Maybe I'll Do Some Writing
It was a slow start to the day, one of those days where the sky was grey and the weather looked as though it could do anything. I contemplated an open fire, as I set my lap-top up in the lounge room. It would have been the first for the year, meaning summer was definitely over, ah, but cleaning out the fireplace had been on my to-do list for, oh for how long, and it all just seemed too messy in the end.
I decided I was going to do some writing, it had been a while. My first three years at uni, were spent in arts, English, English lit and I was good at it. One of my lecturers tried to convince me not to go on and do law, but rather continue with English, history, as she thought I was naturally suited to it. Now, if only I had listened.
Anyway, with time being my own, I thought I'd start writing something. I figured it didn't really matter what it was, just get comfy, switch the computer on and start to write.
I kind of liked the idea of monologues, you know, a one person piece. Great dialogue meets stand-up, or something like that. One character centre stage pouring out their life story, or perhaps, a story, raw and alone, just with their whit’s to protect them.
Well, if I'm going to sit around all day in my track suit pants and hoodie, invariably smoking pot – Nick keeps getting it for me lately, "For the long days on your own." – I've got to do something, hey?
If I write on my lap-top, I don't tend to get lost on random websites for the day, instead I tend to stick to the task at hand. I think it's something to do with the lap-top mouse, but, whatever, I'm not trying to analyse it too much.
Steve had left for work, I'd licked him all over before he did. I'm still waking up early, bugger it, before Steve normally. I like sucking the hair between his navel and his pubes, he's got a nice trail of it, to wake him up. He wakes up smiling. I'd had breakfast, made my second cup of coffee, I'd rolled a joint and I was comfy.
Mid morning.
I was thinking boy likes girl, girl doesn't notice that he's alive, in fact she doesn't like him, boy does something to get girl's attention, boy gets girl.
I was thinking about my buddy Mike.
Then I thought, too straight? Funny how I normally start off with hetro story lines, social conditioning is strong.
Then I was thinking gay boy likes straight boy, straight boy doesn't notice that he's alive, in fact he doesn't like gay boy, gay boy does something to get straight boy's attention, gay boy gets straight boy.
Save his life? Would that make straight boy fall in love with him?
Some monumental act of kindness. Maybe?
I was thinking about Ben, except, it would be the other way around. Jesus, even Amy told me that Ben likes me.
I grimaced, too twee.
Then I was back to monologues. Maybe, I need to start simple, one character, a bare stage, work from there.
I could write a coming out story. I thought about it and decided against it. Mine’s a fairly clichéd, run of the mill saga, nothing much to add to the genre there.
The door bell rang.
I slid the window open on my way to the front door and waved my arms around to try and vainly disperse the smoke and the smell, wondering if it was my mum popping in to see how her recalcitrant son was getting on, to just see if maybe he had changed his mind about his current course of action.
"But, you have a good job darling, I don't understand." She smiled, “Of course, I understand, you should do what makes you happy, but give up work altogether, isn't that a little drastic?"
I swung the door open and there was Tommy. He had on a big woolly black jumper, which made him look more beefed up than usual.
“Hi.” He sounded nervous. He looked nervous, fidgety. Unsure. He half smiled.
“Tommy.” I smiled and he did too. “Hi.”
“I just thought I’d see if you were home. See what you are up to.”
“Come in... handsome.” I didn’t quite anticipate saying handsome, it just came out.
He blushed as he smiled. He stepped inside, I went to kiss him instinctively and he avoided it instinctively.
“You up to much?”
“Oh, just a bit of writing...”
“Oh, you’re a writer too.”
“Amongst my many talents.” Yes, I did mean sex, momentarily, Tommy looked so cute, but I didn’t really anticipate that either, it just kind of came out too.
Tommy blushed again.
“There’s still some coffee in the pot... if you want.”
I headed back to the couch and Tommy poured himself a coffee and then joined me.
“Whatcha writing?”
“Nothing much yet, just trying to get an idea.”
We held each other’s gaze. I didn’t look away – Tommy’s green eyes, his quizzical look, his unreadable expression. I have to admit, it seemed different, I wondered if anything had change, I looked for signs.
“What have you got so far?” He laid his head back on the couch.
Tommy seemed exhausted. He been training for a marathon and had been studying hard. He said he felt a bit overwhelmed by his uni work.
“It’s only April,” I said.
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t.” He shook his head. “Don’t stop, I don’t want to disturb you, I just want to chill.” He pushed himself into the corner of the couch and closed his eyes.
“How have you been, though? Otherwise?”
“Good.” He smiled wanly at me with half open eyes. “I love your couch, must be the comfiest in the world.”
“In the whole world?”
“Yeah.” His eyes were closed but his mouth was smiling.
“Are you enjoying uni? You know, other than the study.”
“Agh!”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
He laughed.
I rubbed his leg, he didn’t flinch. “You’ll be okay.”
“Type!” he instructed.
I decided on the name Greta, but then decided if it was going to be a gay story, maybe it should be Greg, Gavin, Gary. Ur, I didn’t like any of them. Maybe Greta could be the best girlfriend... but then I’d just end up writing Will & Grace.
“I’m sorry I didn’t um, you know... kiss you on the way in...”
“No big deal.”
“I’m... I’m... not used to... you know.” He opened one eye smiling and shrugged. I shrugged too. “Not used to a lot of things.”
“Anything you want to talk about.”
“No... This is good.”
Perhaps, I could write about Tommy?
He rolled around and lay his head down on my thigh, I didn’t expect him to do that, but it felt nice.
“Is that okay.”
“Yes, sure.” I tousled his hair.
“Not too...” He opened both eyes and looked straight up at me. I think my heart skipped a beat. He smiled. “Distracting?”
“No.” I stroked his hair gently. “Well, not too much.”
He moved his hand up to my leg and held my thigh in his hand.
If I wrote about Tommy, I guess, it would be a coming out story after all. My head spun, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.
Back to Greta. Gavin and, and…”
“Give me a plot?”
“Robbery.”
“Give me a place?”
“Carlton.”
“Give me an occupation?”
“Carpenter.”
So, it looked like a gay carpenter named Gavin from Carlton, who has a friend Greta is going to be robbed. Maybe I needed a new day job.
“So, how does this, um work?”
“My story?”
“No, being… being, um…”
I ran my finger tips along his soft forehead. “Gay?”
“Yep.”
“How do you want it to work…”
“I don’t want it to work at all.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t want it. I don’t want to have to tell people. I don’t want this at all.”
“So, what do you mean?”
“You know, I only feel safe here. I feel safe with you. So, where do I go from here?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“No where. I don’t know. Tell me.”
Tommy’s jumper and t-shirt had ridden up exposing his hairy stomach. I couldn’t resist, I slipped my hand on to his bare skin and stroked him gently. He moved his hand up to my arm and stroked it gently as I stroked him.
"Just relax, as you say, you're safe now."
"I'll never relax if you keep doing that."
I sat back and stroked his hair. He closed his eyes. He looked so beautiful, serene, handsome, a prince.
"I wish I hadn't passed out that morning with you and Steve."
I laughed, not expecting him to say that. "Yeah, but you did."
"I was smashed."
"I know."
"I want to do it again. Not pissed."
I couldn't help but smile, but I didn't answer. My head spun.
"Well?" he whispered.
"I don't know."
"What does that mean?"
I brushed my hand across his hair from the front to the back.
"It means… I don't know."
"Don't you want to?"
I put my finger across his lips. "Shhhh."
So, I wrote, and Tommy, um, felt safe. It was nice.
So, Gavin’s truck broke down and he took it to the local mechanic, let’s call him Bob. Let’s face it Bob would have retired years ago and his grandson Blake, who moonlights at a cross dressing venue as Maddison Monday, now runs the shop. Gavin is walking home through the park when Chad, who has a meth habit, tries to robbed Gavin. There is a struggle and Gavin and Chad end up wrestling in the grass. Gavin manages to pin Chad down, and while he is on top of Chad, he gets Chad to spill his sad story of neglect and underprivileged life. Gavin helps Chad get his life on track.
What do you think?
I decided I was going to do some writing, it had been a while. My first three years at uni, were spent in arts, English, English lit and I was good at it. One of my lecturers tried to convince me not to go on and do law, but rather continue with English, history, as she thought I was naturally suited to it. Now, if only I had listened.
Anyway, with time being my own, I thought I'd start writing something. I figured it didn't really matter what it was, just get comfy, switch the computer on and start to write.
I kind of liked the idea of monologues, you know, a one person piece. Great dialogue meets stand-up, or something like that. One character centre stage pouring out their life story, or perhaps, a story, raw and alone, just with their whit’s to protect them.
Well, if I'm going to sit around all day in my track suit pants and hoodie, invariably smoking pot – Nick keeps getting it for me lately, "For the long days on your own." – I've got to do something, hey?
If I write on my lap-top, I don't tend to get lost on random websites for the day, instead I tend to stick to the task at hand. I think it's something to do with the lap-top mouse, but, whatever, I'm not trying to analyse it too much.
Steve had left for work, I'd licked him all over before he did. I'm still waking up early, bugger it, before Steve normally. I like sucking the hair between his navel and his pubes, he's got a nice trail of it, to wake him up. He wakes up smiling. I'd had breakfast, made my second cup of coffee, I'd rolled a joint and I was comfy.
Mid morning.
I was thinking boy likes girl, girl doesn't notice that he's alive, in fact she doesn't like him, boy does something to get girl's attention, boy gets girl.
I was thinking about my buddy Mike.
Then I thought, too straight? Funny how I normally start off with hetro story lines, social conditioning is strong.
Then I was thinking gay boy likes straight boy, straight boy doesn't notice that he's alive, in fact he doesn't like gay boy, gay boy does something to get straight boy's attention, gay boy gets straight boy.
Save his life? Would that make straight boy fall in love with him?
Some monumental act of kindness. Maybe?
I was thinking about Ben, except, it would be the other way around. Jesus, even Amy told me that Ben likes me.
I grimaced, too twee.
Then I was back to monologues. Maybe, I need to start simple, one character, a bare stage, work from there.
I could write a coming out story. I thought about it and decided against it. Mine’s a fairly clichéd, run of the mill saga, nothing much to add to the genre there.
The door bell rang.
I slid the window open on my way to the front door and waved my arms around to try and vainly disperse the smoke and the smell, wondering if it was my mum popping in to see how her recalcitrant son was getting on, to just see if maybe he had changed his mind about his current course of action.
"But, you have a good job darling, I don't understand." She smiled, “Of course, I understand, you should do what makes you happy, but give up work altogether, isn't that a little drastic?"
I swung the door open and there was Tommy. He had on a big woolly black jumper, which made him look more beefed up than usual.
“Hi.” He sounded nervous. He looked nervous, fidgety. Unsure. He half smiled.
“Tommy.” I smiled and he did too. “Hi.”
“I just thought I’d see if you were home. See what you are up to.”
“Come in... handsome.” I didn’t quite anticipate saying handsome, it just came out.
He blushed as he smiled. He stepped inside, I went to kiss him instinctively and he avoided it instinctively.
“You up to much?”
“Oh, just a bit of writing...”
“Oh, you’re a writer too.”
“Amongst my many talents.” Yes, I did mean sex, momentarily, Tommy looked so cute, but I didn’t really anticipate that either, it just kind of came out too.
Tommy blushed again.
“There’s still some coffee in the pot... if you want.”
I headed back to the couch and Tommy poured himself a coffee and then joined me.
“Whatcha writing?”
“Nothing much yet, just trying to get an idea.”
We held each other’s gaze. I didn’t look away – Tommy’s green eyes, his quizzical look, his unreadable expression. I have to admit, it seemed different, I wondered if anything had change, I looked for signs.
“What have you got so far?” He laid his head back on the couch.
Tommy seemed exhausted. He been training for a marathon and had been studying hard. He said he felt a bit overwhelmed by his uni work.
“It’s only April,” I said.
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t.” He shook his head. “Don’t stop, I don’t want to disturb you, I just want to chill.” He pushed himself into the corner of the couch and closed his eyes.
“How have you been, though? Otherwise?”
“Good.” He smiled wanly at me with half open eyes. “I love your couch, must be the comfiest in the world.”
“In the whole world?”
“Yeah.” His eyes were closed but his mouth was smiling.
“Are you enjoying uni? You know, other than the study.”
“Agh!”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
He laughed.
I rubbed his leg, he didn’t flinch. “You’ll be okay.”
“Type!” he instructed.
I decided on the name Greta, but then decided if it was going to be a gay story, maybe it should be Greg, Gavin, Gary. Ur, I didn’t like any of them. Maybe Greta could be the best girlfriend... but then I’d just end up writing Will & Grace.
“I’m sorry I didn’t um, you know... kiss you on the way in...”
“No big deal.”
“I’m... I’m... not used to... you know.” He opened one eye smiling and shrugged. I shrugged too. “Not used to a lot of things.”
“Anything you want to talk about.”
“No... This is good.”
Perhaps, I could write about Tommy?
He rolled around and lay his head down on my thigh, I didn’t expect him to do that, but it felt nice.
“Is that okay.”
“Yes, sure.” I tousled his hair.
“Not too...” He opened both eyes and looked straight up at me. I think my heart skipped a beat. He smiled. “Distracting?”
“No.” I stroked his hair gently. “Well, not too much.”
He moved his hand up to my leg and held my thigh in his hand.
If I wrote about Tommy, I guess, it would be a coming out story after all. My head spun, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.
Back to Greta. Gavin and, and…”
“Give me a plot?”
“Robbery.”
“Give me a place?”
“Carlton.”
“Give me an occupation?”
“Carpenter.”
So, it looked like a gay carpenter named Gavin from Carlton, who has a friend Greta is going to be robbed. Maybe I needed a new day job.
“So, how does this, um work?”
“My story?”
“No, being… being, um…”
I ran my finger tips along his soft forehead. “Gay?”
“Yep.”
“How do you want it to work…”
“I don’t want it to work at all.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t want it. I don’t want to have to tell people. I don’t want this at all.”
“So, what do you mean?”
“You know, I only feel safe here. I feel safe with you. So, where do I go from here?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“No where. I don’t know. Tell me.”
Tommy’s jumper and t-shirt had ridden up exposing his hairy stomach. I couldn’t resist, I slipped my hand on to his bare skin and stroked him gently. He moved his hand up to my arm and stroked it gently as I stroked him.
"Just relax, as you say, you're safe now."
"I'll never relax if you keep doing that."
I sat back and stroked his hair. He closed his eyes. He looked so beautiful, serene, handsome, a prince.
"I wish I hadn't passed out that morning with you and Steve."
I laughed, not expecting him to say that. "Yeah, but you did."
"I was smashed."
"I know."
"I want to do it again. Not pissed."
I couldn't help but smile, but I didn't answer. My head spun.
"Well?" he whispered.
"I don't know."
"What does that mean?"
I brushed my hand across his hair from the front to the back.
"It means… I don't know."
"Don't you want to?"
I put my finger across his lips. "Shhhh."
So, I wrote, and Tommy, um, felt safe. It was nice.
So, Gavin’s truck broke down and he took it to the local mechanic, let’s call him Bob. Let’s face it Bob would have retired years ago and his grandson Blake, who moonlights at a cross dressing venue as Maddison Monday, now runs the shop. Gavin is walking home through the park when Chad, who has a meth habit, tries to robbed Gavin. There is a struggle and Gavin and Chad end up wrestling in the grass. Gavin manages to pin Chad down, and while he is on top of Chad, he gets Chad to spill his sad story of neglect and underprivileged life. Gavin helps Chad get his life on track.
What do you think?
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