Rudi7

Chapter 4 The Feather Boy Frank Zappa once said that by the time Woodstock happened all the real hippies were already dead. I wasn’t old enough to be part of that scene, so I cannot attest to the veracity of his statement. It is of course hyperbolic, but I know what he meant. The famed festival of free love and rock&roll was a commercial venture that, through commercial means, came to symbolize all that was not commercial, which is of course indicative of a most successful comm

Where The Pretty Things Roam by Bryan Harrison Chapter 2 Auggie on the pavilion again, Free and fleeing. Heat of escape glistens on his skin, heartbeats in his ears. Garret in his grasp, stumbles obediently behind. Confusion grows in their wake, whispers and rumors of scandal crest quickly and engulf the throng as, somewhere behind, the banshee wail of sirens bid the crowd to part. "They are coming for us, my love," Auggie cries through battered breath. But coming too late. T

A gay man's grey recollections about youth, friendship and unrequited love in a small, redneck town. (DISCLAIMER-All characters and environments, (save a well known river) in this story are original creations by the author and in no way represent any actual person or place.)

Always a best friend By Bryan Harrison March always finds me here. As if carried on her chilled winds in a flurry of fallen leaves and scraps of discarded memoirs, I alight on this spot, the same spot every year, and wait. The time between my visits is reduced to a blur of inconsequential activity while I sit, patiently watching somber passersby and those who occasionally stop near me to whisper some intimacy between them. They never notice me nor am I concerned with their private int

This is the story of family man's troubled relationship with his gay relative, as seen though the eyes of his son. This a dramatic tale about a complex relationship. There is no sexual content in this work.

I was already 7 years old when I met Uncle Frank. I remember the day his call came. Dad was on the phone for what seemed hours, alternating between surprise, laughter and hesitant silences where he took the phone into another room and closed the door. He'd seemed distracted all the rest of that day and had remained so until his estranged brother arrived. Even at my young age I understood what a shock it must be to suddenly hear from a family member, your only family member, which you hadn't seen

A poem for Ubaldo.

Reminded That I Am by Bryan Harrison I can still recall your face. I even have a piece of that look you gave me the time I tried the macho pose on the edge of the bed. Or was it when we went to the arboretum and I used my fake british accent on the boys by the pond? I carry it around everywhere and somehow it never gets frayed or creased in that ‘carried in the pocket' sort of way. I prefer it to the withered and comatose eyes with which you left

It was at the culmination of a long day's journey when I heard your name for the first time since I'd escaped the desert town in whose dreary streets we had played as boys and where I had just returned. Had it been 20 years already? 30? I'm not sure. Nor can I remember exactly where we met or by whose hand we had obtained the beer that first night, when we got my Bug stuck in the sand along the canal road; or even how we got back to your house afterwards. But I do remember how you were laughing

In memory of Vincent, whom I should have loved better.

This is an excerpt from my novel "Fags" which tells the story of a fateful night in the life of a young gay man; a night when persuit of an infatuation led him down a path of denial and violence. Part mystery and part memorial to departed friends, this tale takes place in the Los Angles of the 1980s, among the discarded youths that played on her streets, searching for love or whatever passed for it then.

Chapter 3 The Zone The Zone sat on the perimeter of West Hollywood, both in a literal and figurative sense. It was an anonymous structure by day, its true nature obscured by the glaring placards of the obtusely modernistic shopping malls that surrounded it. In the night however, it came to life attracting my brethren and I who swarmed to crash against its dance floors until the tedium or horror of our daily lives relented and passed away. We who comprised the Zones' patrons had yet to be

Chapter 2 The Saintress And Father Night My descent into Hollywood general was quick and unnoticed by me. I was lost on the wave of an herbally enhanced introspection when I realized that the corner of Highland was already at my feet. I was not alone there. My brethren whisked by me occasionally, caught up in the currents of suburban thrill seekers and misinformed tourists; the former glittered in comically loud attire that someone must have told them was suitable for the Hollyw

I understand that some object to the name of this work. I can only say that there is a thematic reason for it. Surely the title may have been at the root of a few rejections I've received from publishers, but I like the bluntness of it. The story tells of a night in the life of a young gay man when, while assisting someone whom he has been admiring from afar, he finds himself in thrust into a realm of violence and intrigue that almost claim his life. This is also in part a memorial, a tribute to

A troubled young man searches for love or whatever passes for it on the streets of Rouge City. This is a mature fan-fiction, based on environments and character-concepts from the film "Artificial Intelligence". No characters from the film are featured. This is an erotic story, it contains adult themes and language. Rated: MA