there. Drinking all night, sleeping for an hour, and hitting the slots. Dinner at world class restaurants. Walking along the strip, beer in hand. Public drinking is illegal, but for some reason is not enforced. I’ve called it “Adult Disneyland” multiple times, because it really is! My favorite memory was from about a year ago. I wore a backless dress that just barely covered my ass and boobies with chains for straps, danced on a stage at Tao with about twenty other drunk girls, sat in the casino to share a bottle of vodka with my friends, and teetered back up to our luxurious suite at the Venetian around seven a.m. I had to get back up three hours later and I was pretty much a zombie, but a breakfast of fresh-made guacamole and tortilla soup brought me back to life. Going through the pictures from the previous night was remarkably like the ending of The Hangover. “Where did we take this?” “Who’s that girl?” “Did I actually drink that?” Oh, the feels. I hope I can go back there in the summer. And dear reader, if you’ve never been to Las Vegas, I hope you can, too!
In the meantime, while I was supposed to be writing the novella, I’ve daydreamed about Vegas so much that I have material for a new story. About a girl. Set in a particular city. (Spoiler: it’s Las Vegas).
So the manuscript for the Pygmalion-inspired story hasn’t gotten very far beyond the prologue, but I do have notes. Lots and lots of notes! The premise of the story is that a realistic sex doll comes to life and has sexual misadventures while learning how to be human. I don’t know much about the sex doll world (and still don’t!), so I’ve done some rudimentary googling, skimmed a few blogs of interest, and checked out some of the websites that sell them. The film Lars and the Real Girl starring Ryan Gosling has edged sex dolls into the mainstream consciousness somewhat, so I watched that, too.
What surprised me the most about the film was that Lars’s relationship with his doll was fueled by mental illness. In truth, sex dolls like the one portrayed in the film are anatomically correct and highly customizable, so it could be very appealing to anyone regardless of mental health. Real life owners vary from those who use them just for sex to those who, like Lars, believe the dolls are alive, plus the many shades of in-between. I got a little annoyed because of this because if you think about it, sex dolls are like dildos, and who’s to say that they aren’t as legitimate as an expression of sexuality? Did the filmmakers have to make Lars mentally ill to want a sex doll of his own?
So…lots to say, but not enough mind-energy to scribe it. The “research” did help me flesh out the characters for my Pygmalion story a little more, so I’m very glad I decided to take things slow with that project!
*off to Vegas*