The Lo Zone

Like this:

The afflicted find themselves waking up in the middle of sexual activity. In benign forms the activity is harmless, such as masturbation when alone or in some sexual act with a bed partner. In extreme cases the behavior can be embarrassing or dangerous, such as the protracted shouting of sexual noises, engaging in violent masturbation (more common in men, who can awake with bruises), or in the worst cases sexual assault of a bed partner. Subjects are often more dominant in their behaviors than they are when doing the same things when awake. Subjects report complete amnesia of the events.

"I noticed your site on the internet off of a link from MSN.COM , me and my fiancee is experiencing a problem with sleep sex. Most nights that she falls asleep for a few hours she starts moaning and soon is masturbating and acting out sexual acts in her sleep. She has spoke to her dr and he doesnt seem to think anything serious about it she was put on an anti psychotic pill that only seemed to change the pattern for a couple weeks and then went back to her usual sleep sex. She discontinued the pill at this point. If you can offer any suggestions or help it would be greatly appreciated."

"Me and my wife have been having a very difficult time since our marriage began four years ago. At night I become a very aggressive person in bed only to awake to a horrified wife that knows all to well what I have on my mind. It is only when she awakes that I do realize what is going on. I do have a very difficult time a night sleeping getting up every night. She has been so patient with me until recently the unwanted ness has become more aggressive. Our marriage is on the brink of divorce because of this obsession. She brought in an article that explains sleep sex! I read this and to my surprise I am astonished at what I was reading. I am looking a mirror image of what is happening to me. Is this just a stipulation or a convenience excuse with men with a sex obsession? If there is more information about sleep sex I would really like to know. I am in desperate need of answers to the question of what is going on."

Really Good or Really Shitty!!!

...addressed the following passage:

“See, I told you dum-dum. That frog ain’t turn to no dust,” the little girl taunted in a heavy southern accent. She had her hand on her hip, just the way Aunt Sister always stood. Her head rolled on her slender neck with an expertise far beyond her seven years. She stared at her brother waiting for his response, which would probably be a swift smack upside her head. Instead, he brushed past his sister fuming at his fallacy. She giggled at his defeat and skipped toward the creek to look for another activity.

Approaching the creek, the girl settled on dangling her legs over the dilapidated bridge that straddled the small stretch of water. She tiptoed to the middle of the bridge, careful to avoid the missing spaces where planks of wood once lay. Finding a secure spot, she carefully sat and began to further roll up the legs of her faded over-alls. They were two sizes too big, an obvious hand-me-down from her brother. Coupled with his oversized white t-shirt, she was lost in her ensemble. Her pants legs rolled to her satisfaction, the girl gingerly lowered her body and slid her legs under the railing of the bridge. Her legs were just long enough now that her feet skimmed the top of the creek water. Leaning back on her hands with her face turned upward at the sun, she remembered the days when Mama was alive and yearned for them with a hunger too deep for her own understanding.

[click image to enlarge]

...and what doesn't.

Sir Shakey

Lady T.

Mary and her husband Gareth

“See, I told you dum-dum. That frog ain’t turn to no dust,” the little girl taunted in a heavy southern accent. She had her hand on her hip, just the way Aunt Sister always stood. Her head rolled on her slender neck with an expertise far beyond her seven years. She stared at her brother waiting for his response, which would probably be a swift smack upside her head. Instead, he brushed past his sister fuming at his fallacy. She giggled at his defeat and skipped toward the creek to look for another activity.

Approaching the creek, the girl settled on dangling her legs over the dilapidated bridge that straddled the small stretch of water. She tiptoed to the middle of the bridge, careful to avoid the missing spaces where planks of wood once lay. Finding a secure spot, she carefully sat and began to further roll up the legs of her faded over-alls. They were two sizes too big, an obvious hand-me-down from her brother. Coupled with his oversized white t-shirt, she was lost in her ensemble. Her pants legs rolled to her satisfaction, the girl gingerly lowered her body and slid her legs under the railing of the bridge. Her legs were just long enough now that her feet skimmed the top of the creek water. Leaning back on her hands with her face turned upward at the sun, she remembered the days when Mama was alive and yearned for them with a hunger too deep for her own understanding.

...dared to explore the tricky world of writing in dialect:

Sand…I ‘memba I used to hate when niggahs called me dat. My moma name me Vincent. Dat’s probably why scary shit always happen to me, name me after that ol’ crazy assed Vincent Van Gogh, dat artis’ dude who cut off his ear fo’ a dame. Mu’fuckahs say I do some wil’ shit, but dat niggah was off da chain to do some shit like dat. Come to think of it, Ma named all us after some wil’ cats whose names started with Vs. Big bro’ Vee was named after some writer dude, Voltaire. Dat niggah got teased all through school – which is probably one reason he quit after da sixth grade. Anybody call him Voltaire now, better be ready to defend hisse’f. So, you know a niggah like me uses his name sometime to rile him. Vasco, come after me. Dat pretty mu’fuckah always tellin’ chicks he was named after a explorer so he can take dem ‘roun’ da worl’. I think Baby boy got da smoovest name, fo’ real. He da only one named after somebody black, too; dat photographer dude Van der Zee. I seen some o’ his pictures and black folks was smoove back den.

I ‘on’t think Daddy liked all dem big time names Ma gave us. He used to always grab my curls, tease me ‘bout my light brown hair and light brown eyes, said I look like da grainy color of sand. Started callin’ me Sand and now it feel funny when anybody call me Vincent. I tried to be cool once and make people call me Vinny, but dat didn’t last too long. Sand just stuck to me like dat gritty shit do from da beach.

Here's what you thought after a robust 302 votes:

I have to personally say that I thought this piece was OUTSTANDING, and was executed with great skill. Not everyone can write well in dialect,and readers either love it or hate it.
I LOVED IT.

CONGRATULATIONS are therefore in order for Bronx-based Lo Zone frequenter, author/artist/educator/explorer...CapCity...

...who also runs a wonderful blog called The Intimate Side of CapCity.

Kudos, lady. You ROCKED!!!

Previously: The Lo Zone: Really Good Or Really Shitty, Excerpt #5!!!
Previously: The Lo Zone: Really Good Or Really Shitty, Excerpt #4: The Results!!!
Previously: The Lo Zone: Really Good Or Really Shitty, Excerpt #4!!!
Previously: The Lo Zone: Really Good Or Really Shitty, Excerpt #3: The Results!!!
Previously: The Lo Zone: Really Good Or Really Shitty, Excerpt #3!!!
Previously: The Lo Zone: Really Good Or Really Shitty, Excerpt #2: The Results!!!
Previously: The Lo Zone: Really Good Or Really Shitty, Excerpt #2!!!
Previously: The Lo Zone: Really Good Or Really Shitty, Excerpt #1: The Results!!!
Previously: The Lo Zone: Really Good Or Really Shitty!!! Part 1 (Or, WWM3MS...What Would My 3 Muses Say?)