I’m (un)Bored

I have forgotten how to feel bored.

With the endless source of entertainment at my fingertips, on my TV, and even on this thing that I’m currently typing on, it’s become nearly impossible to feel it. And we’re not doing anything creative with that lack of boredom. We’re just filling up the voids in conversation with minor chuckles to memes.

I typed the original draft of this post early in the day. A frenzy sort of typing because the temptation to check Twitter raged on. Even now, I combat the urge to open TikTok. Or see if anyone of my subscribed YouTubers have posted something creepy or interesting.

Boredom led me to writing. Led me to reading. A fraction of which is done on a screen. It’s why I chose something simple like a Kindle Paperwhite rather than the Kindle Fire. None of those flashy apps to rob my attention away. However, with a Kindle Unlimited subscription, other problems arise.

What’s worse: Owning several books and not finding anything to read, or having this unlimited number of stories at my fingertips and still not finding something to read. And don’t get me started on the amount of books priced under $5.

I tried writing something every day since COVID-19 has taken over the world. With nothing else to do, it seemed the most reasonable. But every time I start, it’s backspaced into oblivion. (Writing to complain about not being able to write is still writing, right? The mental gymnastics on that thought. I would have won the gold trying to suss that out.)

I’m off work for a week. I still get paid, which is more than I can say for others right now. Several people are out of work as business shutter their doors until further notice, leaving workers furloughed—which is something I still don’t quite understand, so let me take a break from my typing to look it up on the dictionary app on my phone.

Once upon a time, I wrote long hand on a whim. I crafted stories out blank pages with a phrase like shoulder meat echoing through my head. I wrote about people I passed on the streets, in hallways, at stores. People I’ve never met. I wrote about the world outside my window, something impossible considering the artificial night constructed within my bedroom.

Boredom led me to clean, which my bedroom desperately needs. It led me to explore things in my own thoughts. Draft characters. Create scenes. Influenced my wildest imaginations because I’d rather be there than whatever dull situations I found myself. I explored the horror, the beautiful, and the grotesque.

But every Super Mario coin chime robs me away from that. Every notification telling me so-and-so liked my Instagram picture or you-got-mail or my favorite creator just posted a new video plunges me deeper into a state of un-boredom. Where my thoughts aren’t being preoccupied with figuring out a solution to a problem, drafting dialogue. A state that leaves my thirst for attention unsated.


“Sommes nous les jouets du destin”

Femme Fatale edited by Lana Fox (cover)
Exhibit A: Femme Fatale

Go Deeper Press invited yours truly to read (and review, of course) Femme Fatale (edited by the kinky divorcée herself, Lana Fox*). And it’s Lana’s story, “Smart Folks Won’t Screw Witless Girls,” that’s stuck with me.

Now, it’s no secret I don’t consider myself a straight man. I curve at the edges, if you will. Mental sexual. Whatever you want to label, I’m all right with (mostly because, at the end of the day, I don’t give two shits what you call me). So what’s so special about Lana’s story? You gotta read it, I’m afraid.

A few months ago, I had an idea about creating an alter ego who wrote bad erotica. As there seems to be a market for it, anyway. (Not that Femme Fatale is bad erotica. It’s pretty good shit, here. Like the pineapple express of erotica.) Still, I’ve mentioned my run in with bad writing (and not just erotica) that I pick up for Kindle free via Smashwords or Amazon. Poor story lines, clichés, editing mistakes, etc. Makes a guy want to throw a business card (if I had any) at them and offer my editing services. I know what you’re thinking, “Please. There are so many grammatical mistakes in your blog posts, how can you possibly offer such services?” It’s easier to see others’ mistakes than your own.

Or maybe you’re one of those people who thinks that I’m jealous that I lack the skill that they have. To that, I ask, what skill? “So if you can do it, why not?” Well, that’s the plan. With said alter ego, I’m going to write some pretty shitty things and see who takes the bait. And this isn’t a one man operation. My co-workers are helping. So stay tuned for that.

While we’re on topic, I’ve halted all research on my sex club influenced story. The storyline became muddled with a murder mystery plot (even though I aimed for that direction). Or maybe I’ve become jaded towards sex. Or I haven’t watched or read enough porn to get this story off. I have scenes in my head, but they all feel a tad cliché. I want something new and fresh. What I need is a muse. Someone who can bring my creative self to the surface. Or I need to go out there and live a little. Either way, this dry spell is quite knackering.

*I’m using the title to refer to her book. I don’t know Lana Fox personally, so don’t go around quoting me that she’s a divorcée. There isn’t a doubt in my mind, however about her kinkiness.



Fifty Shades of Funny

via Red Bubble

Have I mentioned how much I hated Fifty Shades of Grey? How I find that it bastardized the erotica genre with its poorly written passages and introducing the worse narrator I’ve ever met? It made Twelve read like Hemingway. Yet somehow the mass majority of people were tricked into thinking they were reading something authentic. Even worse, it spawned a plethora of copy cats and parodies, all of which I avoided like the plague (cliche much? Yeah, well, I’m not gonna give you anything but cliches when I’m talking about a book that is a cliche). That was  until I found Fifty Shades of Red Riding Hood.

While the story is poorly written, it’s supposed to be like that. So rather than correcting the sentences and passages I’m choosing to quote here, I’m probably not even going to make any comment on them. Just enjoy the show, kay?

Jeez – I really needed some discipline in my life… […] He was strong, bipedal and covered in thick fir [sic], which was made up of many different shades of grey.


My heart almost suffocated me because it leapt up and got struck in a nostril, but fortunately, I had two nostrils so managed to maintain a clear airway and didn’t die.

One important thing to remember when you purposely write badly is to always come up with the worse images imaginable. Metaphors and similes are equally important as you’ll see later on.

‘Wait!’ said the deep, gruff voice, which was like nutty chocolate fudge or something.

See what I mean? Later, R.R. Hood recalls this poorly choice of words by stating, “I couldn’t say ‘no’ to that voice – that nutty-chocolate-fudge-or-something voice.

This is later followed by, “It was like sitting on top of a ferocious washing machine or something,” and “I knew that I wasn’t in mortal danger yet my stomach spun, like being on a rapidly rising roller coaster or something.” The short story is filled with zingers like this, by the way.

  • “I felt my juices flowing once again, adding to those earlier juices to form a lady juice cocktail.”
  • “I blushed as he slowly exposed more of my soft, pink bootie, which was a silky like a peach encase in rose petals.”

At first, I thought I had wet myself, but then I remembered about natural female lubricants and realised that I must be what they call ‘horny’. Oh my! What excitement!

The author jabs at the virginal fact, which is the undertone of the first Fifty Shades book (at least in the first five or six chapters, which is how far I got before I deleted it from my Kindle and damned people for helping this rubbish make it to the best seller list).

Other quotes that fall under this are:

  • “I was just a wide-eyed virgin mathematician! Jeez!”
  • “No man had ever looked at me naked before and now a man was to look at that little private bead that I myself had never seen.”
  • “I slipped out of my white shirt, revealing my soft, pert, pink, virginal breasts.”
  • “…my tight virginal hoo-ha.”
  • “I had never seen a penis of such impressive proportions, or indeed, any penis at all, (so you had to wonder where I got my baseline from.)”
  • “‘I want you to lick my delicate jewels and then put your impressive length inside my tight, virginal vagina,’ I breathed.”

‘It’s just I…’ he stuttered, ‘I… have rather specific… er… tastes.’

One of the many things I hated about Fifty Shades of Grey is the bad dialogue. Who talks like that? Of course, no parody can go without poking fun at this major flaw.

  • “‘I was expecting some… some… well, I don’t really have the experiences to express what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.'”
  • “‘Because I’m fifty shades of lonely, Red Riding Hood!'”
  • “‘Noooooooooooooooo!’ I cried, running as fast as my long, slender and naked legs could carry me, across the impeccable clearing. ‘No! Nooooo! Noooooooooooooooooooooo!'”
  • “Maybe he was about to pleasure me with his impressive length… ‘Are you going to pleasure me with your impressive length?’ I asked.”
  • “He appeared to be writing something. What could he possibly be writing at a time like this? ‘What could you possibly be writing at a time like this?’ I asked.”

My inner goddess did the cancan, hopscotch and an interpretive dance.

The inner goddess shit was a constant thorn in the reader’s side. Why not over use it in a parody?

  • “My inner goddess downed a tequila.”
  • “My inner goddess fired a gun into her temple.”
  • “My inner goddess lit a sparkler or something.”

What sort of perverse beast uses sex to lure a woman into a game of table tennis?

The old bait and switch. That’s what Fifty Shades of Grey really is. You’re promised one thing and receive shit. So why not make the entire parody an elaborate bait and switch for the main character?

I don’t read many parodies – though, a lot of what I read could pass as such – but this one takes the cake.


Doldrums · Writing & Writers

Drawing a blank




It’s almost Thanksgiving, though WordPress suggests otherwise. I’ve compiled my list of what I hoping to/planning on/am considering reading. If you’re interested in finding out which religious texts I’ve planned to read, you can check out the list here. While you’re there, you can also read how I’ve come to terms my wanting an Amazon Kindle.

I took over Word Sex – a blog over at Tumblr – again. I created it some time last year but pretty much petered out with keeping up with the posts. Handed it over to someone who then handed it over back to me and now I’ve revamped it. It’s still not interesting, but at least it’s getting me doing research, even if that research isn’t being put to good use. For the most part, the blog is work safe. I’m doing my best to stray away from NSFW material, though some of the link backs might be a little risqué. The blog’s focus is – if you couldn’t tell – sex. Not pornography – though the subject will/does come up if it’s in the news, or is a part of a scientific/psychological/sociological etc. study. It’s also a home of erotic literature, and I’m hoping that the community – those who follow the blog – will contribute their own stories/fantasies.

Before departing, I’m going to go ahead and post the William S. Burroughs classic. It’s a treat for Thanksgiving:


Amazon teases with Kindle for BlackBerry

Amazon Kindle for BlackBerry brings my hopes crashing down

I’m not going to lie to you – I brimmed with excitement when I saw the banner on Amazon yesterday. I was more than excited. Amazon had just won me over; I was seconds from selling my soul to the digital devil. Then I found out the horrible news. Listed under their supported devices were the BlackBerry Curve 8520 and 8900. Nowhere in site, the BlackBerry 8530. Well, there goes my soul selling.

Maybe Barnes & Noble Nook will hear my cries

Patiently, I will wait. Hoping that something good will come my way. Maybe it’ll never happen, or maybe Barnes & Noble will hear my cries and create a Nook application for a BlackBerry Curve 8530. We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?