Glen or Mikiko? I was Teenage Asian Girl

February 14, 2011

This is a story I wrote in 2005 and it appears along with other various stories, journals and poetry in my book called Dangers of a Confessional Mind published by LuLu books.

 

Friday, February 04, 2005

 

Glen or Mikiko?

I felt like the dude in Kafka’s Metamorphosis. I awoke this morning on my bed in a different form. I wasn’t a bug or caterpillar or anything like that. I looked down at my tan body and my small frame with shock and terror. As I started my morning ritual of scratching my balls and giving my dick a few quick tugs, I couldn’t find them. I looked down and there was a black mound of hair with a slit between my legs. My chest hair was gone and I had small petite breasts with brownish nipples. I closed my eyes and opened them again. I tried to go back to sleep assuming this was just another nightmare from watching another Katashi Miike movie before I fell asleep. I couldn’t sleep.

 

I sat up on my bed and lit a cigarette with my little thin fingers. I took a few drags and ran to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror. My face changed too. My eyes were slanted and brown. My lips were full and my nose was wider and flatter. I ran my fingers through my long black hair. I was looking at a beautiful young Asian girl in the mirror and it was me. I remembered that story I read in National Lampoon magazine when I was thirteen about the guy who woke up one morning and he was girl. I remember wishing it was me. I wanted to feel what it was like to be a woman. I wanted to feel my breasts and vagina and look in the mirror. That was when I was thirteen.

 

I thought about my friend Harry telling me last night that he thinks that our friend Robert should live his life as a woman. I thought of the countless times my friend Kevin has said “If I had a clit, I’d never leave the house.” I thought of how jealous I was that my friend Dave looked really good in drag.

 

Here I am. I’m a  hot young Asian girl. How am I going to explain this to everyone at work. I’ll have to call out. What will I do for money? What will I tell my girlfriend, Stacy? I hope she’ll still love me as girl. I hope she likes Asian girls. I hope my cousins (roommates) don’t want to fuck me. I’m going to have to get a new drivers license. I thought about going to a doctor. I don’t have any insurance. Will anyone believe me? I wonder if my parents will still love me. I don’t have any clothes to wear either.

 

When I fantasized about this as a kid, it was a sexual thing. As an adult, reality is overwhelming me. Sex was the last thing on my mind until I decided to just stay in my room all day with a mirror. I called out from work. They said my voice sounded funny. I said I was really sick and tried to speak in the lowest tone available to my new body. I called Harry first because he was the only one who would actually believe what happened.

 

“You should enjoy it first. Then see how you feel tomorrow and maybe see a doctor.” he said.

 

Ok. That’s what I’ll do. I called Stacy next and told her I need to speak with her as soon as possible.

 

“What’s wrong with your voice?” she asked.

 

“I’m still sick. You’ll see when you get here tonight.”

 

I took care of the immediate. I needed cigarettes. I had to sneak out without my cousin’s seeing me. I put on some pants and a hoody. Neither of which fit. My clothes were double my size now. I walked to the corner store and tried not to draw any attention to myself. It was run by Koreans. The small teenage girl at the register said something to me in Korean. I didn’t understand her.

 

“Sorry. I thought you were Korean.” she said.

 

“I am Italian.” I said. She laughed.

 

I actually had no idea what I was. I mean I know what I was not what I am now. The boy in the back of the store was staring at me. When I looked at him he winked at me. I felt scared and I felt kind of good. I got my cigarettes and a cup of coffee and walked home fast. I went up to my room and avoided my cousins. I lay on my bed and prayed. I was calmer. Ready to accept this. For now anyway.

 

I took off my jeans and hoody and examined my self thoroughly. I relaxed some more. I gently touched myself everywhere. My nipples were more sensitive than ever. My stomach was flat. I touched my vagina and it was wonderful. I’ve never felt anything like it in my whole life. Just the slightest touch on my new clitoris and my body surged with excitement. I felt like I did the first time I ever masturbated. I looked down at my tiny frame. My small breasts. My skinny legs. I watched my hand rub and stroke. Within minutes I exploded in an orgasm better than any I’d felt before. I collapsed and laid there for about five minutes I was ready for more.

 

Wow. I can orgasm over and over. I did. I finally fell asleep from sexual exhaustion. I slept for the next six hours. I awoke with a knock on my bedroom door. It was Stacy. Fuck. I wasn’t ready to tell her. Show her my new body. I was in a panic. I sat up and felt something against my thigh. I looked and it was my penis hanging under my flabby hairy belly. I was myself again. I sighed in relief and lit a cigarette as Stacy walked in my bedroom.

 

“Hey, what did you want to tell me?” she asked.

 

“You wouldn’t believe the dream I just had.”


Rich Hillen Jr’s Digital Art

February 6, 2011


Going Out of It: Excerpt from Yellow Socks Confessions of a Non-Don Juan

February 1, 2011

“When one’s in this world, surely the best thing one can do, isn’t it, is to go out of it? Whether one’s mad or not, frightened or not.” Louis- Ferdinand Celine

It’s true, I confess. I want out. Don’t you? Any escape will do. Movies, television, solitaire, drugs, alcohol, sex, shopping, gambling, eating, dreaming, drawing, reading, writing, music, dancing, games, working, relationships, sleeping, socializing, surfing the internet, etc.

I’ve personally experienced the joy and escapism of all of the above. Everything I do is a distraction from someone or something else that bothers me. To be trapped alone with my thoughts is the worst thing possible. That is my world. My thoughts. My ideas. My unfulfilled dreams and fantasies. Unrealistic goals that I will never meet. I run tapes in my head of every failure and every success. Wishing to avoid one and get more of the other.

Did I ever tell you about my dancing Grandmother? She has no legs. What has two legs and bleeds a lot? Half a dog. What do you get if you cross a cow with a camel? A lumpy milkshake. What’s Mary short for? She’s got no legs.

See? I’d rather do anything else except write about how I feel inside. Terrible. Thanks for asking. Insanity is the only route I haven’t taken besides Jail and Suicide. I’m too chicken for that. I’ve experienced some forms of insanity like depression and anxiety but not the full-blown Psychotic or Schizophrenic. Not yet. I’m working on it.

There is a fine line between denial and acceptance. I’ve crossed it. I am in denial. Well maybe not now that I’m aware of the denial but I was. Denying all of my pain. The recovery of  failed marriages and relationships. The mourning of a thriving business I once had. The loss of  jobs. The thrill of new experiences of my life like sexual fantasies coming to life. The lack of obsessions because I am obsessed with too much. My heart’s been broken several times in the past years and I didn’t even know it. The pressure of not knowing how I am going to pay my rent yet alone eat in the next month. The bills and debt of the last year or two that I was depressed beyond repair. It’s piling up and it’s all coming out at once.

Add this up with the goddamned heat and the miserable people around me and you get – me- a walking talking time bomb. I repress all of my problems. No closure on them as they say in therapy. I can usually maintain my composure like a tough guy but I haven’t been able to shed a tear for my self in along time. I’m either angry or I have that fake happiness that I even fool myself with.

A rush of fear, anxiety, loneliness, hopelessness, anger, depression and heartache at the same time wearing me down like a sleepless night of pills and vodka while running a two hour marathon that has no winner only destitute losers that beg for someone to take care of them. Take care of me. Hold my hand and tell me everything is going to be all right. I won’t believe you but it’s a start. Maybe then I can at least plant one good foot on the ground and be part of the world instead of hiding from it.

Click here to purchase Yellow Socks-
http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/yellow-socks-confessions-of-a-non-don-juan/12437981?productTrackingContext=author_spotlight_65502234_


I’m at Wit’s End . . . Help Me

January 26, 2011

I’m at wit’s end right now. I’m at wit’s about everything but I’m not going to talk about right now. Not the personal stuff. Maybe some of it will slip. Ok a lot of it will because it’s all connected. I’m thinking out loud so to speak. Or should I say I’m thinking on paper or ..well “I’m thinking on a word document so to write.”

 

I am frustrated about money, creativity and various projects. I have a lot going on at the same time and between my ADHD and being Bipolar my focus and follow through is all over the place. Top it off with the Trigeminal Neuralgia popping up now and then and it’s difficult to even finish writing a blog sometimes.

 

Ok. Hopefully you’ve been reading my blogs so I don’t have to repeat myself. I probably will anyway.

 

I am desperately trying to figure out a way to make money on the internet and or through my art specifically. I have books published for sale, art for sale, T-shirts for sale; I have affiliate programs with dozens of web sites and my own social network. I have made a little money here and there and don’t know what to do next. I keep doing what I’ve been doing. I promote on all of the social networks I belong to. I promote on my blog sites as you know and I’ll get to that at the end of the blog.

 

I have other options for the books. The publisher has several marketing packages that cost money. That option is out. I sent several press releases about my books and no write-ups except by my friend at the Philadelphia City Paper. Maybe I need to send more. I did one book signing and little success. I can also send the book out to more publishers because my publisher doesn’t have the rights to it. I do. Everything takes time and money. I have the time but not the money. Yet.

 

It’s weird how I post links to my novel, Yellow Socks and the Best of the Serial Killer Coloring Book several times a week. I think I am spamming sometimes or over kill it. I get responses that people like the post then they don’t buy it. I also get people that say how bad they want to purchase my book but they haven’t gotten around to it yet. They don’t. Then there are the people that ask me where they can purchase the books when the links are posted all over my profiles and blogs. I tell them politely and then they don’t buy anything. It’s the same with my t-shirt site. I lower my expectations but keep my hopes high. I end up with constant repressed frustration. People are people and I do the same thing sometimes.

 

I knew starting a new social network at the same time that the almighty king of social network’s prime. My social network, Novaboon, was created out of pure anger and rebellion from my own personal “persecution” from facebook. I kept falling victim to censorship and constant regulations on my profile. Facebook can be pretty controlling almost fascist like. There is a limit to how many friends you can request or have then hypocritically constantly post profiles suggesting you add them. There is a limit to how many messages you can send in given time. They remove images that they claim to violate their “terms” yet don’t say which one.

 

I don’t want to get into details about but I have a lot of complaints about them and was angered and decided to create my own social network. I didn’t expect to in anyway compete with facebook or even the dying MySpace. I wanted to create an alternative for those as frustrated as I am. I wanted an unrestricted social network with great customer service. I grabbed the best person I knew to partner up with me to do the back end. The technical computer knowledge to help me make this happen. He was into the idea and we wrote up a business plan and set our goals. Novaboon was born in October 2010 and was launched in November 2010. My duties are the promotional, system tester/user, creative and marketing end.

 

I started it to fill a void I suspected existed and to give people similar to me an alternative site to post what they want. We set out to make it the best we could. We also decided we want to make money through obtaining advertisers eventually.

 

The Novaboon promotion took off immediately and we grew pretty fast in the fist few weeks to a month. I promoted mostly on other social networks especially facebook. This of course got me into more censorship issues with facebook. Sending too many messages especially. I actually personally messaged 100s of people announcing our new site. I used groups, my blog sites and any other internet means I could promote through for free. It was frustrating on and off and still is.

 

The same things were happening like they did when I was promoting my books. People asked me questions about it then not signing up. Some people signed up then didn’t come back to the site. I overkill the posts about it and people still ask me what it called. I keep on pressing on. I have a vision and I secretly expect everyone to understand it and join me. They won’t. People are people.

 

I’ve come to understand that most people if not all people on facebook are either satisfied or addicted to facebook because that’s where their friends are. That’s what they are comfortable with. Hell, I still go on there as much as my own site. I also use it as a vehicle to continue to promote Novaboon. Novaboon has shifted from not only an alternative but a fun unrestricted supplement. We don’t expect anyone to abandon king facebook.

My partner and my enthusiasm have shifted up and down for the past few months but we’ve come to realize that Novaboon is actually doing pretty good. We are growing at a steady pace. I’m beginning to understand that slow and steady is better than too much too fast and too slow. I just keep getting stuck and frustrated.

Where do I go from here? Are we ready to get advertising? How do I get more people to join and use the site? These are typical and reasonable questions at this point. I’m frustrated mostly because of my need for money.

When I first published my Serial Killer Coloring Book I went through similar things. I built a huge underground following, distributed it internationally, sold thousands of comics and in the end I never made a living off of it. I made a lot of money spread over 3 or 4 years and if it was my only income I would have been screwed.

I am an artist first. I have never been into it for the money but sometimes I wish that I were. If you asked me a few month or so ago, in the height of my frustration, what was more important the art or the money I would have said the money. I love the fact that I have published and sold my first novel. I enjoy the praise but I would really love to have the money.

Most of my life I have had jobs, not careers, that required little work hours and I made a lot of money in the few hours. I never wanted to commit to a full time career oriented job. Sometimes I couldn’t figure out why. It was because deep inside I know that I am an artist. Whether I am writing, drawing, playing in a band or creating new websites and social networks. I am an artist and I want to one-day make the money that I deserve not as a person but as an artist.

Now let’s move onto my promotions.

My novel Yellow Socks: Confessions of a Non-Don Juan is available at http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/richhillenjr

Or Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/Yellow-Socks-Confessions-Non-Don-Juan/dp/0557562597/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1296071667&sr=8-1

 

My Best of the Serial Killer Coloring Book is available at http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/richhillenjr

 

My T-shirts are available at http://richhillenjr.spreadshirt.com/

 

Check out my videos on YouTube at http://www.youtube.com/user/crawlspacebro

 

Don’t forget to join my free unrestricted social network NovaBoon now. http://novaboon.com

It’ll only take a minute to join and check it out. Don’t forget to say hi to me


Live Reading from my Novel Yellow Socks & a Promo Video

December 23, 2010

 

 


A Little Self Promotion

December 9, 2010

Damn. I haven’t written anything on here in a while. I’m a busy guy ya know… ha. I’ve been trying to promote the shit out of the new social network NovaBoon that I started with my partner a month ago. It’s tough to get people to stray from what they are used to. Try new things, I remember how hesitant I was to go to facebook when I had MySpace. Next thing you know I was on facebook as much as possible. I didn’t start writing this to promote NovaBoon but I will plug it any chance I get.

Since I haven’t been up to writing about what’s going on in my head I wanted to promote my upcoming “reading” of my novel Yellow Socks: Portrait of a Non-Don Juan next Saturday in Philadelphia. The Philadelphia City Paper is also doing an article about my books and myself next Thursday’s edition and I’m sure I’ll be plugging that next week. I even had a professional photographer for the paper shoot me the other day.

Ok So here’s the details

READING / SIGNING

RICH HILLEN, JR.

Rich Hillen Jr is an American artist, musician, and most importantly a writer most famous for his SERIAL KILLER COLORING BOOK and his band the World Famous Crawlspace Brothers, He just published his first novel: YELLOW SOCKS. CONFESSIONS OF A NON-DON JUAN and reprinted all five issues of his coloring book: THE BEST OF THE SERIAL KILLER COLORING BOOK.

 

Sat 12/18/2010 @ 2 pm

 

Germ Books + Gallery, LLC

2005 Frankford Avenue

between Norris and Susquehanna

next to Rocket Cat Cafe

Fishtown, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA

215-423-5002

http://www.germbooks.com

http://www.myspace.com/germbooksandgallery

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Philadelphia-PA/Germ-Books-and-Gallery/102519956464198

So that’s that.


Excerpt From the Novel Yellow Socks- Elvis, Hazel & Me

November 2, 2010

Click the pic to buy the novel or click here.

Elvis, Hazel and Me

 

The sign out front said Therapy. Therapy. Yeah. That’s exactly what I needed. I had to ring a bell at the second door. It was locked. I heard the woman’s broken English say ” Hode on, hunee.”. There was a peephole so she could see me. As the door opened my heart was racing. You never know what’s on the other side of the door. Especially at a place like this. I’ve only heard rumors about what goes on here. Now I was ready to find out. Even if I wasn’t ready I was about to find out.

 

The door opened and this cute little Korean girl with glasses stood there smiling. She had a slim but round face and the glasses magnified her pretty skewed charcoal eyes. She was about five foot two inches or so and wore tan shorts and a loose fitting top. Nothing real sexy or revealing. She grabbed me by my arm. I only knew she was Korean because I was told later. I have trouble differentiating some Asians based on looks. I can tell a Japanese or Chinese usually but not always. A Vietnamese girl I once worked with told me that it’s hard for Asians to tell each other because a lot of them are mixed. The girl with the glasses made me follow her down a long hallway and to a room. The room was dimly lit and had a twin bed with a blue and pink floral design on the comforter. There was a nightstand next to it with a lamp, body lotion and a radio. The walls were empty except for a giant mirror next to the bed. No paintings or anything. There were three hooks on the wall to hang a coat.

 

“Take offa you close. Sum one be back.” she said and left me there alone.

 

I sat on the edge of the bed and took off my shirt first. I hung it up on the hook. It was my favorite Misfits tee shirt. Next I took off my pants. Hung them up. I stuffed my socks in my sneakers and left them on the floor under the hooks. I looked at my fat belly in the mirror then I shifted focus onto my new tattoo. It was a picture of Elvis and it said “The King” underneath of it. It was on my right arm just above my 4″ scar that wraps around my bicep.

 

I was hoping that the girl with the glasses would be coming back. I was still a little nervous. I’d been to one of these places once before. I was drinking back then so I didn’t remember anything except that I was there. The alcohol took the edge off of me back then.

 

The door opened. I was startled. It wasn’t the girl with the glasses. It was an older Korean woman in her mid forties. She stood a little taller than the other girl. Her face wasn’t the prettiest I’ve ever seen but she wasn’t ugly. Her somber eyes were possessed with sadness despite the forced smile she wore more out of habit then sincerity. Her cheeks were round and her eyes were wrinkled. Long black hair found its way to the middle of her back. Her tits looked healthy through her tacky Fredericks of Hollywood sheer lace camisole that went down to cover her pudgy belly just touching her matching black lace panties. Her legs were chubby but still nice to look at. She wore black heels that she could barely walk on. Well, she was better looking than any Therapist I’ve ever seen.

 

“What you name? My name is Hee- Jung. You call me Hazel.” she said.

 

“My name is Pete.”

 

“Pete?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You been heel befo? ”

 

“No.”

 

“Okay. You give $60.00 for masharge and showerr. Pay now. Then we go.”

 

I gave her the money. She left the room. I waited again staring at myself in the mirror. I always look at myself in the mirror. If I am in a good mood I like looking in the mirror. If I am in a bad mood I tear myself apart looking for everything wrong with my body and face. I was in a good mood. Hazel, huh?

 

She came back and handed me a white towel to wear. It smelled fresh and clean. I wrapped it around my waist and followed her into another room. It was a huge shower. The floor was covered in white tiles with a drain in the middle of the floor. There was a table that looked like the one at my doctor’s office but without the incline option. It was flat and had a vinyl cover. There was a large container filled with water. It had a hose inside it to fill it up like a little kids swimming pool. Hazel took the towel off of me and motioned for me to lie down on my stomach. She placed a small soft plastic pillow under my head. I positioned my head towards her so I could see what she was doing and also to check her out.

 

Hazel took a plastic bowel and scooped out some of the water in the large vat like container and poured hot water on my body. My body stiffened to shock of the heat.

 

“Too hot?” she asked.

 

“It’s ok.” I said.

 

I got used to it. Hazel took a soapy sponge and washed me down like you would give a dog a bath or like a nurse when you are in the hospital. She was very stiff and methodic at first. She scrubbed my back. My arms. My legs. Then she spread my legs and washed my legs and balls. I’ve never had my asshole washed before. I’ve felt nothing in my life to compare it to. I think I liked it. I got a little excited so I must have.

 

“Turn over.” She told me.

 

I lay on my back and she was less clinical with her approach. Her touch felt good even though it was with a sponge. As she washed my arm she noticed my tattoo.

 

“That Ervis Plesrey?”

 

“Yes. The King.”

 

“You Rook Rike Ervis.”

 

“Thang you. Thang you very mudge” I did my best Elvis impersonation.

 

She grabbed my dick and washed it. It was getting a hard on.

“You Rung rike Ervis Too.” she said.

 

She finished up washing my feet and it tickled. I cringed and laughed.

 

“You tickrish?”

 

I nodded and she told me to stand up. As she dried me off she started talking a little more.

 

“You got wife?”

 

“No. I just got divorced.”

 

A melancholy look took over her face when she heard me say this.

 

“Me too. I just get divolced. He no good. He reft me.”

 

“I’m sorry.” I said.

 

Hazel led me into another room. It was the steam room. It was wall-to-wall oak in this little room. There was a wooden table about three feet wide and maybe six feet long long. I barely fit on it. She left me alone for about seven minutes. There were magazines to read. Mostly porno and chick magazines like Cosmo and Vogue. I looked through an issue of Vogue and a copy of Jugs. It put me in the mood for a massage. I thought about jerking off right there but decided it best if I didn’t.

 

Hazel popped her head in and grabbed my hand to pull me out of the steam room. She held my arm like I was her man as we headed back to the room I started in. I wondered if she went through my wallet or stole my money. She took the towel off of me when we got to the room. She put more towels down on the bed and told me to lie down on my stomach. I did. I always do what women tell me especially the ones who are about to give me a massage.

 

“You want dlink befole I stalt?” she asked.

 

“Uhh. No thanks.”

 

“It ok if I dlink a rittle bit?”

 

“Sure.”

 

She reached under the nightstand and pulled out a bottle of Jim Beam and poured herself a glass. She took a big gulp and put the glass down. She turned on the radio. It played some mellow shit I recognized but didn’t know who it was.

 

“You leady?” she asked.

 

“Yeah.”

 

She started a regular back massage. She started at my neck and worked every muscle down to my toes. I never knew how good a foot massage could be. I’ve given so many foot massages but rarely received them.

 

“You want me tly a new massage I just reln?” Hazel aked me.

 

“Sure. Yes I do.”

 

She stood on my back and walked up and down cracking my bones. I thought of Lucy Lui in the Charlie’s Angels movie walking on the bad guy Tim Curry. I thought about how sexy Lucy Lui’s feet were. Especially compared to Hazel’s chubby toes. It was painful and relaxing at the same time. I didn’t know whether to scream or moan. I moaned.

 

“Ok. Tuln over. I do the flont now. ” she told me.

 

Luckily she just massaged my front with her hands. Her touch was comforting and relaxing. I wanted her to massage everything. Everything. But good things come to those who wait, right? I waited. She took a few breaks to drink some more whiskey. My body felt like it was going to sink into the bed I was so relaxed.

 

“Ok. Arr done.” she said.

 

Finished? What do you mean finished? I didn’t get my happy ending. I was uncomfortable about asking but I did anyway.

 

“You forgot to massage my ..” I said and pointed to my dick.

 

“Ohh. That extra. ” she smiled.

 

“Fine. Whatever.”

 

She reached over to the night stand and pulled out some lotion. She pumped the lotion in her hand and then took a firm hold of me. This was the happy ending I’ve heard so much about. I must say I was happy. Then she stopped and got more lotion. She put more than enough and worked it around her finger. What was she up to? Oh fuck.

 

“OWW!!” I screamed as she poked her finger up my ass deep. Too deep at first.

 

“You no Rike?”

 

“No.”

 

“Give it a minute.”

 

She was right. After about a minute it wasn’t so bad. It was good. I was happy again. All’s well that ends well. I finished. Hazel poured another drink.

 

“Can I ray down with you?”

 

She turned the radio off and cuddled up next to me.

 

“I so ronery.” she said.

 

She started singing I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You.

 

“You sing with me, Ervis, ok?”

 

We sang together. We cried together. I looked into her wet brown eyes as she sang to me.

 

“… only furs lush in. I can’t herp farring in rove with you.”

 

Loneliness brought me to her. Loneliness brought her to this job. Loneliness kept us bonded as we lay there together crying from our lost loves.

 

After another half hour Hazel helped me get dressed. As she was finishing tying my sneakers she looked up at me like she was really sad for me to go.

 

“Do you want to get married?” I asked her with semi sincerity.

 

“No, I wan you to reave and nevel come back.” she said as she opened the front door.

 

She stood on her toes to kiss me. I gave her my lips.

 

“I Rove you. Don’t come back.”

 

I walked out of there feeling so much better and so much worse.

 


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