Kickstarter for Now Look What You've Done

What am I working on? Putting a collection of short stories together. Want to help? Please support this venture by checking out my kickstarter:



Here's a exerpt from one of the stories, "Flood":

I thought of all the alcohol I had consumed the night before. Monica persuaded me to chance spirits by pouting. She was shooting back Grape Crushes and Tequila with lemon and salt. I ticked off a list in my mind the damage drinking would do to my baby. Low birth weight, Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, premature birth. It read like the warning label on a bottle of beer. Monica’s girlfriend still hadn’t returned to Boston.

“Let’s dance.” She handed me a Long Island Ice Tea.

“I don’t know if I can drink this.” I reached out to brush at the glitter dusting her eyebrows. She took my hand and kissed it.

“Drink up, I love this song.”

I tilted the glass to my lips, forgoing the straw. Monica ran her tongue over my knuckles as I felt the cold alcohol slip down my throat. She was pulling me out among the other people while the thick glass clattered against my teeth, ice tea sloshing down the front of my dress. I let the cup fall to the floor, waiting for it to shatter, but it merely rolled into the crowd.

Monica danced behind me, her hands traveling up my legs, pushing the maroon fabric higher up my thighs. She slinked around me, arms dashing in and out of my vision, fingers playing at my lips, hips pushing against mine, legs forcing me to follow. I turned to her and wrapped my arms around her neck. I kissed her, trying to slide my tongue between her lips, but she only pushed me away.

“I want to dance.”

“What’s wrong with me?” I shouted over the music.

“You’re not my type.” Her arms flashed back and forth before my eyes.

“What’s wrong with me?” I yelled again just as the music broke up. My voice sounded shrill

“You’re fat.” She rubbed her hand over my stomach. I felt my flesh ripple beneath her touch.

“I’m pregnant,” I told her.

“So?” Her fingers tapped my five months worth of fetus to the beat of the music, “You’re still fat.”

Monica and I had stumbled through Boston after the lights came on in the nightclub. People poured from Lansdowne Street with us. Some hailed cabs, others stood by the closed sign at the Kenmore T-station, confused. The colors of flesh, neon, and dirt swirled before me. We headed up Boylston Street. Her apartment was there, teetering between Boston and the city of Brookline. She said it made her feel rich to pretend she lived on the other side. I felt my stomach lurching as I climbed the dusty stairs. I scrambled by Monica as she bolted her front door and collapsed onto the small bed. She sat down beside me and rubbed my back. I held my head in my hands, hunched over my knees.

“I’m so sick.”

Monica’s hand traveled up and down my spine, pushing sweaty hair from my skin. “I wish you were the one.”

“I don’t feel good,” I told her.

“You’re not really fat.” she said, “You’re face is really very nice, and your hair...”

My head felt like it was burning and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to lie back in the bed or sink onto the cool floor.

“I always wanted a girlfriend with blond hair,” she said to my back, “Real blond hair, not bleached. I’ve seen that before and it’s not right. You’ve got the coloring for pale hair. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I think I’m just jealous.” She twirled strands of my limp hair around her fingers. The gentle pull on my scalp seemed to irritate my stomach more.

“I wonder if I could pull off hair this light,” she said.

I looked up and caught her reflection in the mirror across from me. Her eyes were closed and she was puckering her lips. Her mouth moved like a fish. I dropped my head back down. For an instant I believed Monica and I shared the same image of her as a blond Aphrodite rising from the ocean. I wanted to say something, but I could only manage a groan. She went silent and still, except for the tugging at my head. I imagined her taking a deep breath, swallowing her disgust, and then I felt heat travel up my spine and the wetness of her mouth on my neck. My stomach rumbled up and through my lips.

Long Time No Write

I'm a bit surprised at how long it has been since I've blogged. I guess things have been really busy since 2009. Well, obviously.
Here are some links to things I've been busy with:

• 
  
  Sam starting school.


• 
  
  Deirdre moving on to middle school


• 
  
  Working at two different colleges teaching one full load and one nearly full course load


• 
  
  Supporting Drew in his business venture: Art House Picture Frames


• 
  
  Dancing


• 
  
  Writing


• 
  
  Housekeeping


• 
  
  Going Vegan


• 
  
  Meeting new people, making new friends

And here's a sample of a project I was working on with Drew, The Love Sutra, a collection of art and flash fiction based on Kama Sutra positiions:

Blow of a Boar

He shook his hair out as he stretched beside her on the dirty mattress. She let him lay his head in her lap and sighed when he cleared his throat.

She ran her fingers through his dark curls as he pontificated about the recent election. He was angry. She didn't know what so many were angry about.

"It's the immigrants." he slapped his hand on her thigh to punctuate his thoughts. "They come here and don't want to work and take money from those of us who are working hard!"

She thought he had said he worked at a gas station. It didn't seem like it could be that difficult to pump gas. Well, maybe when it was cold. She didn't say anything though because she liked the caramel color of his skin and his chestnut eyes flecked with gold. Besides, his penis was larger than average and she had been with enough men to know this did actually matter regardless of what they told themselves.

"I could take them all down in under fifteen minutes." He was drunk now. She rubbed his temples with her thumbs and sang a lullaby that her mother once sang and waited until his eyes closed.

After tripping her finger tips through his lashes, she gently lifted his head from her lap and laid it on a silken pillow.

Within minutes she found her scissors and relieved him of his strength.