Hey Regression Readers, So I’m writing this as the audio I created for my last #Vlog4Change plays in the background. I don’t know if it’s ego or…… Read more “The Reflection in my Glasses (Lewis Log #003)”
I’ve often feared that what I really am isn’t a fiction writer or a comedian or a social critic, but a poet, and not even a good one at that. I can think of few things worse in this life than having one’s calling be the pursuit of finely-crafted verse.
The fact that Emily functions merely as the grail in Gary’s quest, speaks volumes about the author. I don’t know if one can fault a writer for not being experienced enough to tackle their subject matter with wisdom, but I’m going to try.
The party in this story is based on a series of parties I attended at a specific house when I was a freshman. It was the place to go if you were underaged. The people who lived there turned a handsome profit, essentially running a speakeasy every weekend.
I’ve been short my entire life. Short for my age, then short for a man. My driver’s license said I was 5’5″ for years because I would rather break the law than give up my imaginary two inches (male readers will understand what I’m talking about)…