Writer's Block

A collection of writings, thoughts, experiences and art from multiple points of view. Each post is signed by its creator. Please feel free to reach out and tell us what you think. All feedback is good feedback.

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How can I move forward, when I don't know which way is up?

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The Better Generation

The fun and joy of seeing your best friend every day and talking to them in elementary school. Getting dirty in art or gym class. The pressure and awkwardness of high school. The torment of seniors. Worrying about what you’d say to the cute guy in geometry. Wouldn’t it be great if those were still your biggest worries today? The sad truth is that these aren’t even the biggest worries for our children today.

Unfortunately, Some places are trying to arm teachers to combat the slew of mass shootings. There is no official count, because of laws restricting the CDC from keeping statistics on shootings, but best estimates are anywhere between 40 and 60 mass shootings on school premises in 2015. Nearly one a week. All while our children are expected to learn and grow. Nurture their young, curious minds. Not the optimum learning conditions.

Trying to find love while attending classes is even harder now than it used to be too. When I was young, I’d write a poem or talk on the phone for hours with a girl I liked. Today, there’s multiple different kinds of social media and apps that can help, but also get you in a lot of trouble. One young boy in Louisiana, who is a 3 sport athlete and does well in school, is facing serious charges of contributing to the delinquency of a juvenile and possession of child pornography. This boy, 17, is being charged because he sent an inappropriate video to a girl,16, after receiving one from her. If convicted, and possibly even if not, he will have his life ruined because of these charges. After doing nothing more than what most of us did in person with someone we liked as teenagers. But because there is digital proof of it, he may be labeled a sex offender for life.

Even the thing that some of us hated or feared the most has changed dramatically. Bullying. It would usually stay “inside the school” with shoving in the halls, name calling and other forms of mental and physical torture. Not anymore. With advancements in the internet and cell phones, “cyber-bullying” is very real. And it happens in a lot of different ways. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat. The list goes on. More than 80% of teens say that it has damaged their self-esteem. And 30% turn to self-harming as a way of coping, while 10% try and end it completely. Not knowing that it eventually gets better.

So why tell you all the horrors and messes that kids face today? Well, I keep hearing people complaining about this generation. How the their generation had it harder because of this or that. And I find myself asking, why? Because we all have trials and tribulations to go through. But I personally feel optimistic about this generation. The generation learning to code. Learning algebra in elementary school. The ones that can put up with all that I’ve listed here today and still come up with incredible and inventive ways of how to detect cancer as a science fair project or just new ways to have fun. I write this in hopes that I not only inform you but inspire you to keep an open mind and be hopeful because we’ve had some great generations, but I personally believe no generation is “the greatest.” It’s always about trying to be better than the one before.

By Richard Saunders

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The United States of America Has Reached it’s Peak.

I’ll admit it here. For all of you to know. Out in the open. I used to watch “The Biggest Loser.” Yes. That’s right. I said it. But I also used to have a heifer of a girlfriend at the time who always talked about going on the show and actually went to one of those auditions that they hold. But that’s besides the point. The point is that I used to watch the show, and for anyone else that used to (or that really has tried to loose any significant weight at all in their lives) they know that they eventually will hit that dreaded “plateau.” Where the weight just won’t come off anymore, no matter how hard you work out or diet or run or whatever. It still just stays about the same. Sometimes just coming back. Well, that’s where the U.S. is right now.

We used to be a nation of innovation, invention and manufacturing. Dating back to our nation’s birth with Benjamin Franklin. The man behind the invention of electricity (obviously a joke.) But who really did build the first hospital, invent the bifocals and the Franklin Stove. One man who did all three. Innovated, invented and manufactured. And this tradition just seem to keep growing all the way up into the Industrial Age with railroads, oil, automobiles, the harnessing of (and fight) over electricity, and so on and so on. Then, all of a sudden it seemed, the mighty ship S.S. Ingenuity just slipped into neutral. Without warning. Now, I can’t tell you when this exactly happened, but I can at least tell you why.

Somewhere along the way, while the blue collars were in the factories/warehouses/docks, working hard to feed their family for the week, the white collars were worrying about how to keep the money coming and safe. Not tomorrow. Not even next month. Just keep it. Nothing wrong with that, right? Work smart, not hard is what I say. Except, what the white collars did was change the rules. Change the laws to benefit companies more than they benefit the worker. The same worker who got them the money. The same worker that has less rights and regulations helping them then the corporations that they work for.

Corporations have sent lobbyist to local, state and federal levels to advocate on their behalf. Rarely do the corporations and the workers needs align when they do this. Sometimes donating heavily to elected officials campaigns to get what they want. And when they found out they couldn’t donate enough to influence elected officials anymore, they worked to rig the system so that way corporations can be deemed “a person” as well. Now they can spend as much as they want and influence as many as they want. And it there doesn’t seem to be any limit or restriction helping the blue collars anymore.

Justice is blind. We all know that. But even she can feel which side of that scale she’s holding is heavier. On one side we have all the blue collar, hard working, good hearted American citizens who really do believe in each other, if not our government, and want desperately want democracy to work. And on the other side you have fat stack after fat stack after fat stack after fat stack……When you are up against those odds, even Justice will tend to peek from underneath that blindfold and that’s when this country doesn’t work anymore. America becomes nothing more than the worlds largest industrial business park pumping out money to pay off politicians and special interest groups so they can make money laws to make it easier to make more money to pay them. And all the while, no more mention of blue collar. Invention, innovation or manufacturing. Just a lot of “pay to stay.”

By Richard Saunders

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Hoplesshomosapien

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BDSM. The New Therapy. Pt 2.

There was another sub that I used “play” with and “teach.” Like the one before, she had an eagerness to learn. She was always very willing and wanted to just please. But almost too much. Something I had picked up on real quick. But not just please me or in the bedroom, I had noticed that she lacked self esteem and self confidence, so she would let just about anybody push her around so that way she was liked. Or, so she thought she was liked. She would tell me stories of how her employer would call her names and literally throw trash at her. How her younger sister would swear at her and just take her car without asking. It seemed as if she was using our sessions as a way to escape that reality. But I didn’t just want to give her a place to escape. I wanted her to become better. Because something I had always believed is that I want to leave someone better than when I met them. Whether it’s just their mood or their lives. So I did my best to reinforce into her that she’s the only one that can allow someone to hurt her. Like when she would allow me to hurt her in bed, i explained to her, that she wouldn’t just let the cashier at Wal-Mart do that to her on the counter, would she? No. So if she didn’t want her boss or her sister hurting her or mistreating her, than she had to say something. To stand up for herself. And by doing so, she would gain the confidence in herself. In which she did exactly that.

I can go through a list of examples very similar to the ones I’ve just listed here. Ones where I’ve actually been a “Dom” to these women or ones where I’ve just been an “experienced voice” for when they have questions when they’re just starting to dive into it with their boyfriend, respark a marriage or whatever the case may be. But each time, I’ve gladly helped them.

There’s a lot of news, shows and VERY frustrating movies that depict the community as pervy, creepy, all together messed up in the head or lives and not aligning with societal norms. But the real truth is, people in the BDSM community have far less marriage problems, communication problems and mental health problems. Now, I’ve been in it for a long time, the majority, not all but the majority, are a lot like me. We view sex as any other thing we love and enjoy. (i.e.food, cars, video games, clothing...etc.)  We want to get creative with it. We also want to help others in our community. And most of all, we all just want to have fun.

By Sir

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BDSM. The New Therapy. Pt. 1

I have a few hobbies and joys in life. But there are really two that sincerely give me more pleasure than most anything else. Helping others.....and kinky sex. Yeah. Not where you thought that was going, huh? Well, it’s not exactly like I formulated my life to these specific hobbies or interests. It’s just what gives me the most pleasure. And strangely, I even found a way to mix the two on occasion.

I consider myself a well experienced “Daddy/Dom.” Someone who can direct and protect someone through the sometimes “shady” avenues of the BDSM community. But while doing so, I’ve found myself not only helping young or inexperienced “subs” or “littles” with basic BDSM questions and queries, but helping them with their own problems and insecurities as well.

One sub I had was so cautiously curious about the community. Timid at first. But still wanting to learn and experience everything about it. Except one thing. Anal. She was up for a whole list of things which I thought were way more “taboo”, but anal sex seemed to be completely off the table. But I just didn’t know why. After earning her trust, I asked why it seemed that one area was completely off limits. She let me know that a previous boyfriend she had experimented in BDSM with before, had told her because she was “the submissive” and he was “the Dom” that she had to do what he said and she didn’t have a choice and he would proceed to anally rape her. I absolutely felt heartbroken for this girl. And rage for this “Dum”. (That’s what I like to call fake “Doms”.) But after building more trust, and demonstrating to her what a caring, mutal relationship is like, she was voluntarily more open to the idea again. Slowly, I worked her up to it. Rubbing. Than a finger inside. She had mental scars and blocks still in place obviously. But she wanted to overcome them. Until eventually, one day, we went for it. About two minutes in I could hear her start to crack. A soft whimper. I grabbed her from behind, wrapped my arms around her, and told her “You’re alright. I’m here.” She said afterwards that that reassurance made everything better at just the right time.

By Sir

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Hopelesshomosapien

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Why?

I like Guns. You do not like guns. I do not hold your opinion against you. I do not mandate or demand you own a gun to exercise your right to bear Arms. I would never infringe your natural right to decision nor would I support any individual or group that would try this. I would never assault or endanger you with my weapons unprovoked. I would never devalue your opinion or views so long as they’re based on fact, experience and/or legitimate concern.

So, Why? Why am I made to feel as though my passion is a problem? Why is my infatuation with the feeling of recoil dangerous? Why is not okay that I love the reverb and crack of gunpowder exploding and leaving a barrel? Why can’t I enjoy the technological advancements and simple mechanics of a firearm in peace? Why is it easier to hide my obsession from the world rather than embrace it and shout it from the rooftops?

I’ll tell you why. Because you’re scared. And the last thing in life I’ve ever wanted to be was a bully. So I hide my passions and the best parts of me from you so you can be free to feel.

But Why?

Hoplesshomosapien

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Hoplesshomosapien

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Listen.

He was sitting down, staring off into nothing while the rain poured down around him.  At least, it looked like he was staring, but his eyes were blank.  Instead, he was listening.  Not to the rain, anyone could listen to the rain.  He was listening to the silence inside the rain.  The lack of any audio between each drop.  If you listened as hard as you could you might be able to hear a fraction of what he was listening to.  It was the tiny lull after the impact of each raindrop striking its target.  Even in this downpour, the silence was deafening to him.  

He listened to the silence because no one else could.  This silence was his and his alone.  It was a blatant secret that no one bothered paying attention to.  He dared not move, he didn't want to ruin something so quietly beautiful.  He knew no one could take this silence from him, no matter how loud they were.  No matter how much they tried to disrupt this silence.  It was peaceful to him, so he sat there in the pouring rain, staring at nothing.  And he listened.

-James Williams

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Why I can’t be Catholic Anymore.

There’s 3 things everyone knows to be true about the Irish. They love their drink. They have a temper. And they’re raised in a Catholic household. For me, all of these were true. And as a grown man, I still love my Irish whisky. I do have a temper. Although it is far more controlled than when I was a younger man. But as far as the still being a devote Catholic, well to steal a joke from comedian Sean Rouse, the first adult decision I made when I was confirmed to be an adult in the eyes of God was to stop going to church.

I’ve always been a curious boy. One who loves to ask questions because I want to learn why and how. For no other reason but to learn. Be informed. But the thing I learned most from CCD classes (which are basically like Sunday school, but during the week) and actual masses is that the answer that is most commonly given was either “It’s God’s will” or “That’s just the way it is.” Which is just a heavenly version of “Because I said said so.” And what kid was ever satisfied with that answer growing up? I know that just used to make me even more frustrated when my mom would say it about not getting ice cream for dinner. Imagine the irritation when I’d ask why God killed the dinosaurs. 

As I grew up and came into my teens, I became more aware of the things outside girls, video games and my circle of friends. Like why everyone was always making lame and tired jokes about my priest maybe being too close with me because I was an alter boy for a couple years. Only then was I starting to find out that this was an actual thing the Catholic church was trying to sweep under the rug. Thankfully it never happened to me and I had a hard nosed, no bullshit priest who was an incredible man. But to think that churches around the country were going through this. It was happening to loyal parishioner”s children and their neighbors children and the Church had the gall to pass the plate around each week and still ask them for the little money they had and tell them to confess their sins of using the Lords name in vain or accepting their gay son or they’d go to hell. These plus many more is why I could just never go back to Catholicism. 

My much younger sister looks up to me like a father figure since her father isn’t much in the picture these days. And for whatever reason, she trusts me. So she’s been asking me many questions about her own search for answers in the journey for faith. Which one is right? Why does this believe in this and that one doesn’t? And I answer them to the the best of my ability. Because I sure as hell don’t know which one is the right one. I doubt there is “a right one.” I tell her what I would tell anyone who has a crisis of faith and just wants to believe in something. Do your research. Ask questions. Get answers to your liking. And if it quenches that thirst in your soul, than it’s probably right. For you.

By Richard Saunders

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Night at the Ballet

Shane flips through the pages of a Maxim magazine. Barely able to make out the fine print under the humming fluorescent bulbs of the street kiosk. “You gonna read it or buy it?!” the vendor exclaims. Shane looks up. What the vendor doesn’t know is Shane was only using the magazine to duck out of sight from Megan. The woman across the street. Shane sees Megan, and sees that the coast is clear and she’s on the move. He gives a little smirk to the vendor and puts the magazine back while the vendor grumbles something at him in another language. Continuing to follow Megan from the other side of the street as she walks home from teaching a late ballet class, he does his best to stay back, and in the shadows. Hood up. Head down.

Megan starts to turn down an alley. Shane knows her route. He knows where she’s going to turn. This isn’t the first time he’s followed her. Every time before his heart has raced, but this time is different. Tonight seems darker. Or maybe it’s just his thoughts. As Megan turns down the alley, Shane leaps into the street. Barely looking to see if there’s any traffic. Lucky for him, this time of night only the creeps are out.

Megan is halfway down the alley. Shane picks up his pace. As fast as he can without startling her. Getting close enough to smell the mix of sweat and baby powder from her tights now. Heart pounding louder than his footsteps it feels like. Shane gets right up behind her. Takes one big inhale of her hair, and that’s was enough to calm him for what he wants to do. With one quick motion, Shane wraps his hand around her mouth from behind, takes both of her arms behind her back and pins her against the wall. Shane can feel Megan trying to scream and gasp, but with no luck. Shane’s been preparing for this for too long. Wanting, waiting and watching. He’s not about to let this slip through his fingers over a silly scream.

Shane leans over to Megan’s ear, draped with her messy blonde hair, and whispers “If you do what I say, it will hurt less. If you don’t, it’ll hurt a lot more. Either way, it’s going to happen.” Those words immediately made Megan whimper even more. Shane lets Megan’s hands go. Her hands just drop to her side. Showing that she’s going to comply to Shane’s demands. Something that Shane is eagerly going to take full advantage of. He then starts to reach his now free hand on the inside of her left thigh. Slowly moving his hand upwards, he can start to feel the heat emanating from between her legs. Being careful not to tease Megan too much, Shane just grazes over her plump inner lips and grabs a handful of her tight dancer ass. Making Megan jump. But not scream. And now that Shane knows he has Megan’s full attention, he rips a giant tear in her leotard. Just at the right place. Nearly all of Megan’s perfectly shaped butt is accessible, and since Shane has her shoved face first against a wall, those plump inner lips he felt before are now peaking through. 

Seeing this, Shane can no longer wait and immediately unzips his pants. A sound Megan can recognize instantly. Even though there is a chill in the night air, Shane has absolutely no problem getting hard. Especially since he can smell Megan being so close. Feel her breathing heavy. And the feel of her skin on his skin. Without being able to control his instincts further, he slides himself inside of her from behind. Something that would feel euphoric, but on a cool night like tonight, is nearly indescribable. The very second Shane entered Megan, Shane let go of her mouth and wrapped his hand around her throat. Megan let out her first audible gasp. But this one Shane allowed. Because he wanted to hear her. He wanted to know what she sounded like as she was being used.

As Shane’s grip on Megan’s neck grew tighter, so did Megan. Never enough to make Megan pass out though. Just subdue her. So that way his other free hand was able to spread her ass so he could go deeper and deeper. And as he did, Megan seemed to get wetter and wetter. Which made Shane go faster and faster. Until, the hunt, the excitement, the danger and chase was all too much for him. Shane quickly pulled out and spun a dazed, disorientated, and disheveled Megan around and pushed her down to her knees. With a glazed look over her face and hair all a mess, she looked up at Shane, just in time for him to finish right on her. Closing her eyes just in time and opening her mouth not to catch it but just in shock of realizing everything that had just happened to her.

As Shane quickly zipped up his pants, he patted Megan on the head and said “Thanks for the good time.” and started to walk away with the strut of a satisfied man. Just then, behind him he heard Megan respond “You’re welcome honey. And don’t forget to pickup some snacks on your way home tonight. I’ve worked up an appetite now. I may want a second round.” Shane looked back with a proud grin on his face, already thinking of where to corner her next.

By Sir

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I’m Not Racist, But.....

I was watching a pretty good show recently called “The Detour.” It has former correspondents of “The Daily Show”, Jason Jones and Samantha Bee, as creators and producers. A lot of the episodes are based loosely on their misadventures in parenting. But there was one episode in particular that made me look up from my half drunk whisky glass and really think over the next couple days. And it was one where they referenced what an “imperfection or weakness in armor” is called. And for those who don’t know, it’s called a chink. Yes. A chink. With out explaining the full episode (trust me, just watch it, it’s hilarious) one of the characters brings up a good point. The word racist is thrown around WAY too much now a days. And when it’s used the burden of evidence shifts from the accuser to the accused. Without reason.

Now, there are plenty of people who do deserve that title. I can think of a few, but I believe I’ve made my posts controversial enough. For now. But I also believe that there are more people who are just, at times, culturally insensitive. Myself included. Obviously not to the point where I’m standing in a field only illuminated by a burning cross with a white sheet over my head. But I know I’ve said or thought the typical stereotypes of other cultures. Just like probably everyone reading this now. And just like most people, you wouldn’t consider yourself racist. Because a racist is person who inherently believes that they are superior to other races. And I never thought that for a second. 

So how do we fix it? How do we stop it? How do we become a more “culturally sensitive” society? Hell if I know. I’m just a writer. And a mediocre one at that. But I think it has something to do with something most of us are taught as children that we tend to forget. Something that a lot of us tend to forget while interacting with other people that really could help. 

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

By Richard Saunders

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Hoplesshomosapien

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Hoplesshomosapien

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Hoplesshomosapien

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Hoplesshomosapien