Tag Archives: writing

Bible! Day 4, And sons are the only important ones

Genesis 10:1-5, 1 Chronicles 1:5-7, Genesis 10:6-20, 1 Chronicles 1:8-16, Genesis 10:21-11:26, 1 Chronicles 1:17-27

Head’s up, don’t read Chronicles. It seems to merely chronicle the line of men in the Bible which gets real tiresome, real soon.

11:1-8, esp. v. 5-7 But the Lord came down to see the city and the tower that the men were building. The Lord said, “If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other. ” —– Okay, I’d been taught all my life that the men were all full of themselves and forgetting god and all that shit, but here we have the Lord simply not wanting his little playthings to advance. Well joke’s on the Lord, we cane learn other people’s languages!

Seriously though, throw me a link my way that will explain why God of omniknowing goodness is acting like a spoiled little shit.

11:10 – I totes remember God saying something like humans shouldn’t live more than 120 years, and here we have 403… 430…209? Etc. Is there going to be an explanation on why lives are getting shorter or are supposed to figure that out on our own?

  1. Plot  – 0, bored to tears reading all them names, and just got upset that God fucked with the towers for little to no reason
  2. Credibility – 5, It’s not much, but it is all pretty believable, and I had always loved this story about how all the languages got made. I’m interested if there aren’t some Biblical academics out there who believe that these tower-building people were the origin of the Proto-Indo-European language?
  3. Reliability – 4, I’ve been told many times that too much work has gone into the Bible for it to be fake (of course, that should also go for any other religious texts, but of course it doesn’t). And this segment is one of the reasons- who would go through all that trouble naming names, other than people whose perfect recitation of these names meant a paycheck (or paybag? Purse of gold?)
  4. Clarity – 4, It’s pretty clear. But I’m still hung up on why
  5. Reality – 5, Even I believed this was the origin of languages for a long time. And learning a different language doesn’t really help you unless you go back to the histories of languages, and only then, if you’re curious enough, you would seek out the ultimate language from which all others derived (like I did).

Bible Day 2!

We’re almost to the part where I always stopped reading. It was just so… Like, what the fuck is going on… Why does this matter? Is this going to have important repercussions later on? Would we have to care? WHY IS IT HERE! WHY. Also, ratings at the end because it will be easier to refer to them when I have already written my opinions verse by verse.

Today, we have Genesis 4:1-5:32, 5:1, 1 Chronicles 1:1-4, Genesis 6:1-22

Gotta point out this is the New International Version of a chronological Bible. Which is why Chronicles pops up here.  Let’s start!

Ok, 5, God did not look with favor upon Cain’s offering. So perhaps he was OK with Cain’s offering but favored Abel’s, right?

Can God talk to humans right now? Is this what’s happening? Can they see his face? Is he speaking? Are they going deaf or going blind? I always question why don’t any gods, especially gods that want relationships with humans, don’t make themselves readily available- because they’ve obviously been able before.

And then Cain kills Abel and God asks where is Abel? Which is similar to when Adam and Eve were in the garden and somehow these two naked people were able to hide from a god in his own garden?

And then Cain is punished for murdering, but in two pages God plans to destroy most of the world. THEN Cain is cursed, and his people are cursed, and people who would kill him be cursed. What’s up with this? Why the raining down of punishment through the generations. Seriously, who was there to mourn Abel? There were, like, four people alive at the time.

17– Cain’s WIFE? And where the fuck did she come from. There is Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel. Was it Eve? Funny how they don’t have a name. There is NO reason there is no name- it is a nuanced decision to omit this and it ain’t foolin’ nobody!

Now that I’ve had some time to think it over, I remember how the Bible, like  most stories, were orally transmitted and something about oral transmissions (of words) makes people make sure the story adds up- thus we have the names and who from whom to whom were the kids (mostly men).

23– Okay, before it was talking about Lamech marrying two women and Iiiiii’m thinking polygamy- but what if one died and he married the next? But nope! Here Lamech is speaking to his wives (and I can only surmise it is at the same time). So there was a time that God was ok with polygamy. So. What’s up.

26 – Apparently these guys start praying to God or preaching about him because… some people might not know? Whatevs.

5:1 – Aren’t we all of Adam’s line????????

6:1-22 – Here are some important points:

  • A quick caveat for how long people live- to 120. But that wasn’t really possible for most people even today. But this is a great plothole to come back and correct.
  • There were Nephilim (“and also afterward”)
  • 6:6 “The Lord was grieved that he had made man on the earth”- Why is he upset? Was he hoping something different would happen? Didn’t he know this would happen?
  • Was Noah really the only good person? THE ONLY ONE? I doubt it.
  • We all know the ark is bullshit. It’s even funnier because the goatmen believed that the sea animals were safe (at least, that’s what I suppose on why Noah wasn’t tasked to saving the creatures of the sea). But there is a reason why there are saltwater and freshwater fresh, and animals that go between the water and the land. If they weren’t on the ship, the weird ass water would have killed them. AND, what did these animals- from lions to coyotes- eat? There weren’t fridges here, and I doubt they could have kept ice- in fact, they wouldn’t have known that keeping some food cool help keeps them fresh. So how did they have enough food for everyone?


Plot -3, and I’m pretty sure this isn’t the last of the Beowulf-Odyssey-sounding naming of names

Credibility – 1, I don’t think anything would have more than a 1… We’ll see

Reliability – 4, it seems as if God REALLY doesn’t want you to kill people for your own gain (Arya Stark, I’m looking at you)

Clarity – 5, everything I read here is very clear. It’s still made up, but I could see why people believe it. 

Reality – 3, This is one of Bible story mains that many people don’t really believe, at least among those I know, which is a breath of fresh air. But try to apply the same logic anywhere else (like Jesus rising from the dead), and you’re in for a silly little ride. 

The Bible – Day 1 (2/2)

I totally forgot to show the rating system I thought up for religious text. They’ve been swirling around in my mind and I need to put it down to paper (you know what I mean). It’s somewhat like my anime reviews (which I really need to get back on- I absolutely loved making gifs and such from the anime I watched, but alas, I only have so much time with internet each day and I like to play too many online games.No! No more おすすめゲーム!)

Anyway, the rating system. Like any good one, categories come in fives, including the rating of 1 (poor) – 5 (pretty sweet). My five are Plot (how interesting whatever is going on here), Credibility (how likely whatever is going on actually happened- and of course this is based on a number of factors such based on history, science, and my own logic), Reliability (Many people have called the Bible timeless and unchanging, always applicable. Here I think, is it? Even if it’s interesting and true, can we count on it to apply to our own lives?), Clarity (Even if it is interesting, true, and applicable to our own lives, can we count on mostly everyone getting the same idea from the scripture- this is also contingent on whether or not other scriptures contradict the ones in question), Reality (So the piece is interesting, true, applicable and clear- but how have Christians treated the pieces in question? For example, adultery is one of the Ten Commandments and yet we treat adulterers with a more sympathetic eye- and that goes on to those who steal and covet. This is the most interesting part of the Bible and its influence on the real world, and is mostly affected outside of the Bible. When it wasn’t a question that everyone and their mother was Christian, we were still hanging 17-year-olds for, like, stealing horses. Reality is so much different from then!)

Alright, today-ish we have Genesis 2-3. This is actually still part of Day 1, but the days are more for me than anyone else.

Okay. Genesis 2-3

  • Plot – 5, for I’ve always read this far, as any good Christian has
  • Credibility – 1, BWAHAHAHA
  • Reliability – 2, bwahahahaha, but then  you think on the reality
  • Clarity – 0, explained below
  • Reality – 4, Despite the middle scores, there are still people who say, it was Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve

2:1 – “Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array.”


2:5  – “and no shrub of the field had yet appeared on the earth (footnote says, or land)” – So was Earth completed or not???!!! Is this a flashback?? Explain! CLARITY PLEASE!

2:18 – So God tries to make a suitable helper for Adam and, what, fails with the first beasts the Adam names (at least in the following verse, proper English is used: “Now the Lord God had formed out of the ground all the beasts of the field and all the birds of the air.” And then they were brought before Adam, who named them. If this is the beginning, does that mean he named only those in existence, or new species as well?). Why didn’t he just make woman in the first place? And why doesn’t he just breathe in the dust and make a woman? Ah, the goat-keepers had to make sure that they show why woman must be subservient to men, I suppose- but there is no reason for a god to do such.

– Why the serpent. Why does it talk. Can the other animals talk? Any of them say to Eve, don’t listen to that no leg having son of no one (just like the rest of us)! But, whatevs, a serpent. How come he wants to fuck with Eve and Adam? Where did he get his ideas from? Is he evil? Crafty? Where did he learn his craftiness from???

3:6 – Hold one goddamn minute. “yadda yadda yadda…she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it.” I don’t know about y’all, but this sounds as if Adam was right next to Eve. Didn’t even seem as if she said a word! And why was this tree made?

Why was the tree of life and knowledge even made? Can’t he just let people live and know, or the opposite? I mean, he’s finding people’s keys and winning Superbowls, and letting millions starve to death and little kids suffocate underneath blankets or when they’re on their stomach SO WHY THIS NEEDLESS TROUBLE? This is where omnibenevolence and omniscience gets confusing because this just doesn’t make seeeense.

3:14-15 – The serpent doesn’t eat dust, and as far as anyone knows, they aren’t particularly bothered by crawling on their belly. And we also have snakes as pets… 16 – Increase your pains? So it was already going to be painful? Desire will be for the husband? Ok sure that works (lesbians weren’t invented yet, I suppose). He will rule over you- oh yes, the goatmen liked this part.

24 – so he blocked the way back in to Eden. So there should be a gate guarded by cherubim with a flaming sword (uuuummmm sword? Were those invented yet? Why not a gun or cannon or laser?).

What’s interesting to me about this is that many Christians are pretty set that this happened. But there is so much to think about before believing this out of hand, especially in this age of technology. If you’re wondering how can planes like Egyptair disappear, ask where the Garden of Eden is.



The Bible – Day 1 (part 1)

GENESIS 1:1-3:24

I’ve been meaning to do this for years, but now I’ve gotten a really good Bible that puts the entire thing in chronological order (or as chronological as it can get with fiction pushed in). It’s called The One Year Chronological Bible, based on the NIV (or New International Version). I’mma try to be as unbiased as I can, but I find the writing to be really boring- but I do find the ‘plot’ to be very interesting!

Based on how I’m feeling and what I’m reading determines what I write. I’ll have the very verses down and we talk about he footnotes and whatnot. This will be a very fun adventure that will be a perfect intellectual sidepiece to my new Tumblr account named BlackBitterMelon, or BitterBlackMelon. You might be wondering what’s up with the bitter melon. One day I will share, but today is not the day! Just no I just complain about things on BBM

1:1– Ah. The beginning

1: “God saw that the light was good” (etc.). So God’s a all-knowing guy right? So did he see his creations as good beforehand or just after he made them? And why is he doing things by day, can’t he just spark things into existence? Why are things separated by day and night anyway- He doesn’t make the sky or stars until the fourth day??? Maybe the earth was turning, so, in a sense, days were happening? But if earth was “formless and empty” that is not true, correct?

“Darkness was over the surface of the deep”… Deep what? There’s nothing there.

1:14– What are these lights versus the stars in Verse 16?? Are we talking about them light thingies we can only see at the poles?

1:26– Who’s “our”? And I find it quite fortunate that God made us humans to “rule over”. Aren’t we just special!

1:30– “‘I give every green plant for food.’ And it was so.” (etc.) Um???? We can’t eat all seed-bearing, beasts, birds, creature on the grounds, green plants though???

Okay, this is what these funbits are going to be like. I totally understand that I might not understand everything that I’m reading, and I’m interested in other interpretations of what is going on. I especially interested in Biblical academics concerning the meaning of words and phrases (what does darkness over the deep even mean????)

Negative Capability and Indeterminacy

I attended the class of a beloved teacher. I’ve never had him as my own teacher, but have heard the stories, and I interrupted his class (by existing there) to see him in action. Something personal had happened to him on that first day, something which is still a mystery to me, and so it was the wildest class I’ve ever witnessed, rooting me to the fact that I must, I must attend his class again. Since this class was after my first, and last, class of the day, it happened every so often.

I’ve gotten the same circumstance this last semester of my Bachelor’s for Foreign Language. And this time, I learned two sets of words from John Keats personal letters, as the class has read “Ode to a Nightingale” that day. Four gifted speakers read aloud the poem and I settled comfortably on the closely related topics that the teacher had presented: Negative Capability and Indeterminacy.I was comfortably with them because they explained my since of spirituality, or lack thereof.

When he first explained what he meant by those words, I felt the words resonate with my personal philosophy, and it is always exciting to know that someone from the past, someone bombarded with stringent Christian views that would easily get you killed (by Christians), someone who may have agreed with these actions, someone absent of all the resources and information I have available at my fingertips, someone then and there, years ago, thought of not “reaching after fact and reason”.

mc escher
Mc Escher indeterminate stairs with people of awesome negative capability descending/ascending/anything in between

And I would like to point out that a emphasis should be made on irritable. I believe Keats believes there can be reaching, simply for its on sake, but trying to determine “facts” and “reasons” is something that creative people shun, people of genius, like Shakespeare, shrug at and say, “I think there’s rather something more in the question”.

And I feel the real reason why people can act within negative capabilities is because there is no ‘right answer’. There’s no fact to give, or reasons to put in a list and put any and all matters to rest.

That is not to say that no one can be wrong- I find the constant argument of who’s wrong and right in and of itself a wonderful indeterminacy. Can you imagine how boring the world with be with only one tried and true way to do things everywhere? Can we call ourselves thinking and reasoning beings if a question isn’t brought up to every affirmation or negation?

There’s nothing I love more than solid rebuttals to my beliefs and knowledge. I don’t want to know where I’m going and am simply enjoying the ride there.


Cooled Down with “642 Things to Write About”

My sister has gone to Louisiana, for she’s going to college there. As much as I’ll miss her, I’m glad. I believe she’s in a better place to grow as a person. Nothing like leaving the nest to learn how to fly!

I hadn’t written something for “642 Things to Write About” in more than a year.

Prompt #93- Pick a country, and imagine we’ve been at war with it for fourteen years. Write a love story set in that world. 

(One of the longer ones. I think this’ll be good by itself)

Why would you rather see 2 men holding guns than holding hands? 

“Let’s be civil.”

“The Canadians are always like that- let’s be civil. They don’t fucking mean it!”

“I do mean it.”

Martin was likely to have believed it, if their set was one less Haroldson, but Haroldson was there, so Martin suspended his belief in the cold Alaskan snow. Haroldson had a brother in the army, but his section was two miles west, and these Canadian boys were half a mile too far up the Yukon. To be fair, Martin and his crew were thinking to walk just as too-far, at the same time believing it was safe and trying to be risky, as youths were prone to do.

“We can all just go the way we came,” said the only Canadian speaking. The other two spoke quickly to each other in something sounding like French. Martin’s stomach churned at the noises, knowing Haroldson was likely to take offense, especially since those from Quebec were the main French speakers. It told too much about these traveling boys.

Finally, another of them spoke up, “What are you going to do, ‘ey? Kill us? You got guns, like all the rest of them?”

Obviously the Haroldson of the group. The leader was quick to ease the tension: “Please, we don’t want trouble. We were just walking, same as you.”

Martin could just imagine it, but he didn’t want himself to think about it. Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of much else either. It was a cold day in Alaska. His mind went back to the boys traveling, same as them.

They had to have driven, just like them. They came from Liberty, except for Burke, who was Peter’s cousin up from Steele Creek. Most likely, the Canadians were from Clinton Creek. The Yukon was watched like a hawk from both sides, but time and too many frostbitten and/or hypothermic soldiers relaxed the border elsewhere, especially after the gates were bombed. A freezing war is an expensive war, as much as a fourteen-year one with such a close neighbor that had a lot of help. Sure, England, France, and Canada weren’t much military-wise for most part of the last century, especially against the giants of China and America, but combining them and a few secret alliances with the rest of North America, and then Russia, and it was just possible for a long fight.

Martin was two when the war started, so he didn’t know much about secret alliances and bombed borders, but he did know that the war with Canada was a war that was mostly Canada and friends. He was confused about the starting, something about multiple mass shootings across the border that America, supposedly, didn’t take accountability for, plus the Canadian sanctions and countries taking Canada’s side (like Russia, although not an official ally for another four years), and America being proud and beautiful and standing for their second amendment rights to bear arms out in the open anywhere and everywhere. That started ‘unrest’, as so many books put it, a Canadian official was shot somewhere and one of their diplomats ended up in a ‘completely unrelated car accident in New Hampshire’, and that started a war that Canada was quick on losing until England and France stepped in, ‘stabbing longtime friend America in the back’ while ‘so-called American citizens argued for peace and make-up’.

Martin was told by Haroldson that there was no way their history books were biased as the liberal ass Jacoby was always saying in class.

As a point for Canadian Haroldson (now isn’t that a paradox), they did have guns. Now, they were out. Canadian Haroldson blanched, and Martin knew that none of them had guns.

“Please, please, don’t do this.” A musical timbre was in the lead boy’s voice now, a warble.

Unable to face the music, even with his gun in his trained hands, Martin asked, “What’s your name?”


Martin has a cousin named Nathan.

“My name’s Martin.”

“Why are we telling each our names?” Haroldson demanded, but he has yet to pull the trigger, or even click off the safety. “It’s getting dark.” Then, another, “There are only three of them.”

When it seemed Haroldson was done, Nathan went on, “They’re Antoine and Eli. Brothers.”

Martin could see the resemblance, and the sudden gut-wrenching turmoil that would come from killing a brother in front of another, much more magical than a first kill itself, brings Martin’s gun down to hip level, off to the side safely pointed at no one.

“What are we doing?” asked Peter quietly.

His cousin Burke suggested, “Let’s let them go,” with the confidence of being a closer friend afforded him.

“Yea, we can’t kill them,” was the quick agreement.

“No, you won’t.”

I can’t, thought Martin, but he was equally afraid of Haroldson branding him as a traitor to his brother. He’s done it before and ruined a family that ran off all the way to boiling Texas. And that had been one of Haroldson’s better friends, not just a camping buddy. It was much like Canada and the United States, Martin’s mom has said once, quietly, the most bitter fights come from the longest friends.

Martin suddenly thought, We could have been friends.

“Let’s take them prisoner.”

It actually sounded like a good idea out loud, relative to killing the boys so far from home in the cold air.

The idea took, too juicy to pass up, and it sounded delicious to Haroldson too, and he went closer to the Canadians, but not too close. Just because they didn’t like guns didn’t mean they couldn’t handle themselves in other ways. As hotheaded as Haroldson was, he was a cautious young man when it came to actual fighting.

“Come on, you’re going to follow him-” He pointed to Burke. “-and don’t do anything stupid.”

The Canadian three followed, eventually pressing their hands to their heads without being told, and their boots crunched in the snow in a steady line behind a visibly nervous Burke, who shot several desperate looks at Martin. Martin hadn’t found his voice yet.

Haroldson followed in the back with Martin, behind one of the brothers, his sharp pistol aimed and ready, and smooth expression settling in his face as if this were a routine drill up at the Fort, which was where he used to live before his dad decided to move to Eagle. Haroldson had said that his dad was sort of liberal, and Martin had wondered if anyone was free from the boy’s two-dimensional view of the world.

They walked the distance back to the cabin they used as a waypoint between too far and close enough, not saying a word, although Burke shot looks at Martin, and Peter looked at Burke, and Martin stared at the ground while Haroldson watched their prisoners.

Martin’s read good books, the ones that are put in school curricula to help students learn and grow, where these sort of things end in tragedy. Although that might not be the view of everyone. Honestly, that view may not be Haroldson’s.

And all anyone had to do was say something.

They might have to kill Haroldson.

A weird breath went down his esophagus, sharper than the rest, and he began to cough hard. The cabin was in view, and he focused on that.

They piled in the cabin, the old house big enough for the seven of them and kept up by Burke’s wealthy uncle for just these sort of events. Camping, that is, not prison sentences.

Peter immediately sat down, face in his hands with a groan. His head then snapped up with an idea: “Let’s take them back to Eagle and give them to the adults.”

“You’re from  Steele, so you don’t know nothin’ about nothin’ about Eagle,” Haroldson answered, as if that was a proper reply. Peter looked dumbfound, and his eyes went to his cousin, who inexplicably sought Martin’s help.

Martin had his sights on Nathan, Antoine, and Eli, dodging the need to do something other than what they were doing.

He noticed Nathan’s eyes were a spectacular shade of green, and  he had long eyelashes.

“You’re pretty like a girl,” Haroldson said, not in a kindly way, brushing the gaping hole of his gun against Nathan’s hair at his temple.

Peter tried again, sounding more panicked than before, “We should bring them back to your place, back to your brother. He’ll know what to do with them.”

Haroldson whirled on him; Peter’s knuckles went white against his gun. This actually made Haroldson stop.

His voice was reasonable, “What if we lose them on the way there?”

“It’s not like we’re walking,” Peter whined. “We can drive them, two in the passenger seats, and one in the back. We can tie them up with our extra jackets, or the scarves. We can just-”

“We can, we can, we can. We could have just killed them because they’re going to try and kill us!”

“No, they won’t,” Martin whispered, looking at Nathan’s rather long hair.

Neither Peter nor Haroldson heard him, but Nathan’s eyes turned wide on him, begging, but not voicing his thoughts as Haroldson again argued for dispatching these could-be terrorists, as he was in the midst of saying.

“And we’d be better off if they were all dead! Y’all are just afraid of killing people. Guess what? I’m not afraid.”

Eli or Antoine went into a tirade of fitful French, drawing close to his brother in such a proximity that only relations could give. He even held onto his hand. He was the younger of the two, and could have  been twelve or thirteen. His sixteen or seventeen-year-old brother squeezed his hand back and spoke softly in their language.

No guns. A boy barely a teenager. And Nathan.

“Why are you all so far out?”

Both boys looked at Nathan, and he delivered.

“I saw this cabin while walking some weeks back. We were going to check it out.”

The similarities were almost too much, Martin realized, and with stark clarity that wasn’t coming too easily to him at the moment he knew that if, somehow, they were going to kill these boys, he wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger, damn any and all consequences. And what sort of consequences would they be at the blue toes of three strangers?

“This is my house, so you’re just shit out of luck, now aren’t you?” Haroldson said, sort of lying.

“Are you going to kill us?” Nathan finally asked.


Both words moved breathlessly from small mouths. Haroldson and Martin then stared wide-eyed at each other.

Nathan reached out his hand to hold the older boy’s hand. The brother spoke quickly in French, looking scared out of his mind at Haroldson, jerking his hands away, but not strongly enough to be let go. His younger sibling suddenly let go, looking at his two companions in confusion.



Antoine, the Haroldson of their group, looked at Haroldson, and just as it dawned in Martin’s mind what was going on, Haroldson figured it out as well.

“A couple of fags.” 

Several bits of history went through Martin’s mind as he stood in front of the boys: the overturn of Supreme Court rulings regarding same-sex marriage, the liberal outcry of opposing Canada on flimsy topics (and the majority answer of, no, that’s not it, we’re fighting for religious rights, guaranteed by the First Amendment), and further religious liberty on many grounds (or homosexual persecution, as the liberals would call it).

Martin was more sure on this score. He had a gay uncle in Oregon, and his favorite sister was Martin’s mom. One day, she had told him once, they’re going to remember what a stupid war this was.

“-and you’re just going to stand there protecting some fags!”

Martin blinked, unsure of what just happened. Eli was on his legs, speaking blindly in French; both Antoine and Nathan were behind him as well; and Burke and Peter were off to the side, guns nowhere to be seen but well aware of Haroldson shouting everything to pieces.

Martin swallowed, “We’re not going to kill then, Harolds’. There’s no reason to.”

“There’s plenty of reasons!”

“Name five.”

This was a usual game for them, and the shock of betrayal lit Haroldson’s face like a flare. Martin will never come to this cabin again.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?”

Martin stood still.

“For some Canadian assholes.”

He would never move his gun fast enough, if needed.

“Would you die for them?”

Another spark of clarity: he wasn’t going to go out of his way, but he wasn’t going to let them die. Plus, he saw the cousins take out their guns behind Haroldson’s back, and a new sort of panic started to set in. He realized how much he really disliked Haroldson, but killing him would have different consequences that would have no equal in killing even the three they had as prisoners. The thought was disquieting.

He had to think clearly. That’s all.

They didn’t have to kill Haroldson, of course. Martin sighed in relief.


Haroldson was breathing hard. He hadn’t noticed the others behind him, pointing. Martin got their eyes instead, shaking his head in refusal. Neither was calm, but they put down their arms into a less threatening stance.

“So what are we going to do with them?” Haroldson asked coldly.

“Let them go.”

“So I can’t come back to this house again?”

“Probably not. You’re going to kill them over this house that you come over to every once in a blue moon?”

Good, there was no shakiness in his voice. He could do this.

“It’s my house.”

“Haroldson, this is dumb. We aren’t soldiers, and neither are they. Let’s be civil-”

The bullet went through Martin’s leg, but he didn’t notice until he figured out that yes, Haroldson had turned off the safety at some point, and then afterwards came to where it might be aimed. The pain blossomed much worse than taking a shot into a bulletproof vest, and there was the hot blood in thick snow-proof trousers.

On the floor he heard two shots go off at once. And Martin prayed no one was dead.

“How did you miss, Peter? He’s right there!”

“You got his arm, didn’t you? Oh, shit, you killed him, you killed him dead.”

“I ain’t killed dead,” Haroldson groaned. Martin lifted his head to see him holding his shoulder, bleeding all over his neck, breathing through his nose.

Eli was suddenly crying.

Peter was digging into his pocket, and he came out with a pair of keys. Almost as if unthinking, he threw these behind Martin.

“It’s the white one. Just take it and get out of here. Burke, for Christ’s sake, get Harolds’ gun!”

Haroldson shouted in pain, but he didn’t reach the gun in time. All anxiety popped from from Martin like a balloon; relief went over him in bigger waves as the Canadians got up, the soft voice of thanks from Nathan, or who Martin believed was Nathan, and then Antoine’s voice afterwards, profusely in French, shaking his hand. Eli continued to cry.

“I’m putting all the guns away,” Peter announced, although two of of his listeners were incapacitated.

“What…” Haroldson whimpered, squirming on the floor, but managed to squeak out, “What are y’all going to tell everyone else?”

“The truth,” Martin spat derisively.

“You helped out some Canadian fags on our side of the border?”

“That’s good, too.” Better than anything else, and Martin’s vision wavered on the three boys long gone, two of them holding hands, before it went blank.

(Let’s play a game. You have to guess what I had to google to write this short-ass piece. You get a cookie if you think I know some of this stuff offhand)

When People Fear Sexual Expression

Or Gay Porn and Other Delicacies Part II: Was going to be ‘What I Like’ but the pictures I want to insert are pretty embarrassing to look for in a public library.

I’m at a new school. My computer may have been utterly destroyed with all my writing and pictures and music, et cetera, gone for the most part. But my itch to write has gone to shingles level, so here I am, trying to pinch out a blog post in one or two hour spurts. I put out that one before- about Blurred Lines? But that was a ‘Moment of Inspiration’.

Miley-CyrusSo you’ve heard about Miley Cyrus, of course. At the time my sister was watching the VMAs, and I had been there in the living room most of the day studying for German, which I hadn’t taken for more than a year and have now jumped into its intermediate class.

When Miley came on, my sister and I agreed that her hair looked stupid and nothing about her was really appealing. Her song was okay, her part of “Blurred Lines” was horrendous (though I might be biased because I fuckin’ love that song, besides the non-consensual connotation that I keep hearing about). My sister (and the other family members that joined us) were so shocked that the Disney star was dancing like that.

And I couldn’t help but think… Isn’t she, like, twenty? Matter-of-fact, she was the aforementioned sister’s age. And my sister has a two-year-old daughter. You don’t think Miley, like the rest of us humans, grows up beyond canned laughter and the tried and true best-friends-fight episodes, that-boy-isn’t-all-he’s-cracked-up-to-be episodes, the friggin’ surprise-birthday-goes-wrong-but-it’s-all-about-love episodes? Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ll watch such episodes of a show I really like (Supernatural or Spongebob, for example), but I know what they are, and I know what’s beyond.

My, what if she stayed like Taylor Swift. I’ve never listened to an artist so glued on monotony (wait, Maroon Five… But they are, like, a band… And Levine has some curve to his voice sometimes).

Anyway, I don’t mind it. I don’t listen to any of her songs, but, I’m good, and it’s just tiresome to hear the craziness that can follow.

I recently had a conversation with my new friends about Miley Cyrus, and one of the ladies there said that Miley ‘doesn’t have to be sexually provocative to be popular’ (Swift, a case in point- and notice how I call Miley by her first name… but not Taylor Swift? Hm.)

‘You don’t have to be slutty’

‘You don’t have to act like a whore and grind’


Yea… But what if you freakin’ want to?! Do people who say this, and there are soooooooooooooooo many who do…. so many… Do people who say this think that all people who act sexually for money don’t actually LIKE doing it? That perhaps, hey, it’s fun. I can wear less clothes and it’ll feel freeing and controlling and get a whole lot of attention? And I would like to be freeing and controlling and get attention by being sexually expressive? No, I don’t want to write a damn book and I don’t want to feed all of Libya. I want to strut what little I got and have fun?

Now, I wouldn’t do that, mainly because it seems tiring and I don’t have the complexion for it. And I like writing and translating a lot more.

Which brings me to the gay.


I guess this isn’t gay, per se, but the number of conceptions you build upon seeing this image (WHORE- MANWHORE- GAAAAAAAAY- OBJECTIFICATION- *scream*) is one of the many ways we express our limits of sexual expression.

There’s a sort of subtlety, but not really, when we come across something like Channing Tatum backin’ that ass up, and some guy screams out, “That’s fucking gross! I don’t wanna see that.” Or, the many times my mom and other women would see a female strutting some which way and would just be completely grossed out and say terrible things like ‘slut’ or some such.

Of course, if you give them the stink eye, they’ll scream about their heterosexuality, but I’ve come to realize, to actually be able to voice my dilemma about such a defense. It had come as a super confusing intuition before, but then I actually realized:

Being straight doesn’t mean hating the same sex.

And it definitely doesn’t mean you hate the same sex whenever they are being sexual. Straightness’ only connotation to me is: you enjoy the opposite sex, probably within the parameters of the sex’s stereotype. (Females are smaller, softer, cuter. Men are bigger, muscular, handsome. Whatever.)

On the flip side, many people have wondered why I enjoy homosexual men so much. Many could understand my affinity for lesbians because 1) most who have asked me are men and 2) someone like me who also likes women would probably like to see lesbians/lesbian sex.

Again, intuition reigned supreme, and I couldn’t relinquish a straight answer. Most of the time, it wasn’t a question I found interesting and needed answering, but now I do:

Gay men have better sex, especially in yaoi.

Now, I’m not saying overall. What I mean is, the only lesbian fiction I’ve had the pleasure to read were- minus a few gems- porn for men, which gets real old, real fast. Or it was too much on the romanticism. I love romance, I do. By itself, no. I don’t like much by itself. (And neither do you, I think.). I can’t, like I said in Gay Porn and Other Delicacies, even take a lot of romance in gay fiction- like Maurice. Romance (and sex etc.) must be twisted upon by something else.

Wolfin'And whatever medium – book , film, tv- can have gratuitous amounts of sex and blood, but as long as something else is there, I can manage it. Fortunately for me, the kink genre in gay erotica has just that extra pizzazz for me to sit down and enjoy, even though sometimes it can hold back and I doze off.

And most yaoi I’ve read- whether it’s Alcide/Elric crazy kinky vampire-werewolf fanfiction or a saga about a pair of detectives, have much more of that extra than I can ever hope for. And as an extensive, intensive reader, I feel entitled to a bit of spice every now and again and, if I want, in every fucking cake I eat.

Really, I feel, just, indignant when anyone wonders why or even hints at “You read/watch that stuff?” and I’m like, well, what do you do in your spare time? Because if you aren’t reading yaself a book, teaching yourself a language, practicing an instrument, writing short stories of any any nature, crocheting a blanket- you know, such things that I do nearly every day, don’t talk.

The thing about sexual expression is that it takes over.

False! But, really, yea, that’s pretty much true. There doesn’t seem to be any existence to a person whenever they sexually express themselves, unless it doesn’t matter in that fashion to a certain person in the first place. When people think about yaoi, for example, gay porn is the only thing they’re left with (this process of ‘minimization’ occurs elsewhere as well- you know, like, when people complain about a movie and say it’s a ‘boy-meets-girl’ story, while completely ignoring the fact that the guy is a zombie in a near post-apocalyptic zombie-infested world and the girl is the daughter of ArmyDadDeluxe, and that an extreme form of zombie was posing a risk to them all. By the way, that’s what I heard from someone about the movie Warm Bodies. And I was like… Really? That’s what you got from that?)

Sex is a compliment to life, and while having sex around others not involved is frowned upon, sexual expression doesn’t come close to it. There’s no need to fear it, whether from your preferred sex or not.


Over time, my tastes have broadened to an extremely zesty horizon that many would not touch, and it’s come to my attention that I can’t relate at all.

I actually cannot really… I don’t think ‘understand’ is the right word- I get it. But whatever the wavelength of empathy I cannot seem to connect to is, I can’t do it with people who are 100% gay or straight. I have come to ‘understand’ those orientations as simple preferences, like how I will not go out with someone who is religious or has bad breath.

I would just like that other people who can realize preferences as real, they can realize preferences for sexual expression are real as well, and it may not be anything as provocative as say….

I’m dressing like this because I want the D.

But simply, I look fucking hot in this and if you don’t like it, don’t look.

Which brings me back to the gay.

It’s hot, beyond the the reasons I mentioned before, the dichotomy between two swell-looking guys, or  cool-seeming guys, is pretty hot, and is often not seen in heterosexual fiction (No, I don’t think it exists…), and lesbian fiction I’ve come across hasn’t been beyond what I’ve seen (although I’m trying). Add in kink and supernatural and we got just crazy things to look forward to.



Oh, don’t tease me.