The Bright Sunny Day

He lies there shivering on the soft grass covering the hard ground on this bright sunny day. If he could concentrate on the world around him, he might find some humor in that incongruity, but the outside world does not exist for him. All that exists is his pain…and his need.

On this pleasant day of early afternoon sun, of mild temperature and soft breeze, his is a world of gnawing ache and uncontrolled trembling. He holds himself tightly trying to comfort himself like an old friend, as the sweat pours down his face, drips from his oily hair, pools in the hollow of his neck. His clothes are so drenched with his bodily secretions that they stick to him in odd ways, like insects trapped and dying on brown curls of flypaper.

His head throbs, pounding like a jack hammer, so much so that his only relief, his only solace is the pauses between throbs, when the pounding doesn’t feel like it will crush his brain and splatter it against the inside of his skull. The rest of his body is a mass of contradictions: it seems all he is aches in unison, a glorious orgy of pain and suffering, but he can feel the goose pimples dotting his arms and feels the cold numbness grabbing at his fingers, toes and cock.

The thought comes to him: if he lives through this day, will he ever have sex again, or is something fundamental to his manliness being broken? For the first time in hours he laughs, for the answer is a startling, “Who cares?” Sexual gratification is not his addiction, not today anyway.

That’s not what he wants. Damn him, that’s not what he needs, not why he aches in this self-made hell.

When he had started, they all told him this day would come. Somehow, he thought it would be easier. He lies there shivering on the soft grass covering the hard ground on this bright sunny day.


Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.

Panel Love

For a few years I did a blog called DC Comics 40 Years Ago, which displayed what comics you could buy from DC 40 years ago. As much as I would love to get back to doing that blog on a regular basis, it is just not in the cards right now. I am spending most of my free time in pursuits artistic. Almost every Sunday you can find me at William Stout's studio, where I join a collection of some of the nicest people you could ever want to meet, in the joys of drawing the naked female form. Back at my own studio I have been painting regularly for a bit now, in either pastels, acrylics or watercolors. I've also been toying with the idea of doing an online comic, though nothing has jelled in that department as of yet. You can find some of my artwork on my website, @ Source.

But I like to write. I have recently started updating this blog once again, am working on a novel and a couple other ideas. But I love comic books and I did so enjoy doing the DC 40 Years Ago blog; it was just the ever-present deadlines that took the fun away. So, I have started a new blog, one with no deadlines. In it I will revisit some of my favorite comic books, not just from DC, but from any publisher. Most of it will be new, but some of it will consist of repurposed and reedited entries from DC 40 Years Ago . It is called Panel Love and is just in its infancy. If you  have even a passing interest in comics, I think you will like Panel Love. It is just me, my opinions and some of the greatest comic books of all time.

It's Over!

I feel really old and out of it when I see a photo of a couple on the Internet with the headline "It's Over!" and I have no idea who either person is

Then There's Maude

Sometimes the gods look down upon you with something less than loathing and give you a gift. Sunday they gave me Maude and an amazing 25-minute pose of her remarkable backside. Backsides like Maude's are the reason we heap tributes to the gods. Girault pastels on a La Carte Pastel Card. Painted January 5, 2014.

Bowie

 

My son informed me last night that our family dog, Bowie, had to be put to sleep earlier this week and so my heart is filled with sadness for the loss of just a sweet little soul.

Bowie was a rescue dog and when we got him he was funny looking, having been completely shaved at the pound. I called him a "coiled python" because his big neck was solid muscle. At the pound they had called him Elvis, because he sang (howled) all the time. We knew he was a crooner, but my wife didn't want to keep the Elvis name, so we looked for others. I wanted to call him Torme, but my wife would not have it. Finally we settled on Bowie.

He was one of those happy dogs that loved people and his tail would wag so hard when you walked into a room that the whole back half of his body would move with it. Though he loved people, he was not so free with other dogs. It took a while for him to get used to Sophie when she joined our family. When we would take them both to the dog park, Sophie would run around and play with the other dogs and Bowie would scoot up next to us and cower.

He was just a sweet little dog and I loved him and I miss him. Rest in peace Bowie; you gave us so much love during your time with us that you deserve it my little friend.