Blog,flog,log

I been told that a common cure for writers' block is to just write a story of your own experience-no matter how mundane it may seem. The point is to exercise the memory, and in doing so enrich your sense of time and be able to more richly describe all things within your perspective. So here we go: nah-I'll have a cigarette first.

I hit puberty early. While most of the boys my age were still playing with G.I. Joe's , I began cultivating a mustache; something to rub while contemplating the sudden onset of emotional outbursts and the ever elusive mystery of the female form. My 5th grade teacher provided all the fuel for the fantasies that lingered between the sheets while laying awake, my mind racing with the surge of testosterone. She was quite the cougar-a friendly predator who placed me in the front of the class,while she sat opposite me on a stool, speaking to the class,and smiling at me knowingly as she adjusted her skirt so that I might sit fixated at the space inside her thighs-a private show in public school, in the midst of innocents who never got wise to the lesson of seduction between the lines of an outdated social studies curriculum.