Just Imagine (Way Beyond Fear)

I remember as a kid in D.C. and North Carolina always wanting to live in California - either Los Angeles or San Francisco. Los Angeles for its decadent freedom. San Francisco for its gay culture.
I ended up in Los Angeles, anxious to experience; to live without boundaries. I was young, crazy, stupid, eager and cautious. I kept out of trouble and I survived by working what I could when I could.
I remember reading a movie review of 'American Gigolo' where the author stated that the movie lifted the diamond veneer of Los Angeles to expose its seedy underground.
That review - along with the movie - helped to shape my vision of Los Angeles: sparkling with allure but dark and dank in its reality.
I couldn't wait to move there.
After I got out of the military, I moved to L.A. (with the help and question of friends) and began my exploration into the diamond with a crawly base.
I had so much fun...excited and adventurous. The future did not matter, the present was all I lived for. Dive bars, gay counseling groups, one night stands, prissy West Hollywood clubs, beautiful men and the porn industry. I wanted it all: corporate jobs with a sleazy under current, a peek into the machinations of men with power, the sexual expressions of people whom nature was abundant with positive outlook and a grand entrance into being gay: out, open and proud.
I got all of that, and, truth be known, without guidance. I stuffed so much into the seventeen years I lived in L.A. to experience, write and critique about human emotions, encounters and desire.
But haven't we all at one point or another? Took a dive into a pool without knowing if it was filled with water or poison?
Well, some of us have.
Now, at this time, I want reflect on my beginnings as a human being.
I was born in the state of Georgia, my mother moved my siblings and I to Washington, D.C. when I was six and we moved to a small town in North Carolina when I was fourteen.
During my time as a child in Georgia, I experienced a Disney-like childhood of hanging with my friends, climbing trees, throwing rocks, sauntering though the projects where we all - as the black population - knew each other and were comfortable with acknowledgement and respect...and freedom. I roamed the projects of my childhood with abandon, and my parents had no concern because a best friend or acquaintance or neighbor would have an eye on us.
Even when it was just us boys trekking through the surrounding woods not knowing what to expect with general mischievousness one can only expect from pre-pubescent males.
As I look back on that time, I can only now explain it as an innocence that reflected the culture given to me. Though parents and teachers (who knew each other) threw some caution to the wind for the next generation to live and understand, there was a bit of lessons taught of the outer world beyond the projects. And in being told that, I would sit on the front porch of my family's house and look out into the horizon (several times with a rainbow) that made me think of the world beyond the invisible walls I sometimes ventured beyond that presented me a familiar but understood setup where I could see white people beyond television. They did not seem so different to me. Though I sensed that they had an advantage over me.
My family moved to Washington, D.C. when I was six years old and the familiar of small town project life led to big city ghetto life.
I didn't know what hit me. Simple.
I discovered that those rainbows I admired led to a world beyond a small Southern town where once I played games and had discussions with my friends to being - one day - cautioned after my 2nd grade class before my walk home, as a man had been murdered across the street (and his brains were still spilled on the concrete of the parking lot of the apartment building facing the school). That man's brains was never cleaned up. And every day for weeks I would pass the spot where that man's brains lay decaying thinking that life was not only precious but scary.
And that was the beginning my fascination with life and its mystery. Television and movies and music and books were not enough to satisfy my curiosity.
As I think of this now, I did it all with reckless abandonment.
I want to write more, but I want to keep you hanging...if you're interested...

Kids...This Is Fabulon

I remember the day that I left home for good. My high school graduation was months behind me, most of my friends were off at college or boot camp. I lived with my older sister in Maryland for a few months before my time to go to Air Force basic training. My mother had made my favorite dinner the night before: collard greens, fried chicken and her homemade apple turnovers. The next day, she was angry and sad at the same time. I kissed her goodbye and shook hands with my dad before my sister drove me away from the home I had known for five years. My sister asked me what was wrong with our mother. I told her that I did not know. And it did not hit me until I was done with basic training and flying into Denver for tech school that my mother was reacting to one of her birds leaving the nest for good.
Yes. I was on my way to my first plane trip. I was on my way to adventure. I was on my way to manhood. And the world was waiting for me. Big, wide open, scary, exciting and hopeful. I did not shed a tear when I left Bladenboro, North Carolina. I'm not saying that to be vicious towards the place, but I was ready for an adventure; I was ready for experience.
I try to think back to my mother's generation and how the United States (and maybe the world) was still developing, or, rather, how time continued to move and process. I think of stories I'd hear of people falling into extraordinary jobs and situations. I think of how, yes, some people had to work a bit harder than others to stay in the game and how much more sweat they had to give in order to get ahead. I've always thought that the next generation being a bit smarter than the one before it. Maybe because of discovery or maybe because of technology. Maybe a bit of both.
My parents generation grew up on hard work and a smart mind with a society that told them there was only so much they could do; only so far they could go. This was reflected in the perspective of one of my aunts who held that notion in some of her attitudes. The way she would react when - this is true - a news story depicted some violence at a beach celebration and the group of guys that caused the violence was a group of young African American youths. "You know you can't have a good time anywhere when a bunch of niggers show up," was what she had spat at the television set. On the other hand, my mother was a simple woman who loved the South and planting and growing things. She knew how to make homemade jellies and grow and freeze vegatables and could skin and clean a pig from nose to tail. I don't think my mother had any aspirations except to live comfortable in a house with her family on a farm. I don't think she felt herself limited, I just think she cherished her roots.
My generation grew up with television and portable radios and pornography. We grew up with civil unrest, the fight for equal rights and the lessons of hard work in a world that was becoming more and more competitive. We felt the world was at our fingertips. Some of us were told we could have whatever we wanted.  Some of us were warned to beware of the asshole. Some even tried to limit us as best they could. There was a freedom with sex, a world of drugs to explore and a promise that in our youth we would see and experience what could only have been imagined by our parents and grandparents.
I dove into the world - this perception - of total exploration and duplicity. There were times when I was told I was stupid. There were times when I was told that I was intelligent. There were times when I was told I was beautiful, ugly, fabulous, hateful, fun or boring. I worked in tobacco fields and blueberry patches, I worked as a mail sorter, a cook, a soldier, a metal cleaner, a cashier, a receptionist, a loan processor, a producer, a writer, a file clerk, a secretary, an assistant, a bouncer, a barback, a waiter, a host, a personal assistant, a theatre usher and manager, a bartender and, now, a project manager. I have worn many hats. I used to have a [sort-of] dream where I would be visiting my family. I would have graduated and ready to start my own architectual design firm. I'd be jogging through the morning drizzle with my German shepherd Apollo running beside me. Apollo and I would be returning to Los Angeles after a big family dinner that evening. (that's more or less where the dream ended: me returning to l.a.)
The generation after me has been born and grown up after man walked on the moon and where computers were a part of their high school curriculum. A new way of moving across the world and communicating with one another has taken on a perspective that can only explain the world as coming together yet being so far apart. Sex is now not only something that is automatically achieved, but we share it and our bodies as freely as the 70s porn star's attitude. Competition is more standard than it has ever been, and it's pretty much expected when there is a job that we feel we are perfect for. It's kill or be killed. We are living in a time when people find that a relationship is much too hard to maintain and a sexual companionship fits perfectly into an otherwise broad and busy life of other interests.
I remember for each job or college interview I've ever had, I have been asked where do I see myself in 5 years. I've always hated that part of the interview - well, with the exception of one time. Anyway, I never could see that far into the future. With the exception of two times, I guess I never really had a plan. There was the one time I decided to go to school to become an architect. I knew the amount of time and energy and years I would have to put into my studies, and I was pretty much passionate about it. Until I fell in love. There was the time that I wanted to work through a production company and build my own company to produce films and shows for not only the gay community but the black gay community. Yet, I tripped and fell into the legal profession and have put so much of my life into it that it seemed that it trapped me.
The other day, I celebrated my 50th birthday and by no means do I feel old or constricted. Well, not anymore. I got a wonderful job offer from a great guy whom I have a great rapport. In the months before this, I was in a depression. I don't want to go into details about why or how. I no longer care. Before then, I was scraping up jobs where ever I could get them in order to eat and make rent. I would go out drinking but could only go where I no longer felt comfortable. In a desperate act to try to save myself I asked someone I used to work with for a reference. He slightly panicked before he took charge, at great consequence I'm sure. And, because of him, I have been given a great opportunity. And it seems overnight, that my mind and my ambition and my focus are coming together. When I went to bed last night, my first dream was violent. I was attacked and, like a cornered tiger, I mauled my attacker with a sharp butcher knife. I was vicious, merciless and determined. I woke up out of the dream scared of a violent nature deep within me. When I slowly went back to sleep, my dreams had more of a positive energy. When I awoke this morning, I thought of reading more on project management, of watching videos on cinematography before taking another class, I thought of repairing my MacBook and purchasing new camcorders. I thought of my reason for returning to Seattle: to write and spend time with my friends. And after all of those thoughts and plans, I thought of a house with me in it somewhere up north from Seattle with my dog and a smile on my face.
I have focus. I have a vision of where I could be in 5 years.
We all know that life does not turn out the way we want or expect. Sometimes we are strong and sometimes we are weak. Sometimes we can see and sometimes we choose not to. I was a heartbeat away from calling my family and asking for a rescue. And one man took it upon himself to show me that there are good people in the world and it's okay if someone doesn't believe in you, because somewhere out in this big and crazy and cold world: someone does. And that can make a big difference.
So, what was the meaning to writing all of this? Life. You are here and there. There are unexpected turns. There are rules forced on you. There are times when you want to give up or cry and times when you want to scream "I'm king of the world!"
Life moves on.

Killed Myself When I Was Young

Back in San Francisco, I would usually find myself walking around through the many different neighborhoods trying to soak everything about the city into myself; trying to start a new life; trying to forget about Seattle. The only thing that was holding me back was the music on my iPod. Ninety-eight percent of the songs on my iPod were songs that I had downloaded from hearing them on television shows or Indie Rock Cafe while living in Seattle. They all reminded me of Seattle and my friends and Madison Pub and my apartment. My first few months back in California, I wandered the streets listening to songs that reminded me of a place I had abandoned. When I felt I could not take anymore of being homesick, I told myself that I would spend ten dollars a week downloading new songs that would become a new soundtrack to a new chapter in my life. The funny thing was that even new songs reminded me of Seattle. I would go out back at night and have a cigarette listening to The Wooden Birds, Olin & the Moon, The Boxer Rebellion and, still, find myself thinking of Seattle, dealing with my broken heart and putting myself back together.

I came across a new group named Endochine when I found their song 'Music To Drive And Cry To' and downloaded it. The music, the lyrics, the guitar rifts...everything about the song reminded me of my life back in Seattle even though I tried to move on, and, in some strange way, I felt I was moving on while dealing with a severe case of homesickness. I still listen to the song, and it's lyrics continue haunt me.

you, you're breaking down the day
you, you're soaking up a storm
run, away from what you are
run, you'll always have a scar

one more night is falling
one more heart is broken

wait, you're driving me away
would you stay and watch the darkness fade

one more night has fallen
one more heart is broken
one more night is calling
one more heart has spoken

A simple set of words set to a thriving rock tune closing with piano and strings...the ending is as powerful as the lyrics are poetic. I am reminded of walking the streets of San Francisco, living in Seattle and wanting to survive a world full of confusion and assholes and sex and disappointment.

Music has always been my cushion, my safety net - a set of arms ready and willing to take me in without a question of why or how or cost.

I am reminded of being a kid back in D.C. living on Hunter Place across the Anacostia Bridge. I remember that while we lived in Washington, D.C. that Sundays were usually lazy days. My parents and siblings would lay around watching old movies on television. If I wasn't out playing with my friends in the street or in the darkened auditorium of a movie theatre, I was often watching movies on television or scribbling something down in a notebook or reading the Sunday paper. 

Ah! Sunday mornings. I would get up early and wait for the Sunday paper to come, anxious about getting The Mini Page and the Arts & Leisure section. During my wait, I would sit in the living room by myself and listen to music. Now, back then I was the weird kid who loved motion picture scores. It did not matter if I listened to Ohio Players or Gladys Knight & The Pips or my older brother's rock albums, I was still the weird kid who listened to the background music from movies. But on Sunday mornings, I would sit by the stereo and turn the volume down low and listen to two albums that had become permanent pieces of my music collection: 'That's The Way Of The World' by Earth, Wind & Fire and 'Light Of Worlds' by Kool & The Gang.

I could sit here and write loving critiques of the classic R&B funky grooves of 'That's The Way Of The World' and the funk-infused jazz sophistication of 'Light Of Worlds' but I figure that you can go anywhere on the internet and read up on the records. However, I am reminded of a time when I was discovering books and writing, learning about sex and masturbation, leaving behind a reputation of being a sissy back in my old neighborhood to become a street punk roaming around D.C. between Hunter Place and my aunt's place in Temple Court and downtown Washington. I kind of liked this girl named Valerie but ended up making out with my friend Ivy's older brother, Sylvester (who was beautiful and dumb as a bucket of rocks as I went from 6th grade to 7th grade, he was still lingering in elementary school).

Anacostia was a bit different from the other neighborhoods we had lived in. It was more...ghettoey, if you will. Yes, we and my aunts and uncles and cousins all lived in the ghettos of D.C. but Anacostia was something a bit different. It was more than a neighborhood, it was a lifestyle, a place a lot bigger than what I was used to. I did not feel a dangerous edge to it at all. However, it was more like a community. There was a guy who would show movies on the side of a building during the summers. There was a public pool we would attend when school was out. I first attended Moten Elementary School which was just up the hill from the homes and apartment complexes, and then Fredrick Douglass Junior High which was a few blocks from where I lived. The home of Fredrick Douglass was only about three blocks away and the border to Maryland was just a couple or so miles out. It was the first place in my entire life where I encountered a gay couple that was tolerated, spoken to and respected...

The apartment building across the street from where I lived was huge. It was longer than the building we lived in, still the same design and color. In that building lived a family of musicians who often played parties and venues covering the latest and greatest in rhythm & blues. They had a brother named Teddy, who was effeminate and wore faggoty clothes and didn't much care what someone said about him. He often had a few friends come over. These, too, were black gay men and it was my first glimpse into what black gay men looked like up close. Usually, I would hear demeaning stories from my brother and cousins about the faggot up the street or the faggot on the bus or, even, once witnessing all the kids in Temple Court harass a gay black man - effeminate and somewhat violent in his reaction to being the focus of names being screamed at him. I remember one old man crossing the street and asking everyone to leave the faggot alone. I knew I liked boys, but I didn't feel like the faggots I'd often been told about. However, I became what people told me that I was.

Anyway, Teddy had a lover. Teddy's boyfriend was handsome and strong and masculine. He was a part of Teddy's brother's group. All of us kids would often go to see and hear them practice in the back of the building. I remember one instance when we were watching them rehearse. Teddy was there with his short hair straightened. He wore a demin jumpsuit and smoked a cigarette. Everyone talked to him as if he was just a regular person. I was impressed. Sometime later, Teddy tried to break up with his boyfriend after a fight they had had. The boyfriend would not hear of it. They played around and Teddy pretended to be mad at him. At one point, the boyfriend picked Teddy up, put him in the trunk of his car and said that he would not let him out until Teddy told him that he loved him. Everyone laughed. Teddy pretended to be upset, and his family did not get involved. They liked his boyfriend. Later on that night, I went outside to see if I could find any constellations. The street was empty except for Teddy and his boyfriend who were quietly talking about their problems.

That was my first positive brush with being gay and gay love.

How in the hell did I get from music to being black and gay and in love?

I guess from my current reading of Ceremonies by Essex Hemphill (also a d.c. native) brings back a few memories from my life. Memories of growing up black and gay; memories of family and friends; memories of growing up.

My parent moved us to North Carolina in 1976. The only time I ever went back to Anacostia was after I graduated high school and lived with my sister in Maryland before going into the Air Force. Me and my high school buddy Alvin were driving around and I was showing him all the places in D.C. that I used to live. In the 80s and 90s I had heard that Anacosta had become a drug-infested war zone.

"Ma got us out of D.C. just in time," my older brother once told me.

And I guess he's right. There is no telling were I would have ended up if my parents did not remove me from the seed of my emergence into a street punk...and a gay street punk at that.

First Cool Hive

After writing about 'Laurel Falls' for the past two entries, I've been more or less obsessed with my creation. I had gotten writer's block when I was working on another short story. I unblocked myself one day when I felt like writing - not on my short story, but another story. And out came this short story of my focus couple in the revised 'Laurel Falls.' Lenorse & Christopher had been in love since they were teenagers. This is the story of their first night together as their desire for each other blossoms.

When Lenorse Templeton walked up to the doors of the Wiley mansion with his mother, Jeri, he felt a funny feeling in the pit of his belly. It was not a foreign sensation, as he had begun to feel it several weeks ago when he and his best friend Christopher Wiley went to the movies together. They had sat in the dark, watching the movie, sharing a tub of popcorn and their knees were touching throughout the film. A strange sensation had flushed over him. He was excited and nervous and cautious - wondering if anyone in the auditorium would notice while at the same time he felt a sense of comforting pride.

His mother pushed the button of the doorbell. She turned to her son and smiled. Jeri wanted to say something, but she noticed a slight expression of...what was it?

“Lenorse, are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine, Mom. Why do you ask?”

“You look so...pensive.”

“I’m fine. Just excited to spend sometime with Christopher and Spider.”

Jeri giggled. “You and Christopher spend so much time together. I’m happy that you’re best friends.”

“I’m...just...”

The door to the mansion opened. It was Christopher’s older brother, Nathaniel, who seemed to be in a slight mode of panic.

“Hi Aunt Jeri. Hi Lenorse. Sorry, but I gotta run. I’m late for my date.”

Nathaniel sprinted out of the door as Lenorse and Jeri walked into the foyer.

“Lenorse, where’s your bag? I thought you were going to spend the night?”

Lenorse and Jeri turned in the direction the voice was coming from: the curved staircase. It was his mother’s best friend, Helene Wiley.

“Hi, Aunt Helene. Christopher just asked me if I would babysit with him. He didn’t say anything about spending the night,” Lenorse said.

Helene walked over to Jeri and gave her a little peck on the cheek. “Hello, Jeri, you look stunning!”

“Thank you, dear.”

“Lenorse you are always welcome here, you know that. If you find yourself tired, then go ahead and take one of the beds in Christopher’s room. I think Penelope will be making waffles in the morning, and I know how much you like them.”

Lenorse smiled. “Is it okay, Mom?”

“Of course, child.”

“Where’s Christopher, Aunt Helene?” Lenorse asked. The funny feeling jumped back in his stomach when he said Christopher’s name.

“He’s in the den with Spider watching television. You can go join them.”

Just as Lenorse turned in the direction of the den, his mother called out. “Have a good time, Lenorse. And mind your manners.”

“I will, Mother.”

In the dim light of the den, Christopher was watching an old monster movie with his little brother Spider, who was only nine or ten years old. When they were a little younger than Spider, Lenorse had started to call his best friend Chris until he was asked not to.

“Why?” Lenorse had asked. “Every guy with your name calls himself Chris.”

“I just like Christopher better,” Christopher had said.

Lenorse walked around to the sofa. His body shivered. “Hey.”

Christopher looked up and smiled. His eyes kind of lit up in the dim light of the room. Spider was entranced in the monster movie and only slightly spoke to Lenorse.

“Hey,” Christopher said. “Have a seat.”

Lenorse sat in the gaping space between the two brothers. He suddenly felt a little flushed - his heart started to beat fast. He looked over at Christopher, who was looking back at him displaying a goofy look on his face.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” Lenorse said, himself grinning a little more than he normally would around anyone else.

“No problem. I have to babysit the brat over there and after he goes to sleep, I won’t have anything else to do since Nathaniel is out with his girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Kayla has a date with Rodney, and with my mom going out with your folks I would have just sat at home and did nothing. I finished all my homework this afternoon.”

“Be quiet you guys!” Spider said, his eyes glued to the television screen.

From behind them, Lenorse and Christopher heard Palmer enter the den. “Are you boys doing okay?”

“Sure, Dad,” Christopher said.

“Hello, Lenorse.”

“Hi Uncle Palmer.”

“Christopher, you have the number where we will be. And remember Spider’s bath and bedtime.”

“Aw, c’mon, Dad. It’s Saturday night. I don’t have to go to school tomorrow!” Spider whined.

“No, but you do have Sunday school.”

Spider groaned.

“Don’t be such a problem,” Christopher said to his brother.

“You shut up!” Spider said.

“Okay, boys, keep it steady,” Palmer said. “We will be on our way. Spider, you mind your older brother.”

When Palmer left the den and Lenorse and Christopher heard the front door of the house close and lock, Christopher stood up. “You guys want some potato chips or something?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Spider answered.

Lenorse stood up. “I’ll help you.”

“It’s okay. You want a soda or something?”

“Yeah!” Spider said.

“You get a cup of apple juice, buddy. You know how you wet the bed if you get too much to drink.”

“Shut up!” Spider yelled. He settled back down, pouting and mumbling. “I don’t wet the bed.”

“Lenorse?”

“Yeah. You have a Pepsi-Free?”

“Sure.”

When Christopher walked to the kitchen, he smiled from the fact that he asked his mother to get a six-pack of Pepsi-Free. He had noticed that that was mostly what Lenorse would drink whenever they had a burger or a snack.

Back in the den, during a commericial, Spider turned to Lenorse and asked: “Are you going to spend the night?”

“I don’t know, Spider.”

“I heard Christopher tell mom that you might spend the night.”

“Let’s see what happens, champ.”

Christopher came back into the den carrying a tray with a big bowl of potato chips, two cans of Pepsi-Free and a cup of apple juice. He set the tray down and gave Lenorse and Spider their drinks. When he sat down, it was a closer to Lenorse than before. Christopher felt a little tingle in the pit of his stomach when his elbow touched Lenorse’s.

Sometime during the movie, Christopher stretched out a bit. He positioned his right arm across the back of the sofa, behind Lenorse. It took a moment, but they both started to relax and their knees touched and rested on the other’s.

Christopher smiled. He could barely pay enough attention to the movie. He liked being close to Lenorse again. To have his arm around him and their knees touching. He had guessed that is what it felt like when he overheard Nathaniel tell a couple of his friends about hanging out with his girlfriend, Marisa. Christopher wished that he didn’t have to feel like this thing he had for Lenorse had to be kept secret. It felt so natural.

When the movie was over and Spider turned towards Christopher and Lenorse, both older boys were a bit startled. They pulled their knees apart and Christopher took his arm from the back of the sofa.

“Okay, buddy,” Christopher said to Spider. “Time for your bath.”

“Awww!”

Spider got up and went upstairs to run his bath.

Christopher and Lenorse sat on the sofa not speaking for a few minutes.

“Did you like the movie?” Christopher asked.

“It was okay. I don’t like monster movies that much.”

“Yeah, I know. The little guy wanted to watch it and I thought that it was a great way to keep him quiet.”

“You’re a good brother,” Lenorse said, patting Christopher on the shoulder.

For a fifteen year old, Christopher was pretty muscular. Well, Lenorse thought, that would be expected since he played football.

Christopher looked at Lenorse. He took a breath. “Look, um, I’m going to make sure that Spider has his pajamas. Why don’t you shut off the set and turn off the lights and we can go to my room and listen to some records,” he said.

“Okay.”

They both stood up at the same time, their faces were only a couple of inches apart. Lenorse took a deep breath. Looking into Christopher’s deep brown eyes had made his body shiver a bit.

“Well, okay,” Christopher said quietly, before he took a step away from Lenorse and headed upstairs.

Lenorse stood stagnant for a minute. He composed himself before turning off the television set and most of the downstairs lights. As he made his way to Christopher’s room, he heard both of the Wiley brothers in the one of the bathrooms.

“Wash your ears,” Christopher demanded.

“Stop bossing me around!” Spider snapped.

Christopher’s room kind of had a locker room smell to it. The faint smell of sweaty socks and jockstraps, normally, was kind of just a familiar smell to Lenorse. But in Christopher’s room - decorated with sports and rock star posters - the smell was exciting in a way. He looked down at the floor, taking notice of a pair of sweatpants, a jockstrap and a pair of socks hastily thrown about. Christopher was one of the most popular jocks at Laurel Falls High with his talent for football and baseball. At fifteen, he was one year older than Lenorse - who was about to finish up the eighth grade and move on to high school the following semester. Lenorse found himself a bit stately in that he was not only Christopher’s best friend, but their lives had been merged since the day they were born. 

Lenorse heard Spider calling his name from down the hall. When he turned around, the little boy was naked and pulling on his pajamas. Spider had never been one to be shy.

“What is it, champ?”

“Will you read me the next chapter of that book? It’s been a long time.”

“Christopher isn’t reading it to you?”

“No. He’s always in his room.”

“Sure, Spider. I will read you the next chapter.”

Just then, Christopher walked out of the bathroom. He switched off the light and told Lenorse that the book was over on his desk. Lenorse grabbed the copy of Alvin’s Secret Code and made his way to Spider’s room.

As Lenorse read the story to Spider, who was sitting up in bed hugging his knees, Christopher stretched across the other twin bed where Lenorse sat. He thought about holding Lenorse’s hand while walking the streets of Laurel Falls. People would know that they were in love...and it would be okay. He smiled. He knew that Lenorse had some feelings for him. That day when they went to the movies and shared popcorn, Christopher, himself, had felt something detonating inside of him. It was only recently that he and Lenorse had started to touch each other a little more than usual. Their casual sharing of skin touching skin was only done when they were alone, however.

“Is something wrong with you?” Spider asked.

Christopher snapped out of his daze. He’d been staring at Lenorse, who, himself, had a knowing grin on his face.

“What?”

“Why are you staring at Lenorse?” Spider asked.

“I was, just, um, thinking about something.”

“Lenorse said he’d read another chapter if it was okay with you.”

“Nothing doing, buddy. I don’t want the folks mad at me when you can’t get out of bed in the morning.”

“Spoil-sport,” Spider mumbled.

Christopher stood and went to tuck Spider in. “You probably don’t even know what that means.”

“I do too!”

“Stop being such a brat,” Lenorse said.

“Shut up, Lenorse!” Spider said.

“Okay, you’re a bit cranky and you need some sleep,” Christopher said. “Have a good night, little brother.”

Spider didn’t say anything. He watched as his older brother and Lenorse walked to his bedroom door and turned off the lights. Their figures were outlined from the hall light behind them.

“Night, guys,” Spider said, rolling over under the blankets.

“It shouldn’t take him long to fall asleep,” Christopher said.

When they got to Christopher’s bedroom, they each took a seat on one of the twin beds. They sat close to each other. 

“What do you feel like doing?” Lenorse asked.

“We could listen to some records or go watch another movie.”

“Another monster movie?”

“No, smarty pants!” Christopher said. He started to tickle Lenorse. They fell back on the bed, Christopher on top of Lenorse. They were laughing.

“Okay, stop,” Lenorse said, trying to catch his breath.

Christopher stopped tickling him. They looked at each other. A wave of all different sorts of feelings swept through them - too rapid to determine. Christopher lowered himself onto Lenorse. Christopher took a breath. Their faces moved closer and their lips were touching - growing from light smacks to deep kissing. Their bodies shook, each experiencing an explosive quake in both their heads and their hearts.

“I wanted to do this for such a long time,” Christopher whispered.

“So have I!” Lenorse breathed.

They felt the hardness of each other through their jeans.

Lenorse was lost in pleasure and wonder. For a second, he pondered what he should do next. He reached down and pulled Christopher’s shirt off. Christopher stopped for a second. A big smile spread across his face. He reached for Lenorse’s shirt and they kissed as they undressed each other. 

Lenorse knew how big Christopher’s penis was but was amazed at how beautiful it looked. When they lay back on the bed, they started to kiss again. Christopher took hold of Lenorse and fondled him. Soon, their bodies were pressed together and lost in a feeling beyond their comprehension.

Their orgasms were quick and intense. Lenorse snapped out of his daze just in time to kiss Christopher and keep him from waking Spider. They lay still for a moment, shivering. Their chest and abdomens were wet and sticky. And they laughed.

“Wow!” Christopher said.

“Yeah!”

They kissed again.

“You’re kinda loud. How do you keep quiet when you play with yourself?” Lenorse asked.

Christopher blushed. “I bite on one of my jocks.”

They layed in each other’s arms for a little while longer, still high from their orgasms; still touching each other’s bodies. They kissed again before taking a shower where they played with each other. Christopher wanted Lenorse to take him in the mouth just like he’d seen a girl do to a guy in a dirty magazine that Lee Williams brought to school one day. Yet he was embarrassed about asking.

They watched the other masturbate. They soaped their bodies again, rinsed and toweled each other dry.

Back in Christopher’s bedroom, Christopher suggested that they get into bed. Lenorse turned off the light and slid into the same bed that Christopher lay in. He put his arm around Christopher. It was a little awkward for Lenorse trying to spoon Christopher’s body at first. He rested his face on Christopher’s back, smelling the soap from the shower on his skin.

In the dark, they listened to each other breathing.

“Why does it have to be a secret?” Christopher asked.

“What?”

“This. Us. I don’t want it to be a secret.”

“They say it’s against God’s law.”

“Then why would God make us this way?”

Christopher turned to look at Lenorse. He touched Lenorse’s face and flat chest.

“I’ve always liked you, Christopher.”

“I’ve always liked you. Ever since we were kids.”

They kissed.

“I wish it could always be like this,” Christopher said. He rolled around until Lenorse was spooning him again.

It was quiet. The two boys lay in the night - their hearts a bit calmed. They each thought of what had just happened between them; if what happened will make anything different. Christopher felt a sense of manly pride while Lenorse wondered about being a boy in love with another boy.

When Lenorse heard Christopher’s deep and even breathing, he knew that Christopher had fallen asleep. Lenorse held him for a while longer before he got out of bed and into the other one so that Christopher’s parents would not find them in the same bed and in each other’s arms.

Family Affair

With my recent return to 'Laurel Falls' I've been re-introduced to some characters who had, somehow, grown up with me...in a way.
One night, I was settling down to do some work on the final story of my collection. The inspiration wasn't biting. I went out back for a smoke, thinking of the blog entry I'd made about 'Laurel Falls.' I thought of the characters and their relationships; the character's backgrounds and decisions. I wondered how many years had passed when I did not think of them; did not have a remote return to stories past?
Recently, I have thought about these characters almost every day. I thought about moments in their lives, such as after Palmer married Helene, how Lenorse & Christopher first expressed their love, how Kayla ended up marrying so young. I thought about how the Wiley and Templeton kids grew up together and Helene's funeral.
I went back inside and started to draft a story about Lenorse & Christopher, as teenagers, experiencing first love. I worked on this story for the better part of a week: editing, writing scenes, putting so much thought into one scene or another. And I finally finished it.
I went back through my notes on 'Laurel Falls' from both the original and the revised versions. I tried to write a personal essay to get my mind off of the short story. However, for the past 14 hours, I can't get it out of my mind - the Wileys and Templetons are occupying my brain.
I had a dream about the two families last night. The dream was more of the setting and plot of another short story. This time, Christopher & Lenorse would be secondary characters. Nathaniel and Kayla would be the main focus. The time would probably be a year after my story about Lenorse & Christopher. Again, the scene is the Wiley mansion and Nathaniel, Kayla and two other friends would be playing board games with Spider. I thought maybe it would be a story about Nathaniel's reaction when he discovers that he has more feelings toward Kayla that he never paid much attention to.
I got out of bed, checked my e-mail, looked on Huffington Post and washed last night's dishes. I was going to go check out a movie, but with my mind full of the Wiley and Templeton families, I went back to my computer to do some kind of editing on the short story. Going back through the story, I had begun to worry if I had written a story about two teenage boys discovering love or child pornography.
I took a shower, the story of Nathaniel and Kayla brewing in my head. I thought about doing work on the final story in my collection. But it was not hitting me very hard. Another story had come to me as I dressed. It would be a year after Nathaniel and Kayla's story. Nathaniel would be home from college for his mother's funeral.
Arg!!!
While thinking of these stories - and more - I've begun to embrace this invasion of creative perception. I have known these characters for so long that I can detect their very personalities. Also, I know where the story is going. I guess with all of this knowledge one would probably attempt to write a novel. However, short stories detailing the grown of both families feel, well, secure. Not easy.
Now, I think it's time to put some work back into my final short story for my collection. It was supposed to have been done by now, but, with computer problems, I set aside the five pages already done.
The characters from 'Laurel Falls' are not going anywhere anytime soon. If anything, I think I can start on the next 'Laurel Falls' story very soon. I just want to finish up something that I already started work on first.

Thinking Of You

Hey lady,
I really can't believe that it has been a year since you've been gone. There have been so many times that I've walked or sat or turned over in bed and thought about you and cried or smiled at a good memory. I'm not sure if there is a heaven or not, and, because of you, I'd like to think that there is a place you are now where you are sitting with a mug of coffee and talking with Aunt Morlene and Fee and Uncle Horace. One night I was wondering if you even have run into Randy; if my friend Ed had come up to you to introduce himself - remember that he's my friend that was killed when I was in the Air Force. You will see that he's a cool guy. You have always had such a big heart when it came to people. I think I must have inherited that from you.
You know the first memory I have of us is when I was a little boy - probably not old enough to attend school. We were on a small bridge out by where old Mr. Charley used to live, I think. You were fishing off of the bridge and I was throwing rocks into the river. I remember you asking me to go to the other side of the bridge and throw rocks into the water so that I can scare some of the fish over to your side and you can catch them.
Sometimes, I think of my childhood back in Elberton and how, I dunno, perfect it all seemed to be. I remember you and me and Aunt Morlene and Fee walking through the projects. You and Aunt Morlene had given me and Fee each a quarter. I remember Fee walking up to a house and asking this woman if he could buy one of her daughters with his quarter. My cousin, he was such a lover of the girls. I know how much you loved him. You know, I was never jealous of the relationship that you had with Fee. Probably because I know how much he loved you. And doesn't it seem almost perfect that I was born on the same day as your sister?
It's kind of hard to write this letter to you because I can't stop crying.
It's morning. I just got out of bed. I went out last night to be alone and ended up with some friends at this bar that I work at part-time. I went to the bar for a nightcap and ended up talking with this guy that I used to be interested in. We are friends and that's good enough for me. I've given up on finding someone. I think that I'd given up a long time ago, but really have faced it recently. Please don't be disappointed in me. I know you had a rough time accepting my homosexuality, but you accepted me without question. And I know you wanted me to find love sometime in my life. I find it funny that you taught me to have an open heart without prejudice, without judgement and with acceptance and that you taught me to treat people the way that I would like to be treated. And do you know that however beautiful I find those lessons that people out here in the real world are cold and manipulative and selfish and judgmental and, yes, very prejudice. Well, I know you know that. I always thought of you as a sharp and strong and wise woman. Some people tend to think that how I view the world is a ridiculously simple way of life. Yet, I am proud of the way you raised me. I used to think that being so open hearted and accepting of people would make finding love a little easier. How wrong have I been about that? Hahaha!!!! It's okay, though. You know I've never been one to find myself miserable with being alone. Where you have taught me to love, people have taught me to keep them at arm's length.
That is probably karma from when I did not know the real meaning of family. I know you wanted me to understand the power of family and blood. And I don't know why I resisted that one lesson. How could you and my brothers and sisters have forgiven me for turning my back on you? I wish I could explain to you how I now understand the meaning of family. I am happy that last year when I went back east to say goodbye to you that you were able to witness my understanding of the power of blood and love. I am happy that I was able to tell you how sorry I am and how much I love you. 
I do want to mention that for awhile I resented you because we left Elberton for Washington, D.C. I loved my life when I was a little boy. I loved when you used to send me and Teresa and Ramona back to Elberton for the summer for a few years. I am so lucky to have been able to have the life a little boy deserves with his friends playing games and exploring the surrounding forests and climbing trees and other things most people would deem way too Disney to believe. At the same time, I also want to thank you for moving us to D.C. because that is where I found my love of art and culture and Black History.
To a young boy from the projects of a small Southern town, the big city was scary and exciting. I think it is where the seed of my introversion was born. I remember being in Elberton and having friends like Tony and Bill and Terry before moving to Washington and having barely any friends at all; where my interest in creativity had deemed me a sissy. I know how disappointed you were by the time we moved to North Carolina and we had a couple of talks about me being gay. I understand that you were just a victim of society, but I am so lucky because I know you struggled with accepting me while never questioning your love for me. I've known some guys in my life whose families threw them out of the house for being gay. I feel lucky...I feel honored to be a part of the legacy that you have given birth to. When you came to California to visit me, you accepted my boyfriend and my friends and called them your own boys. I don't know many mothers who embraced their son's life with so much heart. I know you wanted me to love my home as much as you did, but remember that I never really had a settled home. I went from Elberton, Georgia to Washington, D.C. to North Carolina all before I graduated high school. I am glad to have had such a varied childhood. As one friend said to me when I told him of the places I lived: "Wow! You have lived a full life!" and not many people have that opportunity. Thank you for that!
One thing I will regret for the rest of my life is not being able to attend your funeral. I know I should have fought hell to make it, and I hope you understand. I was able to say goodbye to you, and I am happy to have gotten that opportunity. I love you and my family so much and wish that I would not have stayed away for so long. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to experience life. I wanted to love. Isn't it funny how life works? How a man and a woman who would be wonderful parents cannot have children? How people with so much love in their hearts end up alone? How someone who will share their riches humbly ends up penniless?
It's time to go now, Mama. I miss you. I miss our talks and secrets. I miss our shopping excursions and sitting down and watching television together. I miss having coffee and tea with you. I miss so much. Tell Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt Morlene, Uncle Horace, Fee and Randy I say hello and I miss them too!!
I love you so much!
your son,
Tony

Friends & Lovers

Secrets of Midland Heights was a nighttime soap opera that premiered after the huge success of shows like Dallas and Knots Landing - both pinnacle dramas that began the nighttime soap craze in the 80s. The show was different in that it had a focus on teenagers who moved through various affairs and betrayals with their parents. I started to watch the show because it was produced by the creators of Dallas and Knots Landing and because it featured kids my age.

I was disappointed when CBS canceled the show after only eight episodes. It had a time slot on Saturday nights, therefore, not really finding an audience. It was even nominated for a People’s Choice Award.

After the show’s cancellation, I took pen to paper and wrote storylines about teenagers in a fictional small town called Laurel Falls. These were plotlines of discovery rather than soapy skullduggery. Loren Firestone was discovering that he was gay; his cousin Garan Christopher was discovering her sexuality with various boys; Lee Williams was discovering his manhood while having a soft spot for his friend Loren. Rounding out the characters were Jordache Martin, a troubled young man, and a tragic family named Denning. I did not carry on the story beyond a collection of pages that told each character’s story.

When I graduated high school and worked in tobacco fields while waiting for the date of my swearing in as an Airman, I started to think about my characters and their stories. I had some time on my hands once tobacco season was over. I created evil Len Roberts, who would be caught in a herpes scare and would be electricuted in a flooded basement. I got rid of the Dennings and Jordache Martin and moved headstrong Kayla Templeton to town.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, was the beginning of a little soap opera that I created entitled ‘Laurel Falls.’

(smile)

I wrote ‘Laurel Falls’ over a four year period while I was in the Air Force - choosing not the write individual episodes but rather condensed storylines to keep my creative imagination active. My central core of teenagers graduated high school went to college and lived through many a tale of sex, blackmail, secrets and love.

Loren had grown up and had come out of the closet while Garan became the town vixen. Lee was incorporated into some stories before I shipped him out of town. By this time, Loren and Kayla had become best friends. Loren fell in love with running back Spider Wiley, whose own coming out was quite the scandal and he and Loren left town for a better life. Spider had introduced the wealthy Wiley family to the story beginning with his cousins Nathaniel and Morgan. Nathaniel would later fall deeply in love with Kayla and Morgan had had a notorious affair with their brother Christopher’s young wife Tanya. The affair had occurred years before and Tanya and Christopher were divorced when the Wileys were introduced.

Kayla falls in love with porn star Baren Holmes, who does not want to give up his career for her. Baren starts out his reign as a bad guy but ends up being a nice man before being wrapped up in a story about a mysterious videotape involving a post-op transexual and a murderous porn producer. Baren soon falls in love and leaves town. A serial axe murderer is loose in Laurel Falls and kills off several characters, and is revealed to be a mentally unbalanced character named Hope.

Christopher had fallen in love with Kayla’s younger brother Lenorse Templeton, an ex-male model who had taken control of his grandfather’s tiny network of radio stations and was building it into a communications conglomerate. Jackson Wiley - Nathaniel’s, Morgan’s and Christopher’s father, forbid Christopher to see Lenorse or risk loosing the inheritance he’d been working his entire life for. When Christopher can’t fight his love for Lenorse, Tanya comes to town to announce that they were never legally divorced. Morgan wanted he and Tanya to finally be in love, but Tanya chose sexual satisfaction over love - as she states that Christopher is the only man that can satisfy her. Some strange love triangles develop and I kind of went over the top with Morgan, Tanya, Christopher, Lenorse and, soon, Luke Oliver whom Lenorse would meet on vacation only to discover that Luke was on his way to Laurel Falls to claim his birthright as the son of Victor Lacoste, a self-made millionaire who later turned out to be a serial rapist.

After Loren and Spider, Lenorse and Christopher became my focus couple. They endured many break-ups and rendezvous and schemes and one-sided love affairs and even an engagement between Christopher and sweet little Kelsey Hunter. While Christopher’s life is wrecked with turmoil, Lenorse builds his company and has a relationship with Luke while he is still in love with Christopher.

Ivey Templeton comes to town to wreck havoc on the Templeton family - which includes Kayla and Lenorse’s mother Jeri. It seems that Jeri’s long forgotten and missing husband, Brian, was a womanizer who fathered a number of children from a number of women around the country. Ivey becomes the town bitch, yet warms up to the Templeton family over time.

Garan was written out of the story and moved on after marrying a rich man who turned out to be in love with another woman.

More Wileys and Templetons show up later in the story ending with Brian Templeton’s return to Laurel Falls. Brian and Lenorse get into a power struggle. Luke threatens Christopher’s life because Luke is also in love with Lenorse. Kayla and Nathaniel can’t have children because he’s sterile.

(can’t stop laughing)

When I was on the downward spiral of my endless pursuit of writing these and more stories down, I created the down-to-earth Chastain family. Big brother Paul was a money-loving corporate climber while his sister Blake gets pregnant by a lover, looses her memory and can’t remember her love for the father of her child. Instead, she finds herself still in love with an old beau.

More characters come and go leaving a trail of lust, broken hearts, revenge, murder and even a story involving emotional incest. I think the last thing I wrote was a confrontation involving twins Trevor and Tracey Cruise and some prominent citizens inside of an office building where gunshots ring out in the night. After that, my tirade with my soap opera was over. I had moved to California and had some discovering of my own to do.

I wrote ‘Laurel Falls’ first on a thick notepad and then in a couple of spiral bound notebooks. Some of my later pages were lost when I moved from a friend’s house and into the the Los Angeles city limits. It kind of stuck with me through the years, as I cherished the imagination it helped give birth to.

Later, when I moved to Seattle and had not written a thing for a couple of years, I dug up ‘Laurel Falls’ and revised it to be the story of the Wileys and the Templetons. I toned it down a bit, though.

The new story involved lifelong best friends Helene and Jeri, who had caught the attentions of a wealthy law student named Palmer Wiley. Helene ended up marrying Palmer while Jeri settled with womanizer Brian Templeton, who would leave her with two kids: Kayla and Lenorse. Helene dies of cancer and is survived by her husband, at the time a Senator, and three sons: Nathaniel, Christopher and Spider.

  When the story begins, reporter Kayla Templeton returns to her hometown of Laurel Falls, Virginia - a suburb of Washington, D.C. - after her divorce from Rodney Jaredson. Lenorse Templeton has moved the headquarters of his communications network to Washington, D.C. thus settling in Laurel Falls.

The Wiley and Templeton children had grown up together. Old feelings between Kayla and Nathaniel develop, even while he is having an affair with his brother Christopher’s young wife Tanya and impregnating her. Christopher and Tanya’s sex life is dead because Christopher is gay...and a quarterback in the NFL. It seems that Christopher and Lenorse have been in love with each other since they were teenagers, but Christopher, of course, must keep his sexuality a secret.

In the meantime, African American attorney Ivey Templeton is hired at the law firm of Wiley & Associates when Palmer is set to retire and Nathaniel has visions of a political career. Ivey is the illegitimate daughter of Brian Templeton, who is had been missing for years and thought to be dead.

I don’t and have never expected ‘Laurel Falls’ to go anywhere. I never expect to do anything with it. Like I said, I used it as a way to keep my creative imagination fresh. I thought I’d write this little essay about it, just to keep myself writing something in hopes that I can write if not everyday then most days.

I had a lot of fun with ‘Laurel Falls’ as I’m sure you can imagine. And it sometimes kept me busy during trips halfway across the world and boring days in the barracks when most of the guys in my squadron were addicted to General Hospital and Days of our Lives.

I guess ‘Laurel Falls’ was a way to first get my anger out over the cancellation of Secrets of Midland Heights. And it became more of something else over the years that I wrote it. Sometimes, I did write out a scene here and there but, mostly, it was just for fun.

And in case you’re wondering about the original story: Lenorse and Christopher end up together after Tanya is run out of the Wiley family and Christopher decides to be his own man.