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.
Joking aside. Your rising effort to write is noble. The difference between porn, and a call to male soul, is caring. I don’t know where you are tonight, Clint, but here in the East, it’s after 1:00 a.m. And after a few glasses of wine, and Phil Collins, and I might regret this in the morning, I urge you write. I’ve done it all my life. To the extent I don’t have anyone else to talk to about it, that’s not in the heavens. It’s brought me my greatest rewards, deepest insights, and strongest alliances. I’ve written worlds, and people, into the present, through its portal. But if I do nothing more, I recommend that you do it. It will live beyond you. And bring you home.
Is the picture on your profile you, or one you chose as a cover? It reflects warmth, and depth of character, by any means. And the guy behind the effort.
So beautifully written, Charles. Thank you for the encouragement...and sharing your experience. As for my "avatar," it's of a young Edward Carpenter, whose work I admire. You might too: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Carpenter
I thought it was great. I get tired of those Gay movies that are filled with tragedy. I had some unrequited love stories in high school. Even one where my crush was gonna kiss me but I stopped him. Story of my life. Men and women came onto me in work place but I never responded. If I had been a whore, would have had a lot more fun. I had a partner that I loved and was even resistant to getting involved but finally did.
Great start, Clint! Keep going. I happen to think that almost everything I write is, in a way, a little "semi-autobiographical". All my fictional characters have a little of me. Men, women, pets, objects, whatever. My DNA can be found everywhere. Like a crime scene where brain matter is all over the place.😆
I was in the AF. I was remolding our first house. Our second child was on the way. My closest friend stopped by one night when I was working alone. He was going to be married. He'd finished his degree and had been hired as a coach for a rural high school. I confess a physical aspect to our friendship from, nearly, the beginning, in our sophomore summer. And he asked me to kiss him. As he stood against the wall, with his eyes closed, he looked so apprehensive, that I hesitated. It doesn't seem a big deal in these times, but in those, it was a life changer. I knew if I did, everything would change in that instant. And I wanted too. But I didn't. In the writing, he comes to me between the lines. And time is suspended in a kiss. To write it is to connect with the collective consciousness of every man. Do it for as long as you can. You'll never regret it.
Thank you, Charles, for sharing your story and your encouragement. Still reeling from the fact I wrote something again…and semi-autobiographical too. About 50/50. I do have a vivid imagination too. :-p
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.
Interesting. Excuse my ignorance. Or at this point, it could be senility.
So many men. So little time. lol
Joking aside. Your rising effort to write is noble. The difference between porn, and a call to male soul, is caring. I don’t know where you are tonight, Clint, but here in the East, it’s after 1:00 a.m. And after a few glasses of wine, and Phil Collins, and I might regret this in the morning, I urge you write. I’ve done it all my life. To the extent I don’t have anyone else to talk to about it, that’s not in the heavens. It’s brought me my greatest rewards, deepest insights, and strongest alliances. I’ve written worlds, and people, into the present, through its portal. But if I do nothing more, I recommend that you do it. It will live beyond you. And bring you home.
Is the picture on your profile you, or one you chose as a cover? It reflects warmth, and depth of character, by any means. And the guy behind the effort.
So beautifully written, Charles. Thank you for the encouragement...and sharing your experience. As for my "avatar," it's of a young Edward Carpenter, whose work I admire. You might too: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Carpenter
Cum see. Some saw. Thus is life.
You’re a poet. Hope you know it.
Well, it gets the creative juices going. Fluid words of expression.
You’re comment is so lovely…and moist too. :-p
I thought it was great. I get tired of those Gay movies that are filled with tragedy. I had some unrequited love stories in high school. Even one where my crush was gonna kiss me but I stopped him. Story of my life. Men and women came onto me in work place but I never responded. If I had been a whore, would have had a lot more fun. I had a partner that I loved and was even resistant to getting involved but finally did.
Thanks, Jerry. Glad you enjoyed it. 🌈✌️
Try writing porn to yourself without being too explicit. You'll really be stymied as to what to do with it. Except for the obvious.
Stymied huh? I might’ve already tried my hand—so to speak—at it. lol
Great start, Clint! Keep going. I happen to think that almost everything I write is, in a way, a little "semi-autobiographical". All my fictional characters have a little of me. Men, women, pets, objects, whatever. My DNA can be found everywhere. Like a crime scene where brain matter is all over the place.😆
Thanks, D.C.! I agree with you: The crime scenes are everywhere when I sit down and write. There will be…WORDS. ;-p
I was in the AF. I was remolding our first house. Our second child was on the way. My closest friend stopped by one night when I was working alone. He was going to be married. He'd finished his degree and had been hired as a coach for a rural high school. I confess a physical aspect to our friendship from, nearly, the beginning, in our sophomore summer. And he asked me to kiss him. As he stood against the wall, with his eyes closed, he looked so apprehensive, that I hesitated. It doesn't seem a big deal in these times, but in those, it was a life changer. I knew if I did, everything would change in that instant. And I wanted too. But I didn't. In the writing, he comes to me between the lines. And time is suspended in a kiss. To write it is to connect with the collective consciousness of every man. Do it for as long as you can. You'll never regret it.
Thank you, Charles, for sharing your story and your encouragement. Still reeling from the fact I wrote something again…and semi-autobiographical too. About 50/50. I do have a vivid imagination too. :-p
Way to go Clint, if you've got it in you to put to paper. Cheers DougT 🇫🇴
Thanks, Doug. I’ve got more in me than I’ve got paper (or time), so not sure how much I’ll be riding this bike again. Those seats DO hurt. lol
Oooooh Matron