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Geoffrey wrote:Listen. Leonard tends to refer to a woman's 'hills' or the 'ravine' down below rather than her eyes, ears or nose, right? I am not suggesting an unhealthy fixation with carnality, just that it would be nice if just once in a while he noticed her facial features or other virtues she may have.

Geoffrey, it is you, not Leonard, who is fixated on carnality. All the time, Leonard remarks on facial features (from "Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm..." onwards), and virtues too (e.g. "Your beauty lost to you yourself...")

Given the timing of its release, I'm assuming Never Any Good was possibly written as a form of "apology" to Rebecca De Mornay after the break up of their relationship, but also perhaps in reference to Cohen's other past "failed" relationships.

A TV interview from around the time (early to mid-90s) has been posted around here recently in which Cohen talks of a meeting with De Mornay over lunch some time after their break up. I'm assuming from what he said in that interview that the critical issue was more the extent of his romantic commitment than the extent of his dick (although De Mornay was apparently satisfied he'd done the best he could with the equipment available ).

As regards "deep ravines" and "never showing it to me do you!", the intentional ambiguity is part of what differentiates Cohen as a poet. Good sex of itself involves a degree of "dissociation" from both yourself and the "shallow rivulet" of the physical situation (which if only experienced in a "photographic" sense would be severely diminished, I'd imagine). It therfore shares a lot in common with the metaphorical and metaphysical aspects of good poetry.

Hi YrPal
I remember hearing that interview re Rebecca. The words he used were she had forgiven him because she knew he had given their relationship "my best shot" from which I inferred he had tried harder than he had with any of his previous relationships. I didn't get the impression it had anything to do with physical performance.

UrPal wrote:Given the timing of its release, I'm assuming Never Any Good was possibly written as a form of "apology" to Rebecca De Mornay after the break up of their relationship, but also perhaps in reference to Cohen's other past "failed" relationships.

A TV interview from around the time (early to mid-90s) has been posted around here recently in which Cohen talks of a meeting with De Mornay over lunch some time after their break up. I'm assuming from what he said in that interview that the critical issue was more the extent of his romantic commitment than the extent of his dick (although De Mornay was apparently satisfied he'd done the best he could with the equipment available ).

As regards "deep ravines" and "never showing it to me do you!", the intentional ambiguity is part of what differentiates Cohen as a poet. Good sex of itself involves a degree of "dissociation" from both yourself and the "shallow rivulet" of the physical situation (which if only experienced in a "photographic" sense would be severely diminished, I'd imagine). It therfore shares a lot in common with the metaphorical and metaphysical aspects of good poetry.

The 'deep ravine' is Rebecca's womanhood, is that what you're saying? Well, why were the hills (breasts?) referred to as being 'holy' but not the ravine? I thought a woman's ravine was always regarded as a more sacred area than her hills. In 'Pulp Fiction' (the foot massage conversation), Samuel Jackson says something about "stickin' your tongue in her holiest of holies" - and that surely is the general consensus. Yet Leonard hints at no religious connection to that area, only to her milk jugs.

Now, now.. it's well past your bedtime!

John Etherington wrote:
>Now, now.. it's well past your bedtime!


Well, I'm just an ordinary guy, I don't think of Abbey Road every time I use a zebra crossing - but I do know that sex is the best way to lose a friendship - and that is probably what happened between Leonard and Rebecca. Regarding your comment; I've just returned now from a sleep permeated by thoughts of hills and ravines, and my mind is a suitcase full of images that need unpacking. I can do that alone, but it is better with someone's help. When Leonard was having intercourse with a lady he said he could feel a holy pigeon or dove, or whatever, moving simultaneously inside her. This is bordering onto bestiality, perhaps, but nevertheless reminiscent of Leda and the swan, perhaps? Her two hills were holy, the fluttering bird that he was nudging, the one trapped at the bottom in the fissure, or ravine or whatever, was holy, but the cleft itself was just a deep pit. As Jack Nicolson said in Witches of Eastwick: "A woman is a hole! Isn't that what they say? All the futility of the world pouring into her." Why is a woman's body regarded by a man as a place for worship? Man connects to a woman's body all that is sacred and divine, yet woman does not reciprocate such assertions to a man's body. Nobody, except maybe a Catholic, can claim that a woman's body is more hallowed than a man's body - to do so is just an irritating noise. It's like the water that accumulates in the handle of my frying pan every time it is put into the washing-up machine. I have to shake it to get the damned stuff out, or else I hear it hiss like a snake when I turn the electric ring on.

I'm speechless! Now what did Leonard say?..."I never expected to be loved at all for rescuing sex and reversing the fall".

From a totally different angle:

AS a female, I listen to you guys (including artists like Cohen, Dylan, Byron, etc.) go on and on about woman's bodies (including, presumably, mine -- in abstract of course) being a door to the sacred -- or to the profane, etc.

I'm not male -- never will be (unless the Hindus are right,) and so I have to take your word on this. And I try to construct this artifice in my head comprised of the proper metaphors and imagery so I can "connect" with this mode of artistic thought.

But of course, I don't really "get it." A woman's vagina as "holy ravine," breasts as "holy mountains?" yeah I make the intellectual connections but deep down --- naaah. And I enjoy sex. Very much. (I describe myself as "very married.") But I would never compare a penis to a sacred mountain.

But I must say I was fascinatingly amused with this latest fossil find ("Ani" or some such moniker) and it's surprising implication. Which are: our ancestors became bipedal BEFORE the forest became savannah which presents the question, Why? Traditional anthropological reasoning held that upright posture gave us the prospective needed to compete for food on the open plains -- we could see over the grasses, which gave us an advantage. Add to that our opposable thumbs and the smarts to use sticks and stones -- and -- voila! -- we won the selection game!

But now that reasoning is gone. We became bipedal and upright BEFORE our former canopy home disappeared. So what's the popular theory now? With a nod to Jane Goodall's observations of clever, but less then dominantly sized male chimps taking fertile troop females on "honeymoons, (and thus getting all the sex with that fertile female to himself,) the theory I've read the other day posits that men had to stand upright and have their hands free so they could bring stuff to woo females.

And I like this theory because it jives with our socio/love patterns today. Females get to choose which male they will accept -- when a female (or her parents) are not afforded this choice then a crime (taboo) is committed. Females are looking for help in raising the offspring through those interminably long childhoods our species has. And if you show us how clever you are at finding stuff and sharing it with us, and convince us that you are committed for the long haul, then we're gonna choose you. It's gonna take over 10 years to raise that kid and we've got to believe you're gonna be there for every temper tantrum, every case of the flu, every feast and every famine.

Which, to try to circle this post back to its opening paragraph, explains why I (and other females?) do not have a deep connection (intentional pun) to this "female anatomy equals gateway to the divine" thing. (Or why we don't have a corresponding "male anatomy equals gateway to the divine?") Rather, I (and other females) seek a more intellectual connection -- emotional commitment, care, concern. In other words, all the things men joke about having to 'fake' to their spouses in late night stand up comedy routines.

And explains why we women can be so sanctimoniously picky. When you leave the toilet seat up you are telling us you don't care to commit to us and to our marriages with the utmost fidelity we're looking for. We fear you're gonna run off with that hot young chimp down at the watering hole and leave us to manage the family clan of rowdy, growing, hungry chimps on our own. Which again, leaves many women to be so sanctimonious about their pickiness. You may love us, but we may not think you are "good enough" at love. If you were "good enough" the toilet seat would always be down, the trash would always be taken to the curb for trash days AND on nights after meals involving chicken bones, you would 'just know' when an unexpected present of flowers, jewelry or a dinner out was needed, etc, etc, etc.

We can be pretty damned picky. You may worship our ravines and sacred hills, and that's nice and all, but we want to see the stuff you bring us with those arms in the bipedal, upright posture. We want proof of commitment! And if you never manage to satisfy the picky neediness of your female other, then obviously,(in her eyes) you aren't good enough at love!

And, I could go on for another paragraph or 2 about how this theory would also explain WHY you males equate female anatomy with the sacred. We are literally, the door way to immortality. But I'm just here to explain why Leonard, with his masterful understanding of us females, understands why a female may not think that he (and other males) may not be "good enough" for someone's love.

Geoffrey,

I do love when you start a thread or get involved in one. Your comments make make people think and respond in the most interesting ways.

Kindest regards,
Mary

Hi Gina, it's nice to meet you. I should tell you I've fallen in like with you at first reading. That was a great post.

GinaDCG wrote:
When you leave the toilet seat up you are telling us you don't care to commit to us and to our marriages with the utmost fidelity we're looking for. We fear you're gonna run off with that hot young chimp down at the watering hole and leave us to manage the family clan of rowdy, growing, hungry chimps on our own. Which again, leaves many women to be so sanctimonious about their pickiness. You may love us, but we may not think you are "good enough" at love. If you were "good enough" the toilet seat would always be down, the trash would always be taken to the curb for trash days AND on nights after meals involving chicken bones, you would 'just know' when an unexpected present of flowers, jewelry or a dinner out was needed, etc, etc, etc.

Yes, this is it exactly! Love is the toilet seat down, ice cream when your throat is sore (I'm not feeling well) and yes it's a flower at the right moment for no reason.

Cate

Cate wrote:
>Hi Gina, it's nice to meet you. I should tell you I've fallen in like with you at first reading. That was a great post.

Indeed. Gina, that was excellent. More!!!!

>Yes, this is it exactly! Love is the toilet seat down, ice cream when your throat is sore, and yes it's a flower at the right moment for no reason.

There is no real recipe guaranteed to get a man beneath a woman's garments, at least if we are to give credence to Einstein. He claimed that we all "dance to a mysterious tune intoned in the distance by an invisible piper". He (plus one of his contemporaries) said we are guided by a signal from the heavens, a force that exercises control over the insect and the star, whether we be human beings, vegetables or cosmic dust. But who knows, perhaps a vertical toilet seat, ice cream and flowers, can slightly influence the force that is so hellbent on determining our behaviour. A stiff prick has no conscience; and its owner will ply his victim with a hundred bouquets if it will pay dividends. Another trick is the 'red-eye' strategy, because a woman with a strong motherly instinct will fall easily for a broken and tearful guy (she doesn't need to see the onion he sniffed). For as we say in the trade: "A man who gets dampness up in his eyes, makes a woman get dampness down in her thighs."

Faking red eyes! that's terrible

There is no real recipe guaranteed

Nope not true G. I just gave you the perfect recipe.

Find a sick chick – you could try hanging out outside of a walk-in clinic – then cleverly deduce her favourite flavor of ice cream (I’ll give you a hint it probably involves chocolate). Now all you have to do is; follow her home, give her enough time to consume a hot toddy and some Sudafed (see half your work's already done) then show up at her door with a container of haagen dazs and a sunflower - which you will claim pales in beauty compared to the lovely oozy creature who stands before you.
Now to synch it simple tell her you need to go pee, if she seems unsure to let you in simply hope a little and let her now that the need is urgent. When you finish in the powder room make sure that you drop the seat with a bang so that she can tell that YOU are in fact a seat putter er downer!!!

Oh oh oh almost forgot – wash your hands or at least pretend to for a decent period of time before you leave the bathroom (she’ll be timing your cleanliness).

Wonderful post, Gina ~ Glad to see you get involved in this discussion. MaryB made a great observation on you, Geoffrey... as though you're surprized re: its truth, right ?

All compliments are ravenously devoured and accepted -- with great satisfaction, but hopefully, with sufficient humility.

I am so glad I joined this forum ALMOST as glad that I finally dove into Cohen's music. Reading all the wonderful, insightful posts gives me an outlet for expressing my Cohenphyllia. I'm afraid that my hiking friends here in West Virginia do not share my new-found joy with Cohen. Thanks to this forum I've been able to give them all a break and talk about something else during our long, rambling hikes in the mountains.

A stiff prick has no conscience; and its owner will ply his victim with a hundred bouquets if it will pay dividends. Another trick is the 'red-eye' strategy, because a woman with a strong motherly instinct will fall easily for a broken and tearful guy (she doesn't need to see the onion he sniffed). For as we say in the trade: "A man who gets dampness up in his eyes, makes a woman get dampness down in her thighs."

Yes, which is why we women feel justified in our sanctimonious pickiness. We must constantly look for the clues so we can distinguish between the "keeper" and the "cad." This is why we look for the toilet seat clues, the understanding of the need for flowers and chocolates, signs of sensitivity which indicate a commitment that will last decades.

And yes, that pesky estrogen we have does pre-dispose us to fall for the red-eye strategy. What can I say? Our detection skills are not perfect. (Which is why our mothers -- and fathers -- pass down whole lists of requirements and signs we're supposed to memorize.)

But most of us really are like Jane Austen heroines: we see love first as a conscious choice: we choose whether or not we should put ourselves in a position to fall in love. -- The wise among us decide that only if you're "good enough" will we give ourselves permission to fall for you.