The Artsy Girl – an Excerpt from my novel Yellow Socks

July 11, 2011

The Artsy Girl (as it originally appeared in Yellow Socks: Confessions of a Non-Don Juan)

 

Living with Terry and Morton was a blast. They were both in their early thirties and I was in my late twenties. We are all artists in one way or another and we were all on the prowl for the ladies as we clumsily tried to pick them up at coffee shops, AA meetings, bars, art shows and anywhere else we thought that we could find our type.

 

Our types varied. Terry was obsessed with finding a “Vampire chick” or a “Goth Chick’. Ironically he dressed kind of standard 1988 in 1995. He had that bob cut hair. It was kind of long on the sides and real short in the back. Morton was after the “Rocker Chick Slut” or the “New Age Hippie chick.” He usually dressed the part either wearing his new age outfit or his Rock star clothes. He had long black died hair. As for me, I stood by with my usual requirements: any good-looking girl that actually liked me. We rarely found what we were looking for after obsessing day and night about these fantasy girls we would never have. We had fun in our bonding of failures with the ladies.

 

We all lived in a house that Terry owned in a town on the outskirts of Camden, NJ. It was a poor neighborhood and was becoming racially mixed. It was mostly poor minorities and white trash. The chances of ever seeing hot chicks that fit our tastes were next to impossible.

 

Then she appeared. A young girl of maybe seventeen walked by our house every day around 5:30 pm. She dressed a little on the “alternative” side. It was around the end of the grunge years and that’s when the poor neighborhoods usually take over a style is when the middle class is done with it. Always a step behind. Kind of like us. So Terry nicknamed her the “Artsy Girl” because he says she dresses artsy. It was a style that was once artsy but not now. The three of us became obsessed with her. Everyday at 5:30 one of us would call to the others “Artsy Girl!” and we’d all come running to the kitchen window to see her.

 

“Artsy Girl!” I said.

 

“Where?” Terry said.

 

“I don’t see her. Did I miss her?” Morton said.

 

“Stop fucking with us, man. This is the highlight of our day. We don’t need to be teased.” Terry said.

 

“Sorry. I just think that it’s funny that we all start salivating the minute someone rings the Artsy Girl bell.” I said.

 

She was cute in her little flowered dresses and her Doc Martins. She had medium length reddish brown hair and pretty brown eyes.

 

One day I was walking home from the train and I ended up walking home with her. She didn’t acknowledge ever seeing me before. Thank God. She didn’t know what a letch I was. Her name was Megan. She just got out of High School. She was going to start working at the local convenience store. I was going to hit on her then I realized that she was just a regular little girl. That’s ok but not for me. When we got to my house I felt sadness in her eyes that I was going home without hitting on her or asking her for her phone number. After getting to know her the thrill of the “Artsy Girl” vanished. I realized that I am not the letch I thought. She was too young and too inexperienced in life.

 

I still fucked with the roommates though. I still gave them the mating call of the Artsy Girl. They still kept a running. I never felt the same again.

Purchase your copy of Yellow Socks; Confessions of a Non-Don Juan here.


The Crime Scene Jitters & Buy my Collectibles & Art

May 24, 2011

This is a big week for me. This coming weekend is a big deal. I’ll be participating in what could be an amazing event called the Crime Scene. http://www.thecrimescene.info/index.html

It’s put together by famous macabre artist and curator of the Last Dime Museum, Matthew Aaron, independent filmmaker of such classic documentaries as HH Holmes, Albert Fish and upcoming Carl Panzram and the internet true crime expert, John Borowski and owner of the greatest most popular serial killer website SERIAL KILLER CENTRAL  http://skcentral.com, Joe Hiles.

The three of them approached me months ago about performing along with my former partner, Ethan Urban (formerly known as the Julian Barrett), in the World Famous Crawlspace Brothers, a band that did acoustic songs about serial killers. It was a tough decision for me because I don’t have much of a steady income due to the little unemployment and my mental and physical disorders. Ethan needed to get off from job and couldn’t do it. They still wanted me.

I’ve been changing a lot through the years and I’ve become a recluse and slightly agoraphobic. My social outings and traveling have been limited for years now. I also was loosing interest in the serial killer thing as well. It was re-sparked when I re published my infamous Serial Killer Coloring Books http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/best-of-the-serial-killer-coloring-book/15707709 in one volume then I was interviewed by John Borowski for a film he was making about the serial killer culture.

Despite my renewed interest in the true crime subject I have sold most of my collectables in the past few months to survive. I lost any emotional attachments to the items anyway. It’s been a one day at a time living leading up to this weekend. May 28th, 2011. The Crime Scene.

Thanks to Matthew Aaron supporting my artistic efforts I am drawing fairly consistently for the first time in 10 years. We even worked together on a few drawings I did and I used one for the cover of my updated best of the Serial Killer Coloring Book.

Meanwhile, as the days go by, I am stressed and nervous about the travel and the event. I’m not worried about the performing. Never have been. It’s the surrounding events like flying, waiting, socializing and leaving the comforts of my home. The financial pressures have increased as well. I’m committed. I like the people I will be with for the event. I know there will be a lot of fun despite my fears, phobias, etc.

Now I am selling my art, my writings, my collectables and anything else I can do to raise money for all of the bills rushing on me after the weekend of killer fun.

Here’s some things I am selling. Buy. Make me a happy starving artist. Ha..

Email me at choppingmall@yahoo.com to make arrangements or with any questions.

LAWRENCE BITTAKER HAND MADE POP UP CARD ART-$75

Lawrence Sigmund Bittaker and Roy Lewis Norris are two American serial killers who together kidnapped, tortured, raped, and murdered five young women over a period of five months in California in 1979.

JEFFREY DAHMER 13 PAGE COURT PROCEEDINGS COPY $6

Jeffrey Lionel Dahmer (May 21, 1960 – November 28, 1994) was an American serial killer and sex offender. Dahmer murdered 17 men and boys – many of whom were of African or Asian descent – between 1978 and 1991, with the majority of the murders occurring between 1987 and 1991. His murders were particularly gruesome, involving rape, torture, dismemberment, necrophilia and cannibalism. On November 28, 1994, he was beaten to death by an inmate at the Columbia Correctional Institution, where he had been incarcerated.

RARE OTTIS TOOLE HAND WRITTEN LETTER INCLUDING HIS INFAMOUS BBQ SAUCE RECIPE HE CLAIMED TO USE IN EATING VICTIMS $85

Ottis Elwood Toole (March 5, 1947 – September 15, 1996) was an American serial killer and arsonist. He was an accomplice of convicted serial killer Henry Lee Lucas. Toole admitted to multiple counts of murder, rape, and cannibalism, and was the suspect in several unsolved murders. He recanted and restated a number of confessions. Toole was convicted of three counts of murder, and confessed to four more murder charges before dying in prison.

HARRISON GRAHAM ART $30

A mentally-retarded drug abuser, Harrison Graham was well-known in his Philadelphia ghetto neighborhood. Sometimes, he would amuse the local children with his “Cookie Monster” puppet; other times they found him digging graves — for dogs, he said — in nearby vacant lots. Apparently, no one suspected that his simple mind might hide a darker urge, compelling him toward homicide.

In early August 1987, Graham quarreled with his landlord’s nephew, afterward evacuating his apartment, nailing the door shut out of spite. Police were summoned on the afternoon of August 9, when neighbors filed complaints of a pervasive stench that emanated from the room. Inside, patrolmen found two strangled women’s bodies, three more skeletons beneath a mound of garbage on the floor, another tied up in the closet.

Graham had been living in the squalid hole since 1983, and he had not been idle. Officers began to search the neighborhood for Graham, house by house, while newsmen noted that the suspect’s dwelling stood a mere three miles from Gary Heidnik’s “house of horrors,” where another ghoulish scene had been discovered five months earlier. The roof of Graham’s building yielded skeletal remains of victim number seven, but initial warrants simply charged the missing suspect with abuse of corpses. Murder was not proven until August 11, when a medical examiner reported that the freshest victims had been strangled some time in the past ten days.

On August 14, another skull and partial skeleton were excavated from the dirt floor of a row house three doors down from Graham’s building. He surrendered two days later and confessed to seven murders since the winter months of 1986. According to his statement, Graham picked up female addicts on the street, enticing them with offers of a fix, and brought them home where they were murdered after sex. On August 26, psychiatrists declared that he was competent for trial.

In April 1988, dispensing with his right to trial by jury, Graham laid his case before a solitary judge. Convicted on seven counts of first-degree murder and seven counts of abusing a corpse, he was sentenced to life imprisonment, followed by six electrocutions. The unusual sentence — hailed by Graham’s lawyer as “compassionate and brilliant” — theoretically assures that he will never be paroled.

WILLIAM HEIRENS THE LIPSTICK KILLER SIGNED REJECTION LETTER $35

William George Heirens (born November 15, 1928[1]) is a convicted American serial killer who confessed to three murders in 1946. Heirens has been called The Lipstick Killer due to a notorious message scrawled in lipstick at a crime scene. He is reputedly the world’s longest serving prisoner, having thus far spent 64 years in prison.[2]

He is currently incarcerated at the Dixon Correctional Center medium security prison in Dixon, Illinois (Inmate No. C-06103). Though he remains imprisoned, Heirens has recanted his confession, and claimed to be a victim of coercive interrogation and police brutality.[3]

Fritz Lang directed his film While the City Sleeps based on the novel The Bloody Spur by Charles Einstein which depicts the story of Heirens.

RICHARD RAMIREZ SIGNED ENVELOPE $20 ASK ME ABOUT BUYING ACTUAL LETTERS

Richard Ramírez, also known as The Night Stalker (born as Ricardo Leyva Muñoz Ramírez; on February 28/29 1960[3][4]) is an American serial killer awaiting execution on California‘s death row at San Quentin State Prison. Prior to his arrest, the media dubbed the unknown serial killer active in Los Angeles, California, the “Night Stalker”. Following his arrest, sensationalist reporting of his apparent interest in the occult and Satanism was common.

DANNY ROLLING SIGNED ENVELOPE $25 ASK ME ABOUT BUYING FULL LETTERS

Daniel Harold Rolling (May 26, 1954 – October 25, 2006), also known as The Gainesville Ripper, was an American serial killer who murdered five students in Gainesville, Florida.

Rollings later confessed to raping several of his victims, committing an additional 1989 triple homicide in Shreveport, Louisiana, and attempting to murder his father in May 1990. In total, Rolling confessed to killing eight people.[1] He was executed by lethal injection in 2006.

RICH HILLEN JR ART FOR SALE

COLOR NUDE $25

EXPLODE IMPLODE $25

WOMAN DISTORTED $25

PANTYHOSE WOMAN $20

FEET AND ASS $20

STRIPPER 666 $35

STRIPPER COLLAGE $10

STRIPPER AND AUDIENCE -FRAMED -$35 UNFRAMED $25

CHECK OUT MORE ART FOR SALE ON MY FACEBOOK ART FOR SALE ALBUM

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150150441306048.282408.739831047

I ALSO DO COMMISSION WORK. CHECK OUT MY FACEBOOK COMMISSION ART ALBUM

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150181412341048.301601.739831047

I WORK CHEAP. HA..

FINALLY DON’T FORGET ABOUT MY NOVEL, YELLOW SOCKS AND BEST OF THE SERIAL KILLER COLORING BOOK ON LULU.

DRAWING BY RICH HILLEN JR AND COLORED AND FINISHED BY MATTHEW AARON



Live Book Reading from Yellow Socks Video

April 29, 2011

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


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


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.

 


More Excerpts from my Novel: Yellow Socks

September 10, 2010

My publisher, LuLu, is having a September sales contest and I am trying to win it so I get featured and promoted. It’s been tough promoting this by myself  tryng not to get on everyone’s nerves. Please spread the word and and help me win this contest. Hell, you might even enjoy the book. Oh yeah. They are offering an incentive by giving you 10% off your purchase if you enter the code ‘ AUTUMN ‘ at check out. Thanks.

Order Books Here.

Here’s an excerpt from Yellow Socks: Confessions of a Non-Don Juan:

Mom

I drifted in and out of contact with my natural Mother my whole life. My Mother had disappeared for years and eventually turned up living in Germantown PA. Outside of Philadelphia living with a black couple named Sam and Sondra.

As it turned out, during her last disappearance she was living on the streets of Williamstown, NJ. She was homeless. Sam found her while he was running the Williamstown Community Center. He helped get her cleaned up, medicated and put her up in a motel. He was a friend with everyone in the community including the Mayor and a motel owner so Mom was taken care of. He even put her to work in the Community Center cleaning.

After months of getting to know my Mom, Sam took a strong liking to her. He thought it’d be better for her to move in with him and his wife so in she moved. Germantown, PA. Sam was also responsible for getting Mom back in touch with the family,

Every so often I’d visit her. The first time was with Rebecca, my Aunt and Uncle and Cousin for a Christmas dinner. Sam and Sondra were there and so were their daughter and grandson and Tonya’s brother. The family was delightful. The food was delicious. It was the first time I ever tasted soul food. They served catfish, collard greens, lima beans (which I normally hate) and black-eyed peas. It was much easier to deal with Mom with the people and food as a distraction.

Some of my visits were by bus. Some by cab. Sometimes I would bring a friend or girlfriend. I usually arrived hours later than I promised and stayed as little as possible. As I’ve said before, when I don’t want to deal with something or a conversation I get very tired almost to the point of narcolepsy. I would make an excuse to leave as quickly as possible when this would happen.

After I stopped drinking the end of 1991 I started visiting my real mother every Christmas. Easter was at my “adopted” parents. Thanksgiving was at my real Dad’s house. I visited her every Christmas from 1991 until She died in 2000.

I spent time with her on every Christmas day for almost ten years. I was definitely no the ideal son but then again she wasn’t the ideal Mother. Every year I would get very ill. There was always some kind of cold or virus going around. I’m sure my subconscious desires to avoid my mother entirely helped my sickness deepen.

So every Christmas eve I kept myself busy and usually stayed up all night. I would wake up late on Christmas day and put off the visit as long as I could. She became a family member to Sam and Sondra and I always felt welcome at their house. They loved her like a sister. Sam and Sondra treated me like family as well. An outsider would wonder why I get so reluctant and stressed out over the visit when everyone is so nice. My mother has been a certifiable nut since I was eight years old so I didn’t want to deal with the guilt, the anger, the sadness, and the hatred.


%d bloggers like this: