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It is necessary to see death. It is necessary to see death, stark naked, lurid and wild, Death as it pisses in the dark alleyways drunk and ecstatic on the jumps of drugs that are hard to name and harder to pronounce, it is still necessary to see death face to face. In a breach of society sanctioned lucidity hardwired in our brain, It is still very necessary to see death, To see the violent vandalism of civilization, Of ashes and nuclear death of atoms and atom bombs, Billions of flashlights burning up the sky, Smell of rotten carcass evaporating in sterile perfume of laboratory engineered poisons, Gases and liquids and solid whites of the eyes of the dead and the suffering of millions upon millions of innocence of ruthless greed of narcissist wankers. It is necessary to see death as it is, for the spring of flowers is nearly over and now we make war. 02/09/2013 ©asamvav111

I feel weird about writing this post. And embarrassed as hell. I don't know how many of you have faced this in real life. So, it is quite a sensitive issue as well. A couple of nights before, I enjoyed this wonderful open air concert put together by the British Council and Bengal Foundation in a joint venture. It was a folk music fest, where musicians from both Bangladesh and UK performed traditional folk numbers from each their respective cultures. It was an exciting and sonorous jam up session. I totally loved it. Now, this was an open to all sort of program. So, people from diverging classes, social backgrounds and educational qualifications were there. Amongst that mixed crowd, there was a big rowdy congregation that kept throwing racial and other dirty slurs towards the visiting musicians and their kin. Nobody gave much notice. They were speaking in plain Bangla and most of the Caucasians present did not understand a word of it. At some point, a good number of the white folk came towards my end of the area and tried to join in with the general crowd and enjoy the show together. At this moment, these hooligans started saying the same stuff in a much more amicable way on their face and started making fun of their inability to understand the crude language. After a while, they took the cue from the body language of those bastards and went back to their part of the area. The foul slurs continued nonetheless. Most of these hooligans were uneducated manual workers from lower socioeconomic classes. And probably weren't there for the music. But, anyway a couple of educated people were also in that crowd. And then, there were people like us, educated middle and high class men, who understood both sides of the coin, the animosity and the public humiliation, yet, alas, refrained from taking any action against it. We could have stopped those idiots from besmirching our cultural name globally. But, none of us did. I know what most were thinking; "we shouldn't get involved", "these low-life good-for-nothings are a headache. They are everywhere", "see after 200 years of subjugation, you get paid in your own coins" and sorts. May be some really wanted to help, like a couple standing next to me, who tried to intervene and got harassed for it. But, mostly nobody did anything. I know, I should have done something myself, but, I was afraid that if things went out of hand they would hurt me. So, I kept mum. I regret it now. I want to tell you all, if you ever end up in a situation like that in Indian Subcontinent, please, don't take that as our universal policy. I apologize on behalf of these uncultured bigots who bring shame to our hospitality. And word of advice, if someone keeps attacking you zealously in his mother tongue here, he is most likely to be calling you God-awful names in that unintelligible language of his. Ignore these twats. They are mostly harmless bastards. In anyway, try to get away from these idiots as soon as possible lest they harm you. If someone really wants to talk to you, he will most likely speak English. And trust me when I say almost 100% of Subcontinent population understands and speaks English, haltingly may be, but, they do nonetheless. If they say they are not getting you, then mostly it's because of the accent not the language. And the shopkeepers act coy just to get more money out of the deal. My vegetable seller in the bazaar, from whom my mom mostly buys, has a B.Sc. in Chemistry, just saying.

This is a coming of age story of a red headed boy growing up on 1970's Tulsa, Oklahoma who is discovering his sexuality. Prequel story is about his initial promiscuity with a Hispanic boy at the YMCA swimming pool. https://www.gayauthors.org/story/nick-brady/nicksstory Current story in progress is about the life changing friendship with a talented young musician who is unlike anyone he has ever met. https://www.gayauthors.org/story/nick-brady/nickandjoseph I would really like some feedback on this story. I hope you will tell me what you like and what you don't. The characters develop and mature in their relationship with their families and with each other. Although the story is fictional it is to some extant a genuine autobiography. I hope you will find it interesting and would love to engage in some discussion about it.

For topics and themes in Changes (I'm honored to create the first story discussion forum for Promising Author, Mikiesboy )

I joined the forum back in June of 2011. I was excited about it because I wanted a change from my last at-the-time community. It was a gaming one. If you have ever played a video game competitively, you know how cutthroat that type of environment is. Mine was pretty much a planet of insurmountable monsters who fed on victories and were allergic to sportsmanship and any sense of decency. Regardless to say, I wanted out. I was away from here for a while. The point is I'd like to be back. I started writing again these past two months—a long hiatus, so mind the rust—and the story I'm posting here is the one grabbing my attention for now. If you like it, great. If you don't like it, I understand. If you hate it, even better as that makes for an interesting and insightful opinion. Thanks for listening, even if you stopped after the first paragraph. X) The story: https://www.gayauthors.org/story/chris-prieto/salvo