Where the Pavement Ends: A book report

One Woman's Bicycle Trip through Mongolia, China and Vietnam
By: Erika Warmbrunn

I just received this book, written by a Ms.Warmbrunn, on order through the Hawaii Public Library. I haven't even finished it and I'm already wowed. I actually get shivers when I read it and I like it so much that I pause in between passages and bask in the enjoyment of the tales told. You know when you've finally found a book that fits exactly your state of mind, like it was written for you? If you haven't already guessed, I'm very much into adventure and bicycles. I love the way she describes the traditions of the people who's lives she passes through, the frustration of the obstacles that she faces, and black and white photographs that bring it all to life. She really captures the moment and transmits it to your brain.

By: I <3 Books :)

My Mouth

What is it with people looking at my mouth when I talk? Its particularly men, and I’m not an idiot, I know when they are looking me in the eye and when their gaze travels to my vocal tool. I think it may be that I have scars from pimples? And bad teeth? And a large very expressive mouth?...

Bronson did it; that was a little awkward because he had this droopy look, like when his eyes traveled, so did his concentration on what I was saying to him. Like they are thinking of doing something to / in my mouth??? Haha, that’s sounds ridiculous and overly sexual perhaps, but I really sometimes think I put off something that announces my sexuality?

But on the note of sexuality, I do not see myself as an especially active participant or even a craver of sex. I have hormones, as do other women, young and “old”. I have my needs. But the appetite is not as prevalent. I can do without for a very long time. I have my toys when I really need them.

Back to the note of why they talk to my mouth instead of me.. The thing that made me link it all together is that they ALL had the SAME LOOK in their eyes. Not one that I am creating or fabricating for sake of a good read, no, it’s the droopy, bedroom eyes that I am speaking of. And All of them have been while I am at work!

It’s a little bit distracting the first time, and the second, but the third time by a respectable man who is married with children (and presumably happy at that), throws me off a little. I do have to wonder what it is exactly that they are thinking. I cannot ask them, that is just awkward and presumptuous. 

OMG! Haha! I think they are looking at my mustache! ;-P  

By: Anonymous

INGROWN

The skin is friction-prone and rashed always. Always a hair meant to breathe the air of the living refuses to leave the comforts of his pore. My hobby is squeezing those dirty rascals from their hiding spots, bleeding the hole and puss from pressure. From pleasure his head surfaces and slowly emerges a body strangely large for one whose life was lived solely underground. Sometimes I leave him standing on his feet, pert and trapped, but mostly pluck him from his misery. He was never meant for this world. From there I like to bring him back, dangle his little spine on my tongue, to taste myself and what I can do. Coarse hair, soft skin, he tastes perfect in mama's mouth. Come back into the womb, darling. You're not quite done yet.

By: Andrea Werhun

A Zine of things we're taught to be ashamed of

http://issuu.com/erika_m/docs/zine_2

A Book Review

Across America by Bicycle



















Across America By Bicycle: Alice and Bobbi's Summer on Wheels
By: Alice Honeywell and Bobbi Montgomery

This inspiring tale of two women traversing the USA by bicycle is a humorous and delightful account that makes me want to hop on my bicycle and head to the ice cream parlor. The story is told in the voice of Bobbi, but is written by both parties. She breaks down their journey from Oregon to Maine, from one day to the next, with a delightful picture map at the beginning of each chapter. They go into detail about the terrain they experience, their mindsets, and how they come to consensus decisions on the fly between them. I was both victorious and sad when they reached their final destination, thankfully my next book "It's Not About the Tapas", detailing a bicycle adventure in Spain, arrived the same day that I finished this book. So on to the next adventure!

Bicycles have been a life changing experience for me, especially as a women. They provide me with the safety I feel that I need and the economic freedom that comes from being able to repair my own wheels. Alice and Bobbi's story is not the first glorious tale I have heard about traversing continents, my friend Katie Sage did the same in Canada, going from east to west. I had not much considered this form of travel until I met people that had done it and they made it more real. I am excited to create my own bicycle adventure in the not so distant future, but am content in my position as bicycle mechanic apprentice for the time being. The more knowledge I can suck in the better! More and more women are taking on such mechanical and hands-on jobs as time goes by and I'm proud to be one of them.


By: Rose

Seeing Red

Getting Consent, a video

http://everydayfeminism.com/2013/05/getting-consent/

The truth lies...

My cunt bleeds
and she itches
and she farts sometimes.

She says obscene things
Like
"Fuck You." &
"Get Away From Me Asshole."

She may shout
very loudly
But seen from the outside
My face is politely arrayed
A mask.
Held gentley against the skin of my cheeks

My cunt contorts for my face,
making all the right expressions.

If I listen to her,
she only tells the truth.

By Anonymous

Naked

Naked

Standing

I look down at my breasts

long and heavy

but not at the point of

saggy, I whisper to myself;

the tips of my nipples are

dry with dead skin

I peel it off gently.

My belly rises higher

than my knees, a playful

mound with a

concave hiccup at its peek: my

bellybutton glistens.

I bend as far as I

can and examine the legs that’ve

carried me through these years

knocking each other in constant

banter, chips fly away

among the floorboards.

I sit on my ass

it’s malleable as clay

and flattens on the ground.

my finger digs

a small path down my crack

I feel beautiful today.

By: Whitney French

Armpit Hair?

My mother is trying to convince me that if I shave my airmpit hair then I will be less anxious, that I will find more compatible partners, and that life will overall become easier. It seems to be something that matters to her a lot. She continues on to say that she doesn't care as much about let hair, but underarm hair really bothers her because she associates it with smelling bad.

I stopped shaving my armpits a few years ago when I was travelling because I slowly would relieve my backpack of "unnecessaries". More and more things became part of that category as weight sucks to lug around. A razor was one of those unnecessaries.

After this experience, I realized that I liked not shaving my armpits, that shaving them was actually somewhat painful and irritating and why did I feel like I had to? As time continued I noticed that some of my friends also didn't shave and it wasn't all that abnormal depending on the group of people you were around.

But now I'm home, on a small island, in the middle of the ocean, without those other people and my mom thinks I'm strange. HAHA. It doesn't want to make me shave my armpits, who ever wants to do what their mother tries to make them do? But it does make me want to question why. Why is it such a big deal that she would weigh my happiness against it? This baffles me. Where is she getting these ideas? Is it really such a big deal? Would someone resist hiring me over it among other things?

Any thoughts?