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LBWriter's profile
AGE:
45
LOC: Long Beach, CA
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: January 11
LOC: Long Beach, CA
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: January 11
My name is John. I live with my husband in Long Beach, California. I’m a recovering alcoholic and methamphetamine addict, eleven years clean and sober at this writing. I’ve also been living with HIV since 1992. I tend to write a lot about what we can do to help ourselves and/or one another. I work in social services, currently the operations supervisor for an outpatient drug rehab with various other education, prevention, and mental health services. I reckon you’d call me a social worker for social justice. My writing tends to unsettle some folks – please know that this is always my intent.
Items
Version 1
4 Reviews
2 Comments
I have a syringe full of crystal methamphetamine. I’m caressing a vein in my upper left arm. The vein runs right behind a tattoo of the Grim Reaper – surrounded by the words “Death Before Dishonor.” I like to inject right where the vein passes behind the eye socket in the Reaper’s skull. The ritual is almost as exciting as the rush I’ll feel in a couple of minutes. It’s good crystal; it’s had me going without sleep for eleven days now, I’ve eaten one bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and drank severa...
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
3 Reviews
0 Comments
I see an entire life in an unattended shopping cart on 13th Street NW in Washington, D.C. An open umbrella protrudes to cover the clothing in one end, protecting it from the impending rain which the current drizzle portends. There is a small ghetto-blaster protected inside one of those clear, plastic kiddie backpacks that you get from the 99-cent stores, the stores you see on streets that many folks drive through hoping there is no need to stop at a red light, lest their Lexus get jacked. Un...
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
6 Reviews
0 Comments
He’s five feet, eight inches tall. He weighs about 92 pounds – wrinkled skin on bones with one working lung and a rather lethargic liver, not much else left of what was probably once a much healthier specimen of manhood. He’s around 55 years old. I leave my house every morning at 7:45 on the dot; and, every morning as I pass the liquor store up the street from my home I see him, with his stringy, medium length, gray hair in dire need of a new relationship with something from the Suave product...
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Version 1
10 Reviews
0 Comments
There’s a sore on the back of my tongue. I look in the mirror and stick my tongue out as far as I can and I still can’t see it. I can feel it though. Every time I swallow it feels like someone is squeezing my tongue with a pair of pliers, and there’s a sensation of trying to swallow hair – like the hair-covered mole on your grandfather’s neck, the one he never shaves. There is a constant burning, itchy pain, which starts at the back of my tongue and radiates down the left side of my neck and ...
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Reviews
Very well written, you conveyed a ton of meaning with a pound of words. I like your use of “baby don’t worry I will take care of it all" I think we all want to hear that - and believe it.
I want more. I enjoy your use of descriptors, I can see you lying in that bed wondering "what the fuck" every time you find another contraption. There are a few superfluous words here and there, such as: "One of the side effects the morphine was having on me was my body temperature" might flow better as "the morphine made my body temperature hotter than a crank case . . ." I love the "Marquis DeSade model" - I had the straps and buckles in my brain before I read the words. I would also watch ...
First, I think it important for you to realize that non-fiction means it's a true story. This is fiction. This is really dry, and what I like to call "borrowed." It smacks of the opening of "Interview with the Vampire" which, by the way, I thought was a fairly contrived opening. I kept reading because this was short and I wanted to give you a thorough review - had I been reading the opening of a book at Barnes and Noble, I wouldn't have continued after the third time I saw the word "once" in ...
Love and friendship are two of the most important things in my life, so I really wanted to get this - I didn't. There are too many holes for the reader to fill without information at hand to do so. If "mom was not just a friend" who was she. What were you doing in Germany that you met? Or did you? What's China got to do with this whole thing? And why did lil Etta have to come back, where?
I'm marking your page and coming back to finish this in the morning. You've taken me to a place I had forgotten existed - the Earth as it was meant to be, with a real history behind it. I've been in Southern California for so long now that I forgot how peaceful and serene the world can actually be - if you get away from most of it's inhabitants every once in a while.
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