Wicked Wisdom


Announcement
November 17, 2010, 3:53 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

It’s been quite a while since I posted here. A lot has changed. You may remember nearly a year ago when I posted a gift I made for my friends, family, and readers. It was a very small collection of short stories called This Was Supposed to be Simple. That was what I gave to the world at the end of 2009 – and now that it’s nearly the end of 2010 I present something new. Last Monday, on my 21st birthday, I release my first book. It too is a collection of short stories. It too is called This Was Supposed to be Simple. It was published by a small Charlotte-based publishing company called Lost & Found Fiction – a company I happen to own. Yes, my life has changed. It’s been a rough year, but I’ve come out of it as a better person. For more information, as well as to buy the book, check out my new home – http://www.BuchananMoncure.net

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Video: Reading 2/22/10
February 24, 2010, 6:15 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Reading “Freedom” & “The Baby.” at The Evening Muse in Charlotte NC.



Reading 2/15/1020 (Video)
February 16, 2010, 5:47 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Here is another video of me reading at The Evening Muse in Charlotte NC. This week I read “No Conclusion” and “Raise Your Glass”!



Out of Love
February 7, 2010, 12:57 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Last night we both realized that we are falling out of love. Neither of us mentioned it, but we both know that we know.

Maybe it’s because you’re sick of me throwing things in your face, and maybe it’s because I’m sick of feeling like I have to throw things in your face so that you remember how much you owe me for putting me through all you have.

Or maybe it’s just that we’re not meant to be.

Part of me, a very large part of me, wants to mourn this love. A smaller part wants to be glad that things will probably be ending soon.

We’re both tired of laying in bed facing opposite directions, wondering if the other one is asleep. Wondering what the other is thinking, since our telepathy recently stopped working.

Maybe you’re put off by the bad habits I’m picking back up. My smoking. The drinking. Crying in the bathroom floor.

It’s probably best that this has happened, because now that we know we soon won’t love each other we won’t have to keep fighting.

We can just admit that we are separate people and go on with our lives, trying to salvage what might be left of some great connection that we once had and see if it translates to a friendship.

It probably won’t. And as much as I won’t love you, I also won’t be able to bare to sit across from you while you talk about how well you’re moving on. I won’t be able to deal with picturing you laying next to someone else, even though laying next to you brings me happiness no more.

It’s probably best that we split our things and go our separate ways. I’m tempted to return to Europe so I don’t have a chance of running into your friends that I don’t know who will have heard stories about how miserable I made your life.

Staying here would mean fearing that every barista, homeless, and stranger is silently judging me and feeling sorry for you as I walk past.

My home country of Sweeden isn’t sounding too bad in comparison to that.



89.57
January 10, 2010, 5:43 pm
Filed under: Fiction, Rough Draft, Uncategorized, Writing

“Everyone knows you’re fucking your dad Tia! No wonder your mom left him, I’d left the scum bag if he fucked someone as ugly as you too.”

Tears flowed from Tia’s eyes and she ran in the direction of the bathroom. We all laughed.

Back then, we were all so certain that Tia was sleeping with her father.

It started out as a joke.

“Tia’s so ugly, no one fucks her. Her ugly ass dad wouldn’t even fuck her. Actually, no, he is, and that’s even worse!”

I had laughed when Steph said it, but I would have never thought it’d get to this level. I would never had thought to tell Tia we knew about her and her dad.

The rumors got worse and worse, eventually Tia had gotten herpes from her father, who then impregnated her with a baby who was growing a third arm inside of her womb. And when the doctor saw this in the ultrasound he knew exactly what had happened, and spit in Tia’s dad’s face. Steph knew this, because her older cousin worked for an OBYN.

None of this actually happened, but when Step told us we never thought to question it.

And when Tia killed herself, Step knew that it was because her dad had decided to call things off. He broke the news to Tia that day that he was trading her in for a younger model – her own sister.

No one was that shocked when Tia was found hanging in her father’s attic. We just all pretended to be sad. If anything we were sad for Tia’s mom – that she had picked such a horrible man to have children with. And that poor baby that was growing inside of Tia, well, it was probably better off dead.

No, we weren’t surprised when we found out Tia was dead. I was surprised, however, that I ran into her at the supermarket nearly 20 years later. Even after her death her fashion since was horrible.

I gazed at her stringy black hair, her stained forest green button-up, the nametag with TIA written sloppily across it.

“Paper or plastic?”

“Plastic is fine, you look so familiar. I would swear I went to high school with you.”

“Yeah, you did. Debbie, right? You were the co-captian of the cheerleading squad, weren’t you?”

“I was, but, the girl I am thinking of died when I was in 11th grade.”

“Well, you must be confused. I moved in 11th grade, but I certainly didn’t die. Have you tried this cheese before?”

“Yeah, it’s great. So you moved? I swear, Steph said you died. I remember the day she told us. She said your parents were keeping it quiet, since it was a suicide and all, but she heard from her aunt that worked at the hospital.”

Tia looked straight into my eyes and tossed my hamburger buns into a bag filled with frozen foods.

“Well did she mentioned I was fucking my father when she told you I was dead?”

My mouth dropped open and this time, I was shocked. Was this a confession, or was Tia finally just retaliating? Had she been planning this moment ever since she moved?”

“It’s okay Debbie, you don’t have to play dumb. I know good and damn well you know what I’m talking about.”

I looked downward at my shoes.

“It may have come up in conversation, once or twice.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Well, I can assure that I am not dead, nor have I ever slept with my father. 89.57 is your total, is that credit or debit?”

“Debit.”

I swiped my card and silently put my groceries into my cart.



Story of the Month: Training Day
January 1, 2010, 6:10 pm
Filed under: Fiction, Rough Draft, Uncategorized, Writing

For 2010 I will be posting a story I wrote in 2009 (which may or may not have been posted here before) on the first day of the month. My goal is to have the story completely rewritten by the end of each month. Hopefully rewritten versions of the selections will be worthy of appearing in an updated version of “This Was Supposed To Be Simple…”. This month’s selection is from May of 2009, but it is a story that stayed in my mind for many months before I wrote it. Please post any suggestions, ideas, or comments on how I can improve it!

Training Day

It was Thursday. We were walking down the streets of downtown, discussing how shitty our town was. You flipped your hair behind your shoulders. I smiled. We kept walking, finishing our beers and throwing the cans under the sidewalk into the gutter.

We kept walking and eventually I worked up the courage to put my hand on yours. “The most magical part of our relationship,” you said, “is that after all this time it’s still like we’re on our first date.”

“Is it that obvious that I’m nervous to show you affection?” I said, shooting you a nervous glance.

“Yes, and it’s adorable.”

We felt the sidewalk shake and heard the train whistle from blocks away. As usual we turned around, taking extra care to be sure not to turn back around until it had passed. I thought back to when we were in elementary school – when I first met you. We’d sit on the jungle gym, cold steel pressed to our legs, drinking our juice boxes and watching the train pass.

“Do you ever wonder what they’re carrying on that thing? What’s so exciting that we can’t even look at it?” I asked, taking extra care not to look at you as I spoke in fear of catching a glance.

You spun around into my direction, not worrying at all whether or not the guards onboard would think you were looking. “We know what they’re carrying. Military equipment. If we got to look people might leak secrets to the opposition.”

It was like you were reading from a book. Believing so completely what the government had taught us. Some people would find it annoying; I thought your naivety was cute.

“Well, that’s what they say, but no one really knows. No one’s ever seen it. How do we know it’s not something else, right?” You looked directly into my eyes, staring even after my mouth had stopped moving. You stood up on your tiptoes and placed your hands on my face. Slowly you touched your mouth to mine and for an instant it was like we were one. The train whistled loudly.

“I’ll let you know.” You whispered.

You lowered yourself back onto your flat feet and spun around, facing the train directly. I gasped. I could almost hear your eyes widen.  The gunshot fired. It went through your forehead. Perfect shot.



Thank You
December 29, 2009, 6:06 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

Thank you for the overwhelming response to This Was Supposed To Be Simple! The outpour of love from friends, family, and strangers has been overwhelming! Look out for an updated version very soon!