CarlHoliday

Thanks for the great review badbart. Schticky has to be my most favorite story of all time. It was fun to write, especially coming up with all those things readers didn't expect.

Another interesting chapter SkinnyD ... Sometimes I wonder about David and how he allows Alex to control him so much. He knows he has to meditate and talk with Danny, but he refuses to tell Alex to give him an hour of personal time. Hopefully, Randy will be able to help him in whatever it is that David really wants. It was good to hear from Twoey, but kind of bad too considering he's looking for stability in his life and not seeing what Erik is doing to control him. It was good that Alex saw what a creep Erik is, but will she be able to convince David to do anything about it? In reality, the only thing David can do is profess his love to Twoey, but that would mean admitting to himself that he can have those kinds of feelings for his friend. Now, if the two boys will only call each other! Nice of Randy to decide to force David to make the choice and tell Alex of his true feelings. It's nice that there's at least one sane person in this story.

Half my ancestry comes from Sweden and the other half is split between Wales (one-quarter) and Native American (only by conjecture because no one in the family claims to know what happened to the picture of the woman who is my great-great-grandmother; I saw it once and if she wasn’t Native American, then she was certainly doing everything she could to look like one), England, and Germany; in other words, a lot of Northern European fair skinned immigrants and that other person no one is willing to claim. My mother, from the non-Swedish side, was raised in north-central Washington where there is lots of sun most of the year due to the rain shadow effect of the Cascade Mountains. She was a sun worshipper and I, by default, was, too. Every year, as soon as it stopped raining in Seattle, I would be out in a t-shirt and shorts turning my lily-white skin to the obligatory tan favored by Hollywood stars of old. Unfortunately, being fair skinned meant that I always had to endure the mandatory blistering sunburn to get the skin ready to turn brown. Today, I went to a dermatologist to get a full body scan. I had one some twenty-odd years ago and they found a precancerous growth that had to be excised. So I thought it was time for another one. The result of today’s scan was the freezing of a precancerous growth on my forehead and the biopsy of a black mole on my arm. So, if you’re thinking of getting a bit of sun this coming summer, please use some sunscreen. That stuff wasn’t available back when I was getting burnt to a burnished red and now I have another thing to worry about. Is that just a mole or should I have it checked? Is that flaky thing on my ear the same as the flaky thing on my forehead? In that case, the one on my ear is just a by-product of aging, but the one on my forehead could’ve turned into something deadly. Nana is doing great. Took her into the vet on Saturday for her 9-week checkup and vaccine. She now weighs just over 14 pounds. She gained 6 pounds in two weeks! We’ve got to get the potty training in high gear because pretty soon she’s going to be too heavy to carry outside. As it is now, if we try to walk her out, she’ll potty on the floor. Just have to trick her little mind into picking up on the idea that we GO OUTSIDE to potty. After all, German shepherds rank number 3 on the dog intelligence scale. I’ve almost got her to stop biting my ankles when I take her outside, so I have to keep up the positive attitude. I’m almost weaned off the Risperidone and will start the preliminary dosage course of Quetiapine (Seroquel) tomorrow night. I take 50 mg for 3 nights to start, then 100 mg for 3 nights, then 200 mg for 3 nights, and then go to 300 mg for the remainder of the test period. As with any medication, I’ll be looking for desired benefit vs. undesired side effects. Unfortunately for Quetiapine, death is one of the side effects and since you take it at night, I might not notice I’m having a life threatening stroke or heart attack while asleep. Peachy! Also, I’ve read Quetiapine can induce something called Zombie-ism, which causes you to function at the mental capability of a piece of soft fruit. But, it’s all maybe and might. You never know until you try it. You go in with your eyes open and you see how things go. Plus, I have to deal with the VA. Risperidone is the first medication of choice to treat the psychotic side of Type I Bipolar Disorder. If that doesn’t work, then you move to Quetiapine. Each has its own set of pluses and minuses. From what I’ve read, Quetiapine just might be what I’m looking for. All I have to do is hope the side effects don’t affect me too much.

Great chapter SkinnyD! Finally, somebody is able to tell David how clueless he really is, though I wonder about Randy's motives. He did admit that he and Alex were competing for David's attention. All we have to wait for now is whether David has the guts to admit he can have feelings for boys. Maybe, if Alex gets to be too pushy, she'll force his hand. One can only hope. It was interesting that David picked up on Erik's dominance over Twoey by limiting their visit to only a few minutes. It's a shame that David and Twoey can't get together. Though maybe in the next few weeks and there are only a few weeks to go, David and Twoey will be able to get together. It's a shame David wasn't able to visit with Danny though. What can I say about the horndog Chuck has become. Eh! He's young, has friends, and is getting as much sex as he wants and unlike Matty, it looks like he's found a boyfriend, too. Good show!

Excellent chapter! Finally, David is beginning to "see" there's something wrong with him and he needs to take some responsibility for his life instead of internalizing everything. More hints of abuse from Burch, but will the healing offered by Danny mean anything in the end or will David overreact and join Danny in the nether world? Randy? Nice job, go ahead a throw a wrench into the mix this late in the game. Or, is it? Only a few weeks to go, can we look forward to a David/Randy relationship? Now vixere has only two victims to go, Johnson and the woman who will forever remain nameless. How will David react when he hears of their deaths?

Chapter 31 Ship Clock 263234 Adetitus 95-498g Buddy “Good morning, Titus, my name is Dorothea 32, but you can call me Dottie. How are you today?” “Okay. Tom calls me Buddy. Could you call me Buddy instead of Titus?” “Sure, Buddy, however you want to do this is fine with me. Have you ever seen a psychologist before?” “No, never. Tom said he saw you when he was younger after he had been raped by a man at the commune. Do you remember him?” “Yes, Buddy, I remember Tom. H

And a belated, Happy Birthday, Graeme

Nana is 8 weeks old today and she’s just the little bitch you would expect from a German Shepherd of direct German heritage (her mother was imported from Germany). We’ve been trying to potty train her and she was doing real good for the first few days until she figured out she could pick up her water bowl and carry it across her enclosure spreading water everywhere. We put down Wee Wee Pads, but she turned those into chew toys and there’s no telling how much she swallowed before we just took them away from her. Finally, we resorted to taking her outside to potty between an hour to three hours, which usually works, unless she potties in her enclosure after only 45 minutes. There is one thing about her though, she is at least a week ahead of Rambo in intelligence and comprehension. She's already learned to run away if does something naughty, to put one or both feet in her water bowl while drinking, and trying to open her enclosure, which was inexpertly installed by the son of someone from Arkansas. Everything would be just a lot better if Nana wasn’t such a little bitch. The writing is still going. I knew I couldn’t stop, even if I receive discouragement from unexpected sources. But, I have seen some new people reading my work and have received a few reviews. My Reputation has actually moved up a couple notches, too. I am working on three stories that all relate to one protagonist. The themes are mental illness, friendship, homophobia, hate, love, and death. They cover a boy from the age of twelve to sixteen. The first story covers his memories of his childhood horrors of sexual abuse and drugs leading to residence in a juvenile mental health facility where he learns how to be a normal child. The second story concerns his introduction to normal life in a small town and a high school where he finds friendship with a Goth girl, a best friend who becomes his boyfriend, a vibrant gay culture, homophobia, prejudice and hate, love, learning how to ride a horse, and a little puppy named Alice. In the third story his life at school continues in the gay community, continuing his horsemanship, his training of his loving dog, his growing love for his boyfriend, and the death of the dearest object of his heart. I don’t know if there will be a fourth installment, but I’ll have to see what kind of reception I get. If no one likes it, what’s the point of continuing. My mental state continues at a diminished level. I’m barely above being suicidal. I have been extremely depressed for three weeks. Tonight I told my son that and he said, “Duh, like I didn’t notice?” To which I said, “It’s your job to notice; but, I understand why you didn’t. You have your own mental problems.” For the first time, tonight he admitted he was cycling between extreme highs and lows. If that isn’t bipolar, I don’t know what is. He goes to see his shrink Wednesday and I told him to talk to her and get her to help him. I’m beginning to think she’s reluctant to tag him with a bipolar diagnosis. The boy (he’s 40) needs help. I’m calling my shrink on Monday and see if I can get on an antidepressant.

It's interesting that David seems to want to distance himself from Twoey, but Twoey feels he is losing his contact with David. Is Twoey starting to question his relationship with Erik? Of course, David never was too certain he was gay and now he admits he never wants to call Twoey at night. Is there any hope for them as a couple? Where are David's dreams leading him? Is he ever going to find out what Burch did to him as a child? The hints of abuse are there, but what is going to happen to David when the truth finally surfaces? Nice to see Lanni finally figured out Cal's intentions. Hope she finds some boy who is willing to be her friend and not want to get into her panties.

Chapter 30 Ship Clock 263234 Adetitus 95-498g A New Boy “That’s him over there,” Randall said, “the one with the blue apron.” He and the other man, Doremus, were sitting in a small café three blocks off Central Ring Highway in Third City on Ring 5. Each was enjoying a light fruit-filled pastry and a dark roast coffee. Randall took his coffee with a little cream. Doremus didn’t need anything to lessen the sharpness of the coffee beans. His eyes went across the room and settled on a short,

Thanks for the review. Christmas over the mountains was an important facet of my childhood and factors into many of my stories. Although vague, there are also childhood memories of aggressive men. Glad you enjoyed the story.

Thanks for the review Valkyrie. That's the thing about short stories, sometimes it doesn't take a lot of words to get your point across. Being a long sufferer of mental illness, these kind of stories seem to float to the surface now and then.

WARNING: Long entry. We picked up Nana, our new German Shepherd puppy, on Friday morning and have been enjoying many pleasurable experiences with her. We took her to the vet yesterday and she weighed in at just over 8 pounds. Quite a handful. A week before last my son sideswiped a Mustang on his way to work and in all likelihood totaled his Expedition, if he had collision insurance on it, which he didn’t. Well, it is a ’99, so there’s not much point in carrying that kind of coverage. That’s the thing about him, he always drives older cars and then bitches to high heaven when they breakdown, which they often do. He has a ’72 Cadillac Coupe de Ville in the carport that came as a piece of shit. It had sat in somebody’s leaky garage for over ten years and suffers from serious, structural body cancer. On the driver’s side the door panel falls off when he shuts the door, the seats for the bolts having rusted away. He has an ’06 Ford Police Interceptor with over 140,000 miles on it and a clattery engine that needs to be changed out with a new one. In his mind he sees going to a junkyard and picking up some low mileage Ford engine out of a Crown Vic or Grand Marquis that had been involved in a wreck and is just sitting there and waiting for him. The Expedition needed a new engine, too, but for once in his life listened to me and bought a reconditioned one, that now has just over 4,000 miles on it. That’s what he hopes to sell today. A new 5.4L Ford Triton engine for $2,500 and he’ll throw in the bent and scratched body side panels and bent front wheel assembly for free. All the buyer has to do his take the thing away. What a deal. Of course, there is not much I can say for myself, either. I’m still driving the ’03 Cavalier that got t-boned when I pulled out in front of someone back in 2014. The passenger side doors were both bent in and the joints are now sealed with black Gorilla tape. But, since I don’t drive further than the grocery store, which is not quite a four-mile roundtrip, there’s little need for me to have a more complete vehicle; though I still dream of having such a car, maybe next year. Since I am Type 1 Bipolar, my son has a 60% chance of inheriting the disorder. He’s been going to a psychiatrist for a number of issues over the past year or so centering around intermittent explosive disorder (road rage) and anxiety. He’s been through three SSRIs and now is on an SSNRI, plus something for the anxiety. Now, after his accident major depressive disorder has been added to his mix and he’s been put on an anti-psychotic (the one I take). When he went in to his psychiatrist I told him to her that I’m Type 1 BPD not Type 2. He said she seemed concerned about that information and maybe she’ll see that his anger is an expression of some form of mania. I hope the anti-psychotic helps him, his anger can be traumatic around the house. I’ve been sliding into a general funk over the past few weeks. The anticipation of getting the new puppy has passed and now she’s here and my son smothers her with attention. Rambo, our three-year-old German Shepherd, hasn’t quite accepted her and has nipped her twice already. But, none of that is my problem. I think my creative abilities are waning. I’m struggling while working on writing four new stories, poking at each one as I try to bring out characters into some form of reality. Honestly, I think it might just be time for me to go away (no, not that way). Maybe I’m trying too hard. Maybe it goes back to the way I’ve been my whole life, trying to be someone I’m not. It’s not like I’m a popular writer. My readership at GA is totally pathetic, but I’ve never written for the masses. I’ve never wanted to be a mass market author. Maybe I should’ve worked harder on learning how to write poetry, though that genre has alluded me since high school. “D___, what is the deeper meaning of this poem?” “The deeper meaning?” “Yes, what does it say to you?” “What do you mean? The guy is walking down a lane on a snowy evening. Is there something more to it?” “Darleen, what do you see when you read this poem?” On there it was, the inevitable deeper meaning. The hidden nugget of truth. The rack waiting for the lamb. Could I have changed if I had tried a little harder? I'll never know. That’s kind of the way it was back when I was in the final years of my experience with music. In elementary school, I learned how to play the alto saxophone, but I hated the instrument. I had wanted to play the baritone horn, but my mother had played that instrument and decided I was to play the saxophone. She was that kind of mother. But, I was given the opportunity to have a private instructor at a music school in Seattle. I played in the little swing band they had for students. We played at different venues on weekends, learning skills that might have lead some of us to careers in the music field. In junior high, I was selected to play in the all city junior high concert band. My mother had to drive me nearly the length of Seattle to get there and this was in the days before the freeway went that way. She was that kind of mother, too. I was good, very good, but I was a technician. I learned a piece and played it as I learned it. I lacked the ability to improvise, but I also lacked the desire to play the alto saxophone. In junior high, I had the opportunity over one summer to try to learn the bassoon. It was a good instrument, but the deal was I would have to continue playing the alto in band, to get to play the bassoon in orchestra. So, I took up the clarinet. I took to it like a kid takes to a licorice stick. It’s a beautiful instrument and definitely has more opportunities than the alto. I also learned how to play the baritone saxophone. The clarinet, alto and baritone saxophones lead to a day in swing band practice where the instructors decided we were to learn how to play jazz, genuine improvisational jazz. There is a technique to it, a skill, but there is also an art to playing improvisationally. When Count Basie came to Kansas City his band would play a twelve-bar blue progression all night, improvising on that theme with different instruments taking turns with solos. Unfortunately, I hadn’t learned the twelve-bar blues progression like the other members of the band. My instructor simply assumed I could pick up on what was happening because I was such a good player. I was a dismal failure. Improvisation doesn’t turn on like a light switch, it takes practice. I’ve heard that Charlie Parker practiced 15 hours a day for three years when he was starting out. I was expected to play jazz without a smidgen of practice. I quit playing music at the end of my sophomore year in high school. Technical expertise only goes so far and I think I took it as far as I was able. So, where do I go from here? Well, I have two chapters to go on “The G.M.Os.” until it is finished. Well, not finished, but finished in the sense I can’t go any further with it right now. I can’t give up writing, but I’ve run out of steam. I’ve been working with another writer to change my style to make it “more” popular, but so far it’s been like pulling teeth. Back when I took some college-level courses on creative writing, I learned to write without using dialogue tags or at the very least using the word “said”. It took me a number of years to add the words “asked” and “exclaimed”. Now, I have to consider throwing in “cried”, “laughed”, “snickered”, and “sneered”. I don’t know if this will come to pass. Maybe it’s all for naught and I should just accept the wave of modernity as gone past and it’s time for me to put the pen in the drawer and go the way of longhand.

Maybe it's just me, but I'm getting a feeling that with all these water and Burch dreams David is having might relate to some abuse he suffered at the hands of that man. He wouldn't be the first boy who learned how to swim by being thrown off the dock. Vixere look a bit of work coming up with a translation that made sense considering how obtuse Latin is. I mean, third-person plural perfect active indicative of vivo isn't very clear to an American English speaker. It wasn't until I came across the last words of Cicero that it made sense. I guess David isn't going to have to worry about Coulton and the other kid getting out of prison. Great chapter skinny! Keep them coming.

I have to admit David is being overwhelmed by Alex. What's with this crazy slut? The last thing a girl does is go down on a guy. And, next time? I hope David has some condoms because if this girl swallows, she's going to want some baby-makers right where they belong next time. I hope one of these nights David gives into his feelings and gives Twoey a good night call. (hint, hint) So, Gary's Uncle John avenged David. Good. Good for Twoey telling Erik to back-off on the feminine familiarity. He needs to stand up to this guy, but there's something about Erik that still scares me and Twoey had better be careful. Maybe he needs to call David.

Chapter 29 Ship Clock 263199 Stefan 03-774o1 Antherus 45-883m Machos in Miniature WARNING: Physical torture of a child occurs in this section. “State your ID, please.” “I don’t have to, faggot.” “State your ID.” “I said I don’t have to, you dirty, filthy faggot.” “I see. Guards, strip the subject and affix him to the rack.” While one bot guard held the boy, the other cut off his clothes. The boy was moved to the wall and without much care for the boy’s feelings the guards turned him t

I’ve been working on this blog entry for a couple weeks now, but every time I think it has developed into something to publish, I don’t. Mostly, it’s all because of my new mental state which is now controlled by the ingestion of 2,000 mg of valproate sodium (Depakote) to stabilize my moods. Mania is mostly held at bay and never lasts more than a week; depression lasts barely more than a day or two. Mostly, I exist in a nothing state. I write stories, though it takes time to formulate and express thoughts in coherent phrases. I take a nap during the day and sleep fitfully at night. Dreams are not enjoyable. To help I went to the small expense of buying a book. Until now I’ve relied on what psychiatrists told me and what I’ve read on the internet, which has been okay, I guess. But, I wanted to have a compilation of the latest knowledge on Type 1 Bipolar Disorder. What have I learned? Well, yes, I am Type 1 BPD. It’s a recognized illness and therefore requires medicinal intervention to ameliorate the symptoms and often more than one medicine is needed. I use two, a mood stabilizer and an anti-psychotic to alleviate the voices, hallucinations, and help with the depression. Suicide is always a risk, though I no longer fear it as I once did. Maybe I’ve crossed into that land where Virginia Woolf lived before she decided to fill her overcoat pockets with stones and walk into the River Ouse. Thankfully, the medication I’m taking seems to be keeping me from that watery end. Where do I go from here? Unfortunately, as far as medical science has studied there is no cure for Type 1 Bipolar Disorder. Each manic or depressive episode does a tiny amount of damage to the brain, so if you have a number of them, the cumulative effect can be horrendous until intervention is attempted. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until I was 58 when I was diagnosed and started on valproic acid (two tablets twice a day exactly 12 hours apart) and then a few years later to a generic extended release version of Depakote. Looking back on my life I know I was mentally ill as a teenager, but that was the Sixties and you had to be fairly bad off to get noticed. I kept under the radar as much as possible, I think mostly to fend of accusations that I was gay. Two weeks until week pick up the new puppy!

Chapter 28 Ship Clock 263199 Thomas 01-997s Back to Work Six months later, Don and Tom stood facing each other, holding hands. A few meters away Peter, Ben, and their two little twenty-five-year-old boys, Stefan and Steve; Charity and Megan; Abe, Gene, and their two seventy-nine-year-olds, Dorie and Dottie; Bill and Jack; Willy and Genie; and Freddy and Marcy stood watching the men smiling at each other. Don started, “To Tom I give my heart and spirit forever. You have brought brightness

Oh, what a Happy Thanksgiving. Tommy seems to be looking forward to David giving up on Twoey and jumping into the Alex camp. Seems everybody, including David, wants to get into the Alex camp. Can only see trouble ahead, though. Does Matty know something no one else does? When is Twoey going to realize that being Erik's boyfriend involves something more than hugs and kisses. Would he be willing to be a dominated bottom to Erik? Can only see trouble brewing there, too. Great chapter skinny, but please 34 chapters to go equals how many more weeks we have to wait for the end? It's Thanksgiving, serve up another plate of your wonderful story.

Chapter 27 Ship Clock 263196 Thomas 01-997s1 Staying Home Tom stood beside the Golden Delicious tree picking the apples and carefully placing them in his bag. The delicate flesh bruised easily, so only the most experienced pickers were allowed to pick them. As the orchardist’s son, he had years of experience. Across a small lane, separating the orchard from the farm residences, Tom’s neighbor, Don, was outside with his shirt off and tending his small vegetable patch. Tom watched the young

Nice chapter, but have to wonder where David's head is. Can't he see what Alex is doing? Is he so desperate not to be gay that he will allow her to take over his life? At least there is still some time left to come to some resolution of David and Twoey. When is David going to return his half of the dollar bill to Twoey? Can't wait for the next chapter!

Chapter 26 Ship Clock 262947 Thomas 01-997s1 Tomas 01-997s2 Macho Tendencies When Ben’s speeder approached the parking area for the six residences, he saw a Bot Security speeder sitting in the main area and three security bots standing beside it. He was tempted to just fly away, but where would he go. If they were here for him, he knew they would follow right behind. He coasted down into his parking spot and climbed down. Thomas jumped down from his side directly in front of the security

Erik and Twoey; Twoey and Erik. I don't know if this is going to work out as well as Twoey wants. Is Twoey going to be okay when Erik starts telling him which boys can be his friends? Can this end well? Sam and Deena, good match, and Sam needs her as much as she needs him. Alex ... icky! David better watch out or he'll be in for it if this relationship doesn't work out, which just might happen when David realizes how clingy Alex can be. And, David? Repressed memories? Amnesia from the attack? What's going on in his brain and will Twoey's mom come to the rescue in time to save him? Did we miss something at the end of the David section? No goodnight call from Twoey?

Well, David did tell Twoey to find a boyfriend, though it is a shame he had to go with the boy who satisfies his sexual appetite. And, we’ve already seen how Erik obsesses over Twoey, so I can only see danger ahead if Twoey doesn’t completely break off his relationship with David, which may not be possible if either one of them finally figures out how deep their friendship really is. Poor David, gets the news he’ll be going home on Wednesday and spending Thanksgiving with his best friends Gary and Twoey, and, then to find out Twoey has found a boyfriend. He tells Twoey not to wait for him and now appears to regret that decision. It’s more than obvious he has deeper feelings than just being Twoey’s best friend. Will his fear of Erik’s intent toward Twoey come to fruition? Or, is his unadmitted love for Twoey clouding his impression of Erik? Maybe, it's time for David to get back to that psycho guy and get some help on which side of the fence he should be sitting on. Another great chapter, skinnyD. Can’t wait for the next.

Chapter 25 Ship Clock 262947 Donaldus (Don) 00-893m Pablo “Well, Pablo, what can I do for you today?” Don asked the young man sitting on the exam table. There was something about the nondescript man that caused Don to think of Gene. He couldn’t exactly say what that was, but there seemed to be some kind of familiarity about him. “I hurt, Doc, and I think you’re my only hope,” Pablo said with half smile. “Where is the pain?” “Right here,” Pablo said, placing his fingers over his heart.