Fantasy

“There’s a catch. There’s always a catch.” Think about Midas who wished everything he touched to turn into gold, but you can’t eat gold. Or the Norse mythology where an ointment is put over one eye to see all the riches of the world and the man begs to have it put on his second eye since he believes the ointment will allow him to see where the riches are, even after being told time after time, it’ll make him go blind, but he gets it put on his eye, and goes blind. “Sophie’s choice”

It’s a metaphor, but what is it a metaphor for? Fuck metaphors right now. There’s a joke relevant to several vocations: What do you call a ____ who breaks up with his/her boyfriend/girlfriend? Homeless. I’ve read almost everything in the library. Books on pinching pennies, fantasy, sci/fi, horror, to see what the market wants. Even asked the librarian what the most popular books are. The usual: “Harry Potter,” “Seuss,” etc. Libraries. But I get the classic writing book: “Making Shapely Fiction” by Stern.

The first line of a story is the hooker. Not a prostitute, but a hooker. It either grabs the reader/hooks them in, or the reader puts the book down and reads something else. Think of Cormier’s, “They murdered him”.

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I sit down and stare at the white screen and it looks at me. Damn writer’s block. Then, inspiration comes. The best part of writing for me is when, during the writing, I space out, but keep writing and look back and it’s beautiful; The worst part are the rejection letters. Tons of rejection letters. You can’t win the lotto if you don’t buy a ticket.

Almost all stories are the same and editors know that, but they look for that diamond in the coal mine and that’s what I work on.

But, after an hour of staring at the screen, I start writing some bullshit journal/diary/shit, because staring at a blank screen and making coffee is useless to. But my mind transfers between fantasies quickly and no, it’s not just you thinking I’m talking about masturbation, that’s what I’m talking about like:

There was one time I was in college and I was part of a group for GLBT+ rights and people in this community, at that time, and now, suffered from depression since certain groups of people are not accepting of this community. So, unless the reader is living in an isolation booth (that would happen to me years later), I’m sure you’ve heard of bra burning. What was the origins of bra burning. According to Chat GPT:

“ Bra burning originated in the late ‘60’s and is often associated with the women’s liberation movement.” It started with the “New York Radical Women “ protesting the Miss America Pageant. But, a lot of women feel that bras are uncomfortable and feel if men had to wear them, they wouldn’t exist because men wouldn’t put up with wearing them.

Often, (see Chat GPT) women’s damn straps dig into their skin, the goddamn underwire pinches, pokes, and causes bruises, their sweat accumulates under the bra, and they cause back pain, chafing, and strain the shoulders. They break when a woman gains weight or breasts fall out when a woman loses weight. The dumb strap shows when they’re wearing dresses with no backs. So, bottom line is, believe it or not, a lot of women (not all of them) hate brassieres.

So, I was involved in the organization which was/is fighting for GLBT+ rights and one woman came into this meeting to fundraise. Just what we need, someone fundraising for another organization during our meeting, but what she said was one day in the summer, she was walking in the park and it was hot outside, so she took her shirt off to stay cool. Then, as time passed, she was still hot, so she took off her bra. She wasn’t doing anything sexual, just relaxing. But, a park ranger came along, saw her topless, and arrested her for indecent exposure. However, there were men at the park whose chests were bigger than hers. So, as an organized protest, she organized woman and men to have a topless protest.

Then, an organization formed away from the GLBT+ community and an email was sent out about it in the middle of the night and I got an inclination to go to the computer lab but brushed it aside. The next day, I tried going, but the event had already ended, tickets were passed, etc. it was over, but suppose I had listened to my inclination? But what if I had?

***

And what about the time I was in the computer lab sitting next to the woman I had a crush on? She wasn’t feeling well; had a cold or something, so I put my hands on her shoulders and started massaging. She wasn’t was wearing a bra. Damn bras. But I massaged down her back; she moaned soft. Then, her black, cotton bra above my hands and I froze.

And then, I did a USA Network thing and morphed into the paper and I was back in college. Doesn’t make sense. I’ve read a lot of self help books: “This book will change your life forever!” Right, same thing the last fifty books said, but changing the past, that could change everything for the better, maybe. Imagine if we went back and wore that condom. Wouldn’t that make life less expensive? But it is “Pandora’s Box” and I don’t even know how it works. What could I write about: anything. Imagine what life would be like if I won the lottery? Imagine if I had taken the other major in college or had gone to the right school or … you get the point. But, history could be changed for the better or the worse. “Power of the pen” or computer. Happy, sexy stories. Who would read that? But if I’m a billionaire, everyone would.