7 posts tagged “creative writing”
A man in his twenties, bald but shaved in a way to look stronger. Stronger in a Vin Diesel kind of way. It was just an image. Like the girls on the cover of the porn that he was going to go pick up. He walks in, but the fat woman working still hadn’t finished her cigarette on the side of the building.
A sign greeted him: “No one under 18. ID required, No customer allowed longer than 15 minutes.” A safer sex strategy to prevent masturbation on store premises. It also gave the women workers advantage over the addicts. The addicts that were customers. The customers here were hooked, and they returned consistently.
A continuous cycle occurred with the bald man, Richard. He bought some porn. He watched the porn. He masturbated to the porn. He got lonely. He felt guilty after masturbating to the porn. He threw the porn away. He got lonely. He went and bought some more porn.
He gave the fat woman a pity smile. The fat woman sat and read a magazine. Not a porn, but close, a Cosmo. The magazine of what a woman should be in society. Sexually driven, skinny, and hot.
He browsed the shelves as fast as he could, but all of the movies were the same. The same great acting. Porn stars don’t even have to act, not hardcore porn. Just have sex. Supposedly they were even able to have orgasms, but usually didn’t. They had overused their orgasm ability, now they were unable to feel good while procreating safely.
Adult videos were all full of adults that never grew up. They never progressed past the adolescent stage. In Freudian terms they hadn’t progressed past the phallic stage, or the anal stage, depending upon the porn.
Richard grabs a video “Sweet Sluts Nine”. Most porn titles were oxymorons. Most titles nowadays were oxymorons. No one thinks a name is original unless it is contradictory.
“Twenty dollars,” the fat clerk says. If she would have had a nametag, it would have read, “Lisa”. She bagged it up concealing the contents in a black plastic bag, resembling a mini-body bag. People see them and know that something embarrassing is inside.
“Enjoy,” she says.
Richard wished that a vending machine had distributed the porn instead of a dumb clerk that always had the same sarcastic remarks.
“She is the one that is working at a pornshop,” He thought. He never had said anything aloud, just “thanks” or “bye.”
Shoot, he wished that he was addicted to cigarettes or alcohol instead of porn. Porn was not a substance that made him feel good. Cigarettes still gave 20-year-old smokers a buzz. Porn just gave him an empty gut, and a need for more.
He asked the fat woman before he left, “Do you think that you would like to go and get a cup of coffee or hot cocoa sometime?”
“We’re not allowed to date customers.”
“That’s what I thought, I just had to ask.”
“Well, thanks.”
The Cosmo article in front of her was entitled “How to Make Your First Date Hotter than the First of August.” The woman in the picture resembled a beautiful vixen that had trouble with deciding which of the hundred guys she would take out that night. A chance for a date had never occurred, even with her state of employment, she had never been able to tell anyone no, because no one had asked in the 2 years she had worked at MaXXXimum Movies.
“Wait, Richard.”
He turned around without the smile he had earlier. He dropped the bag on the ground, and strode to the counter.
“You forgot your receipt.” She took the paper and dropped it in his hand, because his bag was left in the doorway.
“Thank you.” He took the paper and wadded it into his pocket of his .
“What is your refund policy? I don’t think I want this anymore.” He said.
“Well, you better give me that receipt then, too”
He tossed the bag on the table, Sweet Sluts Nine made a sound of hollow deadness. Inside his pocket, the crumble lingered like a piece of lint. He lunged his hand deep inside the orifice and took the wad from a manual calculator roll. Normally, the tore-off slip would just have said:
20.00
1.20
--------
21.20
But, below this it read:
Lisa from max movie 681-5930
There on the table he read it, and looked at her.
“Yeah?” he said.
“Yeah,” she responded.
©2007 Jeff Pearson
At Idaho State University there is a literary journal known as Black Rock & Sage. This journal is a maintained and produced by a team of students, faculty, and teachers, who all sacrifice their time to produce this literary wonder. We have been getting together once a week to plan and carry out the required preparations to accept submissions. The class in which I enroll in, that has to do with the magazine doesn't start until next semester, but we are desperately trying to get local writers, and students to submit.
The details of the magazine are on our website, which is currently being updated, but the submission guidelines are as follows:
Black Rock & Sage
literary and arts magazine
Now Accepting Submissions for
the 2007 edition
· Poetry
· Fiction
· Nonfiction
· Art
· Photography
Please send copies rather than originals
Postmarked by January 31, 2007
Include:
cover letter,
contact information,
fifty-word bio
The cover letter should list the names of works submitted. Please do not put your name on the writing or art works themselves. Art and photography will be published in black and white, so high-contrast works are preferred. Submissions are limited to not more than five poems, five photographs or works of art, or 5,000 words of prose.
Send writing, art, or photography with a self-addressed, stamped envelope to:
Black Rock & Sage
Department of English & Philosophy
Campus Box 8056
Idaho State University
Pocatello, ID 83209
The new semester has started and the deadline is set for January 30th. Please send in submissions if you haven't already. This is what exists in Pocatello Idaho, but its all I have to participate in. It would be nice to see some work from outside of Idaho, and I am looking forward to seeing some variety.
I work in desktop support. I am not really a computer nerd. I don't play WoW, I don't even have my own desktop. I have a laptop, but it is ancient, sort of. So at work I do feel a little out of place. Its ok. I need the money.
School starts on monday, and well, I am looking forward to it. This ambition is starting to rise inside of me, after so much idleness over the holidays.
More creative writing, which is what I love and keeps me enthusiastic amid the loss of motivation.
More of the dreadful ISU Honors Program, giving me quite a feeling of being out of step. We are treated superiorly, but it is fake.
Furthermore I am getting "pumped" so to say, for two hardcore shows that I am going to within the next month.
The Jonbenet, in Missoula MT; and The Number 12 looks like you(not to be mixed up with the twighlight zone episode Number 12 looks just like you ) in Boise, ID
I don't really consider myself a hardcore kid, because hardcore
nowadays is this like a metal, screamo mixture that makes me want to throw
up, but these are a couple of bands that I like, and I don't have to
grow out my hair, or black my eyes to go and see them. I am just going
to go and windmill like the giants from Don Quixote.
My zine is up and running thanks to Saturdayas.usual and her money from Christmas. It is entitled "Leg Over Leg"
and if any of you people out their in cyberspace-land want a copy of
it, when its finished. Let me know. I don't really know how much it
will cost, probably around a dollar or dollar-fifty. The first issue
is: Wes Andersen is the king of the Burgieos. It focuses primarily on Wes Andersen and Jaques Cousteau. It even has a work of fiction from myself, and its authors are Saturdayas.usual and myself.
I think that is a good enough update from my end. I'm not a big fan of journal blog entrys, but it was much needed.
Many times I just puff on this cigarette without a flame or smoke, just the autumn air being shot through a tobacco straw.
My lungs are treated farely well, but I never know why I don’t just wait a little longer before that match strikes and I connect the two lovers: the flame and the cigarette. So they may produce offspring of nicotine jolts that run through my blood stream, impregnating the reds avoiding the whites. Like it should be.
Without a cigarette,
its just arson.
©2006 Jeff Pearson
My roommate’s mom is in the mental asylum and I feel really bad, because
He doesn’t need another reason to smoke more weed and
Binge drink his liver to death.
When he returns from a visit,
I ask him,
“How is she doing?”
He responds,
“Good.”
I am sure he wanted to say,
"She is in the fucking nut house!”
Good is probably the best it will ever get.
©2006 Jeff Pearson
Hearing a siren is soothing.
It reduces my chances of being killed
in a freak accident,
or burning up.
There are only a set number of disasters in a day, and the more that happen to other people, the less there are left to happen to me.
©2006 Jeff Pearson
At Idaho State University there is a literary journal known as Black Rock & Sage. This journal is a maintained and produced by a team of students, faculty, and teachers, who all sacrifice their time to produce this literary wonder. We have been getting together once a week to plan and carry out the required preparations to accept submissions. The class in which I enroll in, that has to do with the magazine doesn't start until next semester, but we are desperately trying to get local writers, and students to submit.
The details of the magazine are on our website, which is currently being updated, but the submission guidelines are as follows:
Black Rock & Sage
literary and arts magazine
Now Accepting Submissions for
the 2007 edition
· Poetry
· Fiction
· Nonfiction
· Art
· Photography
Please send copies rather than originals
Postmarked by
Include:
cover letter,
contact information,
fifty-word bio
The cover letter should list the names of works submitted. Please do not put your name on the writing or art works themselves. Art and photography will be published in black and white, so high-contrast works are preferred. Submissions are limited to not more than five poems, five photographs or works of art, or 5,000 words of prose.
Send writing, art, or photography with a self-addressed, stamped envelope to:
Black Rock & Sage
Department of English & Philosophy
Campus Box 8056
Idaho State University
Pocatello, ID 83209
