I like lesbians. I can't help it. Most of the photo shoots I add to faves here are girl/girl sets. I'm a lesbian trapped inside of a man's body, as one of my old roomates used to say.
Damn, I need my digital camera. I need a profile pic up here...need to take some photos of stuff.
I'm listening to the Ray Charles duet thing--Genius Loves Company. It's not bad, just a little slick. Makes me want to put on some early Ray Charles.
I think I'll give you a little taste of my book--Here's the opening
When Lee Driston Awoke on the 22nd of July
By Michael S. Walker
Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us.
William Shakespeare
When Lee Dritson awoke on the 22nd of July, he should have been astounded at the first sight that met his watery, unstable eyes. On his walnut desk, his computer monitor (which he was certain he had turned off the night before after doing his usual three hours of writing) was alive with a virtual face: the gaunt visage of a man with glaring red eyes.
That is one scary looking face, he thought as he stared at the monitor. Only Lee wasnt scared, or astounded, or even mystified. He just lay there in his bed, waiting for new developments. He was certain they were coming.
Well, the face on the computer monitor said in a high girlish voice. It is about time you woke up.
What time is it? Lee asked. He didnt glance at the alarm clock on the dresser next to his bed.
Time-you-woke-up, the man in the monitor said in a slow voice, as if he were explaining quantum mechanics to an idiot child. You need to get dressed, go to the lobby. Mrs. Robinson is waiting for you.
Lee had absolutely no idea who Mrs. Robinson was. Visions of Anne Bancroft seducing Dustin Hoffman in the film The Graduate started to play in his head.
Wrong Mrs. Robinson, Man in the Monitor said.
Lee got out of bed automatically, searching for the blue jeans and t. shirt that he had thrown on the carpet of his bedroom the night before. A very small voice in the back of his mind was suggesting that he should be screaming and running out of his apartment, but it was a very very small voice indeed. So, theres a man on my computer screen. Stranger things have happened, he thought.
Yes, indeed, the man in the monitor agreed.
As Lee began to dress, he studied the face floating in the screen. That was all there was: an angular, wizened faceno neck, no shoulders. The mans hair was a tangle of sandy curls. He reminded Lee of someone he had gone to high school with Dave, umm Dave...
Please, dont compare me to that odious Dave Suanders who you went to school with, the man said. He always smelled like garlic and he was always calling you Lee Dristan, like it was so droll. Just go to the lobby, please.
As Lee finished putting on his clothes, he parted the slats of Venetian blinds to look out his bedroom window and see what kind of day it was. The sky was green. Very green. Like the color of the top of a pool table green.
Must be a tornado coming, he thought, indifferently.
Undoubtedly, the man agreed. Would you go, now?
O.K., Im going. I just need to find my keys and...
Never mind all that, the man said, rolling his red eyes. Youre probably not coming back here again, anyway.
Even that tidbit of information did not seem to faze Lee Driston.
In the hallway of Lees apartment building, there was a flyer on the floor, next to the door. This was not unusual at all. The management always had some piece of information that it wished to pass on to its many tenants: what wasnt working, where rent checks were supposed to go, where cars could and could not be parked, etc. etc.
Lee picked up the flyer. A thousand copies were strewn on the floor, one in front of each doorway. This is what it said:
Two Hoom It May Concurn:
AT Too this Aftir, the right Honorible Bede will bee resighting fragmints of chaptirs of his own histery of the quantum mekanics wars for all gentlilmen residing on thees hear premices. The rite Honorible Beed is the scribe of such mastirworks as: Abrehem LinkonWhie He Killd Are Beluved Jon Wilks Booth and How the Rushins Got to The Mune First and Whie They Blue It Up. The reeding will bee in the lobbie bie the male boxes (refreshmints too fallow.) Pleese keep xcitable childrin and wild animals away as the rite Onirbul Beede gets vary nervis at these reedings and may bolt if provoked.
Sinceerly,
The Landlord
Even though this missive was very unusual, (Lee had never seen a flyer like it before) he didnt give it any more than a cursory look. He very carefully placed it on the carpet and continued walking on down the hall. After all, Mrs. Robinson was waiting for him.
Thats right, he heard a muffled voice behind his apartment door yell. Get going.
The lobby of his apartment building seemed to be exactly the same: same gray tile and pink-striped wallpaper; same row of metal mailboxes adorning one oblong wall; same opulent Bacarat chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Yes, everything was the same except against the far wall, where a plate of glass looked out onto the outdoor swimming pool. In place of the large upholstered couch that usually ran in front of this window, there was a green lawn chair. A large black woman sat on this lawn chair placidly knitting a scarf. She was wearing a pair of navy-blue sweat pants and navy-blue socks that were pulled up over the sweat pants and beige sandals over the socks. On the top of her head, she wore a navy-blue toboggan cap. Next to her was a shopping cart filled with all sorts of knick-knacks and trash: towels, bulky plastic garbage bags, skyrockets, pinwheels, stuffed animals, glass decanters. Lee wasnt sure how she had gotten this unwieldy shopping cart through the front doors of the apartment complex or how she had managed to get it past the security guard who was on duty there twenty-four hours a day, but she had and, like everything else so far, he didnt give it a second thought.
Mrs. Robinson? he asked, tentatively.
Thas me, honey. She didnt look up from her knitting.
I was told to see you... Lee said, even more tentatively.
Speaking of seeing, Mrs. Robinson said. Ever see one of these before? From somewhere inside the sweat pants she produced a small shape and handed it to Lee. Well, have ya?
Lee glanced at the small shape in his hand. Those two words, small and shape, were the only words that described what rested in his palm. Lee couldnt tell if the small shape was rectangular or circular or elliptical or even star shaped for that matter. He couldnt tell if it was gray, green, red, black, or navy blue in color. He couldnt tell if it was animal, vegetable, or mineral. It was justa small shape.
What is it? Lee asked.
Oh, nothin much. Later on, I hears it becomes somethin, but right now, its nothin much.
Lee certainly had to agree with her.
Im gonna need that back, Mrs. Robinson said. Lee handed over the object without any extra persuading. After all, what use did he have for nothing much.
I tell ya, later on, it does become somethin, she said, winking at Lee and putting the nothing much back somewhere in her sweat pants. Well, I spose we oughta be up an a doin as my Uncle Fred used to say. She gathered up her knitting materials and stuffed them into the shopping cart. You ever meet my Uncle Fred? she asked, with a touch of eagerness in her husky voice.
I cant say that I ever did, Lee replied.
Ah, thas too bad. He was a lovely man. Jes lovely. He kept thylacines as pets. Had about a hundred or so of em in a barn behind his house. You shoulda seen em when they yawned! She shuddered and crossed herself.
Whats a thylacine? Lee said, genuinely interested.
Tasmanian tigers?
Lee looked at her blankly.
Where ya been boy, hidin under rocks or somethin?
Im beginning to think so although. . .
copyright 2004 by Michael S. Walker
Damn, I need my digital camera. I need a profile pic up here...need to take some photos of stuff.
I'm listening to the Ray Charles duet thing--Genius Loves Company. It's not bad, just a little slick. Makes me want to put on some early Ray Charles.
I think I'll give you a little taste of my book--Here's the opening
When Lee Driston Awoke on the 22nd of July
By Michael S. Walker
Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us.
William Shakespeare
When Lee Dritson awoke on the 22nd of July, he should have been astounded at the first sight that met his watery, unstable eyes. On his walnut desk, his computer monitor (which he was certain he had turned off the night before after doing his usual three hours of writing) was alive with a virtual face: the gaunt visage of a man with glaring red eyes.
That is one scary looking face, he thought as he stared at the monitor. Only Lee wasnt scared, or astounded, or even mystified. He just lay there in his bed, waiting for new developments. He was certain they were coming.
Well, the face on the computer monitor said in a high girlish voice. It is about time you woke up.
What time is it? Lee asked. He didnt glance at the alarm clock on the dresser next to his bed.
Time-you-woke-up, the man in the monitor said in a slow voice, as if he were explaining quantum mechanics to an idiot child. You need to get dressed, go to the lobby. Mrs. Robinson is waiting for you.
Lee had absolutely no idea who Mrs. Robinson was. Visions of Anne Bancroft seducing Dustin Hoffman in the film The Graduate started to play in his head.
Wrong Mrs. Robinson, Man in the Monitor said.
Lee got out of bed automatically, searching for the blue jeans and t. shirt that he had thrown on the carpet of his bedroom the night before. A very small voice in the back of his mind was suggesting that he should be screaming and running out of his apartment, but it was a very very small voice indeed. So, theres a man on my computer screen. Stranger things have happened, he thought.
Yes, indeed, the man in the monitor agreed.
As Lee began to dress, he studied the face floating in the screen. That was all there was: an angular, wizened faceno neck, no shoulders. The mans hair was a tangle of sandy curls. He reminded Lee of someone he had gone to high school with Dave, umm Dave...
Please, dont compare me to that odious Dave Suanders who you went to school with, the man said. He always smelled like garlic and he was always calling you Lee Dristan, like it was so droll. Just go to the lobby, please.
As Lee finished putting on his clothes, he parted the slats of Venetian blinds to look out his bedroom window and see what kind of day it was. The sky was green. Very green. Like the color of the top of a pool table green.
Must be a tornado coming, he thought, indifferently.
Undoubtedly, the man agreed. Would you go, now?
O.K., Im going. I just need to find my keys and...
Never mind all that, the man said, rolling his red eyes. Youre probably not coming back here again, anyway.
Even that tidbit of information did not seem to faze Lee Driston.
In the hallway of Lees apartment building, there was a flyer on the floor, next to the door. This was not unusual at all. The management always had some piece of information that it wished to pass on to its many tenants: what wasnt working, where rent checks were supposed to go, where cars could and could not be parked, etc. etc.
Lee picked up the flyer. A thousand copies were strewn on the floor, one in front of each doorway. This is what it said:
Two Hoom It May Concurn:
AT Too this Aftir, the right Honorible Bede will bee resighting fragmints of chaptirs of his own histery of the quantum mekanics wars for all gentlilmen residing on thees hear premices. The rite Honorible Beed is the scribe of such mastirworks as: Abrehem LinkonWhie He Killd Are Beluved Jon Wilks Booth and How the Rushins Got to The Mune First and Whie They Blue It Up. The reeding will bee in the lobbie bie the male boxes (refreshmints too fallow.) Pleese keep xcitable childrin and wild animals away as the rite Onirbul Beede gets vary nervis at these reedings and may bolt if provoked.
Sinceerly,
The Landlord
Even though this missive was very unusual, (Lee had never seen a flyer like it before) he didnt give it any more than a cursory look. He very carefully placed it on the carpet and continued walking on down the hall. After all, Mrs. Robinson was waiting for him.
Thats right, he heard a muffled voice behind his apartment door yell. Get going.
The lobby of his apartment building seemed to be exactly the same: same gray tile and pink-striped wallpaper; same row of metal mailboxes adorning one oblong wall; same opulent Bacarat chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Yes, everything was the same except against the far wall, where a plate of glass looked out onto the outdoor swimming pool. In place of the large upholstered couch that usually ran in front of this window, there was a green lawn chair. A large black woman sat on this lawn chair placidly knitting a scarf. She was wearing a pair of navy-blue sweat pants and navy-blue socks that were pulled up over the sweat pants and beige sandals over the socks. On the top of her head, she wore a navy-blue toboggan cap. Next to her was a shopping cart filled with all sorts of knick-knacks and trash: towels, bulky plastic garbage bags, skyrockets, pinwheels, stuffed animals, glass decanters. Lee wasnt sure how she had gotten this unwieldy shopping cart through the front doors of the apartment complex or how she had managed to get it past the security guard who was on duty there twenty-four hours a day, but she had and, like everything else so far, he didnt give it a second thought.
Mrs. Robinson? he asked, tentatively.
Thas me, honey. She didnt look up from her knitting.
I was told to see you... Lee said, even more tentatively.
Speaking of seeing, Mrs. Robinson said. Ever see one of these before? From somewhere inside the sweat pants she produced a small shape and handed it to Lee. Well, have ya?
Lee glanced at the small shape in his hand. Those two words, small and shape, were the only words that described what rested in his palm. Lee couldnt tell if the small shape was rectangular or circular or elliptical or even star shaped for that matter. He couldnt tell if it was gray, green, red, black, or navy blue in color. He couldnt tell if it was animal, vegetable, or mineral. It was justa small shape.
What is it? Lee asked.
Oh, nothin much. Later on, I hears it becomes somethin, but right now, its nothin much.
Lee certainly had to agree with her.
Im gonna need that back, Mrs. Robinson said. Lee handed over the object without any extra persuading. After all, what use did he have for nothing much.
I tell ya, later on, it does become somethin, she said, winking at Lee and putting the nothing much back somewhere in her sweat pants. Well, I spose we oughta be up an a doin as my Uncle Fred used to say. She gathered up her knitting materials and stuffed them into the shopping cart. You ever meet my Uncle Fred? she asked, with a touch of eagerness in her husky voice.
I cant say that I ever did, Lee replied.
Ah, thas too bad. He was a lovely man. Jes lovely. He kept thylacines as pets. Had about a hundred or so of em in a barn behind his house. You shoulda seen em when they yawned! She shuddered and crossed herself.
Whats a thylacine? Lee said, genuinely interested.
Tasmanian tigers?
Lee looked at her blankly.
Where ya been boy, hidin under rocks or somethin?
Im beginning to think so although. . .
copyright 2004 by Michael S. Walker