crazyfish

The following Saturday morning unfolded outside the Cheese and Mints Café with the lady with a straw hat of flowers sifting through the city trash can, Monica humming and strangely buzzing at the counter, the NA anonymous droning from the closed-off curtain, but no Hao grumpy and irritated. Luke rubbed his tired eyes, forgot to feel slighted by Hao’s tardiness, attempted to order extra sweet lemonade from Monica. She refused, citing Hao’s inviolable injunctions. He called Hao. “It’s 9:30. Wa

"Son despite what your mom says about me being unavailable, I did you right in the end. Those big balls you have, you got them from me. Great with the broads huh? So who cares if I didn't wish you a good night everyday? I got big balls, You got big balls, so we are golden. 18 years don't mean nothing when you're well-equipped for life already."

oh I didn't notice that, sorry.

A clusterfuck of wtf.

If you gain more territory than your opponent, you win, whether by fifty points or one point or half a point. As such, the good go players know to discern the ebb and flow of the stones, the hot and the cold, the aggression and the passivity, the rampage and the surrender. Go is a game of give and take, not of boisterous annihilation. And this Friday evening, confetti of cheers, lights, and jeers dazzled around Hao, who was seated at the bar. Next to him the smallish David Wang ghosted with a

I would not look to TV for innovative ideas. TV is too ads-focused to be innovate. If you're looking for interesting SF to read, I'll look at short stories published in the pro-paying magazines. The editors are careful to fresh stories free of cliche. And you'd get a lot of interesting thematic ideas in the short story format. Analog Science Fiction & Fact, Asimov's Science Fiction, Clarkesworld Magazine, Strange Horizons are some of the well known mags. Also ideas are spawning in other genres that aren't quite sci-fi. Have you looked at the so called New Weird genre pioneered by China Mieveille? Steampunk/dieselpunk/cyberpunk?

You tricks us! You tricks us!

Remember Omar Little from The Wire? Now that was a gay character done right. Ah well, it was HBO, not TV.

You have a knack for characterization and for capturing perfectly those aimless thoughts that haunts you at the middle of the night. On the other hand, you begin the first chapter of a story with a guy thinking in his bed. It's lot of exposition to swallow too early. Doesn't make for the most enticing opener to read. You should consider moving it to a later chapter and beginning on a more dynamic note. Either way, I like your writing style. It's a mature style, and so I'll read on.

Alex, Frank, and Dimov eyed each other under the awning, before the comb’s teeth view of tall cypresses lining up a tight fence. Alex made haste to introduce to Dimov, his man-at-arms, his stupido compadre, his fellow idiot since fifth grade. But his fidgety haste to bond the two men fell into the doldrums, as Dimov shook Frank’s hands with a languid diffidence. Frank, a small vein quivering on his temple, dimmed under the trapezoidal wall of Dimov’s chest that seemed to dwarf his own small head

Yeah I dunno. The fact is If i were getting married, I'd rather the photographer told me they objected to gays up front. I'll more than happily respect their right to conscience. I don't want nasty surprises when I get the pictures . I'll rather go with someone who will be enthusiastic for my gay dollars. Forcing a bigot to photograph your wedding, I think, is enforcing a tyranny of false virtue. As for the right to discriminate, it goes both ways. There was some bruhaha, can't remember which state, about some gay bars wanting to exclude women after certain hours. Of course bars can't legally exclude women unless they declare themselves a private club, which comes with restrictions that regular bars don't have. It was a bit of a head trip reading the comments on that newspaper article.

Nope writing reviews doesn't make you a better person. Taking the time not to confuse honesty with brutality, not to mistake your right to speak for a right to be heard, not to confuse an unsupported opinion for critical analysis, will make you a better person. But people write reviews for all sorts of reasons, and there we have it.

I got to ask, are you wearing super short shorts to work? Seems unprofessional, unless it's part of the work culture... Meanwhile sorry for the shitty times...

It won't be another misadventure, I think.

that ended well. Anyway, my personal anecdote, from the boarding school in the boonies of Cameroon. See me some silly twelve-year-old who thinks there's an innocuous boil on my shoulder. I think I've got boils before, they mature, bust and go away. But not this one. It was itching. A classmate tells me, it's no boil, and we did the natural thing as twelve years olds and popped the boil, and lo and behold a fat maggot was inside it. Probably a botfly or a mango worm, who knows, I don't remember.

At least there was no need to fetch Amaline a present, Claude thought as he sank ponderously and morosely upon the bench. The quietness quivered and breathed fetor. The fire at the hearth was still steady, still bright, projecting dancing wispy blades on the wall. The dark framed the one window overlooking the front yard. On the table, the half-eaten craze of loaves and olives were littered. In times like these, Claude affirmed shakily, a thousand lunges was best. But resolve did not quicken

The go tournament is a pageant of anxiety, boisterous shrills, go mothers idling with go wives in Korean or Japanese or Chinese, the toddlers gamboling around the go cake, the out-of-towners who came especially for free lunch, and the masseuses making their rounds kneading away desperation into smiles. Luke comes to the front desk where people are typing away on laptops to prepare game pairings. He asks to enter as six kyu; the past week has been light on practice and heavy on ennui. But Brett

yeah. I don't give a shit about inbred thieves gay or straight.

I just read Giovanni's Room ... Now I want to drown my existential sorrows with a bottle of cognac.

More than a year ago Gilda brought her car into Trent’s shop for repairs. While Trent imagined a stupid small brain behind her burnt ochre forehead, Gilda was unimpressed with the serious smell of petro-carbons or his glistening growling look that promised a price gouging; neither was pleased her daughter Janice who erupted into wailing when she had to take a phone call. However, Trent moved quickly to sooth Janice to wheezy stillness. Gilda was immediately smitten with his capable masculinity,

Oh! Yeah sorry, I totally didn't get the mission impossible reference. I hadn't seen the original tv show before.

Not quite sure what you mean ... but thanks for commenting.

I run across dialogue in which people say what they mean and mean what they say. For instance, two characters who sit and talk about their vulnerable circumstances without any hint of obfuscation. They have a heart to heart straight to the bone talk. Or the dialogue in which two characters engage in passionate duel over their beliefs without a hint of subtlety either. I understand some readers derive some vicarious pleasure or emotions in these scenes, but really to me, they mostly feel syrupy, dull, and utterly trite. People don't say what they mean most of the time, especially in emotionally bare moments because people are inherently protective of themselves. We fear rejection, flouting social conventions, wronging someone, confronting unsavory aspects of our psyche, or because you know most of the time, we are not even aware of what we are feeling, we can't give a name to it. And so we use hedge words, or outright lie, or speak laterally, or be coy and speak in code. If your characters are inherently dramatic, meaning they have inner tensions that threaten to tear them apart, they will have fears and insecurities that will inhibit them from saying what they mean most of the time. Anyway back to being a crazy fish.

I really liked The Bridge of San Luis Rey. However the writing is elevated, moves slower than readers might be used to. In short, it's easy to get impatient with it. But l liked it--touching and haunting.

I take it the gay seamen sort of looked after each other then? Or was it every man for himself?