A need for something new

So, my writing is feeling uninspired. I am seemingly out of beginnings for the time being. I noticed this, because what I wrote today was not very good, and I’m not sure if it is because I’ve kind of run out of beginnings for the time being, or if it is because I am MORE interested in pursuing some of the things I’ve started. So it seems my challenge of simply writing ANYTHING is going to have to take a break. Instead, I’m going to make an effort to write something everyday, to further a story I have started.

This seems hard for me. What if I don’t like what I write that day? Should I chunk it and try again, or just keep on moving? Sometimes when I write, I don’t have a plan. I don’t know where it is going, but I know my characters, and I assume they will take me somewhere interesting. I’m afraid if I’m not overly interested in where a character starts to take me, and chunk it, that I will miss things that could have been, and perhaps take a journey which goes in an equally bad or worse direction, because I will be focusing on not going the way I went in the chapter I tossed.

So I’d be interested in seeing what you guys think. Is there any story you liked more? Wanted more? I’m interested in several, but it might be narcissism rather than genuine interest.


Here is the last of my 5-10 minute writing challenges for awhile. From now on, I’ll probably devote something like 30 minutes to writing something. I’ll try and keep posting it, but no promises.

FINAL Challenge:

I lied about being a virgin once. I didn’t like the story about my first time, how I lost it to someone who barely remembered my name, and despite being a good lover, was more interested in his orgasm than making it memorable. The only solace was that it was total darkness, and therefore I really only knew the feeling of sex. I knew how it felt to have him inside me, the short acute pain of penetration, and the incredible rush of pleasure which magnified with each thrust. However, I didn’t know what it looked like. The lack of illumination made me feel like I was in that moment between sleep and consciousness where things from your dreams feel real, but are not. After he was done, I didn’t want to stay. Staying would have made it real, but if I left soon, if I woke up in my own bed, this mistake would just be a bad dream, and I would still have my virginity to give to someone who deserved it.

Thankfully, I didn’t have much time to lie to myself. The boy seemed to know that if he was going to be my first, he had better hurry, so fate seemed to send him to me via express mail. We met on the dance floor, with an instant attraction. He was slim and smooth, and he was a virgin too. I knew I would have mine moment, the sweet tender moment of the two of us fumbling around, trying to make sex into making love. We would be each others first, and therefore always be a part of each others lives.

So I lied. I told him he was my first, and I forced my body to react the same way. The short quiver of anticipation, the moments of uncertainty throughout, even my voice was pinched mimicking the sounds I had made during my first time. He was the one I had wanted, had waited for, and it made me sad I had cheated on him even before I met him. That night, we gave each other bliss, awkward as it was, and I stayed. He held me in the brief periods where we weren’t going at it, and I feel like our lips barely stayed apart.


Gay Marriage Movement

So in New York, gay couples might not be able to marry, but they can divorce! This makes me think that I’m misreading it, as it makes very little sense, but whatever. Here is the NYPost article:



Last updated: 3:21 pm
October 25, 2008
Posted: 4:28 am
October 25, 2008

http://www.nypost. com/seven/ 10252008/ news/regionalnew s/ny_judge_ oks_gay_divorc_ es_135194. htm

Gay couples still can’t marry in New York – but at least they can get divorced.

A Manhattan lesbian couple wed in Massachusetts got a court’s blessing to seek a divorce here, according to a decision published yesterday.

And it was bittersweet victory, said one of the women involved in the split.

“My community is so important to me that it’s really mixed emotion,” said the woman, who asked to be identified only by her initials, C.C.

“I would rather them recognize [a right to enter in to] marriage first, and then [allow] divorce. But it’s a big step forward for our equality and our rights.”

This is the first time that a New York court has allowed a same-sex couple married in another state to seek a divorce. Earlier this year, another New York judge OK’d the divorce of a same-sex couple married in Canada.

“I can’t tell you how happy I feel that a New York court recognizes same-sex marriage and divorce,” said lawyer Lois Liberman. “It enables equality.”

This latest ruling involves C.C. and her partner, identified in papers only as C.M. They wed in Great Barrington, Mass., in August 2005. They began dating in 2001 and entered into a domestic partnership a year later.

During the marriage, C.M. gave birth to a child, now 2. The couple’s lawyers have said they expect no problems working out custody or financial matters. C.C. said she adopted the child, and expects partial custody.

Manhattan Supreme Court Judge Rosalyn Richter’s ruling cited several other decisions by courts and local and state governments recognizing gay marriage.

Included was Gov. Paterson’s directive earlier this year asking state agencies to make sure their rules and regulations “afford comity and full faith and credit to same-sex marriages.”

The judge set aside a ruling from last December that found that Rhode Island divorce courts lacked the authority to recognize same-sex marriages granted in Massachusetts.

Lieberman, who represented C.C., called Richter’s decision “excellent.”

“I think it’s necessary,” she added, describing the ruling as “a big victory.”

Same-sex marriages are allowed in several foreign countries and in California and Massachusetts. Several other states and the District of Columbia recognize civil unions.

While New York’s courts recognize same-sex marriages performed in other states, several court rulings have kept such marriages from being performed here.

bill.sanderson@ nypost.com

Left over

So this is something I’ve been working on. It’s not very good, and has not been changed in a year. However, due to illness and stuff I’ve not been able to do more writing. Comments?


It’s easy enough to find trouble when you are bored, and on South Padre Island you can get bored pretty quickly. The spring and summers bring in tons of people, but few people settle down here, and so when you live here it can get quite lonely if you don’t fit in with the locals. Unfortunately, I haven’t fit in with many people since we moved here.

My mom decided that the best way to escape from haunting Alliance Nebraska was to run a small bed and breakfast here in South Padre, and so we moved here a few years back. I grew up in Alliance, which is famous for being cold and having “Carhenge” where some artist decided to memorialize his father by making a Stonehenge replica out of cars, but I didn’t really have many friends. The people I hung out with were mainly because we went to the same school since we were in kindergarten, and we were the same age. In Nebraska, a history from childhood is all you need to have people to hang out with.

The first time I saw South Padre Island I felt I’d come to paradise, but had forgotten to appropriately pack. We drove up to the place my mom was going to fix up, and when I opened the creaky French doors onto the balcony the July sun hit my rugby shirt, which I’d already rolled the sleeves up, and I had to discard it just so I wouldn’t die when I lugged my big steamer trunk in what would later become “my room.” My pale skin, which I preferred to describe as alabaster, looked ridiculous on that balcony with the tanned beach bodies on the beach below as a background. My mom laughed at the juxtaposition saying it reminded her of one of those “which of these is not like the other” problems you find in the highlights for kids magazines at the doctors office. In truth, my life has felt that way even before we moved. In Nebraska it was easier to fit in, because I was amongst people who had seen me grow into weirdness, but the people of South Padre were not their to witness this historical progression, and so I’m rarely approached.

My first weeks on the island were perhaps the loneliest, my mother was busy with contractors and seeing to getting the house repaired, so I thought it was a good time to get to know the area. South Padre isn’t very big, but when your walking the whole concept of exploration excited me. I felt like I was an explorer, I’d never seen so much sand and the water was so clear. Unfortunately it was difficult to enjoy all of South Padre’s beauty because of the tourists who were there. It was strange to hate tourists considering some of them knew the area better than me. I was more or less annoyed at their sense of entitlement, as if South Padre was only there when they needed it, but I couldn’t look at it the same way.

I am however not completely alone, I’ve got two partners in crime which have had similarly been afflicted by both boredom and the ostracization of the locals. The first is Julia, she and I met on one of my adventures exploring the island. I walked into the coffee shop she worked at, and after looking me up and down I’ll never forget her first words to me “I hate tourists.” An attack that I assumed was supposed to cause me to go away, but since I was technically a local I shot back “I know, they have so much promise but then they just leave.” she smiled and asked me what she could offer me. Apparently I had impressed her, which is no easy task, and she gave me my latte for free. I remember sitting in the shop watching her completely dressed in black save the required white apron, which gave her a French maid look, as she seemed to waltz about the café and attend to her regular patrons and blatantly snub any tourists. I had stayed there all afternoon watching out the window at the town, which was now my home. I wrote in my journal all day trying to make sense of the situation I found myself in. I wrote more when I first arrived in South Padre, my Mom wasn’t really around to talk to, and so without an ear to listen I felt writing things down made me look a little less crazy than talking to myself. I was lost that afternoon writing in my journal about how I was bizarrely missing my friends in Nebraska, and then I heard Julia again.

“You have to get out,”

“What?” Still shocked by her bluntness.

“We’re closing, you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here,”

“Oh…sure.” I sighed and grabbed my bag. Julia stopped me at the door, and gave me a very shocking hug. As her lips neared my ear she whispered “wait for me out back” in a voice so sexually charged that one could not help but imagine her perfectly pink lips whispering them even if you couldn’t see them.

Not sure why, I did as she said. Twenty minutes later she walked outside the back door with the setting sun as her backdrop. Since she was dressed in black it was like watching a shadow walking on a mirror their features melted in the sun masking which part of her was flesh and blood and which part was only shadow. She smiled and slipped her arm around mine, and started walking towards the beach without saying a word.

“Where are we going?” I asked after a few steps.

“If I told you it would ruin it.” She said without a glance at me.

We walked along the beach for over an hour without speaking. The silence was oddly enough nerve wracking and I could hear my own heart beat thump louder and louder this stranger led me further into unknown beach territory. Thankfully Julia made a sharp turn towards a dilapidated dock. The closer we got I could see someone was starting a fire on the beach. Julia unhooked her arm…and embraced this stranger without a word. The boy stood 6 feet tall sporting shaggy dark red hair, sinisterly dark eyes, and a scrappy build with muscles he seemed to have inherited rather than earned. Julia finally decided to speak, and introduced herself to me.

“I’m Julia, and this is Dakin.” She said indicating to the guy she had brought me to.

“I’m Edward.” I said nodding and putting my hands in my pockets.

“Ed it is.” Julia laughed.

“No, it’s actually Edward.” I hated the name Ed. It made me think people saw me as some country yokel, and being from Nebraska that wasn’t exactly a far jump for people to make.

“Edward.” Dakin said. His voice was gruff and frightening low, as if he had just had his voice change and he was still working on getting the pitch to sound normal.

“Edward” Julia repeated after Dakin in her sultry tone.

“So what do you do here?” I asked.

“We usually fuck.” Said Dakin as he put his arm around Julia his hands falling onto Julia’s breasts, which were immediately slapped away.

“We do not! We’re not like that. Uhg you ruin everything.” Said Julia with a heavy sigh.

“Sorry babe. You didn’t exactly script this out for me.” He said with a throaty chuckle.

“Script what out?” I asked confused and considering running.

“Nothing. We don’t really do anything out here but talk and drink. It’s just the only place on this fucking island that isn’t covered with tourists or snotty locales. People think it’s ugly because the wood is so rotted.” Julia explained.

“Really? I like it. It’s the only thing on the island I’ve seen that looks like it’s been here for longer than a decade.” I said admiring the crumbling pier.

“Yeah, South Padre is generally interested in things looking clean. I’ve seen piers that even the spiders webs look like they were manufactured.” Dakin said.

“So what are we supposed to be doing exactly?” I wondered as an open question.

“It’s your initiation.” Said Julia

“Into what exactly?” I asked.

“Well…it doesn’t have a name. Basically, it’s just an unofficial gathering that happens each Friday. It’s a good way for us to make sure we don’t become hobbits or something.” Dakin explained.

“Hobbits?” I asked.

“Tolkein.” Was Julia’s answer.

“No, I know what a hobbit is. I just didn’t know people could become hobbits. Is there something in the water?” I joked.

“I mean that we make a point to not just be alone all the time. It’s rare to meet someone who isn’t a tourist or doesn’t have that local charm. So…Julia and I have kept each other company on Friday nights to assure we retain such individuality.” Dakin explained.

“I see…so what do I have to do to be ‘initiated’ into this club?” I asked as I sat down on a piece of drift wood feeling like I could finally relax.

“You’ve got to tell us something secret from start to finish.” Julia said.

“What?” I asked as I stalled for time. Why is it whenever someone asks you for a secret the worst one is always what comes to mind rather than something silly and easy like cheating on a 4th grade math assignment?

“Well…the night I met Dakin we exchanged secrets, and since then we’ve been bonded. I figure the same will happen if you tell us a secret. If it makes you feel better you’ll hear ours tonight too. The same secrets Dakin and I exchanged 2 years ago.” Julia said.

“Julia! That’s hardly fair. Those aren’t secrets anymore…after all we know each others. Tonight I think is a night where we all must share something truly new. Besides I’m sure you’ve not told me everything.” Said Dakin seemingly taking advantage of the situation.

“Well…I…you’re right. Very well….new secrets for all, and just to show you how we want it done…Dakin will be the first to tell tonight,” Said Julia carefully providing a conversational checkmate for Dakin.

“Heh….touché darling. Very well I’ll start.” Dakin said as he sat down and removed his shirt exposing his pale muscled torso. My eyes instantly flashed to his abdomen where a thin scar ran from his lower rib to his muscled hip. [Apollo or Adonis Belt is the term http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apollo’s_belt]


“I got this when I was 13, when I lived in Seattle. On most days it rained, and so I spent most of my time indoors with my best friend Blair. Blair and I had met when we were alphabetically arranged to sit next to each other in second grade. I remember the first day of school my parents were out of town, and my aunt didn’t believe me when I said I was too sick to go to school. I ended up throwing up all over my desk, and Blair’s. However it all oozed over onto the really bitchy girl’s desk, and we became friends once I got over the flu. We both hated out teacher, and spent the entire year planning her demise, but I think the worst we did was writing stories about a terrible teacher who tormented her students, but seemed really nice to the parents. After 2nd grade I was moved to a private school, but we saw each other almost every day because we lived on the same block.

So one weekend Blair and I went on a camping trip with his Dad. Blair’s Dad was great, he was divorced and didn’t seem to care if he ever had another date again. He was messy, always ordered out, and would let us cuss as much as we wanted. He always said any woman worth dating was one who’d find his lifestyle charming rather than disgusting. Anyway, he drove us all out to Bank Lake and we set up camp, and spent the day hiking around on the trails. That night we made the best steak and onions I’ve ever had, by cooking them in foil over the flames of our campfire. I’ll never forget Blair’s Dad going on and on about how good I’d made them. Apparently I had a knack for knowing when they were medium rare. I remember it was the first night I tasted beer. Blair and I were allowed to split one, so long as we didn’t tell our moms, and so we did. We both thought it was disgusting, but we drank it anyway just so we could be manly. That night we slept outside, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way the moon looked. It was that crazy thing where the moon looks all orange, like it was beginning to rust. Blair and I stayed awake in our sleeping bags just creating some mythology about how the moon became that way. Late that night I heard the distinct crunch of a pine tree being snapped in two, and I was afraid it would be a bear or a wolf or something. So I got up, and in the haze of the moon I saw my friend Blair completely naked peeing. It was a little strange, but I then I the bizarre same urge, and so I wondered up next to Blair and started to pee as well. After a few seconds I realized Blair was shaking, and I looked at him and saw he was crying. I asked him what was wrong, but his mouth was so tight as if he was hoping to completely choke his sobs to death. I didn’t know what to do, so I just went back to my sleeping bag and after a few minutes Blair came back. He poked me, and he still wasn’t wearing any clothes. I sat up and Blair just got into my sleeping bag with me. It was the first time I’d ever been so physically close with a naked boy, and Blair just wrapped his arms around me. He was still shaking, and I didn’t know what was wrong with him. We just sat there, and I remember Blair leaning his head towards mine as if we were going to kiss, but at that moment there was a noise, and Blair shot out of my sleeping bag into his own. I sat up wondering what had made the noise, when I saw this bear cub wander into our camp. I was so freaked I just froze, which is good since Bears leave you alone if you play dead, but he had already seen Blair move. I decided to try and help by making a run for the tent Blair’s dad was sleeping in, but I only got to half way there. The bear lunged at me and hit me in the side with it’s paw, and I screamed. Blair’s dad was there in seconds, and he took an air horn he had with him and blew it. The bear became alarmed and reared up and I thought he was going to fall on me, but the bear turned and ran. Blair’s dad picked me up, and took me to the hospital. I remember that when I was there they had to take my clothes off to put me in one of those gowns, and this really hot nurse, who looked like she walked out of playboy, was my nurse. She helped me shower one day, and I’d never been naked in front of anyone but my mom when I was little. I was all shy, because I got this biggest hard-on looking at her. She smiled and acted nonchalant but she let her hands linger around my cock, and it felt so good. I remember I came right there in the shower, and she giggled. It was my first handjob. So when I look at this scar…I think about both Blair and that hot nurse. Blair didn’t speak to me much after that…but later he ended up coming out. I think the bear attack traumatized him a bit, but he never talked about it. Most people know about the bear part, but I’ve never told anyone about Blair or that nurse.


It has been a busy week. So I’ve not been able to get time to write.

So…I give you something I wrote awhile ago.


When I was twelve my sister Sandy was sixteen. Sandy had spent most of her life torturing me as most older sisters do, but I didn’t really understand it. My sister was the lucky one, she was beautiful, and my parents were scared of her. She had tested so well when she was a kid that she decided to just stop paying attention in class. She never did her homework, but whenever she had a test she always aced it. Anyway, I wasn’t the typical tag-along little sister, and I spent most of my time just trying not to piss her off. Nevertheless I managed to earn constant complaints and scratches from my sister on a weekly basis. I remember I was so happy when she got a car for her sixteenth birthday because it meant she would be home less to torment me, and I might actually be able to bring friends home without having to worry. It was one of those cool 2 door Mitsubishi cars, which she got in this bizarre neon yellow color. My parents were always mad at her for the way she treated me, but I rarely ever told on her. There was one time she babysat when I had a friend over, and she made us go out onto the roof with her. My friend was all for it, but I was scared I’d fall off. Our roof was old and squirrels had been using it’s shingles as a buffet for years. I remember my mom coming home and asking me what we did, and I told her my friend and I played, and then we went onto the roof with Sandy. My sister was grounded for a month, but instead of it being her punishment she took it as an opportunity to exact her revenge. She found my diary, where I’d written about my hatred for my sister and my hopes that this boy I had a crush on would just take me away. She ripped them out, and shoved them through the vents in the boys locker the next day. He wasn’t discrete, and after that I was teased at school. Then my sister came home from school with this story about how I’d attempted to get this boy to kiss me, and now I was in trouble. My parents grounded me, and as punishment for their terrible daughters we were forced to do all sorts of chores, which of course my sister made me do all of. If I had to cook dinner my sister was supposed to clean the dishes, but my sister would always say we switched. I was so mad that I finally decided I wanted revenge, and so I began to plot. The day my sister was getting off her grounding she had a big date with her boyfriend Garrett. Garrett was the kind of guy girls date to piss of their parents, he was tall, tattooed, a drop-out, and rarely spoke. My sister used to always tell the girls in her class about all this the stuff she did with him, about how he pulled her hair when they screwed, that they videotaped their sex, or that once he slapped her around just so they could angrily screw one another. It was so obvious she was lying, but it earned her social points with her burnout crowd. Well, I wasn’t ungrounded that night, but Sandy was. My parents used to make us all eat together at the dinner table, apparently people think it is good for kids because a because they found out all these smart people like Einstein had that when they were young. Part of my chores was to cook dinner, so I decided I’d make my sisters first day out one she couldn’t enjoy. I took some of my mom’s codeine she has in case her cramps are bad, and ground it up into a powder. I made pasta that night, and my sister always uses that parmesan cheese, so I just put the powder over the pasta so it would look like cheese. My sister was in a hurry she wolfed it down, and was out the door before we knew it. She was meeting Garrett, for a celebratory fuck. Well…when she got there she was starting to feel the effect of the codeine, but she and Garrett decided to shoot up on top of it. My sister passed out, and Garrett started slapping her around so she’d wake up. Well…she didn’t, and instead of the ass-hole calling for help, he called his buddies who sold him the heroin and asked him what to do. His friend came over, and he noticed my sister was just passed out. He said she’d probably wake-up in a few hours, but that they should make sure she kept breathing. Eventually the dealer tells Garret to go to the store and buy something to wake my sister up, and that he’ll watch her while he’s gone. Garret left and the dealer decides that he should get a little action for his time. So this junkie screwing my sister, who wakes up in the middle of it, and Garrett freaks out and tells the guy to stop, but he won’t. They got into a fight and Garrett ended up breaking the guys jaw. My sister was still to weak to get out of there from the heroine and codeine, and so she had to spend the night. My parents were so furious when she got home, and she burst into tears and told them everything that happened. My parents never knew I drugged my sister, and I never told anyone. Garrett and the dealer both did jail time. I’ve tried to tell myself it would have happened anyway because of the heroine, but I’m doubting my little trick helped matters. I just keep thinking how stupid I was. My sister was so traumatized that she cleaned up her act, and since then she’s been a lot nicer to me, but I never told her what I did to her.

3rd Installment

Part 1: https://kyoske.wordpress.com/2008/10/08/cool-down/

Part 2: https://kyoske.wordpress.com/2008/10/18/a-continuation-from-a-previous-piece/


Part 3

I didn’t get much sleep during the day. I was too nervous about what would happen that night. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way I had acted, rolling the words I said over in my head again and again. I couldn’t make sense of it, what was it that maybe think it was this kid, this Jared, that had made me work so hard? I thought about it until finally my brain was so tired it simply gave up and finally allowed me to sleep.

I woke up around sunset, and, after a quick shower and a bite to eat, made my way to the studio with a thermos of coffee. The studio would be full now, full of the people I was too nervous to work around, but I needed to see my piece. I needed to see the progress again, I needed to know last night was not a dream.

I knew the studio was full before I entered, I could hear the faint lull of conversation over some students studio mix. I took a breath as I gripped the large steel handle, and entered.

“Parker?” I don’t think I’d ever heard any of the students say my name before, but no sooner had I looked around to see who said my name, that I noticed two students were approaching my piece.

“Umm…yeah?” I answered as if I was guilty, but not sure what for.

“Did you do this?” a student named Matt asked, pointing to my piece, Matt was another sculptor, but he preferred to cast things in bronze. He did good work.

“Yeah. It’s the piece I’ve been working on this month.” Although I did more work last night than I had in the 3 weeks prior.

“It’s really….different from your other stuff.” Matt continued.

“Yeah, I thought you only did geometric shapes.” Felicia, another student, said. She was right. I hadn’t made anything other than a bunch of shapes since I started. It was what I could make in a day, after I chucked whatever project I had been working on.

“Well…normally I do, but it wasn’t exactly helping me pass this semester. Professor Brofson didn’t seem to get it.” Or maybe he got that I was bull-shitting

“Heh, yeah. He doesn’t get me either.” Matt said.

“What do you mean? He is always so nice to you during evaluations.” I thought Matt was the “Golden Boy” of the class.

“Yeah, he likes what I do, but he misinterprets them. I figure since he is giving the grades, it is better to just agree. My last piece was supposed to be a comment on the aggressive consumer mentality, but he thought my use of melted pennies was a political statement on economic decline.” Matt said as he failed in his attempt to sound as unpretentious as possible.

“I see, well I better get to work.” Matt might have been nice, but he was still annoying.

“Can’t wait to see what you do.” He said touching my shoulder and then making an exit with Felicia on his arm.

I was happy they were leaving. Even though, I will admit, it was kind of nice, but slightly alarming, they wanted to talk to me. Although I had always told myself that my art was really all that mattered, and I didn’t need their validation. I always wanted it, and it was strange to have had a taste of it. The studio was quiet, and I stood there staring at my piece. It was creepy to see the face from my dreams with my eyes open. It was like being stuck in the second before you wake up from a nightmare, and I gave a slight shudder.

Tonight was about completing the project. I needed to make clothes, the hat, and finish the eyes. I got the plaster ready, and waited. The last lights of the other campus buildings turned off. Sitting on my little stool I could hear students from the open window discussing their evening plans, and I just closed my eyes. I needed to remember every detail of my dream, I needed to try and bring the vision I had always wanted to block from my mind, back from the dark recesses of my memory where it lurked.

“You son of a bitch.” I could hear the pig say with my fathers low southern drawl. His face came into view, and immediately I felt my knuckles tense as I balled my hands into fists. I could see him now, swollen and frightening, with the my pig family vaguely obscured in the background. The face became larger in my mind, and as it opened its mouth again I felt something brush against my face, I screamed and fell off the stool onto the ground. The image leaving me as the reality of the studio flooded through my now open eyes.

“Oh! Shit man, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Said Jared as his face came into my view.

“It’s alright. I was just thinking.” I said as I got up rubbing my ass trying to relieve the pain my sudden crash to the floor had caused.

“Or dreaming. I said your name over and over. I was like ‘Hey Parker. Parker!’ but you didn’t make a sound.” I couldn’t tell if I had been lost in thought or really dreaming.

“Oh…sorry. Thanks for coming.” I was relieved he had come. I was ready to get this thing over with. I wanted this hideous beast out of my head, I needed to bring it to this world.

“I brought you some coffee. I figure we will both need it.” He said pouring me a cup from a big thermos.

“Really? Wow…thanks. You didn’t have to.” After all he was already doing me a favor by agreeing to be here.

“I think I probably did. If you need me to be conscious to work or whatever. It’s been a long couple of days.” He said and his face contorted horribly as he attempted to stifle a yawn.

“Well hopefully it will be the last night. I can’t thank you enough.” I said.

“Just remember. I’m getting something out of this too. You remember your part of the bargain.” He said bringing himself closer to me.

“Yeah, but like I said, it is not really that interesting.” I said crossing my arms finding his proximity a bit too close.

“Yeah, it might be more interesting to me than you think.” He said quickly turning around and retreating to small desk.

“Guess we will find out.”

“Well we won’t if you keep talking. I’m just going to write like last time okay?” he said.

“That’s what you’re here for.” And with that I turned back to my piece. I heard the pen scratching the paper as Jared started to write, and no sooner had that noise reached my ears that I found myself back in the abyss from the night before. I stood alone with my pig father, and began working of taking him out of my mind, piece by piece, and placing him into the real world. Soon all that was left was his top hat, a cylinder and circle melded together, and with my expertise in geometric shapes I soon found myself alone in the abyss. My nightmare creation completely gone, and as I reveled in the solace of being alone in this world, I found myself slowly drifting back into the real world.

It was there now, my pig father had somehow made it into reality, and when I closed my eyes for a second I let out a sigh of contentment. That horrible face seemed to vanished from me, and I was glad to be rid of it. This time I opened my eyes to look for Jared, and quickly found him catatonic once more. This didn’t strike me as odd, as it had the first night, I knew what to do.

“Jared. Come back to the world of the living.” I teased.

“Huh….mmmm…what?” he said as his eyes refocused.

“I’m done. You don’t have to stick around any longer.” I said with a genuine smile. I had never been so happy after completing a piece in my life. I felt liberated, I felt like celebrating.

“Oh…that’s great. Wow, so this is it huh?” he said coming close to me again.

“Yeah, that is it. It’s finally done! I can’t thank you enough. It happened again. I don’t know what it was, but the second you started working, I did too. It was so strange.” I didn’t know how long I worked, but I do know that my newfound talent for getting this much work done seemed to be tied to Jared somehow.

“Yeah, it was strange. You walked around this thing in circles so many times I could barely tell you were touching it, and then I’d start writing, and when I would look up something would be completely done. You made that hat in like 20 minutes.” He said.

“Heh, well that isn’t too shocking. The top hat is the only thing similar to my old stuff, but I wish I could have seen what you saw. I wish I knew what I looked like when I worked like this.” I was so curious about it.

“Well…it certainly is strange to watch. If you do it again, you should get a camera or something.” He suggested.

“That’s not a bad plan. If it ever happens again.” I couldn’t imagine it working with anything else. I didn’t have the same relationship to anything like I had with the nightmare beast.

“Why wouldn’t it happen again?” he asked.

“Well…I guess that gets us to my part of the bargain. I think once I explain it, you’ll understand. Do you wanna grab a drink? I feel like we both deserve one.” I needed to get out of the studio. I wanted to be as far away from my piece as I could get.

“I’m not old enough.” Jared said.

“Oh….well I’ve got some stuff at my place. Come on.” I figured someone underage wouldn’t complain about cheap whiskey.

“Alright” he said and we were out the door.

We arrived at my apartment after a quick walk. He was quiet for most of it, I assumed he was probably completely exhausted from staying up for the past 2 days. I made whiskey and cokes, while he flopped onto the couch. I figured he was going to pass out, but the second I came back from the kitchen I could see he was sitting straight up with his eyes wide. I sat down next to him, and handed him a drink.

“I hope it’s not too strong for you. I don’t measure.” I said.

“I’m sure it is fine.” He said taking a big gulp.


A continuation from a previous piece

So….I kept thinking about a piece I wrote last week. I wanted to continue to explore it. If I ever go back and write it, here are some things I would probably add:

1. I think that the sculptor, who we find out is named Parker, might make some remark about how he is on a deadline to finish this piece.

2. I think I might make Jared more aware that Parker is being rude. In this section we see that he is aware, but I don’t think I really thought Jared knew before this section.

CONTINUED: https://kyoske.wordpress.com/2008/10/08/cool-down/

TO READERS: If you make it to the end of this section. I’ve got some questions.

20 minutes:


“Yes, and it dries quickly. So, I kind of need to finish.” Sorry kid. This is my space.

“Oh, well I won’t bother you. I’ll just go over there.” I guess it is our space.

He was true to his word. He didn’t speak again. The only sounds were his even breathing, the sound of his pen dragging across the page, and the short acute snap when he quickly turned to a new blank page. It wasn’t as distracting as I thought it would be, and the idea that he was able to get so much writing done, stoked a competitive fire I had never known was in me. I closed my eyes, saw the pig my father had become in my dreams, and went about bringing him out of my mind and into this world. I felt like I was under some sort of spell, like I was in a trance. The walls of the studio faded away to black; nothing existed but me, my sculpture, and the image in my mind. I had never worked this fast before, never abandoned my constant second guessing, and as the sky grew light, and the first rays of dawn flooded the studio I was finished.

I sat on a small stool, wishing it had a back to support my full weight, and let out a large sigh. I had worked through the entire night, but it was done. The spell broke, and my perfect concentration lifted. The walls of the studio returned to my sight, and as I found myself back in the room I saw that the kid was no longer writing. He was just standing there, looking at me. I felt strange, had I done something strange while in that trance? Why was he just staring at me?

“You okay?” maybe he was just day dreaming.

“Huh?” or maybe he had a brain aneurism.

“Are you okay?” I said waving my hand in front of his face.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry. I was somewhere else.” He blinked and then dropped his head hiding his face.

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

“What time is it?” he asked.

“I’d say close to six. I can’t believe I worked all night.” Or that he had stayed that long.

“Yeah, I normally don’t make it to morning.”

“Well…there is a class here soon. I better get going.” I needed to sleep. The fatigue of my all nighter was quickly setting in.

“Oh…yeah. I guess I better get ready for class.” He grabbed his stuff, and headed toward the door.

“Wait!” my voice was louder than I had expected.


“What’s your name?” I felt I needed to know. This kid had made me work. I’d never worked this hard in my life, and the idea that I might never see him again made my artistic heart pump faster. I could feel blood pulsing in my ears.

“Oh…I’m Jared.” He extended his hand to me.

“Nice to meet you Jared. I’m Parker.”

“Yeah, nice to meet ya.” We shook hands.

“Jared can you come back tonight?” what in the hell was I saying? Why am I asking this kid to come back?

“Ummm….why?” I wasn’t sure I knew why I was asking myself. Now it was my turn to answer hard questions.

“Well….you see…ummm…well…I’ve just never worked like that in my life. Something happened to me tonight, and I think…I think it was because you were here. You see…your kind of annoying.”

“I’m what?” he said with exasperation.

“No…not annoying. Well…you’re the kind of kid…er…person who would normally annoy me, but you don’t. I think you made me work better, and I need to get this piece done. I need to get this done, and I think if you’re here. It will happen.” The second I said it, I knew how stupid it sounded. Stupid and mildly psychotic.

“Oh? Well….I don’t know. I mean I’ve got class every morning, but maybe. I mean I got a lot of good stuff down last night too. You’re really strange when you work.” I did do strange things.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” now I was curious.

“Hhhmmm….let me see. How did I put it?” Jared flipped through his notebook.

“You wrote it down?” What did I do that was noteworthy?

“Yeah…here it is. ‘His hands moved in a wild and erratic way, there could be no pattern. He made complex crosses of hand over hand which were completely unnecessary. He was like a prodigy, creating beauty that no one could make, but his technique was not of the masters of his craft.’” He read aloud.

“Really? Wow…that’s really interesting.” I said.

“Oh yeah? Why is that interesting to you?” he said, imitating me from before.

“Alright touché. Sorry I was a bitch. I just didn’t know I did that. I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing, I don’t know how to describe it. I’m normally all about technique.”

“It’s alright. It was ‘interesting’ to see you work.” He said making little quote fingers to emphasize the word I had been so rude to him about.

“So will you come?” I felt like a boy asking a girl to prom.

“Yeah. I can skip tomorrow’s class, but only if you promise to do me favor in return.” At this point I’d do just about anything. This piece was no longer about the class, it was more. This piece might be the first piece I ever cared about. It was personal sure, but it would also serve as a reminder. A physical testament to memorialize this strange time where I sacrificed technique for art under some sort of artist spell.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“I want you to explain it afterwards. I want to know what it means to you. I want to know why you made it.” His face was serious.

“Umm…alright, but it’s not that good of a story.” It really wasn’t.

“Maybe not to you. I’ll see you here tonight.” He said, and walked out of the studio.


Questions: So I’m wondering. Do you feel a sense of place with the studio? Do you wish you had more descriptors?

Do Jared and Parker sound different in your head?

Do you have a hard time telling who is talking?

Government WTF moment

So I’m in an estate planning course, and we got to a cool chapter on spousal rights. Whereas I’m generally horrified to learn about all of the things that gay couples are currently denied, I found something which is universally unfair. Allow me to provide the following information:

The best way to illustrate my point is with an example. So let’s take two married heterosexual couples:

Lucy and Ricky

– Ricky works at a nightclub and earns $80,000.00 a year.

– Lucy raises children, and although providing an admirable service makes nothing.

Ethel and Fred

-Fred works at the nightclub and earns $40,000.00 a year

-Ethel works at the nightclub and earns $40,000.00 a year

Ricky, Ethel, and Fred finally retire at age 66, and starts receiving Social Security benefits.

Unfortunately, Ricky and Fred die in a boating accident.

Under our current system:

Lucy receives Ricky’s full monthly retirement benefits until she dies.

Ethel only gets her own social security benefit, or Fred’s, whichever is larger, but NOT BOTH.

Hence, Ethel’s benefits will be smaller than Lucy’s even though both marital partnerships generated equal incomes and paid equal amounts into the system.

How does this make sense??? It doesn’t. It penalizes couples who work.

Bad Day

So I am sure in retrospect this will serve as inspiration, but today sucked.

I overslept, was late to class, found out I had a fever, and went the fuck home.

My lawschool friend say through traffic to take me to the path, earlier that day she forwarded a message to the wrong person which might ruin a friendship, and accidently hit a car.

My other friend got pulled over on his way to school.



I did not finish this, but it is a nice start.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

The words fell from his lips in an awkward way, but his smile made a quick recovery. I knew how he meant for it to sound, one of those deep delicious sound bytes that he so often spoke in the middle of the night, but his bedside manner seemed to have adjust to the light. He stood in the doorway, framed like art, with his right hand on his hip and waited for me to approach.

“I’m surprised you beat me here.” I said. At night I would have won, I knew the woods better by night than I did by day. The daylight exposed everything I had never known to ignore, and I’d been turned around so many times I was relieved that seeing his face meant I was no longer lost.

We had made it. To our place, a small cabin which lay unused and unwanted in the winter. It was our own special hideaway. It was nice to be here during the day, to use the place more as a home than a haven, and yet all I could do was want to crawl into our little bed and make love.

I wound my arms around him, and kissed his shoulder. He tasted salty but clean.

Chasing the Dragon

5 minutes

I couldn’t help but laugh to myself, as I stared at the boy’s ass in front of me. The fine contours of his Greco-Roman physique were highlighted by the designer denim he wore, and what was the symbol on the back of pocket? A dragon, emblazoned at the exact center of each of his cheeks. The thought “chasing the dragon” was never more humorous in my mind, for pursue him I did.

I had first laid my eyes on him as he waited for the elevator. The idea seemed ludicrous that I, who am in excellent shape, would take the stairs, but that he, whose easy way up. I assume he must have a friend who lives in my building, but who I have never found out. I’m too proud to stalk him while we are in the building, but that is not to say I’ve never followed him. On the off occasion he was leaving, and I was either on my way out or seeing him on my way in, I would try to resist the urge. Who was he? Where did he go when I wasn’t ogling him from a far. These questions burned within me, as I lay in my tiny New York apartment at night.

I had never stalked anyone before, but I’d been stalked. Nothing serious, just a poor kid who thought a one night stand was the beginning of a beautiful life together. Still, I learned from his mistakes. I would follow, but never too close. It’s New York, Do Not Walk signs can hold your prey in their tracks while you examine what pathetic paperbacks have made it to the street bums table, or how much pears are at the neighborhood 24 hour grocery. I never worried about losing him, I could pick his arse out of thousands, and I can say this, because I have.

He enjoyed crowded places, but never seemed to take much notice of people around him. He often ran into people, and seemed to be in constant danger of colliding with others. He also, lacked taste, he would visit chain restaurants, which I had sworn off entering the day I moved to New York. Who comes to New York and eats at Applebee’s? Really?

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