There’s something connecting my current living in Queens, my need for writing online, my search for attention from my peers, my relationship with my mother, my father’s passing, my separation with Sophia, my discomfort with the superficial nature of Twitter, my relationships with female bloggers, my dick, my heart, my brain, the written word, the need for physical contact, my deep-seated belief in kindness, my education, my feelings of superiority, my feelings of inferiority, my ambition, my fear of success, my laziness, and my love for good bread, such as pumpernickel or challah. There is something connecting it all, but the pieces of the puzzle are scattered all over my work desk in an unorganized mess. I can see that they are related, but for now, I stare at the distorted grainy jagged slices of reality, hoping to one day fit it all together into a complete picture that I can hang on the wall.
Neil Kramer explores friendship, love, and sex, and the dangerous art of writing about it.
He lives in NYC. He can be contacted at neilochka on yahoo.
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