Excerpt from My First Novel Yellow Socks Confessions of a Non Don Juan

June 4, 2012

An Excerpt from my 2010 novel Yellow Socks- Confessions of a Non Don Juan

 

Skeleton Woman or Things Like Me Don’t Happen To You

 

Christ it happened again. Another notch in my “girls that want to be my friend” belt. It made sense. We were perfect friends and she was real cute too. I kept thinking that I was ok with it. I’d be happy just being a friend again. I keep turning to God for strength to accept my fate as “Friend to all women” that I’m attracted to. My acceptance level seems to be ok. I go to my happy place. I go to my cave. I say the serenity prayer over and over I am sure that I will be ok with this. Yes I will. (no I won’t)

 

Cut to a scene from Fight Club

 

TYLER

Stop it! This is your pain — this is your burning hand. It’s right here! Look at it.

 

JACK

I’m going to my cave. I’m going to my cave to find my power animal!

 

TYLER

No, don’t deal with this the way those dead people do. Come on

!

JACK

I get the point, ok, please!

 

TYLER

No, what you’re feeling is premature enlightenment.

 

Ok. I get the idea. Feel the pain. Feel the hurt. Feel the rejection saturating my heart until I bleed more than just these words all over the place and finger my open sore of a brain as it wants to dwell on her over and over again. Screaming and roaring her name with anger and grief and sometimes a slight relief that it’s done and I know that she will not reject me again unless I go back for more and more or less or a little bite of her cheeseburger and a sip of her Pepsi to tide me over until the next one comes along with better food and spirits for my, for me for. Four scores of seven years itch as I scratch the weathered tired out mongrel of an ego that was left stray years ago in a pound for wayward hearts and letches that can only love and never be loved.

 

The pain of being a friend. A friend. I’ve heard that “Let’s just be friends” millions of times in my life as I gargle a new mouthwash and toothpaste hoping my breath will be the answer to my problem. My problem is as follows: me, myself and I. We altogether are the problem. We want to be loved so bad that we give off the vibe that scares the shit out of women so they just want to be friends. Friends. Friends. I think to myself that will be fine. Friends is ok. It’ll do. I can accept that. Bullshit! Feel the pain I tell myself. Embrace it. the pain is your friend. To hurt is to be alive. I’ve never been so alive. I’m alive. So alive.

 

“Did you ever hear about the skeleton woman?” Morton asked.

 

“Was that a Glam rock band from the seventies?” I ask.

 

“Ha. Ha. Nah. It’s an ancient Indian story. This guy was fishing in the middle of a lake. He was totally into it. He was relaxed. Not a care in the world except catching the next fish. All of a sudden he feels a tug on his line and he yanks it up. A skeleton appears on his line. He doesn’t realize that it’s attached to his line and he gets scared. He starts paddling his boat away from it but it follows him. He still doesn’t realize that it’s attached to his line. He gets out of his boat and runs into the village and he is carrying his fishing rod and the skeleton is still right behind him. He jumps into his Tee Pee and it follows him in. He lies down and tries to hide not looking at it for a while. When he finally turns to look at the skeleton it has changed into the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She is his. The moral of the story is that he was minding his own business doing something he enjoyed and that’s when the right woman came along. In other words when you are not looking for love is when it will find you. ”

 

“I know that but it’s so fucking hard to stay focused on other things without thinking about how much I want to be loved. Fall in love. Ya know?” I responded.

 

“I know. I know.” Morton said.

 

“We’re a generation of men raised by women. I’m wondering if another woman is really the answer we need.” Tyler Durden

 

To purchase click here


Live Book Reading from Yellow Socks Video

April 29, 2011

Now you can read it yourself. Just click the Yellow Socks cover pic.


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.


King of my Bedroom

July 26, 2010

Excerpt from my Book: Dangers of a Confessional Mind. A collection of poetry, journals, stories and blogs from 2004-2008.

Thursday, April 01, 2004

King of My Bedroom

From King of the Hill to King of the Road. Here I sit King of my bedroom. Soreness creeps into my throat and I can’t eat or smoke without pain. I lay in bed downloading porn and watching movies that I’ve seen over and over again not because I like doing this but it’s all I feel up to doing. No passion in my heart. No stories to tell. Just porno and horror movies. Sleep. Painfully swallowing and inhaling. I barely make it to work. I call out another day. My fantasy girl’s whose ass and face hurt me at work tells me how good I look and I shrug it off A coworker tells me she’s telling other people how good I look with my shave and haircut and I still go on with my dragging day waiting for the breathing to get easier and the razor blades in my throat to go away. No cure for my ills I guess but time and sleep. I want to write something clever. I want to make you laugh. Hell I want to laugh. My sickness took away my obsessions and my desire to write. I hope I can still write without obsessing. I close my eyes again and I still don’t think of her or any one. I just see white spots in the dark. I try to write a love story. I can’t. I don’t have a love story. Maybe true sex experiences. No. I’ll write about how bored I am with writing because I am sick. Sick of feeling ill. Not being able to breath. Sick of celibacy. Sick of longing to love and be loved. Sick of not having enough money to do anything except barely survive. Sick of sick of sick of sick of myself and my little rants. I’ll just swing the covers up over my head and turn up my Social Distortion Cd I just found that I thought was lost for the last two months and cry another lullaby along with Making Believe and watch Re-Animator for the second time this week. I’ll put on my crown of pity and take heed upon anyone who dares enter my sorrowful kingdom. I am the King of My Bedroom

http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/dangers-of-a-confessional-mind/11929938


Anxiety Came Softly Through My- a WIndow Today

June 26, 2010

It seems like some days I just have to write off as a shitty day before it even begins. Days like today. In the middle of a decent dream. Nothing too crazy. Nothing too outrageous. I was in a deep sleep to be woken up with orders barked at me. I had to do this. I have to do that. I’m not one of those people that jumps out of bed ready to face the day. That’s why I always try to get up at least an hour earlier that I am supposed to leave or do anything so I get my “quiet time”. I usually take my morning medications then jump into my morning meditations and prayers while wait for my coffee to be made.

I realize that the coffee part of my morning is probably psychological but the meditation and prayers have become a necessity of my day. It centers me. It grounds me to handle whatever the day has in store for me. When I was younger and didn’t pray I slept to the last minute and either grabbed a cup of coffee on my way out the door or bought some on my way to work or school. Since I’ve been starting my days with prayer, I need my quiet time.

It’s funny that I just wrote a blog called “It’s Not About Me”. In the morning it has to be about me in order to begin a contact with my God so I can handle a day of what is to be thrown at me. So I can live my day being “not about me”.

Today it was anxiety from the minute I awoke. It keeps growing and I’m a nervous wreck in the middle of a very long panic attack that seems to keep growing despite my efforts to calm myself. I’m drinking less coffee so far. I’m going to eat. I’ll call someone. I am writing about it. These things seem to help along with my medication. Ugh.

Anxiety is something I developed as I got older. Things used to role off of my back when I was younger but not now. Since I lost my job a month ago the panic attacks lessoned. While I was working I would average at lest three attacks a week mostly while I was at work. I only worked four days a week. Go figure. In the last month I’ve only had about three or four for the month. It’s getting better. It seems that it will never go away. Especially when you are in it. It’s like when you catch a cold or the flu you feel like you are going to feel that way forever. It passes. This will too. I just have to do the things that help me feel better. Eat. Talk to someone. Take my medication. Even writing about it helps a little bit.

I have friends that get these attacks and in the past I never understood what they were going through. In my head I was thinking, “be a man.” Or “toughen up.” Now that I get them I understand and I turn to the people that understand. If I tell my friends that have never experiences it they just don’t get it and try to give me advice or tell me to toughen up etc. It doesn’t work that way. Most times I have a panic attack I have to ride it out and feel the anxiety.

At least I know in my heart that this too shall pass.

I hope.


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