fiction and musings from a gay black dude with delusions above his station
I recall that my older brothers Louis and Robert asked my parents if they could take me to see Star Wars. They likely said, yeah, it’s good, no violence, no sex. My parents trusted their judgement. They said sure. So on one random, wonderful day, 12 year-old gar got to hang with his brothers. The…
In an era decades before cellphones and Twitter, word spread instantly throughout campus: Clayton was to get a butt whipping. Mrs. Hamilton, though, was not naïve. She kept Clayton after class on a trumped up pretext. When the room had emptied, she walked slowly towards him. “You know they’re waiting for you, Clayton,” she said. …
(Editor’s Note: The ‘growing up gay’ tag is usually applied to essays. This story is strictly fictional.) For a 12 year old, Clayton Simmons maintained the most peculiar habits. By a calculus all his own, he computed the precise number of movements and amount of time necessary to complete his morning rituals so that he…
Today I’ve had one word going through my head: GEORGE! GEOOOOORRGE! It’s impossible to represent with letter and words and punctuation the raw emotion evoked when Elizabeth Taylor belched it from her gut in scene after scene of her Oscar winning performance in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?. She was only 34 at the time, but she…
