I do remember Carpenter. The Story of Eros and Psyche. But I didn’t read him. He was read to me by a friend in high school. We’d spend hours in his room listening to music, or him reading aloud as I drew. I was the working-class sod and he was the academic. I wrote free verse poetry then, and in flow of consciousness. It’d bring his moth…
I do remember Carpenter. The Story of Eros and Psyche. But I didn’t read him. He was read to me by a friend in high school. We’d spend hours in his room listening to music, or him reading aloud as I drew. I was the working-class sod and he was the academic. I wrote free verse poetry then, and in flow of consciousness. It’d bring his mother to tears, overlooking I couldn’t spell. His home was my refuge. I don’t think I hid that I loved him very well from her. I was the one to eventually come out. I couldn’t help implicating him. He was my muse. And I was his weakness. It ended our fifteen-year friendship. They were scary times. Careers, marriages, and families in the balance. Carpenter had an influence. But not how you might think. I promise to stop coming to you in the night.
Wow, Charles…I felt that one. And had a similar refuge and relationship. Good (and scary) times. My friend’s mother knew too. Likely before I did. No promises needed…write what you need to write, as long as it helps you get a better night’s rest. Cheers.
I do remember Carpenter. The Story of Eros and Psyche. But I didn’t read him. He was read to me by a friend in high school. We’d spend hours in his room listening to music, or him reading aloud as I drew. I was the working-class sod and he was the academic. I wrote free verse poetry then, and in flow of consciousness. It’d bring his mother to tears, overlooking I couldn’t spell. His home was my refuge. I don’t think I hid that I loved him very well from her. I was the one to eventually come out. I couldn’t help implicating him. He was my muse. And I was his weakness. It ended our fifteen-year friendship. They were scary times. Careers, marriages, and families in the balance. Carpenter had an influence. But not how you might think. I promise to stop coming to you in the night.
Wow, Charles…I felt that one. And had a similar refuge and relationship. Good (and scary) times. My friend’s mother knew too. Likely before I did. No promises needed…write what you need to write, as long as it helps you get a better night’s rest. Cheers.