James Durl
Bio
A budding academic trying to flex his creative muscles.
Stories (16/0)
Trial by Spew and Sputum. Top Story - April 2021.
Vaccinations In light of our modern pandemic-culture and discourse around vaccines, I thought it appropriate to share a relevant story of my own experience. I think back to this memory when I consider the anxiety I cultivated for the next decade, and all difficulties I have had with other vaccinations, blood tests or simply the word ‘needle’. This story describes a defining moment in my teenage years and was a generally awful experience. Don’t fret, it has a happy ending.
By James Durl3 years ago in Confessions
She was mine
Rantings and ravings at 1:05 to put off sleep as long as possible. I see her on some weekends. I have a picture on my fridge. I'm told I can see her whenever I want, and that I'll always be a part of her. I lie in bed at night wondering what will happen to her, if she's okay. Worse, that it keeps me up at night, I oversleep and I overcompensate for my missed work hours by staying up on purpose. The later I'm awake, the worse regrets come and things you must consider but that you can't deal with at 1:30 in the morning plague you between blinks. That keeps you up longer, and your outlook slides deep.
By James Durl3 years ago in Petlife
Getting back at men named Tim
“You asked why I’ve been showing so much. We’re the only ones here so you’ve got time. Let me tell you a story. It was late on a Friday night, maybe 10 or 11. I was meant to meet my girl Brittany and our friends for a drink here, back when it was first opened as ‘The Hanged Man’. We were supposed to catch up and celebrate our years together, and years to come. Instead traffic, weather, family crises and burnt phone batteries blew our night to high hell in a special kind of clusterfuck you don’t see every day. So of course, it was closing in on Saturday when I learnt the last of my troupe weren’t coming and that I could look back on the night as a soloist. I remember leaning over the bar to motion the beard behind the booze and pay my tab, when a crash behind me drew his attention. In the middle of the commotion of broken timber and glass was an even more broken looking young woman. My first assumption of course was that she was drunk and needed a cab, but on further thinking I realised she had only been in the bar for close to 10 minutes, and seemed sober when she walked in. Of course, she insisted as well to the bartender that she wasn’t drunk, and he can fuck right off for bothering her. I’m not sure what compelled me to get involved - it must have been a last ditch attempt to make something of the night beyond drinking alone – but I found myself picking up pieces of wood and woman and settling in to see if she was okay. She was quick to share that her husband had cheated on her and she found out halfway through a glass of ‘Jetbird’ (pointing to the somehow intact bottle amongst the wreckage) by text moments prior to the outburst.
By James Durl3 years ago in Humans
The Night Owl
Thursday, 12:34am. I have never been one to diary my day, but I am willing to try, if for any reason but to examine my experience objectively. Some two months in midtown and my aspirations have quickly rotted into pleas for relief. I go to work to see my colleagues and envy their zeal and their tenacity, all the while shying from my superiors for all the work I have yet to complete. A three-bus link home each night and I am sitting at my computer, working some more, eating some more and doing all the mundane to sustain an existence.
By James Durl3 years ago in Horror