Hialmar Posted September 21, 2019 Share Posted September 21, 2019 (edited) The Prologue is found here The preceeding chapter is found here Preface The song Little Boxes was written and composed by Malvina Reynolds in 1962, which is hereby recognised. It became a hit in 1963, when Peter Seger released a cover version, and it remained popular in the entire 1960s. The inclusion of of quotes from that song in this story is for non-profit literary purposes, in the belief that this is fair use. Please let me know, if anyone want the quotes removed, and I will happily oblige. The Orgone Accumulator: Part Five John unpacked his bags at his hotel room in San Francisco. He had just finished his phone call to Jim, and the time difference had become painfully real. Jim! His heart felt warm. He had thought, that it would be just a single night's innocent fun, no strings attached, but they had both considered, that it could be something more than that, when they woke up the next day. It had never occurred to John, that he would be able to enjoy the vanilla-version of BDSM, but the New Yorker was so incredibly playful and happy and incredibly hot ... Jim had guided John through some soft games with boots and handcuffs, but the props were just icing on the real cake: Jim was an incredibly warm and caring man. John missed the seven year older man. Older — slightly older — but they both belonged to those years in-between young adulthood and the real middle-age. John hadn't expected himself to warm up to the leather scene: His book had begun as an entirely dispassionate journalistic matter -- no personal taste involved. And now he was here for a one-week course, supposed to lead him closer to the whereabouts of the man he wanted to interview. "Improve your life holistically!" The New-Age-speak didn't appeal to him, but, according to the folder and the website, there were separate courses running for straight men, straight women, lesbians and "men-who-have-sex-with-men". He wasn't used to the latter moniker, but it made sense that it included both gay men and bisexual men. From what he could gather from the vague description, most of the course would take place somewhere in the Californian countryside, and the participants would leave San Francisco by the same bus. A therapy session in downtown San Francisco was included, as a preparation for the course. Therapy session? He wouldn't need any therapy session, and the words on the website didn't mean anything to him: "... combine the best methods from client-centered, Reichian and post-Jungian therapy". The labels "rainbow-friendly", "contact with your inner nature" and "in the company of real men" sounded assuring, but slightly cheesy. Some of his friends in Portland wouldn't agree with the latter label: "Who had the right tell another person what masculinity is supposed to be, or assume another person's gender?" Jim knew which sort of masculinity he felt grounded in, and he had explained how the leather scene, or parts thereof, was playing with exaggerations. "Relax. Have fun. Don't take everything too seriously. Go with the flow. Later on, you might discover things about yourself, but, for now: Have fun." Jim would probably upset some of his Portland friends, if they ever met. Which was unlikely. For now. Jim. Confident. For a few seconds, John felt a lack of confidence, and then the crack closed again. * * * The young man unpacked his bags at his cottage at the premises of The Foundation in California. He had just finished his phone call to his mother, and the time difference had become painfully real. He left the black bakelite telephone on the floor in the, otherwise empty, hallway. He wouldn’t have dreamt of this a few months ago. Now it seemed to be the beginning of a new life. Free from the shackles of his childhood town. Nice wage for his new work as an office clerk at The Foundation — the doctors weren’t good with the administrative side of things, and they had needed an office clerk for some time now. An anonymous benefactor had payed his cost for moving, but the young man guessed it might be The Businessman. When they had met the second time he stayed at The Foundation, The Businessman had noticed The Change. ”Did you listen to that advice of mine about joining a boxing club, son? You carry yourself in a more confident manner, than last time we met.” ”No, Sir, but I have spent some time on exercise on my own.” ”Listen, if you have any expenses for that exercise, I’m willing to pay.” ”I didn’t have any expenses, Sir. I’m using my own bodyweight. I don’t think there are any boxing-clubs in my town. They prefer football and baseball there. It’s a rather small place. I was surprised to even find a psychoanalyst there.” ”Do you consider yourself to be a smalltown boy?” ”For ever? No, Sir. If I had the means, I would probably move somewhere bigger.” He returned to the present. There were not much furniture there to speak of. One of the psychoanalysts had donated an armchair and a standard lamp to the cottage, and he had bought a transistor radio on his way there. The former occupant had left the old immovable wardrobe. The vanload of his old furniture would arrive later that day: A kitchen table with a fancy modern plastic surface with the reputation of withstanding all scratches, four simple wooden chairs, a bed, his grammophone, his vinyl records, the low teak table for the telephone in the hallway, his black-and-white television set and his sofa. He had returned the table — also teak — he had borrowed from his mother. He supposed he had to buy a new one, an expensive one to demonstrate his step upwards, if that sort of demonstrations weren’t futile. His therapy sessions had gradually led him to question some habits his older relatives — and some of his old classmates — took for granted. What was success — real success? And did you need to show it in any way? Why? Mirroring his thoughts, his transistor radio began to blare one of those contemporary protest songs: Quote ”Little boxes on the hillside, Little boxes made of ticky tacky, Little boxes on the hillside, Little boxes all the same. There's a green one and a pink one And a blue one and a yellow one …” He put a few shirts on hangers, and put them in the wardrobe. He put his suit on one of the hangers, and put it in the wardrobe. One of his faces. His workplace face. Not his real self. Quote ”And the people in the houses All went to the university, Where they were put in boxes And they came out all the same, And there's doctors and lawyers, And business executives, And they're all made out of ticky tacky And they all look just the same.” He wouldn’t look the same as anyone else. Not his uncles. Not his classmates. Not the other employees at The Foundation. Not the guests. He would be himself. He would become himself. Continue to reshape his body. Constinue to reshape his mind. Reshape himself. He went into the bathroom and watched himself in the mirror. Already different. Blue denim jeans. White cotton t-shirt. The outline of his chest through the fabric. He took a comb and some pomada. That parting had to go. Go with his old life. Go with his hometomwn. Shed himself. After a few seconds he looked different. Less like your standard office clerk. He looked younger. But not like the hippies. Like the opposite of the hippies. Also like the opposite of those mindless patriots spluttering pre-fabricated slogans. Also like the opposite of those doctors and lawyers and business executives, who look all the same. Not the newest style, perhaps — it had been around for some time now — but the style of a rebel. Yeah: rebel. He felt how he became hard. He allowed the thought to return: Rebel. He became harder. He placed his left hand on his right biceps and clenched it. He became harder. Reshape himself. Become himself. * * * Next chapter is found here. Edited September 24, 2019 by Hialmar spelling, minor details, added link 6 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ozymandias Posted September 21, 2019 Share Posted September 21, 2019 I thoroughly enjoy how this story is written, and inexorable path it is taking. Keep it up! 1 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ro20316 Posted September 24, 2019 Share Posted September 24, 2019 teh changes are strarting. He will become a new man 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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