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Another Gay Writer

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  1. Another Gay Writer
    Sixteen-year-old Desdemona, dressed in preppy clothes, sits at the front desk of her grandfather's auto shop. The office phone to her ear. "Hi Mr. Hebert," she says. "I'm calling you to inform you that your car should be ready for pick up tomorrow at 1," she smiles. "Yes, and the rest of your payment will be $300. Alright, thank you and see you soon." She goes back to filing paperwork. She sees a headline on her cellphone. TEXAS GAY TEEN TAKES HIS OWN LIFE. She looks away and towa
  2. Another Gay Writer
    Once again, Desdemona and Jeff sit in the big chairs across from Johnson and Smith. "What did we tell you about going too dark?" Johnson bites. "What we mean is," Smith says, putting her hands up. "This new intro...we can't put that on the radio?" "Why?" Desdemona asks. Smith turns to Johnson. Johnson grabs a piece of paper and reads off of it. "In the town next to mine, there's a boy who is sick of hearing, all you..." He trails off. He looks at Desdemona. "Fa
  3. Another Gay Writer
    Desdemona stands at her mark trying to breathe in this god-awful ball grown they put her in. She is starving. She eyes the crafts table across the studio hanger. Oh god, she wants a muffin. But she can't move, because the crew is setting up the lights around her. Most celebrities get stand-ins, but Jeff tells her not to be difficult. She looks around at the white sound sage. The crew tests the paint hoses. She loves the idea of rainbow paint coming down the walls in one of her music vi
  4. Another Gay Writer
    Desdemona opens her eyes to wake for the nightmare before. She rolls to her nightstand and checks her phone. A text from her manager Jeff, saying to call him immediately. She rises up and grabs the phone. She walks into the bathroom, sits on the toilet, and reaches for a ponytail band. She gathers her rough curly hair back, thinking she has too much hair to deal with, that maybe she should just cut it off. She flushes the toilet and dials Jeff. “Hello,” Jeff says on speaker. “What
  5. Another Gay Writer
    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.
  6. Another Gay Writer
    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.
  7. Another Gay Writer
    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 he
  8. Another Gay Writer
    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,
  9. Another Gay Writer
    "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. Lik
  10. Another Gay Writer
    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. "
  11. Another Gay Writer
    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
  12. Another Gay Writer
    As Desdemona took the stage at the Hollywood bowl, Caroline felt a rush of heart hit her bloodstream when she saw the curvy brunette with the soulful eyes. "You know it gets cold on the streets I sleep on," Desdemona's low voice spoke into the microphone. "A lost soul without a home. Hoping someone would find me. Feed me. Take care of me. Maybe even love me. I wander alone in the dark every night. Living on the scraps of human affection The stray cat I've
  13. Another Gay Writer
    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 something so wrong can be so right.
  14. Another Gay Writer
    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 artistic
  15. Another Gay Writer
    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...
  16. Another Gay Writer
    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 ghost
  17. Another Gay Writer
    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
  18. Another Gay Writer
    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.
  19. Another Gay Writer
    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
  20. Another Gay Writer
    "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 everyb
  21. Another Gay Writer
    His breath tasted like alcohol. His dick felt huge rubbing against me. His name was...Brice, Brandon, Berry I don't know. I didn't want to know. I didn't care. I felt like all I wanted was a beer in my mouth and a dick up my ass. Drinking. Partying. Sleeping Around. That's what college students should do. Right? I didn't know anymore. Since Matt and I broke up, I didn't know anything anymore. We were still roommates, but I didn't really sleep there a lot. I missed sleepin
  22. Another Gay Writer
    While Matt laid sleeping on my chest, I thought about sex in another way. The sex was amazing. To feel someone inside of you, to feel connected, to experience mutual pleasure. I loved Matt more than ever, but...I couldn't stop my mind from wandering. I was a terrible person. I am a terrible person. I must be. There I am laying next to this wonderful guy in a great college dorm that somehow managed to get and I for some reason I can't feel satisfaction. My mind kept going back and forth.
  23. Another Gay Writer
    Hi, yes. I'm so sorry. There was an error with the automatic publishing. Chapter 19 is posted now and 20 will be reposted. Thank you for reading my story and for bringing this to my attention.
  24. Another Gay Writer
    Shawna met me at my locker. "Hey, you still coming to my party tonight?" "Yea. Your dad left this morning?" "Yep and won't be back until Sunday night" "So, you're throwing a kegger." "It's not a kegger, but some cool friends, nice jams, just have some fun." "I'm there." She smiled and then gave me a peck on the check. We saw Matt by walking us. "Hey, Mac." Matt stopped and noticed us, but turned back and walked away. *** I sat behind Matt in class. He
  25. Another Gay Writer
    "What about David Johnson?" Shawna whispered to me as we danced with each other at some classmate's party. "I would say he's a 7." I chuckled. Things had been great with Shawna. We had gotten much so closer since I came out. She had really embraced me as her gay best friend. She even called herself a fag hag in training. "What about Mitch Goldberg? He's a pretty good dancer." I asked her motioning to the very white boy doing the disco. She laughed, "A 5, he's okay for a white boy
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