The Rest Of Me

By Matthew Farrington

In his second short-story installment Matthew Farrington again tackles issues of family, abuse, madness and the inherent competing human desires of surrender and survival. Part of the bulk of a larger work, The Rest of Me showcases Farrington’s shrewd talent for breaking through traditional barriers in fiction writing, concisely displaying the raw emotion of his subject in brief and moving prose.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Farrington
• Release date: Dec 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311479747

Matthew Farrington

I never know what to write to someone by way of introduction. Which is odd because I'm so introverted I generally feel like handing out a bio when I go to a party so that way I could sit in a corner and not have to talk to anyone who didn't find me interesting on paper. I'm good on paper. In general I am a mild-mannered, would-be writer living in Cleveland, Ohio. Where it's cold. I guess I shouldn't say 'would-be' writer. I write. Sometimes in complete sentences. I write every day. Probably like a lot of you. I am at work now on a novel. That sounds so ominous. Or pompous. "What do you do?" "Oh, I'm working on a novel." It doesn't explain anything I guess because when I say it out loud to actual people they sometimes say, "Well, yeah, but what do you DO?" I have no idea. My process is simple. I could explain it this way: I wake early, turn the flame on under the kettle on my way to the keyboard. And I write. And write. And write. Or, if I'm honest, I stare, and then stare some more wondering why I can't channel Dostoyevsky or Edith Wharton. But I try to crank out 250 words between the time the tea goes cold and I have to go to work. Yes, like most writers I have a job that keeps me in tea and comfortable sweaters. My life is simple. I can't claim to be a minimalist but I believe whole-heartedly in simplicity and in intentional living. I make decisions based on real need and luckily I don't understand anything at all about technology so I never really want anything new. The result being that I own a MacBook Air and a second hand couch. I stopped looking for bigger places to spread out and opted for a small place to encourage interiority. It worked. I don't have a television. I sometimes watch movies or old sitcoms on Netflix but I'd rather read a book. I like silence. And I like solitude. I have friends but I'm happier alone. My mother thinks that's weird. I have a blog, where I sometimes write things. I think the blogosphere is a good idea in theory but requires a great deal of discipline in practice. Shameless self-promotion again: http://theheartofthematter.me/ Check me out if you want. Leave a comment. I like to chat. I think the most important thing a person who wants to write can do is read. A lot. And I do. I broke down this year and bought a Kindle. Yes, I like it. But no, I have not stopped going to the library or to the bookstore. I usually have two or three books going at any one time. I like dogs. I'm kind. What else do you want to know?

Book preview

The Rest of Me

Matthew Farrington

Copyright 2013 by Matthew Farrington

Smashwords Edition

When you are locked away from the rest of the world and forced to submit to revelations and their monstrous inclination towards transparency, revealing what is weak and diseased underneath, what you have protected with your mind and body at all costs seems that much more valuable.

I have been told that I need to articulate something if I want it to go away. To do that I must acknowledge that it exists. It means more than exposure, more than simple recognition. To face and name a demon ultimately means exorcising it not only from my psyche but then, by definition, releasing it. To expose it to the light of day would not render it useless, only alter its function. It would no longer protect, but would be free to goad and tease and ultimately seek some sort of revenge for my betrayal. If it left me I would no longer be comforted by its terrible protection, its talent for suppression. I would become its victim.

Demons are hungry creatures; they feed on anger, regret and pain. They can smother but they can also prevent those who would seek their destruction from reaching in too far, the willing caretakers and blind faithful who think that they understand what is necessary to tame them or kill them outright. A demon continues to feed on what you bring and you feel unable to cut off its head by denying a constant stream of raw, unabridged emotion to the rest of its body. My demons have always been happy where there is no chance of discovery. When you grieve everything you have ever done, every decision you have ever made, all your days end the same way. The things that haunt me are the same things that comfort me. The pictures that I see in my mind as I fall asleep each night were painted a long time ago. I sleep better when