Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 11 of LONELYHEARTS 2016, my upcoming campy, surreal, coming-of-age dramedy novel, about a bipolar pansexual at the end of the world. (More succinctly: it’s about a troubled young man who starts college during this era of American politics.)
Before me lay my most precious secret, literally written in stone for anyone to see.
And I was amazed at my ability to decorate the table so easily; without any trace of the self-hating perfectionism that usually haunted me, especially when I was working on anything visual or creative like this, anything that was going to be judged by its appearance. Whenever I worked on posters, or presentations or art-projects for school, I was prone to fits of howling violence, wherein I’d snap rulers and pencils in-half, and throw whatever instruments I’d tried and failed to shatter; and I’d also rip up cardboard, paper–anything tearable, really–sometimes even after my hands started bleeding; and in my worst outbursts, I would stab walls and furniture with the edges of the things I’d broken, then scratch them against my skin, to distract myself from the much deeper pain of beholding the ugliness of the imperfect thing I was creating.
But no; none of that tonight. Tonight, I turned away from my creation feeling sure it was a masterpiece. Tonight, I would fall asleep certain, for the first time in my life, that the day that was ending was done; that I’d done something to make the world a better place. I’d carved my truth into reality. I’d made it complete by sharing it. Indeed, my truth was now so complete that, even if it were rejected, there was a part of me that could not be changed.
This is one of the most cathartic things I’ve ever written. I hope you find some beauty in it, too!
You can read more excerpts, and soon the first 5 chapters, here.
Love always,
your Mister
Lonely Hearts Chapel 