Tag Archives: story

The Straight Prize?

“Ten, eleven, twelve…” and I place the barbell back on the floor, grab my bottle, slug a swig and proceed to hit another set of thrusters when he sits down on the bench beside me, reaches for two heavy dumbbells and pumps up his biceps. His two huge arms become engulfed in pulsating veins. He looks up at me and smiles.

What’s a man to do?

“One, two, three, four…” no need to stop what I am doing, so I thrust away pulling the bar up onto my shoulders and then above my head. “Ten, eleven, twelve…” and I drop the bar back to the floor before I take a seat. Sweat dripping from my face, I watch as his arm has almost grown double the size since he walked in. The man’s packing some serious arm beef. He knows I’m looking, I can feel he is aware, as if the air pressure has changed to some degree from comfort to confinement. “Hey?” I give the man my friendliest hey-there-fellow-gym-goer hello, and he responds with the more appropriate slight-smile-and-head-dip “how’s it hanging?”

Lonely in the gym.

When one focuses on changing ones physique the idea that it may become a lonely task is lost on the drive to become bigger or buffer or tighter. And to spite the admiration I may find in many men’s bodies, that is where it ends – at admiration. So imagine my surprise when the friendly hello turned into some clever banta followed by “Do you like the steam room?”

The straight prize?

At what point, as a homo, does a straight man get off thinking he is a prize for me? Would the true attraction not lie in the attraction two people share for each other? Attraction from one side is not merely attraction for another if in fact an act displaying that attraction follows… It’s plain old obsession. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to give a flip flopping straight man that kind of power boost. Ergo, go fuck yourself straight boy.

Much love to all my homo brothers!

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The Woman in Black

Looking back twenty nine years, a book was written with an eerie atmosphere, which is from the creepy setting that was home to a malevolent ghost, a gross, decayed visage of a woman in black. It’s a quick read and a pleasant one at that. Nothing worse than working ones way through a tedious ghost story, only to fall asleep mid chapters therefore loosing the build up to the real creep out moments. The book is a dreary story, so expect the haunting, the scares and the horror to have a certain undercurrent of pure sadness and tragic inertia pulling it’s way through the story telling. And by the end you will be left wondering if you are in fact creeped out or extremely depressed? Nonetheless it will all be over within a day.

A Quickie:
The story centres on a young solicitor, Arthur Kipps, who is summoned to Crythin Gifford, a small town on the east coast of the United Kingdom to attend to the funeral of Mrs. Alice Drablow, an elderly widow who lived alone in the secluded Eel Marsh House. Some creepy shit happens at the funeral, Mr Kipps tries to be brave. Then some creepy shit happens at Eel Marsh, Mr Kipps tries to be brave. Then some sad revelations occur, Mr Kipps is brave.

Enjoy the pace as it is easy not only to go from page to page but chapter to chapter. It’s a goodie.

The book has been made into a film with the same name starring Daniel Radcliffe. Strange how Harry Potter has made a giant leap from wizard boy to father – I wonder how this will be to watch. But a good British ghost story is a good British ghost story and surely it will transcend from paper to screen if it’s backed by some great British talent.
So grab the book before you watch the film just to see who imagined it better, you or the director.


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