It got me laid and it got me stalkers. I tend to write what I know.
Darling when your this hot you don't need to stop for traffic. It stops for you. Is what my friend who played Frank-N-Furter told me after he helped to get me my Chewbacca costume. He was right.
I always wanted to ask you about your thoughts on "A Good Man is Hard to Find." I always wanted to know because its like my favorite things in the whole world.
The moment the little girl says that rude line, "Why'd I want to live in a broken-down place like this?" Then, I knew the story wasn't a polite waste of my time. Then, when the cat triggered the car accident. Then, when the fugitive emerged from the woods wearing the father's shirt. Seldom in life have I read anything that suspended my sense of disbelief more. Each transgression made me trust the writer more.
I scour the internet for for analysis of this essay. I realized that at the end they were all looking from the graves they dug themselves when the looked up at the misfit. Crazy good!
And also I love the idea that we are all one comment away from meeting the Misfit. A man who is probably willing to help out in order to get them out of the way but they said one sentence too far and the Misfit had to preserve his own existence and wellbeing because he knew if he let them go it would be all over for him.
Not much, to be honest. Probably because the whole house was mostly empty of stuff. (It was a rental on my grandparents' farm, and the renters had just moved out, leaving only porn behind.)
I know the smell you mean, though. And that brings back a whole other flood of memories.
Found my first porno mag next to a creek in the woods when I was 7. Bloated and water logged the pages were half stuck together. Next to it between some rocks on the babbling brook was a tube of “stay hard” cream. Supposedly, it reduced sensitivity so you wouldn’t cum too quick. Dunno why if you were having sex by the river you’d want it to take a long time but whoever it was had also used two condoms. Each tied up and discarded filled with spunk. I can’t remember if it was a Cheri or Hustler but I do remember that my friends commented that I stayed on the pages with men in them. I lingered a little too long. So the first lesson when discovering my first promo mag was to mask what I liked. Hairy arms and muscular shoulders and all. Pretend to be someone you’re not? Not anymore.
I didn’t get to go this year. 😢😢😢 my daughter went with her boyfriend and didn’t even know the lineup she was missing. Goddamn Levar Burton was there! The fucking reading rainbow guy and Jordie LaForge! She didn’t even know.
“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.” -- Kurt Vonnegut
Performativity is a real interesting phenomena. I had to check myself recently because I realized I was thinking in speech patterns of a character I’m writing. And not a particularly pleasant one at that.
And if there’s any link between No Nut November and novel writing, it’s that the energy and time dedicated to one is now being dedicated to another. That, and writing can be considered a metaphorical form of masturbation. The line between masturbation and meditation with writing can get a little blurry sometimes, don’t you think? No one does it better than yourself after all.
That was David Foster Wallace's theory about writing, that it was masturbation. Chelsea Cain has said that writing is an off-shoot of childhood self-comforting behavior. I use the term 'off-shoot' loosely.
Right. They tell themselves tragic stories or sexy stories to exhaust themselves. Often they head bang. My best friend for years was the cinder block wall beside my bed. I would slam my head on that concrete until my parents had a fit. Another typical calming behavior.
Another great article. Thanks. Over here in Oz the staying inside time is the hot months so a good time to be reclusive and write. Bit too hot to paint after the morning. I’m old enough to understand what you say about the development of identity politics. Cheers
I'd like to be Batman for a stretch. To be that dedicated to something without having to worry about bills or work or getting the winter tires put on. But I'm too much of a pussy and I don't have a billion dollars.
I became a gay fist-fucking maniac in one of my stories. I handed out latex gloves to the audience before reading it live at NY Story Night. A few people returned their gloves in disgust.
In grade school, sis and I stayed with grandparents on their ranch in south Texas for awhile. Every morning we risked death by standing along the shoulder of Hwy 59 (think Larry McMurtry) to catch the school bus. We'd pump our fists at the passing 18 wheelers, they'd blast their horns for us and not kill us.
One morning, a trucker threw a porn mag out the window. It was a homebrew. The models were quite blessed. However, they wore out-of-style beehive hairdos and were all over age fifty.
Some of my Substackers got theirs cushioned between two yellow styrofoam meat containers. I wanted to send yours that way for full effect, but was worried it would get flagged as suspicious!!
During the time I served with AmeriCorps, I got to take a break from nursing and it seriousness. In the day care center - I would lead expeditions to discover dinosaurs or pushing 2 couches together to make a pirate ship. When I worked at the Senior Center - one of my jobs was to travel throughout the community and pick up seniors and bring them to the center every other week for Bingo. I wore costumes each time and stayed “in character” as I picked them up - called out the numbers, and took them back to their homes. From a vampire to a cookie monster and all things in between - I realize now that I got paid to play!! And now as a hospice nurse for over 15 yrs of my 30 year career - I realize just how important it was. And should be. I earned next to nothing and loved every minute of it! Thanks for jostling the memories!
I have all the respect in the world for hospice nurses. It boggles my mind and brings me to tears how people who deal with the families of dying people all day every day still manage to make you feel like your loved one and what you're going through is the only thing in the world. Bless you for doing that. I'm sure you'll never truly know the extent of the impact you made.
I was in the Northeast Region in Perry Point, MD 2003 and again in 2005 as a Team Leader. We partnered with nonprofits in NY and MA and MD and PA and all over and disaster relief after Katrina in MS. In between I did a state environment focused AmeriCorps program in Austin, TX. Where were you?
Is the porn discovery anthology going to be a call for stories on here? Or is it exclusively an in-person workshop endeavor? If the latter, best of luck with bringing (sticky) pages to those participating
Until I heard you talk about it on tour this year, I thought I was the only one who found porn in the woods as a kid. Is this really such a ubiquitous occurrence?
It's great being someone else. It's even better to be a universally loved character that stops traffic.
And gets laid doing so, if I recall your stories.
It got me laid and it got me stalkers. I tend to write what I know.
Darling when your this hot you don't need to stop for traffic. It stops for you. Is what my friend who played Frank-N-Furter told me after he helped to get me my Chewbacca costume. He was right.
I always wanted to ask you about your thoughts on "A Good Man is Hard to Find." I always wanted to know because its like my favorite things in the whole world.
One of my all time favourite stories. And funny in a way that makes you cover your mouth
Hell yeah!
That story is staggering. In a great way.
Can you tell us more!?
The moment the little girl says that rude line, "Why'd I want to live in a broken-down place like this?" Then, I knew the story wasn't a polite waste of my time. Then, when the cat triggered the car accident. Then, when the fugitive emerged from the woods wearing the father's shirt. Seldom in life have I read anything that suspended my sense of disbelief more. Each transgression made me trust the writer more.
Thank you so much! So cool! Finally.
I scour the internet for for analysis of this essay. I realized that at the end they were all looking from the graves they dug themselves when the looked up at the misfit. Crazy good!
And also I love the idea that we are all one comment away from meeting the Misfit. A man who is probably willing to help out in order to get them out of the way but they said one sentence too far and the Misfit had to preserve his own existence and wellbeing because he knew if he let them go it would be all over for him.
This sounds so interesting
It's one of the best pieces of writing ever
I found my box of porn in an otherwise empty attic. Not sure if that’s more or less creepy than finding it in the woods.
Me too. I was 7.
Well, that's a fun discovery -- that we have this randomly specific thing in common. 😂
Did it have that hot attic smell?
Not much, to be honest. Probably because the whole house was mostly empty of stuff. (It was a rental on my grandparents' farm, and the renters had just moved out, leaving only porn behind.)
I know the smell you mean, though. And that brings back a whole other flood of memories.
Mine did.
It was a "finished" attic with cheap wood paneling. I realized no one in my family went up there. So I made it my room.
Just me, a clock radio, a twin bed, and that box of porn. All hot and atticky.
Found my first porno mag next to a creek in the woods when I was 7. Bloated and water logged the pages were half stuck together. Next to it between some rocks on the babbling brook was a tube of “stay hard” cream. Supposedly, it reduced sensitivity so you wouldn’t cum too quick. Dunno why if you were having sex by the river you’d want it to take a long time but whoever it was had also used two condoms. Each tied up and discarded filled with spunk. I can’t remember if it was a Cheri or Hustler but I do remember that my friends commented that I stayed on the pages with men in them. I lingered a little too long. So the first lesson when discovering my first promo mag was to mask what I liked. Hairy arms and muscular shoulders and all. Pretend to be someone you’re not? Not anymore.
Not... not even when you go to ComicCon?!
I didn’t get to go this year. 😢😢😢 my daughter went with her boyfriend and didn’t even know the lineup she was missing. Goddamn Levar Burton was there! The fucking reading rainbow guy and Jordie LaForge! She didn’t even know.
“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.” -- Kurt Vonnegut
Performativity is a real interesting phenomena. I had to check myself recently because I realized I was thinking in speech patterns of a character I’m writing. And not a particularly pleasant one at that.
And if there’s any link between No Nut November and novel writing, it’s that the energy and time dedicated to one is now being dedicated to another. That, and writing can be considered a metaphorical form of masturbation. The line between masturbation and meditation with writing can get a little blurry sometimes, don’t you think? No one does it better than yourself after all.
That was David Foster Wallace's theory about writing, that it was masturbation. Chelsea Cain has said that writing is an off-shoot of childhood self-comforting behavior. I use the term 'off-shoot' loosely.
Comforting in how people may tell themselves stories whilst trying to sleep in an effort to exhaust themselves, right?
Right. They tell themselves tragic stories or sexy stories to exhaust themselves. Often they head bang. My best friend for years was the cinder block wall beside my bed. I would slam my head on that concrete until my parents had a fit. Another typical calming behavior.
Uninhibited laughter!!
Another great article. Thanks. Over here in Oz the staying inside time is the hot months so a good time to be reclusive and write. Bit too hot to paint after the morning. I’m old enough to understand what you say about the development of identity politics. Cheers
I'd like to be Batman for a stretch. To be that dedicated to something without having to worry about bills or work or getting the winter tires put on. But I'm too much of a pussy and I don't have a billion dollars.
Be incognito Batman.
I found a box of porn in my dads back shed when I was about ten. Of course mum said it wasn’t my dad’s.
Wise.
I became a gay fist-fucking maniac in one of my stories. I handed out latex gloves to the audience before reading it live at NY Story Night. A few people returned their gloves in disgust.
Noice! I became a house.
Hey, I loved that story. In particular the kid's reaction. Funny as hell.
Thank you, Chuck.
Your post also brought the film "Being John Malkovich" to mind.
Also consider the film 'Being Julia' made from the Maugham novel 'Theater.'
My porntroduction:
In grade school, sis and I stayed with grandparents on their ranch in south Texas for awhile. Every morning we risked death by standing along the shoulder of Hwy 59 (think Larry McMurtry) to catch the school bus. We'd pump our fists at the passing 18 wheelers, they'd blast their horns for us and not kill us.
One morning, a trucker threw a porn mag out the window. It was a homebrew. The models were quite blessed. However, they wore out-of-style beehive hairdos and were all over age fifty.
Score!
I loved the design Maegan did for her booklet! Very Amityville Horror.
With skinless chicken.
Thank you, I had fun making them. Glad it made it to you, Chuck!
It was an absolute delightful experience from opening to reading.
A whole packet!
Some of my Substackers got theirs cushioned between two yellow styrofoam meat containers. I wanted to send yours that way for full effect, but was worried it would get flagged as suspicious!!
During the time I served with AmeriCorps, I got to take a break from nursing and it seriousness. In the day care center - I would lead expeditions to discover dinosaurs or pushing 2 couches together to make a pirate ship. When I worked at the Senior Center - one of my jobs was to travel throughout the community and pick up seniors and bring them to the center every other week for Bingo. I wore costumes each time and stayed “in character” as I picked them up - called out the numbers, and took them back to their homes. From a vampire to a cookie monster and all things in between - I realize now that I got paid to play!! And now as a hospice nurse for over 15 yrs of my 30 year career - I realize just how important it was. And should be. I earned next to nothing and loved every minute of it! Thanks for jostling the memories!
I have all the respect in the world for hospice nurses. It boggles my mind and brings me to tears how people who deal with the families of dying people all day every day still manage to make you feel like your loved one and what you're going through is the only thing in the world. Bless you for doing that. I'm sure you'll never truly know the extent of the impact you made.
AmeriCorps! Yay! Woohoo! I did AmeriCorps NCCC twice!
Where were you based?
I was in the Northeast Region in Perry Point, MD 2003 and again in 2005 as a Team Leader. We partnered with nonprofits in NY and MA and MD and PA and all over and disaster relief after Katrina in MS. In between I did a state environment focused AmeriCorps program in Austin, TX. Where were you?
Is the porn discovery anthology going to be a call for stories on here? Or is it exclusively an in-person workshop endeavor? If the latter, best of luck with bringing (sticky) pages to those participating
Will keep you posted.
Until I heard you talk about it on tour this year, I thought I was the only one who found porn in the woods as a kid. Is this really such a ubiquitous occurrence?
No porn treasure, but two weeks of sore throat after a similar incident with the doors.
At first my take-away was "You slept with Jim Morrison?" At last I guessed you meant the door opening anecdote. Sigh.
Sorry! Troubles with clarity in letter and speech.