I’m writing. I’m really happy I am writing. Queen and Brian May’s solos are driving me forward at a speed I am grateful for.
I wrote this passage and wanted to share it and see if anyone liked or hated it. I’ve sat on it for over a year and am still unsure. Does it make sense? I like it, but is it too “poetic?”
Surrounding this paragraph is a lot of graphic gay sex. This seemed a moment of respite from that.
Turning back to the window after hearing a couple of guys oooo and ahhh, she stood running her finger over her eyebrow, then watching two particularly active men. Tilting her head and squinting, they became notes on a musical staff, Ravel’s Boléro pulling the men through the staccato eighth and sixteenth notes. She watched as they tumbled three-quarter speed through the lines on the page, each thrust into a man’s body creating the accent at the end of the wave before a new crest of orgasms began. The symphonic orchestra in her head, mixing with “We Are Family” on the motel’s radio, created something resembling a Stravinsky composition.
Is it too obscure?
I’m not sure.
Thoughts?
Navelgazing Writer 