JamesSavik

Codey- Hugs bro. I know what you're going through and it makes me tear up just to think about it. The force is strong with this one.

If only I was a writer. I don't think that's a problem. :D

Fear Fear has been my most faithful companion, Cause this time and next time always seems to be worst. Mark me down as a craven coward, Cause the pain of last time is always equal to the first. Fear in front of me, fear by my side, Fear behind me, no place to hide. Fear stalks me, just out of reach, But very, very deep inside. Holding on is a constant bitter struggle, Fair weather friends come and go upon the winds. I come to love and trust them, But they are always gone in the end. Loneliness and heartache fades away, I?ve come to expect it like a bitter winter storm. There?s an empty place deep inside me, Where something precious has been out-worn. Lord give me the strength to stand and fight, For myself and the things I know are right. On this battlefield I did no chose, I just can?t afford to quit or lose. So it?s one more day of standing tall, Even though I feel so very, very small. I?m so very, very tired of it all.

How is our pal doing? Get well soon Codey! The Rhymeslinger team needs all it's starters! :D

A small question about submissions: how do you perfur them? -plain old email? -msword? -html? It makes a difference. I wouldn't want to CAUSE the editor a file conversion headache. About the name of the place, how about the Poetry Barn? You bust a rhyme and we'll fix it.

Codey- Get well soon pal. I had a knee done back in the early eighties. Maybe you can get Champ to help out with the PT. If you gotta do PT, might as well do it with somebody you know and can have a few laughs with. Trust me on this, it'll help. -James

Today I go out into the bright spring sun and see shining faces smiling. The sun is warm, the chill is gone and gray winter is dying. Today, things just aren?t the same. Today, things are rearranged. Today, someone asked my name. Today, I don?t feel the shame. Yesterday I was in the grasp of winters deadly chill, Feeling lonely, broken, hopeless and over the hill, Hurting from wounds of long ago, Bleeding from scars that don?t show. Wanting to forget my name. Wishing that things could change. Living in my yesterdays is something I can?t do, I?ve died enough already from all I?ve been through. Somehow, I have to find a way To make the poison go away To stay out of yesterday And live a new life for today. Today, things just aren?t the same. Today, things are rearranged. Today, someone asked my name. Today, I don?t feel the shame.

Dude, Yesterday I learned that the Glass Onion is closing down. The reason for this is that the Eggman got burned out from all of the work, expense and associated greif that goes with running a site and message board. In short, people weren't showing him the respect that he deserved. I want to make good and sure that the same mistake is not made here. Mike, Dude, I love your work, appreciate your efforts, you've done more good than you know, and illegitimi non carborundum (don't let the bastards grind you down). I'm sorry that I haven't said it sooner. We've lost the Carolina Scribbler's site and now that Glass Onion. I treasure this site and have a genuine affection for many of the people here. Running a web site is a lot of work. Add to that writing, working and having a life and it demands constant and regular attention. Please don't burn out. Let us know if we can help. Dude, you have my respects and admiration for your efforts in running this site. It shows a rare genrosity of spirit. All my best, James

The Calculus of Spandex Given Murphy?s Law as a fixed axiom, we can derive the following corollary. This corollary defines the inverse relationship of the probabilities of the appropriate persons wearing spandex. People that should wear spandex usually DO NOT and those that should never wear spandex often DO. Mathematically this is defined by the function Pas, or the Probability of appropriate spandex use. X is the number of spandex users. Xa is the number of appropriate spandex users. Pas(x) = 1/(X ? Xa) The Limit of Pas as X==> infinity approaches zero. Given this definition, we can show with mathematical certainty that the true number of persons that actually look good in spandex is very, very small. Given this Proof, the following guidelines for wearing spandex are suggested: 1 ) If you have more hair on your back than you do on your head, it?s probably a good idea not to wear spandex. 2 ) If you have any concerns about the tensile strength of spandex as a material, this is a good indication that spandex is not for you. 3 ) When you go to the beach and people pour water on you and try to roll you back into the ocean, then spandex is not for you.

This story gave me an idea. <laughs maniacally, rubbing his hands together>

Ack! I've been Ambushed by Graeme once again.

A Smokey Mountain Christmas is one of my favorite stories. Me too. I hope the scribbler stays in the game.

I picked two stories (that I like) which were very different but I don't feel too generous giving either one of them an "A". They are both very good stories but WBS is correct- Driver needs his own scale. While Tappings is great fun, it's not really comperable to the Quarry. My rating system focuses on mechanics and less about value judgements or the importance or worth of a particular story. My aim is to be objective as possible with stories that I might not care for but are well done. Graeme's point is well taken too. I gave them both a lot of 5's and 10's in key areas BUT, I would have given New Brother a lot of them too. I picked winners to review. Believe me, I could have found some stinkers but why 'diss anybody unnecessairly. That's just not good manners. Reviews of submitted material are viewed privately where I am apt to give less worthy works their appropriate marks.

Story: The Quarry Author: Driver Posted: http://storiesbydriver.netfirms.com/ ================================= Elements: Plot: 27/30 points ------ Originality: 8/10 Pace: 5/5 Development: 5/5 Conflict: 4/5 Craft: 5/5 Character(s): 28/30 --------------- Development: 10/10 Dynamics: 9/10 Presentation: 9/10 Style: 27/30 ----------- Craftmanship: 9/10 Langauge: 9/10 Clarity: 9/10 Intangables: 10/10 ----------------------------- Possible/Total Points: 92/100 ============================ Comments: The Quarry is classic Driver: an exploration of dynamic characters that grow through conflict and crisis. This story is a triumph of love and community over difficult and disturbing tricks and traps that so many fall into during life. It is difficult to tell exactly who is the hero of this story: Dave Devino or Ken. If Driver is not the King of this genre, he is most certianly royalty.

Story: Tappings Author: KIT Posted: Nifty, CRVBoy ================================= Elements: Plot: 28/30 points ------ Originality: 10/10 Pace: 4/5 Development: 5/5 Conflict: 4/5 Craft: 5/5 Character(s): 28/30 --------------- Development: 10/10 Dynamics: 8/10 Presentation: 10/10 Style: 26/30 ----------- Craftmanship: 10/10 Langauge: 9/10 Clarity: 7/10 Intangables: 9/10 ----------------------------- Possible/Total Points: 91/100 ============================ Comments: Tappings is a unique and interesting story with engaging characters and an intriguing mystery.

Robb, the guy that runs CRVboy has asked me to be a reviewer for stories that he posts at his site. Reviewing fiction is a highly subjective exercise. Not every "good" story is going to appeal to everyone. I wanted to be as fair and objective as possible. I designed a "report card" of sorts for submitted material. This is a explanation of the "report card" and I will then provide two sample reviews of a couple of stories that I like. Is this fair? Am I missing anything? ================================= Elements: Plot: 30 points ------ Originality: 10 Is the story original? Pace: 5 Does the plot move well or does it plod along? Development: 5 Is the plot skillfully developed? Conflict: 5 Is the drama or conflict well or realistically represented? Craft: 5 How skillfully is the plot woven together. Character(s): 30 --------------- Development: 10 Degree of skill in which the characters are developed. Dynamics: 10 How well the author handles character interaction. Presentation: 10 Are the character well represented and consistent. Style: 30 ----------- Craftmanship: 10 How good is the writers skill? Langauge: 10 Is the langauge used well and effectively. Clarity: 10 Is the story clear and concise. Intangables: 10 This rating gives the reviewer some leeway for personal like or dislike for the story. ----------------------------- Total Possible Points: 100 ============================

A professional warrior Do you think that the right words are less capable of cutting deeper than a blade?

I followed him inside and he pointed to a downstairs bath that where I could change. Conner then excused himself. I grinned as he bounded up the stairs three at a time. Everything on me was wet so I stripped to the skin started at the bottom with boxers. Luckily I had some good white tennis shorts and my favorite red polo. My shoes were soaked too so I changed into the flip-flops that I had in my bag. My hair was shot. All I could do brush it out. After a quick 3-minute change, I inspected myself in the mirror. Not my best day but presentable. I packed my wet stuff back in the bag and thought about Conner. I wondered what he knew about me. I figured that everybody at Oak Hill knew that I was gay. It had been an issue for me since the first day of seventh grade. I wondered what was on his mind. * * * * Conner bounced up the stairs three at a time. His heart was racing. Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! I can?t believe that he?s really here! Jimmy Savik himself is in my house! Only the biggest stud ever in history at Oak Hills. Oh my God! Ummmm... he looks like a buff Jim Morrison! Conner thought back two years. Jimmy was a big hulking senior that all of the jr. high kids respected but he was really nice to everybody. There were rumors that he was gay and had a long time boyfriend but nobody really believed it. Conner had had a crush-of-the-week on Jimmy for a while but he knew that he didn?t really ever stand a chance. Conner raced into his room. What to do, what to do, what to do?! He wanted to take a shower but he didn?t have time. He stripped off his clothes and stepped into the bathroom to towel off and dried his hair. He splashed some Musk cologne on his bare chest. What am I thinking? How could he even notice me? He did pick me up but was he interested or just being a nice guy? Conner?s brain was on autopilot. He picked out some umbro shorts and a nice shirt. He?s so not at all what I expected him to be. Star linebacker nicknamed the Beast. Legendary badass. He?s huge! His arms look like tree trunks. I thought he would be stuck up but he?s sweet, almost shy... and what he said in the car. He?s really nice. Don?t blow it Conner! Don?t blow it Conner! Don?t blow it Conner! He thought as he bounded down the stairs three at a time. * * * * I finished packing my gym bag, put the towel in a hamper and exited the bathroom just in time to hear Conner bouncing down the stairs. I turned to see him. He was actually pretty cute when he wasn?t half drowned. I couldn?t help smiling when I saw him. * * * * Conner, don?t be a dork! He thought when he saw Jimmy at the foot of the stairs. Oh my God! he thought, he smiled at me! His concentration shot, Conner immediately tripped... * * * * Bouncing down the stairs, Conner missed one of the steps and stumbled toward the landing. I caught him. I was surprised at how light he was. Apparently the spill had shaken him up some as he blushed red and looked really unhappy. I didn?t want to embarrass him. I smiled at him and gave him a friendly pat. I casually said, ?Let?s find those sandwiches.? * * * * Conner you are such a dork! Now he thinks I?m a spaz. * * * * He regained his composure, and looked relieved that I didn?t rag on him about his trip. ?Uhh thanks, the kitchen is this way.? I followed him into a big bright, sunny kitchen. The kitchen windows overlooked an impressive garden against a background of tall live oaks draped with Spanish moss and wisteria. There was a steamy, fog hanging over the garden as the sun had come out after the storm Awed by the splendor of the house, I said, ?Damn Conner. This place is Southern Living?s wet dream.? Conner opened the refrigerator. He looked around inside and said, ?Is barbecue OK?? ?Great. I thought your Mom would be home.? Conner took some buns and a container out of the fridge and preparing our lunch. He said, ?Oh no. When I called her, she was at work. She was grateful that she didn?t have to come get me. She said to make sure that I let you know.? I noticed that he was preparing my very favorite sandwich from a local redneck joint that really knew how to do barbecue right. ?Dude is that Old Timer?s? Sweet!? Conner beamed, ?Yeah, my Mom knows the Old Timer himself and gets a batch of the brisket every now and then.? I thought of Pop?s. I owed him big time. Nobody had been willing to hire me because of the trouble I had been in and my reputation. ?Your Mom knows Pop?s? Now there?s a great Dude if ever there was one. He gave me my first job... Err well, the first job that...? I got a little flustered. Conner put some sauce on the sandwiches and put them in the microwave. ?Chips OK?? ?Yeah sure.? He got a couple of canned cokes out of the fridge, fixed the plates and set us up at the breakfast table. Between bites of my favorite barbecue, I said, ?Thanks Conner, this is a lot better than PB&J that I had waiting at the house. The company is better too.? Conner gave me a look that told me that he didn?t understand. I explained, ?Nobody is home. My folks work for FEMA and they are down on the coast running a hurricane emergency planning workshop at LSU. ? He looked impressed. ?That?s really important work.? ?Yeah, right. Real important.? I shook my head. ?What?s wrong Jimmy?? I hated it when I got this way. It always happened when I was around someone that I was comfortable with but it made them uncomfortable with me. Damn. Why did Jeff have to live so far away? I wished that I could talk to him. He always made me feel better. ?Conner, I?m sorry. My folks and I have had a lot of problems and it?s a sore subject for me. They got that job when I was a sophomore and it seems like they have been gone ever since. It has gotten hard for me to be there when the house is empty.? Conner got a thoughtful crooked smile. ?Sounds like we?ve got a lot in common Jimmy. My dad is a petroleum engineer working in Venezuela and won?t be back until Thanksgiving and my Mom is an attorney. She goes to work at eight in the morning and usually isn?t home until eight at night or later.? ?Sometimes you think what a pain in the ass they are but you sure miss them when they aren?t around.? We finished our meal quietly, Conner afraid to hit another one of my many sore spots and me trying not to make a complete ass of myself.

Pecman: RusticMonk is Gabriel Duncan. If you check out his stuff, you'll find that he is indeed samauri. The only thing gay about my story The Cool Green Sea is the author.

Oh I agree completely. You can sit there and write volumes about a persons inner world, ideals, motivations and background. Then have your character DO something crass, hypocritical, insensitive or just plain WRONG. I think that it boils down to philosophy. Some people think that you are what you are. Others think that you are what you think you are. I am of the opinion that you are what you do.

Darkness Falls Walking alone on an empty highway A friendly voice says, ?hey kid, do ya need a ride?? Its a long way home, I?m tired and hungry, I think it over, It?s not hard to decide. Hello new friend, It?s good to know you, How have you been? Are you gonna stay or just passing through? I?m sure glad you came along. Things have been rough, Lately every move I make is wrong, And I ain?t feelin? so tough. We talk about the news, We share some laughs and some views It seems like he knows me, He seems like such a nice dude. Can you help me with a chore? He asks, it?s on the way, And won?t take long. Why not? I?ve got all day. Like he said it doesn?t take long, Suddenly things go terribly wrong. There?s a stranger kissing my face, Groping my crotch in an awkward embrace. No man, I?m not down with it, Well fuck you then, you little shit! Rejection and reaction- Vulnerability and retraction- Within an instant it all goes wrong Cornered and looking at the blade of a knife Suddenly I am in fear of my life. Degradation and dissonance, Dangerous discord and dissent. The blade at my neck, My darkness falls, At his touch my skin crawls. I go away from that place, Into my head in infinite space, Out of body, out of mind, Disconnected and powered down. I can not see, I can not feel I do not want it to be real. The darkness takes away my sight, So that I may hide from my plight. In the darkness velvet folds I hide, Unseeing but eyes open wide. In the darkness I am lost, That is the price, That is the cost.

I had a rough day at the shrink today. We talked about something that I've kept inside since Feb 1977. I was having a really rough day. Things were going bad. I had to walk a long way with a lot on my mind. There are three or four real shitty nightmares that I have that keep coming back. I'll think they're gone for a while and then something will happen to stir them up. Something will remind me- a feeling or a situation. Just enough to leave a crack the door to the basement of my mind and the demons come screaming out. They make me mad. No- they enrage me. I get so pissed off I wake up fighting and in a cold sweat. They make me ask the same old questions over and over. Why didn't I do something? Why couldn't I get away? Why was I so stupid that I didn't see it coming? I'm not sure that i want you to read this. I'm not sure you want to either. What lies beyond is my madness, the heart of my pain, the root of my sadness. The birth of my rage, the seat of its power, a rememberance of my darkest hour. Do not go there unprepared. If you do then be aware, that terror and maddness dwell in there.

Yes. The next great one will find it.

OMG WBM, that's so super! I can like totally relate to what you are saying! Actually, I gave up on the whole genre some years ago because all I saw when I went looking for gay themed fiction was what I call textporn. Well hell. I already knew how to have sex. That's the EASY part. I'm not sure that I knew what I was looking for in gay fiction but that wasn't enough to hold my interest. In hindsight, my objectives were a search for information- any and all kinds of information about being gay. Relationships, meeting people, how to act- the stuff that everybody of any orientation needs to know. That "information" is easily supplied to heterosexual people by a vast number of things that they would hardly think of as resources: books, movies, songs, poems, art, socialization, etc. To gay people, that "information" seems like a dirty little secret that is hidden and shameful. There are barriers to it like it should be delivered in a plain brown paper bag. "You must be 18." "You must be 21." "No ID, no entry." "If you are a little bitch and wet your pants when scary things offend you, then please leave now." There are others out there that are more than happy to "supply information". Organizations like NARTH, the American Family Association and others supply a vast amount of information about homosexuality. Unfortunately it is all wrong, distorted and the worst kind of kind of hateful propaganda that is imaginable, but their connections to religious organizations gives that information validity to a lot of people. We have to be mindful that there are a lot of closeted kids and adults out there whose only resource for positive information about being gay is the material provided by sites like this one, Nifty, Deweywriter, CRVBOY, etc. Another site worthy of particular mention is the Mail Crew. We can choose to see this medium as a forum to practice our craft but in a wider sense, there is a responsibility associated with it as well. We are the balancing force to decades, even centuries of anti-gay propaganda. That does not mean that we should or would even might want to become the Goebbles of the gay community. All we really have to do is tell the truth about our lives. Our humanity will speak for itself.

Not at all. It was a very different world back then. Those of us that adjusted to the new reality lived.