post #1

January 4, 2018 & February 24, 2018


May 31, 2017

So I'm telling this guy this story about how, back in middle school, I would set the alarm on my flip phone and use it as a vibrator at night after my parents had gone to sleep. At school the next day a kid would be holding my phone for one reason or another and ask what the filmy stuff covering the plastic was. This guy's staring down at his flip phone although it's 2017 now and he makes movies, has a flip phone cause he doesn't have to worry if it takes two days to respond to an email, can afford to respond to emails at leisure, unquestionably gets off on demanding his friends and work buddies resend their texts in less than 90 characters, and I'm standing on the chair straddling him as he stays sitting, staring down and typing. He says he's texting his pal with whom he's co-writing a script  to include my story in the screenplay.

I get off the chair, curse, and tell him he can't use the fucking story.

"Oh," he says, "you're saving it for your online poems."

Uhh. Huhuh. "I write prose."