Dorian After the Blithedale Scandal

Dorian After the Blithedale Scandal 1I turned my time with Blithedale into the novel Vagabond’s Ways, which was met by critical acclaim.  The novel presented readers with the outre challenge of piecing together the history of an unconventional polygamous experience, far removed from social and political expectations.  Despite detailing experiences outside of readers’ experiences Vagabond’s Ways’ popularity caught Tilael Publishing unprepared.  My success overshadowed Ian Jimenez’s painting career that to had sputtered due to political controversy.  Eventually the stress of divergent career trajectories led to their break-up, which I responded to by throwing himself into work at Ego’s Own.  At the time, I thought we were different but we weren’t.  Ian smiled to confuse, and I talked; he was egocentric, and I thought myself unique.

After the Blithedale Scandal, friendship and old-fashioned dating were off the table.  Alone, I would smoke salvia walking through Caentibiry and wondered if my ex-boyfriends wondered about me the same ways I’ve about them?  I was sure they hadn’t because when I dreamt of ex-boyfriends, I gave them the relationship that wasn’t possible with me.  I omnisciently observe their typical day: wake up, go to work (recording or art studio), then happily home to husbands.  They were good boyfriends, just not good for me; they were someone else’s happy relationship.

When I haven’t been in a romantic relationship, the friendships I had with unattainable men quickly fizzle.  He did not need to be the most attractive, but needed to be surrounded by the most.  I relied on presenting myself as the ice cold, eye-rolling, label-less one.  The bonds that were attempted consistently had an expectation of friend with benefit situation.  I found those that took that route to be overbearing, as shallow as I pretended to be, or what I used for a mask was their true personality.  Do straight women need to flirt to begin male friendships?

For the next two years, I curated a collection of coffetable autobiographic fiction by Huxia artists, which detailed the Genesis Revolution’s effects on their ecology and culture. Continue reading “Dorian After the Blithedale Scandal”

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Dorian’s Want for Birthday Parties

The power went out on my block last night, delaying yesterday’s Vagabond Ways themed post.

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Growing up I wanted a surprise birthday party a home filled with joy and people that wanted to be there – like what I saw in my mom and dad’s old blu-rays.  That dream never come true, even in grade-school when it was mandatory to report to a classmate’s birthday.  What I feared was not getting older, but that no one would come to a birthday for me.  My parents’ constant migration following the Huxia Rejenys flotillas, based upon access to knowledge and culture that would help them in their accumulations, kept my social circle small and intimate to just myself and my books.

While in Huxia, my parents celebrated my sixteenth milestone two months late because they couldn’t be bothered to take time off from research and worship.  I stopped sending invitations and chose to ignore celebration, taking enjoyment only from cards – and then settle for Facebook birthday posts.  My birthday became where I learned to exist within the cracks, becoming the excuse for wanting to avoid any fuss that would draw attention.

Eventually, at 16 I left the flotillas and headed to the family estate in Pentapolis of the Valley, working my way across Bharat as an artist’s model; I never considered myself the prettiest, but I smiled deceptively locking myself in another mind.  After Bharat, I took an ocean-liner back to Biell, in The Valley.  Having graduated high school early I treated what would’ve been senior year as a skip year.  During this time, I hung with the freaks and the wild ones, drank and got into drugs.  I lived hard in every moment. I joined Blithedale, and met Michel Caillois, who I wanted to teach me how everything worked.

At Aerynd University I avoided most social circles, believing they’d peak beneath my mask and judge me inappropriate – or worse, inadequate.  Around friends, I remained shy as if they were strangers because facades kept everyone at an arm’s length.  It was simpler to cover my self-consciousness and inferiority beneath masks, that were fashioned for inclusion by adopting specific friend-interests, and sub-cultures, and abandoning my own.

The Vagabond’s Identity Part 1

My father owned the third largest architecture firm, that was contracted by The Society to redesign Caentibiry Alley.  My mother was a classically trained dancer and teacher.  My parents’ wealth allowed me to grow up in the privileged district of the City of Flowers in Biell.

I spent my childhood in Vargaria and Huxia, where as a family we converted to Rejenys.  Growing up I wanted to be a graphic fiction writer, with stories published in genre collections and periodicals. At 16, I worked my way across Bharat as an artist’s model.  I never considered myself the prettiest, but I smiled deceptively locking myself in another mind.

After Bharat, I took an ocean-liner back to Biell, in The Valley.  Having graduated high school early I treated what would’ve been senior year as a skip year.  During this time, I hung with the freaks and the wild ones, drank and got into drugs.  I lived hard in every moment. I joined Blithedale, and met Michel Caillois, who I wanted to teach me how everything worked. Continue reading “The Vagabond’s Identity Part 1”

Dorian on a balcony

Dorian stood on the balcony, a salvia cigarette dangled from his lips and a hot cup of poppy java was in his hands.  The sun was beginning to rise over the flotilla of interlocking boats.  The village floated around the remaining economic and political centers of Indonesia, as if spokes around a hub.

Beneath him, small merchant paddle boats navigated the space between the larger boats, bringing the quiet early morning to life.  As the merchants shouted their goods, the women came out to the decks of their homes and bartered for supplies.

Dorian flicked his cigarette into the green-brown water and sipped his coffee, watching the kiosks move on to the next large grouping.  Lighting a second marijuana cigarette Dorian went inside his room and got dressed.  Then Dorian went into his suitcase and grabbed a mat, placing it in his daybag.

Dorian left the boat, using the planks that connected each of the boats.  He stopped in the nearest aqua-square, and made his way to the large platform in the middle.  In the back Dorian unrolled his mat and knelt down, joining the other Jenysis practitioners.