I'm drunk and can't think of a title.
Post Reply
 
Thread Rating:
  • 0 Votes - 0 Average
  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
17-03-2013, 10:28 AM
I'm drunk and can't think of a title.
Again, I'm drunk. Yeah, it's noon, and I'm ok with that. I finished this story in about the last hour. It reflects the current state of my existence. Read it or don't. Whatever; fuck you.


“Push!” he yelled to the boy as he stood over him; the barbell held safely in his grip. The weight was a meager fifteen pounds, but the young boy was no older than seven and his only hope of pressing the bar away from his chest was the assistance of his heavily-muscled stepfather. The boy struggled and clenched his teeth; trying desperately to lift the bar into the air above his torso. His stepfather shouted encouragement as he gently - and secretly - lifted the bar so that progress could be made. Finally, after much struggle, the boy locked out his elbows with the completion of another rep - the third in the first set he had ever ventured to undertake. As he let out a long breath, the boy smiled proudly and his stepfather placed the bar onto the rack.
“That’s the way you do it!” the man shouted as he held out his hand to give his stepson a high-five. The boy smiled brightly and his mother chuckled with pride as she filmed the entire scene with the camera of her cell phone. For the man, this was the true magic. He relished the opportunity to teach the boy things his real father could never teach him, and he did so with the goal of seeing the joy in not just his face; but in the face of his mother, whom he strived so fervently to impress and satisfy. As the boy stood to his feet and observed himself in the full-sized mirror which stretched across the nearby wall, the man could not help but feel a sensation of accomplishment; a warm, tingly feeling of love which flowed through his heart. He had always wanted a child for whom to care, and though the boy was not his own, he cherished him in every possible way, and felt an immeasurable sense of pride in the fact that he had taught him how to tackle his first bench-press.

As the boy flexed his still-underdeveloped muscles in the mirror - admiring his own accomplishment more than any observable aspect of his physique - the man turned to the boy’s mother, who sat upon an inclined-bench nearby; still taking in the spectacle through the tiny lens of her camera. In the white glow of the gym lights overhead, the cherry red of her hair glistened in strong and vibrant waves as she moved, and her smile was heart-melting in a way which turned his pulse to an unstable flutter. As he approached her, she turned to gaze at him through her glacial blue eyes. Upon seeing his face, her lower lip curled inward and she bit down upon it ever so slightly; something which sent his unstable heart into a hopeless bout of palpitations.

She had tried for so long to penetrate the hardened fortress which was his heart, and for many months, he had resisted with an inhuman fervor. For you see, his heart had been damaged at certain intervals in his past, and over time, the trauma had worn away every modicum of tenderness and affection of which he had been capable of feeling, and eventually, his heart became thick and calloused with hatred and resentment. He trusted not even those with whom he shared the same lineage, and had endeavored to brand even his own flesh with the scars of detachment and solitude. He had become a man beaten and defiled - both physically and mentally - by a society which knew no mercy, nor compassion, nor loyalty nor love. He had become an animal; a territorial beast who would happily graze the plains by day in search of succulent prey, but would become aggressive and even hostile if an outside party were to venture too close. He was sworn to be perpetually the hunter, and never the hunted.

But when she came into his life; purely by accident and without even the slightest intention of intruding upon his most guarded sanctuary - his heart - she changed something within him which, at first, he had failed to recognize. The manner in which she spoke and the ideals she presented; they all reflected something which he saw deep within himself. And the more they spoke, the more he realized that each romantic encounter he had witnessed - and ultimately fell victim to - up until that point had been entirely in vain. There was a spirit within her words; her thoughts and her desires which spoke to him in a way which he had not yet seen in his short time upon this earth. And though he attempted with much audacity to keep her at arm’s length; she somehow managed to creep beneath the scope of his perception and infiltrate the deepest, darkest and most cavernous portions of his soul. Totally against his will, and entirely without his knowledge, she managed to do what none had done before; and that was reach in with the most delicate of hands and tug on the hardened and neglected heart-strings which dangled from the impenetrable strength of his fortification. Somehow, in some way, she had caused him to fall in love with her.

But this love was not without its obstacles. For even as their spirits danced together into the long hours of the night; there stood the ever-present and unavoidable fact that her heart was the property of someone else. A man with whom she did not share ideals, but upon whom she relied for personal and financial strength. She had built a life with this man, and no matter how strongly she felt for her more recent suitor; she could not easily withdraw from their home or the contract into which they had both entered. She knew it was wrong, and her suitor knew it was wrong, but neither of them cared; for the heart cares not about what is ethical and proper; it merely craves that which it is lacking. And in this particular case, that which lacked was love. True love on a scale which neither party had yet witnessed in their short lifetimes.

And so, tossing aside the constraints of ethics and ignoring the basic decency which had once guided them both, they endeavored to explore their love in secret. Night after night they danced; their bodies and souls intertwined in a torrid display of passion, desire and lust. He surged through the hallowed depths of her feminine domain and she clawed at the body with which he held her. Their passion was a flame of such intensity and brilliance that he was scarcely able to conceal their affair from those with whom he often associated. As for her, she very skillfully evaded the inquiry of those around her, and the love affair remained almost perfectly concealed until such time as she was able to depart from her partner and set out into the world on her own - her young son trusting in the superior knowledge of his mother.

When she was finally able to break free from the man who no longer loved her, their secret flame was liberated and the entire world came to know of the connection which had been forged. Soon (but not without great hesitation), the man was able to open his heart to her - despite her faults which had brought them so close - and she flooded into his life like a torrent. By day, they shared the mutual responsibility of rearing the young boy in the ways of reason and logic, and by night, their bodies collided in a fury which spoke as much of their love as it did for their burning sense of passion. They had become a unit; each support more stronger than the other, and were unshakable as a result. His once-calloused and mangled heart had become softened, and he would often find himself in tears as a result of the sheer joy of having her in his life. And eventually, to the surprise of few, but to the great joy of them both, their love was manifested in the arrival of a new child - a baby girl who bridged the only connection which had yet to be made between them.

Over all of this, the man sat and pondered; reflecting upon the immensity of his joy and the once-thought-impossible extent of his contentment. He had finally found happiness.

But all at once, the shimmering walls of ecstasy came crashing down around him as the daydream was swept away by the horrid onset of reality. The alcohol had thoroughly overcome his senses, and he was unable to prevent his mind from wandering into the fantastical realms of his imagination. The beer bottle hung loosely in his hand and its contents had since warmed to room-temperature. Ahead of him, on the wall, the TV flashed brilliant images of scenes he could not decipher and sounds he could not interpret. To his left, there lay one of the many women with whom he had become acquainted over the years; passed out in her drunken state and barely clothed from the carnal activities of the evening. For a moment, the man forgot who he was. But it all came rushing back in due time, and he realized that no matter what he did; no matter how much he desired or fought within himself, he could never truly seize the fantasy into which he had fallen on this night - and on many nights before. He was, and to this day remains, completely alone.


Sorry, babe, I had to get it out. And it's no good unless somebody reads it.

Through profound pain comes profound knowledge.
Ridi, Pagliaccio, sul tuo amore infranto! Ridi del duol, che t'avvelena il cor!
Visit this user's website Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
[+] 3 users Like Misanthropik's post
17-03-2013, 12:20 PM
RE: I'm drunk and can't think of a title.
This part, "When she was finally able to break free from the man who no longer loved her, their secret flame was liberated and the entire world came to know of the connection which had been forged. Soon (but not without great hesitation), the man was able to open his heart to her - despite her faults which had brought them so close - and she flooded into his life like a torrent. By day, they shared the mutual responsibility of rearing the young boy in the ways of reason and logic, and by night, their bodies collided in a fury which spoke as much of their love as it did for their burning sense of passion. They had become a unit; each support more stronger than the other, and were unshakable as a result. His once-calloused and mangled heart had become softened, and he would often find himself in tears as a result of the sheer joy of having her in his life. And eventually, to the surprise of few, but to the great joy of them both, their love was manifested in the arrival of a new child - a baby girl who bridged the only connection which had yet to be made between them."

It's like you're inside the head of a couple (well, the guy) I know of...sorta long story there...
But your words moved me in an indescribable way. Truly beautful. It made me weepy....

The being drunk at noon part is a bit distressing tho...sorry the mom in me couldn't let that one pass. Hug


God is a concept by which we measure our pain -- John Lennon

Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
17-03-2013, 01:17 PM
RE: I'm drunk and can't think of a title.
You write pretty well and emotively when pissed Thumbsup
Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
17-03-2013, 01:23 PM
RE: I'm drunk and can't think of a title.
Very nice.

I had wondered what had happened to you lately...sounds like life is getting in the way.

Drunk at noon...hope you feel better soon, miss you around here.

I'm not anti-social. I'm pro-solitude. Sleepy
Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
17-03-2013, 01:42 PM
RE: I'm drunk and can't think of a title.
(17-03-2013 01:23 PM)Anjele Wrote:  Very nice.

I had wondered what had happened to you lately...sounds like life is getting in the way.

Drunk at noon...hope you feel better soon, miss you around here.

Ditto those thoughts...


God is a concept by which we measure our pain -- John Lennon

Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
17-03-2013, 01:49 PM
RE: I'm drunk and can't think of a title.
I think many people have missed Miso around here = )

It was amazing. Of course I thought that it was beautiful; I think you are the BEST writer I've ever encountered. Your stories captivate me and I get lost in them. I feel the emotion of a particular character and I can imagine being in the room or in the same vicinity and THAT is amazing...

"It was life, often unsatisfying, frequently cruel, usually boring, sometimes beautiful, once in awhile exhilarating." -Stephen King
Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
18-03-2013, 08:21 AM
RE: I'm drunk and can't think of a title.
The last time I was drunk at noon was just before heading to detox. Just sayin'. Drinking Beverage

Skepticism is not a position; it is an approach to claims.
Science is not a subject, but a method.
[Image: flagstiny%206.gif]
Visit this user's website Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
[+] 1 user Likes Chas's post
18-03-2013, 10:16 AM
RE: I'm drunk and can't think of a title.
I still say you should write novels...

[Image: dobie.png]

Science is the process we've designed to be responsible for generating our best guess as to what the fuck is going on. Girly Man
Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
[+] 1 user Likes Dom's post
18-03-2013, 10:42 AM
RE: I'm drunk and can't think of a title.
Wow!

Vera? How would rate this author?




I think there is something in there that we can all relate to.

For me, it was "here lay one of the many women with whom he had become acquainted over the years; passed out in her drunken state and barely clothed from the carnal activities of the evening."

Passed out and passed over.

Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
18-03-2013, 11:06 AM
RE: I'm drunk and can't think of a title.
I feel I should clarify: the fact that I was drunk (wasted) at noon was due to an abnormality in my schedule; the timing was such that noon was essentially my 10pm. (I went to bed soon after posting the thread) So, I wasn't "morning drinking", as it might be said.

Having said that, the fact that I was as drunk as I was in the first place is another matter...

Through profound pain comes profound knowledge.
Ridi, Pagliaccio, sul tuo amore infranto! Ridi del duol, che t'avvelena il cor!
Visit this user's website Find all posts by this user
Like Post Quote this message in a reply
Post Reply
Forum Jump: