Dad, please don’t shoot me in the back, I thought to myself. I’d been retrieving pellets from the wooden board used for our target practice, when the vision of him shooting me from behind appeared. Several times, I turned my head for a sideways glance, making sure the gun was not pointed at me. Dad just looked at me and said nothing, but the Larkin boys laughed heartily at my paranoia. I thought of my ancestors lined up at the edge of mass graves, waiting to be shot in the back, one by one, like a factory line of executions; the soon to be executioners finding humor and a perverse justice in their victims’ predicament.
Tag: Sexuality
Desert heat
If you believe in Satan, then imagine him as a trickster, silently positioning the potholes of life where you are most likely to trip and fall into them. Watch your step! – David M. Rubin
My love, have you noticed those seemingly perfect specimens of men living at our desert complex? Oh yes, I know that you’ve noticed them, as I’ve noticed you noticing them, with their enormous muscles, cryptic tats, and whatever else that fascinates you about them. They sit around the pool – 24/7 – with cold drinks, smiles, laughs, and the pretense of texting someone; all the while watching you…always watching you…keeping one eye on you, sometimes sneaking snapshots of you wearing THAT BIKINI purchased in 110 degrees of desert heat. Required pool attire, we now call it.
Sleepwalking
I felt “watched” whenever the moonlight streamed into my bedroom window at night, paranoid that God used the moon as his lookout – probing me from there with his powerful flashlight. I didn’t want “him” to see what I daydreamed about in my bedroom. Not that it was anything bad or abnormal for a 12 year old, but I didn’t want my parents finding out and meddling in my private stuff.
The shrinking of Isaac
The shrink in my dream told me that a little piece of “something” is who I am. He showed me a tiny, hairlike splinter on his pinky finger, to demonstrate just how small this “something” may be. He asked me to consider that this minuscule fragment of “something” has been the real me, the only real part of me, since it formed during the earliest days of my life. And that before that time, I did not exist as an identity of any kind, but only as a formless blob of competing needs, fears, perceptions, and instincts. One day, the shrink explained, a tiny part of the blob solidified around something, such as an unfulfilled, infantile need or childish wish, and this hardened piece created a wall around itself and separated from the rest of the blob, becoming me.
Notes from David 