Mr. Obvious

“Wow! You’re hot!,” he says, obviously slap-on-your-ass plastered.

“I know,” purring Cheshirely.

Continue reading Mr. Obvious

It’s A Fact

No one actually likes me. I don’t say this to deprecate myself, it’s just fact. The very few friends I have don’t hear from me often, keeping them friends longer. There are times I’ll meet someone and feel a special connection. A spark of recognition in the vast darkness. Those people are cherished for as long as they’ll have me. Sometimes it’s just a day. Once, it was a decade. I savor the experience more now than I did, perhaps because I am spoiled with opportunity. I just know I can’t let my guard down because that’s when I get hurt. Continue reading It’s A Fact


I’m not sure if it’s writer’s bloc or just general malaise.


Regardless, I can’t seem to start or finish anything. I’ve got cases of pulp sitting in the fridge with no framing devices. I’m desperate for something to shake me loose. Knocking it all over and rearranging some of the boxes is likely to yield connections I’m not seeing. Last time I checked rehashing old ideas with minor changes to the main characters is profitable.

If only originality held value in today’s world.

Self Reconstruction

When bitten by the bug to clean things up I sometimes take it to the extreme. For example, last week I drop LSD and decide to clean up a pile of clutter in the corner of my front room. Pulling that thread leads to the demolition and subsequent reconstruction of an apartment I moved into 2 years ago.  When the dust settles four hours later, I’m naked and sweaty with dirt stuck to my slick skin like war paint. Everything’s different and all that’s left of the old arrangement is a small pile of detritus in the center of the room. I feel refreshed. Continue reading Self Reconstruction

Loyal to a Fault

I’m not sure if I’m valuable but I don’t feel like a charity case. Regardless of parenting, we all face our own abilities at some point. If you live past your 20s and fame is still a concern it’s likely commitment issues. Smelting my identity into not caring what anyone thinks I walk invisible among the living, hiding in plain sight. Continue reading Loyal to a Fault

Scott Rosen, Pt. 2

Seeing what I could be, I’m happy for the chance to die. Parting the veil makes it easy to resist the laze of wealth. Languishing in the adventure of whatever level of ass-kissing your money can buy. I’ve been there, more efficiently. Not to discount the classical discovery of an adult scampering across the ocean in search of meaning but it doesn’t take that much to see where effort is needed. Continuing to ignore universe in favor of your own ego? I’m just not that blind. Continue reading Scott Rosen, Pt. 2


They are here to break in Docs, what else do I have them for? A drawer full of things that I don’t need. Until I do. Forever saving for the chance that something considered waste will someday be gold. It seems to happen all the time. And then make another fortune making fun of it. And then use those fortunes to gain proprietary interest in one of the three major networks controlling how America thinks and make sure IT is the only thing anyone can ever talk about. That’s the dream, right? Continue reading Bandaids


Everything’s pretty much the same. Ego is the only glue keeping those fig leaves in place. If you can’t get small enough to wriggle out of your confines then grow big enough to break the walls. Every step of your way, remind yourself you have a right to be here too. And I belong just as much as you do. Agent of chaos, nothing about my observations is a reflection on you, except we are all human. Living in the thick of it, a thin line is best appreciated. Growing up having nothing isn’t as bad when you have the vast expanse of nature to explore. Scale accordingly. Continue reading Entitled

Boy Orgasm

I just came so hard I need a snack. Ignoring the blood-laden protests of my still pulsating crotch, I swing my legs out of bed and go straight for the fridge. Grapes, lemon yogurt and a chocolate brownie. Veritable buffet by my standards. Oomphing into the computer chair, I debate my media choices. An hour before my bus I could either play a game, watch a show or listen to the radio. Getting ready for work, I’ve never felt more like myself than now. Continue reading Boy Orgasm