Sunday, August 30, 2009

2:00 in the morning

I like this topic. This one came out quick, so I think could deserve a revisit. I'm looking for another one I wrote about 3:47 a.m. hope to post it soon. fee


2:00 a.m: the frenetic fulcrum of seasons

at 2:00, the bars close. they spill onto the streets.

at 2:00, it's either over, or it has just begun

a purgatorial mystery whether it's day or night
lonely and slow
creeping into you
as your drunken missteps take you home

at 2:00 you give up. he was never going to hit on you anyway.

at 2:00 you make your wishes, so you don't have to be so disappointed next time, and you can quit all the crying over spilt love.

at 2:00 you pick up a pen and sloppily detail the trajectory of your one-track mind

at 2:00 the fire lingers

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Session 18: Topic for 08/25-08/30

Topic time!

It's almost four in the morning as I sit here typing away. The hours of a given day are imbued with cultural, overarching, and personal meaning for all of us. 8 PM is prime time. Midnight is the witching hour. The hours, like certain days of the week, certain months of the year, and certain dates in general, become important or otherwise noted for what they mean to us. To illustrate what I mean, it's time to share a poem by Wislawa Szymborska, appropriately titled "Four in the Morning."

The hour from night to day.
The hour from side to side.
The hour for those past thirty.

The hour swept clean to the crowing of cocks.
The hour when earth betrays us.
The hour when wind blows from extinguished stars.
The hour of and-what-if-nothing-remains-after-us.

The hollow hour.
Blank, empty.
The very pit of all other hours.

No one feels good at four in the morning.
If ants feel good at four in the morning--
Three cheers for the ants. And let five o'clock come
If we're to go on living.

Write a piece that concerns itself with a particular hour of the day. It can be an exact time, or it can generally refer to the hour itself (as when the clock falls on the hour--or for that matter, the quarter and half hours). Make it mean something, even if that something turns out to be nothing at all.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Fragment for John Hughes

Sorry for the cop-out post, I wanted to put up something new but I was out all night every night all weekend (how sordid!), so instead here is a fragment from a song I started working on a few months ago. Never got around to recording it, so for our purposes here I've tweaked it to be poetical and such. Blah blah blah.


The morning after dawned on us.
You were late for Long Island
So I walked uptown on Lexington, alone
with the tipsy fragments culled from the hours spent between us:
They tasted like dessert wine, improving over time,
Experience enhanced in hindsight.

We split up on the subway
after three short stops
our lines diverging.
I stood and said goodbye,
but you ruined my exit
with a cheap and easy kiss,
asking me to call sometime, planning
no answer.

Sunday, August 23, 2009


Hi everyone. Am new to writing here, but would love to have a chance to share with all of you. I am so sorry I'm starting out swearing already. Just would like to add something to the holiday topic.


The dark red lines vien
the woodfloor under my bare feet.
blue, under my toe nails go.
I bet my feet are cold.

fuck. focus.

I squeeze my fingers,
locking my hands fast.
I look up at the man hanging on the wall,
he looks familiar
but my heart
does not want to care.


I feel the back of my heart dip,
as head turns away.
soul and body exhales.
I twist in my hard chair.
my hands have gone cold.

“Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?”,**
the walls whisper.
I don't mean
to not love you.
but believe me when I say
I try.

**“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (from Mathew 27:46)

Saturday, August 22, 2009

brief list of tunes

the only k.d. lang song I ever heard when I was 12 because I happened to be listening to the right radio station at the right time, 'summer fling,'

hot town, summer in the city, Boston love boiling away

a slow, sultry strut of Janis Joplin into 'Summertime', and Sublime's ska-rap bump

walking around in our summertime clothes with Animal Collective (technically)


Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Driving down the 605.

The drive was always the worst part of the day.

As if the beach wasn't far enough, the traffic between LA and OC made it seem like we were driving to Cambodia.

To be honest, I hate the drive. It's long, dull, hot, and he's always listening to cheesy pop love songs.

I'm sure that makes me sound miserable. The drive had its ups though. Remember him singing? He'd always sing along (and wasn't half bad either).

It was different with him though. He poured his heart into whatever he sang, reminding me of a jazz singer soulfully crooning a smoke-filled lounge.

Yeah, he was something else all right. For all its hassle, I kind of do enjoy the drive.

It's too bad we finally got to the beach.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Session 17: Topic for 08/18-08/23

A little late this week, which is totally my bad--worked all weekend, got kinda sick Sunday through today. It happens.


We're quickly approaching the end of the summer, and if Grease has taught us anything, it's that summer lovin' is meant to be a temporary blast, unless you happen to move to the same town as your summer sweetie and change who you are completely so you two can go together like rama lama lama. Summer jobs, summer romances, summer adventures--they're all meant to be great memories and worthwhile learning experiences, but nine times out of ten, we know that they're also meant to end as soon as autumn rolls around.

So. Write about a finite experience (real or imagined). Maybe it could have gone on forever, or the parties involved only wished that it could have lasted that long.

I'm not gonna lie--this topic is also an homage to the late great John Hughes. Summer, like high school, only lasts a little while, but hopefully the decisions you made and the memories you carry will always seem like major events in the story of your life.

Blah blah blah. Let's write?

Perseids Fragment

his is seriously all I have to offer this week. Because you know what? It's okay to post fragments. I encourage fragments! They are better than no post at all!


The Perseids fly between the first week of August and the last of July. Their arrival draws a clear separation between the year's end and beginning, a moment equally rife with failed potential and future promise.

Thursday, August 13, 2009


[Space. Two voices travel through the ether: AL, a New Yorker (probably of Italian descent), and a monotonous unfathomable VOICE.]

-AL: Are we there yet?
--VOICE: No.
-AL: It sure takes a long time.
--VOICE: Are you in a hurry, Al?
-AL: No.
--VOICE: Why would you comment on time, then?
-AL: I dunno. I just thought I'd say something. Maybe we should be there by now. We've past so many stars already.
--VOICE: We're on our way.
-AL: Well, hopefully we'll get there before dinner time. I think I might get hungry soon.
--VOICE: Let me know when you do. We have plenty of time if you require a pit stop.
-AL: How much time?
--VOICE: Enough time, Al. In fact, time is of no consecuence now.
-AL: Wait... What do you mean? Am I dead?
--VOICE: Are you still here?
-AL: Yes.
--VOICE: Then you're not dead. You might have left your charred body at the scene, but you're not dead.
-AL: I see.


-AL (CONTINUED): Was it painful?
--VOICE: You don't remember?
-AL: All I remember is swirving in the rain, and heading into a light.
--VOICE: Did you walk toward the light?
-AL: No. I sorta drove into it. It looked like a Wal-Mart truck.
--VOICE: It was an incoming train, Al.
-AL: Oh. Well, it sort of looked like that first star we passed by. What's its name, again?
--VOICE: Alpha Centauri.
-AL: Yeah, that. White. Very bright. Got bigger and then disappeared just like that.
--VOICE: Hmm.


-AL: Are you God?
--VOICE: No.
-AL: You're an angel?
--VOICE: No.
-AL: What are you then?
--VOICE: What do you think I am, Al?
-AL: I'm not sure. But I thought I recognized your voice from somewhere. You did that commercial on TV...
--VOICE: No.
-AL: 'Cuz I could swear you sound just like that man who sells foot cream on TV.


--VOICE: Yes, Al?
-AL: Oh, I thought you'd left for a second. This place is so big, I'd get lost without a map. There are so many turns.
--VOICE: We're avoiding black holes, Al. You wouldn't want to get lost in one of those.
-AL: Are they like the gates of Hell?
--VOICE: Why would you say that?
-AL: I dunno. It just sounded like something cool to say.
--VOICE: If your hell is subatomical nothingness and the anihilation of matter and light, then yes, they are gatekeepers.
-AL: Am I going to enjoy Heaven?
--VOICE: That's up to you to decide.
-AL: When will we get there?
--VOICE: Why are you in a hurry?
-AL: Well, I think I might need to pee, y'know? I've been holding it ever since I left the restaurant Uptown. I hope Vanessa is ok.
--VOICE: Vanessa?
-AL: She is.... Well, she's... You can say, I guess, she's this girl I've been seeing.
--VOICE: You hesitated.
-AL: I ain't hesitating.
--VOICE: Are you ashamed of her?
-AL (DISTRACTED or AVOIDING): Wow! Did you see that comet? Josh would've loved to see that up close!
--VOICE: Josh?
-AL: My son Josh.
--VOICE: Adopted?
-AL: Oh, God no.
--VOICE: Please refrain from unnecessary & superfluous blasphemy.
-AL: Sorry. I meant, no, he isn't adopted. It's worse. He's 13. He's from my first marriage. Well, we aren't divorced... But we are heading there... Oh, I mean... were. I guess it was my first and last marriage.
--VOICE: Were you and your wife separated?
-AL: Umm... Well, we hardly see each other anyway. She is always working and I am always working. We only sleep... slept in the same bed, basically. I was going to tell her about Vanessa, but I drove into a light, I guess.
--VOICE: Is your wife seeing anyone?
-AL: Uh, I don't think so. She better not. Does her shrink count?
--VOICE: Please mind the gravitational pull from the planet ahead, Al. I don't want you to get pulled over.
-AL: Thanks.


-AL (CONTINUED): So, what do you do for a living?
--VOICE: Living?
-AL: As in, is tour-guiding your full-time job? You know, for the Big Man?
--VOICE: Big Man?
-AL: You know, the MAN... G-o-d?
--VOICE: What makes you think God is a man?
-AL: So it's a chick then! I always knew something like that was going to happen to me when I died! Like, I'd find out something totally whack like "it was the Wiccers who were right all along" or that "Jesus was a fag" or something like that.
--VOICE: There's no room for surprises here. Nor chance.


-AL: So when do I meet her?
--VOICE: Who?
-AL: God!
--VOICE: Never.
-AL: Wait, what?
--VOICE: No one ever meets God, but God knows you're here. And God is not a woman either.
-AL: So who am I meeting with when we get there?
--VOICE: Who would you like to meet?
-AL: Maybe Al Capone. Is he there?
--VOICE: I don't have access to that type of information, Al.
-AL: Well, are we there yet?
--VOICE: No. We still have a long way to go.
-AL: I'll just look out the window, then.
--VOICE: There are no windows here.
-AL: It was a joke, yo. Jesus! Where's your sense of humor?
--VOICE: If you continue your childish insistence on irreverence we will take longer to get where we're going.
-AL: Sorry. I'll just look at the view. Mind you... it's pretty repetitive.
--VOICE: Very good, Al. There's not much else to do. I warn you though: most bankers complain the trip there takes forever. I do hope you're the exception.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Session 16: Topic for 8/10-8/16

New week, new topic!

I have been reading an excellent book, The Physics of the Impossible, by Michio Kaku. This is following an intense love affair I had with Bill Bryson's A Complete History of Nearly Everything. Or some title to that effect.


Write a piece that is set in SPACE.


Monday, August 10, 2009

My Smut

Okay. This is as far as I got before burning out. So, it's just a snippet. Maybe I'll do something worthwhile with it a little later.

I will be blunt: there is some explicit language here. Because that is the nature of the topic for the week. Don't think too badly of me when you read it, but feel free to be brutal if you have comments, since this is not my strong point.


When I tell you that I love your erection, you think I am trying to be erotic. To you the word love forces my mouth open, a supplicant O-shape that will wrap itself around the rising inflection of your cock-hard Noun.

Because it is three in the morning and we are in bed with the lights out, my voice is like a low note from the thick heavy string of a cello. When you hear me whisper in those dark tones that I love your erection, immediately you imagine that my lips are dripping with smut; dirty bitch, fuck slut, swallowing your prick.

My hand is on your chest and you think I am erotic when all I want to do is listen to your body. My head is nestled in the crook of your neck and from there I can hear the acid in your belly. It echoes through your skin, and I hold you closer. When you fill up your lungs and them empty them out your heart beats twenty times. I wonder what I would have to do to make it go faster, or slower. Sometimes we breathe in tandem. The sameness is so distracting that I stop and wait until you are midway before starting up again.

Because I am spooning you, draped over your hips and under your thighs, both of us will know when you are hard. You impress my leg with your cock until it ebbs soft again, bloodless and anonymous. The first time it happens I am inexplicably woozy, and I overdose on an adrenal rush that brings my entire body to attention, waiting for the signal that will launch our biological imperative.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Sharing is Caring!

I'll post comments to uncommented entries, along with my own entry, later tonight. First, something to share.

I picked up a magazine at Border's today, "Zoetrope: All-Story," for a relatively rare Vonnegut story contained within. I came across another story in the mag, "Monsters" by Pasha Malla.

This particular snippet is my favorite from the two-page piece. I think it's an excellent example of effective movement through time, beautiful and succinct in conveying the whirlwind of our yesterdays.

"She lit the Bunsen burner and I poured stuff from vials into beakers and back and I wondered if Laura thought about that day at the beach and the monster often. But I didn't ask. And then the experiment was over and Laura went back to her seat across the room and then the class was over and then high school was over and then university was over and I got a job and Laura got cancer." -Zoetrope: All-Story, Summer 2009 Vol13 No2 p.39

Bike Lane Nights ***CAUTION: Spicy!***

As a forward, I'd like to say that immediately after reading this topic, I fantasized about my career as a smut novel writer, lived under some sexy pseudonym. "Chartreuse Jones" is in tribute to a fake theatre bio I wrote in high school. There is more after this, which I am not including because I don't know how much this blog could handle! If you want the rest, you know, up until the proverbial money shot, I think I'm going to finish it. I'd be happy to send it your way. Wink Wink. Nudge Nudge.

"Bike Lane Nights"
by Chartreuse Jones

They had been hanging out with his roommates all day. For the past two hours, all Natalie could think about was getting Alex alone.
She checked her phone. 11:40.
"Do you still want to go for a ride?" Natalie asked.
His eyes settled. "Yeah. You better hurry up and finish your beer."
"I"m just full, that's all."
"I"m not even buzzed. I think you are, though."
"Hey. You know, men and women...different rates of absorbing alcohol. Help me out and quit being such a mean drunk." She said teasingly as she handed Alex the beer.

They pulled out onto San Vicente Blvd, and turned into the unpopulated street, riding and swerving through the lanes. Natalie breathed, she needed to get out. This was good. As she looked up at the moon shining onto the gnarly trees in the center divider, all she could hear was the spinning of their wheels, and the clicking of her gears. She didn't even have to pedal. She could coast all the way down the hill until they reached the ocean.

Alex rode a fixed gear, so Natalie's single-speed would leave her behind as he would plow through intersections. She caught up on the steeper declines, and Alex looked over at her and smiled. he reached out his hand."What are you doing?""I'm taking your hand.""Don't. I'll fall off! I can't ride with no hands!""Just try it," he quipped as he smacked her butt on the side lightly and sped up in front of her, resembling an inline skater.

They finally came to the sidewalk on top of the cliff, stopped for a minute to rest and look at the glorious reflection of the moon on the sea.
"That's gorgeous."
They approached the fence and leaned their bicycles against it. Alex pulled Natalie to him with his right arm and gave her a kiss on the forehead. They both looked out, took deep breaths, and started to chuckle.
"I can't believe how simple and beautiful this is. The waves are so loud, even from up here. It's so comforting. I wish we could go down there."
Alex turned to Natalie and grabbed her shoulders. "Let's go!"
"But it's after dark. We might get caught."
"I've done it before. We just gotta go to the right bridge and leave our bikes in the right place."

They ducked as they crossed the bridge on the foot overpass to the beach, and stealthily carried their bikes to an alley between two buildings.
"Under the porch of that house right there," Alex said quietly.
"Ooh, naughty!" Natalie replied.

They had to be quick. They were about a block away from the house, and the moon was so bright that they'd been seen in a second and their romp on the beach would be cut short. Alex took her hand and they began to run, laughing quietly at their attempt at cross training on the beach.
It was quieter under the porch, and they could only hear the waves, crashing against the shore, the salty, fresh smell wafting towards them.
Alex grabbed Natalie by the waist, and guided her backward to lean against a pole. Her eyes met his. They were on fire. She grabbed his waist and pulled him into her, the warmth of his chest and stomach making her shiver.
"Whose house is this?"
"I came to a party here last month. One of my longtime friends."
"Oh really? And are they out of town?" She asked knowing the answer.
"Yup. They won't be back for a few weeks." He raised his right arm and leaned it against the pole above her head, bringing his face closer to hers. He felt her hot breath. Then he felt it get faster. He brought his left hand up from his side and stroked her belly with the back of his fingers.
"Hmm, that feels nice."
"Yes it does."
She quickly moved her left hand from her side and slid it underneath his belt, pressing his lower back and bringing his pelvis against hers. Alex gasped. Natalie feigned surprise as she felt the pressure of his warm dick against her pulsing pubic mound. Alex grabbed the side of Natalie's face, and they massaged tongues and ruffled each other's hair as they moaned from all the anticipation. natalie moved her hands to grab the muscles of his broad shoulders, and placed her mouth on his neck to suck gently. She could taste the hot salt of his skin. She slowly explored the route up to his ear lobe with her tongue. she bit. She jumped back down to his collar bone and used her whole tongue this time, making him shudder as she moved her hands down to squeeze his muscular butt.
Alex let out a deep sigh. He suddenly moved his hand up under her soft blue shirt, massing her right breast gently, and let out a sharp little moan as Alex ran his fingers over her hard, large nipple.
"I love your tits."
"I'm so turned on. It feels so good. Here, wait a second."
Natalie pushed alex away from her, and reached behind her and underneath her t-shirt to unhook her bra. Alex reached for her.
"Wait, wait wait." she pleaded. She threw her bra to the ground and reached for his belt buckle. "Let's take these off."
Alex quickly unzipped his pants, and shook them down to his ankles. Natalie reached out to his long, hard dick and began to rub the outside of his underwear. Alex leaned his head back in pleasure and moaning as he lifted up her shirt. he grabbed her at the bottom of her ribcage, and leaned her against the pole. He kissed the bottom of her ribs, on up to the soft skin of her right breast. He circled her erect nipple with his mouth, and she twitched and moaned.
"Oh, god. Oh, god I love that."
He licked back and forth over her inpple, making the whole thing glisten with his hot saliva.
"Do the other one. Please."
He brought his face to hers. He kissed her, pressing into her, and began to gently dry hump her against the pole. She could feel her underwear. It was soaked.
"How much do you want me to suck on your nipple."
"If you suck on it, you'll make my whole body quiver. You'll make my head pop off."
His mouth jumped down to her left breast, and her head jerked slightly against the pole.
"Fuck. Oh, Alex." she grabbed hair on his head as he continued to suck and lick her nipple. He was still grinding away, pushing the mound of his dick into the crotch of her pants. He pulled away and tilted his head back as she went underneath his boxer briefs to grab his shaft and touch the head with her fingertips. Feeling her wetness, she decided that was enough.
"Close your eyes."
He did.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

When Morning Fades to Day

I'll admit I wrote this a while back. I've never really shared it with many people, but I think it might be appropriate with the current thread.  I'd welcome any comments about it!



Tell me, is it night still?

Did we really flee the day?

Tell me, will this morning

burn last night away?


Do you want me? 

Won't you ask me now to stay?

Or will your last kiss shun me 

and send me on my way?


Don't ask me to come with you.

Don't look at me that way,

as if you fear forgetting 

that morning fades to day.


Don't speak of our tomorrow;

that's not what you should say.

Remember I will leave you

when morning fades to day.


Can't we just... ignore it,

where we met and who we are?

Just let me have this moment

for soon I shall be far.


Hold me. I'm not empty,

though you barely know my name.

Touch me. Am I colder?

Dear, I thought you'd be the same.


Don't whisper why you want me.

Don't lead my mind astray.

Desire ends at sunrise,

when one-nights fade to day.


Please, don't say you'll remember.

Why make me feel this way?

For lovers are forgotten

when light burns night away.

Off-Topic: A Letter

I've been thinking about you a lot recently too. I was thinking on the 31st (while recovering my sleep schedule) that it had been a year exactly since I had seen you last. I was wondering how your time in India went and where you went afterwords. Just yesterday I went to the quarry with friends and thought about that day. And just like actions, one thought leads to another....

So much has happened this year. I've gone crazy places, met crazy people, and gained crazy bonds. I've been learning more and more about myself and the world. And I do say that ADF and the trip to California has played a major part in kicking me in the ass to start actually experiencing the life and the world that I want and need.

After California I spent a semester at UNC just getting deeper and deeper into theater. Four of my five classes were theater classes, spread all across the discipline; acting, literature, history, and technical. It challenged me and stretched me, but best of all, all I wanted was more. So I took the next step the next semester: study abroad. I thought about a lot of places (Chicago, NY, London, Italy, etc.) but in the end I found an excellent program in Melbourne, Australia. Thus on January 28th I arrived in the southern hemisphere, not to return for six months and a day.

Needless to say it was an all-encompassing experience. In Australia I found that I love to build sets for the theater; I love to manipulate materials to make something creative and interesting, hold a purpose and achieve a goal, all the while learning how to do it better, faster, more completely than the time before. Maybe it's a feeling of creation, maybe it's overcoming challenges, or maybe it's the balance of the mindless joy of hammering nails with the intense thought behind figuring out where the nails need to go to create such a specific vision. I'm not sure but I love it.

Outside of the theater walls was a culture so different from my own and seeing it (as you well know and, actually, you inspired me to so fervently seek it) was fascinating, but even more fascinating were the similarities. Friendships, relationships, humanity, and love were all shared in a universal way and I gained a much further appreciation for each, especially love. I say especially because I met a girl there. I met a girl and—in short—I'm determined to find her again and marry her one day, this beautiful person named Elina Lim. I want to grow old with her and keep her safe. I am already learning so much from her and really seeing what the deepness of love could fathomably contain. It is achingly beautiful and so is she—in every imaginable way.

So that's a brief, concise summary of where I am right now, where this last year has taken me. It's been a wonderful journey and I have one more year until I leave University. This last year will—I hope—take me places I absolutely do not expect right now, as I am sure the year after will. At the moment every path outside a month's time is still hazy, but I'm doing everything I can do to have it include this sense of learning, wonder, travel, and love.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Session #15: Topic for 8/3-8/9

Hey Kids!

Mod 2 here after a long hiatus. Some of you all know that I am a damned, dirty hedonist. And what kind of good sin-loving hooligan what I be if I didn't like a good romp? I'll be settling down to read a nice book and then lo and behold! a sex scene!WOOHOO! I like sex! That wasn't hot at ALL. How many times have you been reading a good book and the characters you know and love finally get it on and its about as sexy as giving yourself a swirly? Ever had an intimate moment with a loved one reading some literotica only to have it leaving you both just wanting to go eat a sammich? Maybe you have been itching to strecth your brain meats to all new levels that not even nude yoga accomplish?Why then, indulge me and your fellows with something near and dear to everyone's hearts: PORN!

Thats right my darlings! Your optional exercise this week is to write some good ol' fashioned smut. Maybe its just a sonnet praising your sweetie. Or maybe its something straight out of a Violet Blue (totally awesome sex educator. Check her out if you haven't already) collection. No one will no if its personal experience or fantasy so let 'er rip!