tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81841817158606765372012-02-16T04:41:57.715-05:00Secrets of Aaron's closetJourney through the heart,mind and spirit of the gay black experience - told in the form of short storiesAaronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01885639206881062369noreply@blogger.comBlogger121100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8184181715860676537.post-26181410289090440252011-09-21T03:31:00.007-05:002011-09-21T04:23:49.371-05:00A bitter chance - Part sixNot a day passed without continual thoughts about my impending fate. It was like having the symptoms of a cold that was turning into the flu. The nights were the worse. Self inflicted night sweats. Stress induced paranoid dreams always about death. Short tempered, impatient. I was a total dick to tolerate. At work I was left alone. My boss put up with me because I was willing to work ungodly Aaronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01885639206881062369noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8184181715860676537.post-32958362243316867122010-12-29T06:25:00.005-05:002011-09-23T01:02:31.612-05:00A bitter chance - Part five
Debra’s condition had a profound effect on my life. I went into denial about the possibility of being positive. I was scared to get tested afraid it would not be good news. For years I resisted the idea. My personal loss to this disease has been nil, but I’ve heard the stories from my friend Craig about the deaths he endured back in the eighties.
Craig and I met at a peepshow five years ago. Aaronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01885639206881062369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8184181715860676537.post-40356602635097915322009-09-17T03:32:00.008-05:002011-09-23T00:59:47.065-05:00A bitter chance - Part four
I buried myself into work. Consumed a lot of coffee and junk foods to fuel my body by day and sleeping pills to knock me out at night. It soon took its toll on me. One night after forcing myself through another night of overtime: a persistent headache, scratchy throat and body aches. My boss insisted I go home to bed.
At the foot of the stairs to my apartment, I braced myself for the Aaronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01885639206881062369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8184181715860676537.post-12611698637708071232009-05-20T03:17:00.007-05:002011-09-23T00:43:29.967-05:00A bitter chance - Part three
The following days I was consumed with guilt, overwhelmed with betrayal of Debra for having her husband, yet at the same time unable to understand their lack of loyalty towards each other. My gut told me to end this with them both, but another part of me was enjoying the attention. Ridding myself of Derek would be a problem, and the consequences could be fatal. I was trapped.
Debra called me Aaronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01885639206881062369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8184181715860676537.post-46051494485085949002009-03-19T03:06:00.009-05:002011-09-23T00:26:33.315-05:00A bitter chance - Part two
Two days later I couldn’t get the ordeal out of my mind. I looked about nervously whenever in public, expecting him to pop up with that gun. The blinds of my apartment remained drawn. I parked a block away and would only enter and exit through a rear door of my building. I brought lunch to work, something I never do.
My co-workers noticed my anxiety and secretly commented to themselves with Aaronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01885639206881062369noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8184181715860676537.post-41749448288252277512009-03-18T04:56:00.007-05:002011-09-22T04:06:27.929-05:00A bitter chance - Part one The girl at the counter smiled at me as she handed me my coffee and my change. This was my Saturday morning ritual at Starbucks. I found an empty chair towards the back of the room so I could see everyone that came in.
Currently, there was no one that caught my eye. It was the usual bunch of students, corporate professionals, and would-be artists. There was a tall, attractive-looking, Aaronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01885639206881062369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8184181715860676537.post-81872346451396285312007-08-06T22:28:00.000-05:002010-08-31T09:26:06.967-05:00Jump!A ubiquitous presence exists up hereeverything falls downgravity’s rules are evidentA pigeon idly saunters on a ledge belowat first oblivious of me, but when known, continuesto idle onNo threat am I to it up hereBare feet; naked, dry between the toeswiggle free of a peevish antI gaze beyond the rooftops to the offingresting on a ship that fades to oblivionA sudden breeze stirs, and billows my Aaronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01885639206881062369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8184181715860676537.post-27249224164843425892007-04-16T22:24:00.005-05:002011-09-23T01:13:43.687-05:00No expectations
“How is your coffee?”
“It’s good.”
“ I told you.”
“Yeah, you were right. I usually get the chocolate Mocha Grande, but this is much sweeter”.
We lapsed into a moment of silence as he seemed to search for something to say. I looked him directly in the eye, but he quickly averted his gaze to a handsome young man that had just walked in. He looked back at me with a tinge of guilt in Aaronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01885639206881062369noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8184181715860676537.post-13078079878338930262007-03-07T02:14:00.013-05:002011-09-22T03:42:31.823-05:00Just another liar
I wondered why on a Friday night it was so difficult to find a station that played good dance music. I eventually settled on an old house music CD of various artists. I looked around and still no one had showed up. Two guys left the theater together probably going to someone’s home to fuck. They threw me a suspicious look, started their cars and left the parking lot.
I could smellAaronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01885639206881062369noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8184181715860676537.post-47332149420699634622007-03-05T06:18:00.007-05:002011-09-22T03:04:17.500-05:00T-mac
T-mac, was a brother I met at the bathhouse, Flexx, Labor Day weekend of 2003 in Atlanta. That night I was hanging out by myself, once again, due to poor planning on my part. I was alone, but not of my own choosing. All of my few friends were occupied that night. So, I ended up here.
The place was crowded with men from out of town. I did my rounds of the dimly lit rooms; going downstairs to Aaronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01885639206881062369noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8184181715860676537.post-70352067950705756862006-12-05T03:01:00.000-05:002007-03-08T01:50:30.390-05:00A few kind words can turn things aroundYesterday was a day that I craved to see the back of. It was filled with conflict brought on by another, and I allowed myself to swallow it...In fact the conflicts were multiple and they were consuming me inside to the point that focus on anything else was impossible.Then a simple email arrived.I opened it, and was overwhelmed by what I read.A friend of mine had read one of my stories and Aaronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01885639206881062369noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8184181715860676537.post-24285715689226339642006-12-02T01:30:00.002-05:002009-08-14T14:57:10.437-05:00Introduction to Aaron's world of the written wordWelcome to Aaron's closet. This blog is my attempt to get out of my own self imposed closet and that of societies. I am a writer in his infancy, and this blog is going to be my tool to hone my skills, to flex my writing muscle to shock, enthrall, disgust, inspire and maybe make you cry because you identify with what I am saying. Here is what I need from you: Your feedback on my stories. How did Aaronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01885639206881062369noreply@blogger.com2