Read All Over

By Daniel Erickson

A collection of the irreverent commentaries I have posted around the internet, performed at poetry slams, and committed for birthday gifts. I am Dan Erickson, writer of erotic m4m fiction and commentator of American culture These works are collected into one volume for the first time.This car has no air bags! Welcome to Dan Erickson's brazen view into the strengths and nonsense of masculine life and lust

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel Erickson
• Release date: Oct 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370071555

Daniel Erickson

Yes, of course I was raised by wolves. I just don't talk about it in every profile. Living in Albuquerque, NM, living with the post-factual world. I write science fiction and love to make you laugh. Pianist and poet, storyteller and seducer, author of THE ATLAS ARCHIVES and READ ALL OVER. I write about adventure and the strengths and inanities of male sexuality. I have to say I'm gay or you won't understand that I like men. I have a working understanding of life from dungeon to monastery, from market to Mars. I have been a rock star and performed in front of a screaming crowd of 2500 people before the age of 18 (yes, you never recover from that.) I have been set on fire. i was born and raised in Erie, PA and always wondered why more people didn't laugh at the irony of the "Erie Cemetery." I've seen a green sunset and heard the last words of a dying man. I've been a stand up comedian and a MMA cagefighter. I've stood in a haunted house and stayed after everyone else ran away. I'm good at Tarot and terrible at poker. Sit next to me and you won't be bored.

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Read All Over

Dan Erickson

copyright Dan Erickson

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Disclaimer: The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in this novel are figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone living (or dead) is unintentional. The author humbly begs your pardon. No animals were harmed in the making of these collected works.

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE - FORWARD – never back

I think It was March 16th, 1985.

My sister brought a candle and incense into my room and started holding a funeral for my future. She did this because I got a diamond stud ear piercing in my left ear (because I was informed that left-is-right-and-right-is-wrong. If you got your right ear pierced, it meant you were gay. I thought getting caught giving a football player a blowjob in the locker room meant you were gay. As we all know, that would be the worst thing in the world, even if it was true about me. I was so lucky to have so much sage advice at such a young age.) My sister insisted that my job prospects had now ended. She cared so much, she thought it was wise to put on a funeral. You see, now, no real employer would ever want to hire me because I had that ear piercing.

And she was serious.

There was this habit where I grew up of perfecting yourself by carving all the distinctive edges off of your life - to become puttyman, a completely fictitious faceless blob to any employer, non-threatening and always safe. I am Puttyman! I’m here to agree with you! It was explained to me that if you failed to please these dread masters, you will be justly denied food and your death will go unmourned for it is your own fault.

This is where my general rebellion thrived. Screw the boss. Screw my sisters' notions of taking the helm of my life. I have opinions. I even wrote them down and put them on the net for years. You are now viewing a collection of some of the fantasies, poems, and expressions I have splattered around the world. You might call this my writing apprenticeship.

I used to worry that maybe my opinions about sex and love, about rough fight contact, about life and religion and people – all that might be too much for the brittle normal homo sapiens. But last year I saw on TV the cable company playing an episode of SOUTH PARK. In this episode Cartman was at a sleep over and had to adjust the butt plug of his little friend before he could sleep. This was playing at 6 pm and it’s family hour or used to be.

I could waste time protecting you from harsh opinions, but are you protecting yourself? Even a little bit? NO. You don’t need to be protected. You don’t need mental and spiritual bubble wrap. You are beautiful and vibrant and three people you don’t know think you are incredibly sexy. I think you can handle it. You already are.

I say harsh things about life and reality here. I make fun of birthdays and pay homage to Joan of Arc. (Honest!) I make strange predictions about life and politics and sickened and amused to see some of them come true.

CHAPTER TWO: Mercy

If you are on Facebook, you know more birthdays than you really want to know. Facebook will tell you when your friends and not so well-known friends are celebrating their birthdays. It will nag you if you didn't send something to mention you knew about their birthday. Soon it will take up publicly shaming you for missing your third date anniversary. You don't know about this if you don't have a Facebook account, I'm not sure how you brag endlessly that you never saw Star Wars and are never going to if you don't have a Facebook account. (Yes that was sarcasm)

I found that when you click that happy birthday button and bother to type in happy birthday, you are probably committing an expression of the smallest possible positive regard for your friend. It is the tiniest particulate of caring one can show. If you have not said anything else to your friend in 365 days and then crank out one of those H-B moments, you need an auto-reminder that says you are a terrible friend. Send a cat pic or something, right? Something?

So for my dear friends that were on Facebook or people deserving notable regard, they would be given a smallish story-post instead of the two word H-B moment. When reading these, you might find yourself asking,