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

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

 

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Fetishes Part 6 – Nyotaimori Sushi and Naked Women

Nyotaimori

Fetish. The psychological definition of a fetish is any object or non-genital part of the body that causes a habitual erotic response or fixation.

Paraphilia is a biomedical term used to describe sexual arousal to objects, situations, or individuals that are not part of normative stimulation and that may cause distress or serious problems for the paraphiliac or persons associated with him or her. A paraphilia involves sexual arousal and gratification towards sexual behavior that is atypical and extreme. –Wikipedia

This is part 6 in my weird fetish series. Click here for part 5-Mechanophilia, here for part 4- Formicophilia, here for part 3- Trichophilia, here for part 2 Dacryphilia– and here for part 1- Nasophilia. Today it’s about Technophile.

Nyotaimori (Japanese: 女体盛り, “female body presentation”), often referred to as “body sushi”, is the practice of serving sashimi or sushi from the body of a woman, typically naked. Nantaimori (Japanese: 男体盛り) refers to the same practice using a male model. This subdivision of food play is originally an obscure Japanese practice not common in Japanese culture but that has attracted considerable international media attention. –Wikipedia

Some say it’s an art and others a novelty. Underneath it all there was and is a fetish quality to it and has been since the ancient ritual has begun. For people who love sushi and love mixing food with sex it is an erotic pleasurable experience.

Nyotaimori is the “art” or “fetish” of being aroused eating sushi off of the body of a naked woman or man depending on the party, customer and restaurant and it is one of many fetishes that involve sex and food. Many people enjoy combining these two parts of life because they are both very pleasurable, so you get double the enjoyment by putting them together. There are many restaurants in the U.S. and throughout Europe who use naked models with strategically placed dishes or leaves to serve sushi off of; you just have to enjoy your sushi at body temperature.

There are also body preparation requirements. The body must be thoroughly cleaned with anti-biotic, hypo-allergenic and fragrance free soap. This is followed by splashes of cold water to withstand the cold sushi and keep it cold as long as possible. Some governments require a layer of plastic between the body and the sushi due to sanitation laws and I’m sure this is not as enjoyable for the fetishist.

I’ sure I would try it for the sheer novelty of it like trying any novelty restaurant. I think I’ve said this before, as many kinks and fetishes I do have, mixing food with sex is one thing I can’t stomach.

Although a lot of Nyotaimori is experienced through dinner parties and the hiring of models that can stand still, there are reastaurants as well.

Here’s a website I found called Sushi Nomads http://www.sushinomads.com/sushi-blog/nyotaimori-and-nantaimori-naked-sushi

For all of your Nyotaimori needs.

Dream Girl Returns as a Lover (Guardian Angel?)

I felt her tongue in my mouth and I was the happiest man on earth. To kiss her was a dream come true. My Guardian Angel kissed me.

It started on some sort of shopping spree and she was taking me to different places buying me things and holding my hand and I was confused because she wasn’t in her guardian angle form. Not that she ever is. I call her my guardian angel because she has lead me away from negative situations and helped me out in previous dreams. She is based on a real girl I know in her mid-late 20s that I rarely talk to and see online once in a while. I named her Carmella the first time I wrote about her in a blog titled Dream Girl is my Guardian Angel but her name is Bailey. She won’t read this and if so . . . well I’ll deal with or not then.

So Bailey is taking me to familiar and unfamiliar places and we are happy. I felt the way I used to feel when I was on vacations with previous girlfriends during the courting or just past the courting stage. In the back of my head I was confused. First of all, she has a boyfriend and it seems they’ve been together since high school.  She would rarely give me the time of day in real life. Not to say she was or is a snob. She just never had a reason to talk to me. I’ve admired her from afar. I also didn’t know where were in the dream. It felt like Philadelphia and New York with a touch of San Francisco. Maybe my writing about hanging out with a few girls in San Francisco in my next novel is rubbing off into my dreams.

We ended up kissing on the sidewalk wherever we were. Heavy making out. I felt her tongue hit my tonsils and loved it. I haven’t had a kiss like that in almost 2 years. We hugged and then hurried to our hotel room. In the dream I went with it as if I knew there was a room. I settled in the room and saw her take her clothes off and she came to me again and kissed me wearing her white bra and panties. I was still in shock and thrilled to realize it was a dream. It was more real than being awake. She was dressed again. And I followed her outside to the sidewalk. Her boyfriend was there and she looked at me in a way I knew she was going to give him another goodbye talk. Then she took him into my room at a new house and we were no longer at the hotel.

I let them have their time. I was overall confident that Bailey was mine but still was anxious for him to leave. It reminded me of when I dated a married woman that was separated and the 3 of us hung out. I walked into the living room and it was a combination of a few houses I’ve lived and my aunt and uncle’s house in Michigan. My grandmother was alive and there with aunts and uncles and cousins. My blood relatives and my adopted relatives were all there. I was so distracted by having my fantasy girl, my dream girl after going so long without love I had trouble enjoying my family. Everyone was talking to me. Someone said that I was going to miss my flight home. I thought I was home and Bailey and her boyfriend were in her my bedroom. I felt love in the room but I wanted the love in the bedroom, forgetting Bailey has appeared as my guardian angel in the past.

I thought of her kiss, closed my eyes and smiled. I woke up and it was only 11 pm. I felt happy for some reason even though I never resolved anything in the lucid dream. It will come to me. It always does.

Also read my poem called Guardian Angel Protection

No internet? “No Money”?

So, my internet is down at home. Ugh. Great timing when I’m starting up a new web site, maintaining current sites and selling my art etc has been over 25% of my monthly income. I’ll be doing what I can once a day if I’m not too sick to get to a coffee shop or something to check in.

I’ll sum up my life right now.

I am completely broke. Can’t pay the rent. Obviously can’t pay the cable. Can’t pay car insurance. Can’t pay phone bill. Etc etc etc.

I’ve been in and out of a deep depression some days I cant move when the face pain is added. I have 2 doctor appointments this week with a psychiatrist and a neurologist for social security. All of the hoops and the time it takes or this disability shit is causing me more stress, depression, anxiety, and face pain than a job. Just when I think it’s over and they made a decision I get another letter that I have to jump through another hoop. I have never been this broke in my entire life. I’m almost ready to crack from the pain of the SSD process.

I hope I’ll be posting soon. I hope you keep reading the decline of the bipolar disabled self absorbed artist named Rich Hillen Jr

Naked Therapy?? Meet the Naked therapist . . .

Sarah White is my new hero. I mean heroine. Sarah has combined her modeling experience, marketing experience and her passion for psychology to create a unique service called nude therapy.

The 24-year-old sexy psychology fan from New York City has undressed the world of psychiatry. Her idea is that by stripping away her clothes during a “therapy” session makes her clients (mostly male) comfortable enough to “strip” away the layers of their mind and emotions. Sarah believes that her nudity will induce her clients to open up and bare their true feelings.

Sarah says “Naked therapy has been very eye opening and worldly for my clients. The goal is to show patients I have nothing to hide, and encourage them to be more honest. For men in particular, seeing a naked woman can really help them focus, look deeply into themselves and speak their minds openly.”

My favorite quote from Ms White is “Freud used free association. I use nakedness.”

Her therapy begins on her website: http://sarahwhitelive.com

The initial session is $150 for an hour of one-way cam and text. Sarah builds the relationship from there and the sessions can eventually evolve to 2-way cam with audio and in some cases in person.

Sarah is not a psychiatrist or even a licensed therapist but her practice or service is completely legal.

Diana Kirschner, a clinical psychologist from New York-based clinical psychologist, told the Daily News: “She’s using the word therapy here, but I don’t consider this therapy. I consider this interactive soft-core Internet porn.”

Personally, I think it’s brilliant marketing idea. In a world of online relationships and web cams, Sarah White is using her beauty and psychiatry studies to make a few dollars extra. I think I might try it in reverse. I’ll have my female “clients” pay me to have them strip their clothes off to help themselves. It might work.

Last Day by Cam MacDonald

I’m a little too sick or anxious to write today so I am posting a poem from my friend Cam MacDonald. It’s about . . .you figure it out.

Last Day?

What will happen tomorrow
Will it be tomorrow or some other day
After waiting 159 days it doesn’t feel real
Caught up in a Sweep
profiled for being the best
punished for 14 year old sins
Here I await fiending like a junkie
scanning the headlights for the Man
keys jingle and doors slam

So many days morphed into right now
So much pain and boredom
distilled into to each into each moment
The small hope of small freedom
is all that feeds me
My cell is real in its filthy haphazardness
and in its protection from the outside

Its more real than but no less restricting
than all the other imposed by me
and those I let imposed on me
the Clinic with its liquid handcuffs
the junk with its sickness and never ending hunger
the promise of riches tomorrow but never today
the women who I won’t let love me
the son who I love and loves me
the darkside who always wins
the people I hate for being human
but most of all myself for being so selfish

So right so wrong but always doomed
Soon some shitbag will crack my cell
and tell me to pack it up
and then the real sentence starts
but will the small hope
still lingering in the smell of spring earth
and a girls perfume and…….

Art by Rich Hillen Jr 2000

Heat

I always have an obsession or obsessions with various topics or things. Usually topics that bore other people or they find uninteresting. One time I was obsessed with being obsessed. It’s had it’s good points and bad. Too much of anything is bad for a guy like me so over all it’s not good. This brings me to my new obsession. The heat. High temperatures and their effects on me.

As far back as I can remember I have always hated the extreme heat and especially hate to sweat. I hate that dirty nasty feeling I get from sweating. I even hate to sweat during sex. I don’t like to exercise because I don’t like to sweat. I’ve avoided the heat as much as I could through most of my life. Once I discovered air-conditioning I was hooked.

About fifteen years ago I discovered that it might not be the heat. It might only be the humidity. I traveled to the west coast for the first time in 1997. Actually, it was the second time. It was my first time as an adult. Throughout Washington, Oregon, California Arizona and Nevada I didn’t sweat and found that the heat didn’t bother me that much. I remember one day in Phoenix, Arizona it was 113 degrees outside and I didn’t break a sweat. It was hot and bothered me a little but it was nothing compared to an 83 degree day in New Jersey. Up until then I wondered if my problem with the heat was in my head.

Part of it is in my head too I’m sure. I also have extreme allergies in the summer and can’t be around fresh cut grass, trees, plants etc without having a reaction. I subconsciously associate the heat with my allergies.

Top it off I’m on some medications that are not a great combination with the heat. They make me really tired if I’m in the heat too long and I also can’t eat. I end up eating later in the evening when it’s cooler out. I know this is no good for me.

This year I swore that I was not going to complain about the heat. I was going to deal with it and not say a word. Easier said than done this year. I lost my job six weeks ago and I am home more and spend more time on my porch outside so I can smoke while I write. This is also the worst year for record high temperatures in years. It was 103 degrees today. Of course I am inside more than outside when it gets this hot but I feel tired and lethargic and sick from the heat.

I started looking up articles online to see the heat’s effects on various types of people. It affects people with mental illnesses the elderly, the young, the obese, and people with different medical conditions taking different medications. So, it’s not entirely in my head.

Even so, I am still obsessed with the heat and I keep reading articles all day. I keep checking the weather on and off all day and reading the warnings on the news. Meanwhile, I am writing this on my 91 degree porch at 10:44 pm.  I am 89 % tired, 5% miserable, 4% grateful and 2% sick.

Anxiety Came Softly Through My- a WIndow Today

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.

He Pushed Me Away

I wrote the following on Sunday December 13th 2009:

I was paid a visit by my former self. The one from a few years ago that was constantly creative and productive and full of life and charisma and confidence. He looked amazing in his cowboy hat and wife beater and jeans and boots. We sat down and had some coffee and smoked cigarettes and chatted for a while. The meeting started with small talk like “what have you been up to?” and “How’s your family and friends?” and things like that.

Then we got down to the nitty gritty.

“Why did you leave me?” I asked,

“I thought you left me.” he said.

“No, man. You pushed me away when you started seeing a Psychiatrist and taking medications.”

“That’s when I thought you ran away to leave me to deal with this shit on my own.”

“You further abandoned me when you started abusing the pain pills and went to less and less AA meetings and working your AA program.”

“Really?”

I thought about this for while sipping my hot coffee and taking long drags on my cigarette. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I did leave him. Maybe with everything that was going on I just gave up on him and wanted less and less to do with him.”

“You turned into the walking dead, man. All drugged up and barely making it to work or anywhere else. I’m surprised you still have friends and family.” He said.

“Hmmm. I did lose a girlfriend and almost lost my job.” I said
“See. You left me in the dust, Rich.” He said.

“What do you think I should do about it? Do you want to come back to me? Be together again?”

“Nah, man. Not yet. You’re not ready for me yet. You’ve got bills out of your ass. You’ve got too much anxiety and depression for me to handle. You have issues with women and sex. You just got a year sober a little while ago. You need some heavy duty work before I’d consider being part of your life again.”

“But I miss you terribly sometimes. I don’t feel complete without you sometimes.”

“Well, if you don’t take care of your sobriety and mental health properly then there’s no chance of me getting involved with you again.”

He had so much energy and confidence in what he was saying and it hit me hard. He’s right. I do need to work on myself harder. Work the 12 steps in my life more. Settle my debts. Get a decent Psychiatrist that’s not going to Zombie me out yet help me with my depression and anxiety and Bipolar disorder. I need an emotional, physical and spiritual over haul. I agreed with him.

“You deserve better than this. You deserve to have me back but you’re not ready yet. Yet.” He said.

He left into the rainy day like he was never here. Yet, I thought. At least there was a glimmer of hope in voice.

So, here I sit smoking and drinking coffee contemplating the conversation. I think I’ll pray on it and see what tomorrow brings. Meanwhile, I’ll be the best new Rich I can be today. Just for today.