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Another Gay Writer

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About Another Gay Writer

  • Rank
    Member

Profile Information

  • Age in Years
    23
  • Gender
    Female
  • Sexuality
    Lesbian
  • Location
    Someone over the rainbow
  • Interests
    Acting, Film, Poetry, and many more.

Contact Methods

  • Skype
    esthernight1130

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  1. Caroline remembers watching her father perform, and being amazed. Aaron Abrams was energetic, charismatic, and loved being the center of attention. Caroline would watch from the wings, running around the glowing stage, partially bouncing off the walls. Covered in sweat, but smiling all the way. Caroline remembers the crowds, singing along. He’d stare out, connecting with as many people as possible. “I love you,” He’d say into the microphone, before walking off, scooping Caroline his arms. “What do you think about all this, Care Bear?” His voice was so happy and confronting. His smile
  2. Caroline would never tell anyone that she watches porn. However for being horny as hell, she was rather picky about her porn. She can’t stand amateur porn. If she can see the camera guy in the shot or hear the static, she can’t get off. She likes good plot lines but hates when the foreplay drags on too long. Tonight a certain title has caught her attention. Preppy brunette fucks black lesbian mechanic for payment. It wasn’t the best quality, but the mechanic had hair like Desdemona. Desdemona would make a hot mechanic. The young brunette bends over on the hood of the car,
  3. Seventeen- year- old Desdemona wakes up, though she didn't sleep well. The cots at the county juvenile detention center are terribly uncomfortable. Desdemona stood in the bathroom with her fellow delinquents, trying to comb her knotted hair. Without the luxury of a conditioner, her tangled curly swallowed up the comb. Desdemona silently tries to pull it out. However then the loud crack happens and Desdemona hears the laughter behind her. She holds the broken comb in her hand and bites down on her lips. It's not worth the drama. *** Desdemona hides in the corner of the center's library.
  4. Caroline has known Patrick Douglas since she was a little girl. Mr. Douglas is her dad's manager for the last ten years of his life. Her dad always spoke fondly of him. So he was the first person she wanted to represent her. "And I've been writing songs," She started rambling as they ate lunch together, "I already know exactly what I wanted to wear on the album cover. And I really want to tour Europe." "Caroline," Mr. Douglas puts his hand. "Love the excitement, but..." he leans forward, "But maybe you should hold off." "What?" He clears his throat, "You're a very...imaginative
  5. "When I look at you with those eyes. I see rainbows and waterfalls." On the night of February 29th, Fifteen-year-old Jesse Abrams was woken up by a scream. He got out of bed and walked down the hallway. He didn't know what he was expecting. But he was not prepared for how this night would affect him. He looked into his father's bedroom to find housekeeper was the one screaming. His father's body was halfway on the bed, halfway on the floor. He stood there trying to process the image. Like his eye sockets were not connecting with his brain. His dad looked like a dead fish, fresh at
  6. Celia swings the police office door open, stomping out. Caroline silently follows. They get in the car. Neither says anything. Celia throws Caroline's belongings at her. Caroline digs through to find her phone. Several missed calls and texts, but one sticks out. A text from Desdemona. ARE YOU OKAY? Caroline smiles. *** Caroline confidently strolls through the walls of the uptight Beverly Hills store. Desdemona uncomfortably follows her. Keeping her hands in her pockets. "Why are we here?" "To buy clothes?" Caroline chuckles. Desdemona feels the salespeople stari
  7. Here Caroline texts as her ride pulls up. "Are you sure you want me to drop you off here?" The driver asks her. Caroline looks up. It's not the Ritz. The building is old, rusted...and poor looking. Caroline looks at her phone to double-check the address. "Miss?" Desdemona walks out and opens her door. "That's my friend. Thanks." Caroline tightly grabs her purse. "You have never been in this part of LA before, have you?" Desdemona asks. "No." Caroline shook her head, looking around the parking lot. "Well relax nobody's going to stab you." ***
  8. Caroline Abrams has always dreamt of following in her famous father's footsteps and become a musician. But after making some bad headlines, she finds it's not as easy as she thought. In fact it's a nightmare. And she falls for rising rockstar, Desdemona Potts, everything gets compacted. Desdemona is a rebel, who wants to rich and famous, but fears she may lose herself in the process. She doesn't know what to think about the innocent, native Caroline. But there is something about her, Desdemona can't resist. Her manger says hooking up with Caroline would be all kinds of wrong. But maybe s
  9. In 1935, Roosevelt created the Federal Art Project (FAP) as the agency that would administer artist employment projects, federal art commissions, and community art centers. Roosevelt saw the arts and access to them as fundamental to American life and democracy. The art produced through government programs pictured the hardships of the period. Breadlines, homelessness, and poverty were often common subjects. One of these works produced was Family Flats by Millard Street. Family flats artistically showed the overcrowded and in poor condition, of the ghettos. These tenements are often the onl
  10. Georgia O' Keeffee, American artist most known for her flower paintings once said, "I feel there is something unexplored about women that only a woman can explore." So dear lame journal, I was staring at myself in the mirror this morning. I now have armpit hair. Great. I'm never going to wear sleeveless shirts again. From now on its only long sleeves. That goes for the legs too. Another thing I was noticing...my chest. I know that sounds really weird. But lately, they've been like...coming out. I've kind of been thinking about that bra. It's still in the cardboard box next to my be
  11. In the aftermath of Van Gogh's 1888 breakdown that resulted in the self-mutilation of his left ear. Van Gogh voluntarily admitted himself to the Saint-Paul-de-Mausole asylum. During the year Van Gogh stayed at the asylum, The Starry Night was painted. So dear lame journal, So the first thing I did when I woke up this morning was to check out the mystery drawing. She added stars. And they weren't those five-pointed fake-looking stars. They looked liked crystal balls, or like ghosts in the sky. Whoa, I just got kind of poetic here. But anyway, she added stars. ***
  12. George Rivera doesn't talk to her father. Hardly talks to her mom. And she finds there even some things she can't talk to her best friend about, like her feelings for her. So why I guess the only thing to do is to...write. She's not a good writer, she's an artist. Well, a wannabe artist at least. It's really dumb for her to have a journal. But maybe that might change.
  13. What do I believe in? Okay... Okay, I believe in... This is a stupid assignment. Okay, let's brainstorm. So the other day, my best friend Big Eyes and I were walking to class. The first week of seventh grade. First period. We are the bestest friends in the world. Big Eyes is the most...kindest, sweetness, most amazing person I've ever met. She's tall and skinny, but not in an athletic way. Big brown eyes. Long brown hair. Total dork. Mega goodie. But as I said bestest friends in the world. I brushed the small red steak into the rest of my long black hair as saw her star
  14. Brian and I stood at the bay of the Brooklyn beach in suits. Brian holding the Urn. "I hope this is the right thing to do," I said. "Dad and I never talked about...this." "Yea, but who doesn't want their ashes spend around a beautiful beach," Brian said. "Yea, he probably would have thought it'll be nice." We stood there. Both one of us waiting for the other to open the Urn. "You got a poem or anything?" Brian whispered to me. "No, I don't have anything prepared." The Edwards, Tony, and Owen stood behind us. I turned around to see to everyone. "Would anyone like
  15. "You know what." Brian said pacing back and forth in the emergency waiting room, "Maybe this will force him to slow down. You know really stick around." "You're kidding yourself," I smirked. Then we heard footsteps coming closer. I looked up to see Shawna, Alfreda...and Matt. I stared down at the floor. "How's he doing?" Shawna asked us. "The doctor is with him." We were all silent for about a minute. "Hey," Alfreda finally said. "Shawna, how about you and I go get everybody some coffee" As soon as the girls left the room a nurse motioned to Brian and Owen then took him
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