{"id":1674,"date":"2009-10-09T06:45:02","date_gmt":"2009-10-09T04:45:02","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=1674"},"modified":"2010-01-22T21:51:51","modified_gmt":"2010-01-22T19:51:51","slug":"androginy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=1674","title":{"rendered":"Androgyny<\/strong>"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

by Robert Fenhagen (USA)<\/strong><\/p>\n

for the Romanian version, click here<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cSergeant, I truly am most apologetic; I must have been sleep-walking, or something.\u00a0 I assure you, nothing like this will ever happen again.\u00a0 Ever.\u00a0 Alright, I will tell you what happened as best I can\u2026., excuse me as I mimic the voices:<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cAre you looking at me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I glanced around to make sure no one was watching, I said nothing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI said, \u2018are you looking at me?\u201d\u00a0 I glanced at the statue I was standing in front of, but dismissed the thought.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Again, I looked about, trying to find the source of this verbally aggressive and rude address, when a sultry feminine voice purred:<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cHi.\u00a0 Do you come here often?\u00a0 My name is Passion.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Her voice was the voice of my nanny, and as hard-wired as the soft, sensuous, dripping with both potential lust, and potential nurturing\u2014if such a thing is possible, and as automatically responsive, I felt as odd and strange as any fleur des lyses believing Quebecois can be, I was knocked for the proverbial loop by hearing Tia\u2019s voice, the voice that I had apparently hidden away in a never forgotten hiding spot in my psyche.<\/p>\n

It was Tia, all five foot six of her, with exquisite and long dark hair, who taught me to speak proper English, and even though I am French-Quebec born, many of my sensibilities have been borrowed from Tia from England, who allowed me to present myself properly to the business powers here in Montreal.
\n\u00a0<\/p>\n

(Suspect Gilles Talbot on describing his experience. Excerpts from Montreal Police Document)
\n\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The declaration of her name was spoken softly and nearly drowned out by the cars and the occasional bus that whizzed along Sherbrooke Street, and I barely heard her voice, but it was Tia, the stunningly beautiful, who came to work for my mother, who had divorced my schizophrenic father.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0 I had been wandering along Sherbrooke Street– browsing through\u00a0 the various art houses and galleries, and had paused to try to appreciate the rather extraordinary statue outside of Le Memory Art Emporium at 6411 Sherbrook, when interesting, life changing questions began floating into the air looking for his warm ear to come to rest in.\u00a0 Excuse me for sounding so poetic, but it was the Art block, after all.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 It was cold, but with a toque pulled down over the top portion of my skull, I was snug as a bug\u2014a happy, well-fed, well-employed manager of the Le Jardin restaurant on Cressent Street, downtown\u2014that one.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0 It does not matter much, but I enjoy sampling Chef Jean Cretin\u2019s daily creations\u2026a lot.\u00a0 If you\u2019ll excuse me, Sergeant, it looks as though a man such as you might enjoy them, too.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cAllez-vous, frog man!\u201d\u00a0 the decidedly male voice sneered in the most absurdly cockney accent I\u2019d ever heard. It was the boyfriend, come back from whatever Hell he ended up in order to take up residence in this poor statue instead of some flop house in Montreal West.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I thought he died some years ago\u2014as a matter of fact, she must have, too.\u00a0 Maybe not.\u00a0\u00a0 She would be in her fifties by now if she had lived.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know.<\/p>\n

\u00a0 Hearing, or seeming to hear her long lost voice also reminded me of listening to the worst moments when Tia\u2019s boyfriend, Fred, the cockney English idiot was in my life. He was abusive both in verbal, and I think, a physical way.\u00a0 He was a bloomin\u2019 bully. Sorry, sir.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cCome here,\u201d\u00a0 purred Tia\u2019s, or whoever\u2019s voicing it was, sounding more and more like\u00a0 Tia\u2014so beautiful, with her soft voice and long, dark hair.\u00a0 I again looked at the statue standing alongside the walkway leading from Sherbrooke Street to the .M.M.\u00a0 Something was very strange, besides the fact that it was warm on a January afternoon in Montreal.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The statue had short, bronzed hair, so it could have been dark; on the other hand, the entire statue could have been a boy or girl, too.\u00a0 I was very confused, and thought to myself:<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018Who in the devil was the guy telling him to get the hell out of there, and who was this girl telling him to come near to her?\u00a0 Was it the statue, or was this all in my head?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 It was very confusing and I remember rubbing my head. I was wearing an Expos baseball cap (no, I\u2019m not a fan), and I think I was squinting, because it was bright out. As you can see, I have light blue eyes, which are ridiculously sensitive.\u00a0 My mother always used to tell me that I was a hyper-sensitive boy.
\n\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cAndrogyny\u201d read the brass plaque underneath the statue of a slim bronze figure, with no discernable gender, that was, until I looked closer at the chest, which immediately reminded me of when I caught Tia showering.\u00a0 What exquisite breasts she has–lovely, small, but very beautiful.<\/p>\n

\u201cWere you speaking to me?\u201d\u00a0 I asked, suddenly, remembering the odd voices.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I was.\u201d The decidedly female voice said softly.\u00a0<\/p>\n

It was Tia!<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 No, no.\u00a0 It wasn\u2019t; it couldn\u2019t be; it was a statue standing off of Sherbrooke Street in Montreal, Canada.\u00a0 I was trying my best to keep past, present, male, female all straight in my head!\u00a0 Can you imagine how confused I was?!!?
\n\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I straightened up and peered at the sexually explicit statue. \u201cAndrogyny.\u201d\u00a0 I murmured.<\/p>\n

\u2018Isn\u2019t that bi-sexual?\u2019\u00a0 I whispered, \u2018maybe both sexes?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0 I wondered about it, but this time to myself.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Passion.\u201d the statue whispered, now looking decidedly female. Tia never spoke to me so huskily, but I wish she had, if you know what I mean, Sergeant.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 No, I\u2019m winking to say \u2018We\u2019re both men, and we understand; that\u2019s all.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0 Suddenly,\u00a0 the statue\u2019s short hair looked very attractive to me.\u00a0 I guess it was my imagination before; it had had looked mannish, but now, it seemed to ooze femininity!<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I moaned, my underpants stirring, and smiled seductively (which was quite difficult as traffic roared by.\u00a0 A Volkswagen beeped at me, and the driver waved). I leaned closer to the statue, and said:<\/p>\n

\u201cUm, you\u2019re a statue, n\u2019est-ce-pas?\u201d\u00a0 I asked, glancing around, not sure if this was a French statue, and just in case a Montreal constable happened to be looking at me, and wondered what I\u00a0 was doing talking to a statue outside of the\u00a0 M.M.– the local name for Montreal Memories, this brand new, avant garde place..<\/p>\n

Having been raised by a nanny from London, England, yet, later attending a French High School, my thoughts were often schizophrenic.\u00a0 Both languages, and, particularly, verbal nuances, now\u00a0 drifted in and out– consciously and unconsciously, depending on the social situation, so standing in the sun in the middle of a Montreal winter, also proved odd.\u00a0 I wondered about the etiquette of addressing a statue that is talking to you.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Does one respond to each voice emanating from a human statue that has a male torso, with well developed pectoral muscles, with a woman\u2019s genital area\u2014pubis apparent\u2014that\u2019s the long and short of it, so to speak?<\/p>\n

\u00a0 If one is spotted conversing with the said statue, does that constitute a reason for a trip to the booby hatch, as my British nanny used to assure me that I was eventually heading toward, especially after I attempted to seduce her using my finest whispers d\u2019 amour?<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yes.\u00a0 I am.\u201d\u00a0 The sexy one said.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo am I, hair-ball.\u201d growled the man voice.<\/p>\n

At that point, I remembered that androgyny had to do with mixed up sexuality, so didn\u2019t it make sense that there was a male and female voice talking to me?<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I again leaned closer, feeling slush splatter up to my derriere as a bus roared by.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 For some unknown reason, I remember– it was a number 3 bus.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0 I used to imagine a French\/ English dictionary, which was the technique that I had developed as Tia addressed me in her proper British accent.\u00a0 I also used my imaginary dictionary when trying to understand what her idiot boyfriend with the cockney accent was going on about.<\/p>\n

My uncle, Claude, used to point to his head and say about someone who was acting crazy:<\/p>\n

\u201cLa machine est brise.\u201d\u00a0 The machine is broken.\u00a0 Tia\u2018s boyfriend was very broken.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 My imaginary dictionary was called \u201cClouseau\u2019 after the bumbling, yet unaccountably stalwart and effective detective.<\/p>\n

In it, as the pages flipped open in front of my mind\u2019s eye, there was \u2018A\u2019 for \u2018And\u2019, \u2018A\u2019 for \u2018Androdygny\u2019, Ant, Antelope\u2026\u00a0 Let\u2019s see,<\/p>\n

Androgyny: \u2018Not male or female, but\u2026\u2019\u00a0 HMMM.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The statue sounded like English, which was an almost quaint these days as Montreal became more and more French predominant.\u00a0 It spoke in Tia\u2019s voice, I swear!<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Actually, I adore English women.\u00a0 I suppose that Tia was the one who made that all possible. They were so unique, so\u2026 international.\u00a0 That\u2019s a funny thought.<\/p>\n

Chuckles.\u00a0 (Police document notation)
\n\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you still bloody lookin\u2019 at me?\u201d\u00a0 Why I fell into Robert De Niro\u2019s voice from \u2018Taxi Driver\u2019, I\u2019ll never know.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I mean, yes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d I asked the statue.\u00a0 Excuse me, sir, but why is the constable looking at me like that?<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I am from bloody London\u2019s East End, and I will give you a thumping the likes you have never, EVER experienced, you French wog bastard.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I\u2019m only looking.\u00a0 Besides, you\u2019re a statue, not even a figment in my imagination anymore.\u00a0 You\u2019re probably dead anyway, the way you used to act. Strutting around like some stupid English bull dog.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou were looking at my baby, you greasy bastard.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTia was my nanny, you idiot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou loved her from the day you saw her.\u201d<\/p>\n

I had to admit\u2014I had.\u00a0 She was\u00a0\u00a0 so beautiful with her long brown hair, but now, here in this art house, the statue couldn\u2019t be her.\u00a0 Of course not.\u00a0 Of course n\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cHelp me down.\u201d<\/p>\n

I nearly screamed like a girl.\u00a0 I did!<\/p>\n

\u201cI am looking at a statue.\u00a0 You are a statue.\u00a0 I have no desire to help you do anything, although you remind me of my most beautiful nanny when I was much younger, but I assure you, I am mortal, and you are, you\u2026a statue, and certainly not alive.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI need your help.\u00a0 Don\u2019t I look like your nanny?\u00a0 What was her name\u2014your nanny?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2018Her name was, is:\u00a0 Tia.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd where was, is she?\u201d Passion the statue said softly, yet in that strangely familiar voice.<\/p>\n

I sighed, looked around again, convinced that I must have digested some sort of psychedelic substance.\u00a0 Probably, that idiot, Marc, at work.\u00a0 He despises me.\u2019\u00a0 I thought miserably, yet, resentfully, I might add.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201cI need your help.\u00a0 Truly, I do.\u00a0 The other part of me is a beast.\u00a0 He\u2019s very angry and aggressive.\u00a0 You\u2019ll have to be careful.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho are you and what are you talking about?\u2019 I asked.
\n\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cHe wants to beat me. He thinks I am flirting with you, when we both know that I am simply a statue that was sculpted of me after I left your parents\u2019 employ. LaForest, the mad sculptor from Olde Montreal made me both a woman and a man, for some artistic, yet wholly unconscionable reason.\u00a0 I am Tia, your nanny.\u00a0 When you saw me naked, I looked into your eyes and knew that I wanted to be with you.\u00a0 Do you even remember seeing me naked?\u201d<\/p>\n

I swallowed, but did not speak.<\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u201cYou have such tenderness in your eyes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is crazy,\u201d\u00a0 I murmured, unfortunately loud enough for a guard to take notice.\u00a0 Another guard was walking toward us, I mean, me.\u00a0 I ran.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do you call yourself \u2018Passion?\u201d\u00a0 I called over my shoulder.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was LaForest, not me.\u201d called my nanny.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019d better run, you coward!\u201d\u00a0 called the insulting and very nasty male voice. Glancing over my shoulder,\u00a0 the obviously male portion of the statue was preening, his alabaster colored penis erect.\u00a0 How despicable!<\/p>\n

(\u2018Certainment\u2019\u2014Police comment)<\/p>\n

What a thing, him being so close to the loveliest woman I\u2019d ever laid eyes on.\u00a0 Tia.<\/p>\n

Gulping great mouthfuls of oxygen, I leaned against one of the pillars outside.\u00a0 I was cold and very confused, but I went back inside the house, and walked directly up to Tia\u2019s statue, ready to address this male should he start something.\u00a0 I nervously said:<\/p>\n

\u201cI have no idea as to how this is possible, but I have thought of you everyday since seeing you in the bath that day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhot\u2019d you say?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know who you are, monsieur, but I\u2019m an old friend of Tia\u2019s, and respect her highly as I know you wish to.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I\u2019ll bloody well respect her.\u00a0 I\u2019ll respect her all the time I\u2019m putting the boots to her tawdry ass.\u00a0 Tart!\u00a0 Whore!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI told you.\u201d\u00a0 Tia, my love whimpered.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll do no such thing!\u201d\u00a0 I yelled, and before I knew what had happened, I was being led away by you policemen, who I might add are excellent.\u00a0 Thank you for getting me out of there.\u201d
\n\u00a0<\/p>\n

As Patrolman William Davis, and Sergeant Lucien Labelle left the Westmount police station at the end of their shift, Davis asked, \u201cSo, what you think?\u201d\u00a0 Sergeant Labelle sniffed the cool air, and after a moment, replied:<\/p>\n

\u201cI think la machine est brise; crazy as, how do you say\u2014a fox?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy did he try to steal that statue?\u201d persisted Davis.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho knows?\u00a0 It was comical, was it not\u2014him screaming to unhand her.\u00a0 What a loo-loo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid he think the statue was his girlfriend, or something?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know, and I don\u2019t think he did, either.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u201cSalute, mon ami.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n

Who knows who said that?<\/p>\n

Finis<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00a0 by Robert Fenhagen (USA) for the Romanian version, click here \u201cSergeant, I truly am most apologetic; I must have been sleep-walking, or something.\u00a0 I assure you, nothing like this will ever happen again.\u00a0 Ever.\u00a0 Alright, I will tell you what happened as best I can\u2026., excuse me as I mimic the voices: \u00a0\u00a0 \u201cAre […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[310,22],"tags":[1131,1123,25,1116],"class_list":["post-1674","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-24","category-short-story","tag-egophobia-24","tag-english","tag-robert-fenhagen","tag-short-story"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-r0","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1674","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1674"}],"version-history":[{"count":26,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1674\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3470,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1674\/revisions\/3470"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1674"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1674"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1674"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}