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CREATIVE READING

By Jose-Miguel Rosillo Cevallos

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This is the final portfolio for a Creative Writing college class that occurred in the

Spring semester of 2015. Its introduced by an ode to the Overthinker in me (and aptly

so, because it is this drive to conceptualize thats responsible for the existence of the

ensuing poems and stories). Next comes the duet of Old Man Young, poem and story.

Although they share a title and a premise, youll find important differences in their

musings on the imaginary relationship between a single individuals different temporal

selves. The poem is meant to represent a moment of stalemate, whereas the story offers a

transformative resolution. Following these is a pause, a space, in the form of a poem

about my relationship with coffee, a trusty companion with dubious companionship

practices. Lastly and far from leastly, we arrive at Les Astucieux: a tale of tricky terrains.

The grand finale, this short story works to challenge readers to not read into things at

their own risk, lest they can stomach missing out on hidden rewards.

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You Bring Out The Overthinker In Me You bring out the overthinker in me, The thought thought thought in me. The oppressive cognition, The repressive volition. Hesitation, Deliberation. Accommodation Of too much in me. Heavy treasure in me, Thwarter of my courage. You drown the tranquil sea, Frustrate the spontaneous tide In me. Relentless burn. Subconscious yearn. You summon the maker of worlds in me, The architect of ideas in me. Fuel compelling illusions, Color empty skies. Most ambivalent ally, Crazy love-hater in me. Unreasonable rationality, You're the control freak in me. Parent to the inner child, You bring out the worst in me. Parent to the inner child, You bring out the best in me.

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Old Man Young Hes a stranger to me. I thought I knew him but I was blind to who He felt himself to be. Misguided. Misunderstood. I didnt see as I see now I didnt know how. If I could speak to him He wouldnt listen. If he could listen I wouldnt speak to him. I beckon young: Get out. Stay put. Move up. Dig down. Age. Tell me Im wrong. Tell you Im right. Either way, We miss out. You act for me. I consequence for you. We cant know each other. We dont want to.

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Old Man Young

I could see him sitting there in the very desk I remember sitting in myself. Of

course, I dont even know what myself means anymore. Ever since this crazy thing

started, pronouns have stopped making much sense. The kid on that desk, furiously

slashing the paper with his calculated pencil strokes, convinced of every words utter

importance, his leg bouncing with underlying anxiety that twenty-year-old is me,

twenty years ago.

A ridiculous claim, I know. Youd be excused for writing this off as a fun little

thought-experiment. I certainly wish I could But hes RIGHT THERE. Ive been

frozen here, dumb-founded, for a good hour. I remember going to bed last night with my

wife in our Los Angeles home just like I have almost every day for the past 5 years.

Whatever I dreamed became lost to wherever lost dreams go as soon as I awoke, startled,

in these bushes. Theres a bunch of vegetation here so Im well hidden from the sporadic

passerby and more importantly from my younger self and all his classmates and

teacher. Only this grimy window separates us. Crouched, my head is finally recovering

from the aforementioned hours stupefaction.

But I kinda wish I was still in silent shock because now Im under heavy sustained

attack: my brain is throbbing with thoughts about implications and possibilities

surrounding the current situation. Should I get him to notice me? Tell him who I am?

(Who I THINK I am, at least) What would I say to him? Will this have any impact on

me? Who the hell am I? Who is he? Would he believe me? Do I believe me? It doesnt

seem fair for me to intervene with such innocent ignorance...

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As I was pondering this stuff, I suddenly woke up to the fact that Id totally zoned

out and had been staring at a random leaf for who knows how long. I looked up to find

an empty classroom.

This assignment is so goddamned difficult... I just want to think about how to get

Jenny to become my girlfriend Stop! Focus! Come on, you got this. A few more

minutes and youll be free to go. Johns 21st birthday party isnt until tonight anyway

I finally finished the assignment and bolted out of that prison of a classroom. This

is my third year of college and Im already having to take the MCAT. My parents

insisted. Its not that I dont care for my future, its just that I dont think now is the time

to be worrying about it. Im trying to enjoy myself here college is a once-in-a-lifetime

experience and I dont want to spend it anywhere but the present moment.

Be Here Now. Such a beautiful set of words. Three words, two letters for the

first, four for the second, and three for the third. A B to start them off and a w to end

them. Being introducing space and time, humbly giving them the floor. Its probably the

kindest command Ive ever heard. I have no problem submitting to it. (And thats saying

something my will is hypersensitive to territorial threats, its prime directive seems to be

to remain mine).

Anyway, I really should figure out my next move with Jenny

I have to find him. He cant have gone far. I cant have zoned out for longer than

a few minutes. Come on, think! Where would he have gone? Hmm What mattered to

me back then? Jenny! That was the year I became obsessed with Jenny. And I vaguely

remember I planned a big surprise for her towards the beginning of the year. I remember

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that big romantic gesture at Johns 21st She didnt see it coming, and it was perfect

because a week later we went on our first date for Valentines Day

Wait. Focus, man, come on! I have to find him! I have to get out of these bushes

first. And Ill just ask the first person I see for my exact date and location. That way, Ill

be better able to figure out where 20-year-old me could be. All I know for sure is I have to

speak with him. I have to share my wisdom with him. I have no idea how to get out of

this crazy situation but I do know that since Im in it I might as well make the best of it. It

may be a dream for all I know Regardless, nothing else pops into my head as a better

use of my time than saving my younger self all the time Ive needed to make all those

fucking mistakes

This is gonna be awesome. Im popular as fuck haha! Cant believe all those

hundreds of people accepted my invite on Facebook lol. But hey whats hard to believe

about it! Im the coolest cat in the land ;). Ah shit, why wont this hair stay down? There

we go. Nice. I just wonder how much booze peeps will bring. Hopefully a bunch. Im not

taking any chances, of course Ive already tasked my man Tom with the liquor deed.

Poor guy had to sit through one of those MCAT Prep classes today. Ah whatever, as long

as he makes good use of that moolah I gave him its all good. Im mostly excited for all

the hot babes whove said theyre coming tonight. Oh man its gonna be so awesome.

Especially if that Jenny girl comes. Oof, shes such a freaking bombshell! I dont care if

Tom already made out with her the other night. Its fair game until the fat lady sings.

And the fat lady sings when somebody seals the deal.

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This is the lamest party ever. Everyone is already wasted and its only 10PM. I

shouldve stayed at home with my cat and watched Netflix. Or maybe gone for a movie

with my girlfriends. Mmm, but Im pretty sure Tom is coming. I just hope he gets here

soon because his best friend has been hitting on me from the moment I walked through

the door. I dont want to put a stern stop to it right now because its his 21st and hes not

exactly sober. But at the same time its getting really annoying.

Oh there he is! Theres Tom! Wait why is he holding a bouquet? Why is he

walking straight towards me? Oh god please dont give me the bouquet in front of

everyone. Oh god oh god oh god. Oh my gosh this would actually be really sweet

Oh shit some 40-year-old just tackled him!

What the fuck is your problem?!, yelled Young Tom. Hed quickly recovered

from the tackle whereas the tackler was still trying to get up.

Somebody had turned off the music and everyone was silent. Old Tom slowly got

up and turned to face Young Tom and the rest of the young crowd just as John switched

the bright house lights on.

Everyone gasped. The jig is up, thought Old Tom, Might as well lay it all out

there at this point. I gotta make an impact.

Ill tell you what my problem is, Tom, Old Tom spoke quietly, You are. You

all are! Yes you better believe it: I am Tom twenty years on. That immediate abyss you

all felt in the deepest recesses of your guts as soon as you laid eyes on my face is no damn

coincidence. Im a paradox. Im impossible. Now lets put that aside and focus on what

really matters: I can help you. I carry in my very existence the wisdom of the future. Im a

walking answer to your most burning questions. Ill admit I dont care for all of you as

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much as I care for Tom. And Im sure youll find that a reasonable sentiment. Yet I dont

mind imparting some knowledge on you as a side-effect of doing so for Tom here. The

first thing you should know is that

Shut up!, shouted Young Tom.

Everyone gasped again.

Who are YOU to tell us whats right and whats wrong?, he said, Who do you

think you are?

Im YOU, you asshole!, retorted Old Tom, From the mothafuckin future!

I dont care!, said Young Tom, I dont care who you think you are. You have

no business messing with our lives. These are OUR lives, not yours! Even if it was just me

you were talking to, even if this was a private conversation, this is MY life Im trying to

live here, not yours!

But I am you! Dont you understand? Dont you realize that I can save you so

much time and pain and effort and despair? Dont you realize that we have the power to

jump ahead twenty years? Do you have any idea what that would do for us?

Do YOU?! What makes you so sure this is a good idea? Sure, youll save me

time, pain, effort, despair, but I need those! I want those! You wouldnt be saving me

from them, youd be robbing me of them. What kind of life are you even talking about?

Listen. I have YOUR interests at heart. Trust me, you do NOT want to go

through what Ive been through. You just dont need it. There are parts you can skip,

okay? This is your chance to do that. Think about it: you cant possibly know Im wrong.

I cant know youre right either.

Hear me out. Ive been where you are. I remember. I havent lost what youre so

afraid to lose. You know what Im talking about. Its that part of you that goes nuts for

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the smell of adventure, the part thats just bursting to show the world what its got. Its the

part of you that cant stand standing around the part of you that Believes with a capital

B that you have something truly important to say and you just havent found the right

words to say it yet. Yes, I know that part. I know it well. Its our soul, Tom. Its our

essence. Its who I am, who you are, who WE are. Its the one thing that binds us. Its the

one thing that makes you me and me you. Were very different in many ways, but in that

particular way we are exactly the same. I know what makes your heart beat.

At this point, Old Tom and Young Tom seemed lost in each others pupils. They

stood silent and still, large as mountains and small as grains of sand. They didnt notice

Jenny collapse into Johns arms, pale and shaken, crying into his shoulder. They didnt

notice when Jenny and John, along with everyone else at the party, dispersed and for the

most part went home everyone was simply too confused, too shocked, and much too

fearful of the possible consequences of finding out more.

The long silence between Tom was finally broken when the narrowing

paradigmatic distance that remained burst into the loudest and fullest laughter.

Everything that had seemed unclear and unreal disappeared, and the curtains drew on an

unlimitedly refreshing nothingness filled only by hearty ex-selves.

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Cafecito Lethargic, drowsy. Battery depleted. Onta el cargador? No sirve el despertador. Motor interno: deleted. Sweetly bitter river, I slurp like thirsty child. Placer inocente. Guilt-y Caliente. Drags me Ardiente. Y se enfra. Tardo y tomo tiempo. Quickened tempo Slow down but dont stop-a My drip. My oxygen. Posesiva obsesin. Celosa comezn. Breath in, Never out. Cup is empty now, yet It always was.

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Les Astucieux

This was the first time Tom had sex with a stranger. Same with Jennifer. Their

sweaty bodies pressed against each other, some parts sliding and rubbing and other parts

rhythmically slapping like a slow sarcastic clap for the peculiarity of the situation. Neither

of them fully understood the irony of their encounter.

They had met an hour earlier in a local bar (the only bar, in fact this was a small

town, removed enough from the city style to justify the term small yet close enough to

merit the title of town). The people of this town didnt all know each other, since they

numbered in the thousands, so our sultry duo really just happened to be in the right place

at the right time, especially when you consider that neither of them held any sort of

permanent residence there. Tom was on a business trip and Jennifer on a road trip. He

was looking to strike a deal with the local government so they would let his company

build a railroad connecting the town center with what was by then a wide network of

towns and cities. (Tom was dead set on adding this particular town to his long list of

networked nodes Tom never settled.) Jennifer never settled either. But she had

something very different in mind when she chose to stop by this nice little town with only

one bar: Jennifer was a musician with some serious songwriters block and she thought

travel might help clear the creative clog.

So there they were: having sex. How did they get here? Well, Tom just so

happened to have mentioned his close personal relationship with Elton John. And

Jennifer just so happened to have mentioned her vagina. It was a two plus two kinda

thing

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Phew! Nice!, panted Jennifer, plopping down, face-up, next to Tom. Tom

allowed a soft smile to shape his gasping mouth-hole in response.

We should do this again sometime, she said as she jumped out of bed to grab

her stuff.

Youre leaving already?, he asked, puzzled.

Yeah, she answered, I have things to do.

At two in the morning?

Yeah.

Tom was sitting up at this point, staring at Jennifer with an expression that

captured a mixture of confusion and indignation. She just kept getting ready, actively

avoiding eye contact with him. He sat there for several moments as she ruffled with her

clothes and purse he wasnt sure of what to say or do. But he soon decided to just let it

go. Theyd only known each other for a few hours anyway. He plopped back down and

let her leave.

They had sex several times more after their first encounter, both repeatedly

extending their stay in this small town with one bar.

(To be clear: Jennifer was asexual. Tom was lonely. She knew. He had no idea.)

Well what else am I supposed to do?, said Jennifer. She made a face of genuine

helplessness.

Stop leading him on!, urged Betty, the cocktail waitress at the local bar.

I cant do that, Betty, its my leverage. replied Jennifer, Its what he most

wants. You should see how happy he is with me.

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Are YOU happy?

No. But thats because I dont have what I most want. As soon as I get it, I will

be.

And what do you most want?

I want to come up with something that makes me feel the way the music of the

greats does. That feeling is the only thing that keeps me going through thick and thin:

nothing else makes as much freaking sense

And you think meeting Elton John is going to help HOW, exactly?

Elton John isnt like the other great musicians, Betty. Hes unique. Not many

people know this but Elton has the power to grant music-wishes. Yes, I know it sounds

ridiculous but I also know its true and I can prove it.

Jennifer pulled out a large file folder from her purse and set it down on the bar

countertop. She then proceeded to show Betty her evidence.

Wow, said Betty after Jennifer was done.

I know right?!, said Jennifer, Thats why I HAVE to meet him. And more

importantly, I have to convince him to grant me a music-wish. Or two. Or three

I can see how you might be able to meet him, but how the hell will you convince

him to grant your music-wish?

Ill just share my vagina with him!

Betty stared blankly at Jennifer.

Seriously?

Seriously!

Jennifer, that sounds like a terrible plan. You do know hes gay, right?

Actually hes bisexual. Dont worry, Betty, itll work itself out.

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You cant be gay, Tom, the stakeholders would go nuts. said Jeremy, Toms

right-hand-guy.

But I love him! Tom slammed his fist on the table.

So figure something out. Im telling you, though: you cant come out of the

closet. It would be terrible PR around here it would seriously jeopardize our ambitions

for this stinky-ass town. How are things going with that girl you met?

Theyre great, actually. Shes quite a catch.

Good. Keep that up. We cant have people think youre anything but straight as

a really flat babys bottom.

I dont love her, Jeremy! snapped Tom. He sighed. If me being CEO of this

company wasnt so important to Elton I wouldve quit long ago.

I know. But if he wasnt so important to you that wouldnt be a problem.

Hey babe, Im meeting up with Elton tonight, you wanna come?, Tom warmly

yelled from the kitchen. He was making waffles.

Jennifer slammed her laptop shut, jumped out of bed, and leaped into the kitchen

where Toms waffles were damn near ready. Yes! she squealed with delight.

Awesome, Ill pick you up at 8.

Jennifer was so excited. She spent the rest of the day alternating between listening

to the Elton John Spotify playlist and playing her own music with nothing but the

acoustic guitar she carried around everywhere. Eight couldnt come soon enough.

Eight came soon enough. Tom called to let her know he was waiting by the front

of the building and the engine was running. She flew down the stairs in glee and got in

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the car with a huge smile on her face. He kissed her passionately for an uncommon

number of seconds (given the circumstance the engine, after all, was running. And

Elton was waiting). She convincingly played along.

They arrived at the fanciest restaurant the small town had to offer: Les

Astucieux. The place had been cleared out for Sir Elton John, so that when Tom and

Jennifer arrived they were greeted by a small army of waiters and chefs. The matre d

personally escorted them to their table, where the living legend sat working his way

through a massive braised lobster with his bare hands. As soon as he saw Tom he

energetically stood up and opened his arms wide for a hug. Both men laughed as they

patted each others backs.

This is Jennifer, my fiance, heard Jennifer from Tom as he opened the left half of

his hug with Elton and half-turned to her.

Jennifers excitement instantly turned to surprise. There was a somewhat

uncomfortably long silence as it slowly dawned on her that it was her turn to speak and

not Eltons. She noticed Elton John was wearing Toms exact body stance, but mirrored.

The two men stood side-by-side facing her, each with one arm behind the other guys

back and another arm extended out, like they were presenting a lucky gameshow winner

with happy results. It became clear to her that these guys had already talked about this.

I dont know what to say, said Jennifer.

Say yes!, Tom and Elton said in unison.

Jennifer hesitated.

Then she noticed the way Tom was holding Elton, and she noticed the way Elton

was looking at her.

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She smiled a gentle smile. Why not, and she walked up to join the two-man

hug. As the three embraced, Elton John snuck a couple of cheeky butt-grabs and winked

at a non-existent camera.

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Self-Assessment

My process for Les Astucieux was most interesting. It started out with weeks of

procrastination. I was daunted by the idea of the assignment since it was the longest one

Id been asked to write.

When I finally got around to engaging with it directly, I first wrote two big

paragraphs that I ended up editing out of the final version: the ones that describe the two

main characters (the first goes from Tom was lonely to he found find somebody to

love, and he would hold on to them, to his dying day and the second one from Jennifer

was asexual to nothing else made as much freaking sense). Ive noticed this tends to

happen with things I write and then edit namely, that the first parts I write usually serve

the primary purpose of warming me up to write other, better, parts. It takes me some

initial shaky writing, in other words, to loosen up into the confident kind of writing that

can only come from trusting that the very first word that pops into my mind is the best

word to put down simply because it moves the writing forward. The greatest obstacle to

writing, in my experience, is hesitation. Im not saying deliberation must be completely

eliminated in order for writing to happen, but rather that its just not as necessary as it

tends to make itself seem.

Once I achieved the flow of uninhibited idea extraction, completing the first draft

of Les Astucieux was relatively easy. The story at that point almost told itself, since the

conditions for an interesting interplay of motivations were already defined and facing

each other. My job then seemed more like that of explorer describing the unfolding

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situation by uncovering familiar patterns in unfamiliar ways and leaning back on the

momentum of how fun it became to do so.

Then I had to shift to the role of reader. Thats my quality control. I write what I

want to read, so to ensure good writing I must also contribute good reading. This is the

part of my process where I recognized inconsistencies or gaps and all I had to do then was

iron them out and fill them up, respectively. Pushing myself to remove nonessentials

really came in later, with the post-feedback revision.

In that revision, besides getting rid of the two superfluous paragraphs like I

mentioned earlier, I added two sections that significantly clarified the meaning of the

storys whimsical conclusion. The first such section points to, by means of a dialogue

between Jennifer and Betty (cocktail waitress at local bar), what Jennifers intentions are

and how she plans to pursue them. The second section serves the same purpose for Tom

and uses a conversation he has with Jeremy, his right-hand-guy. Neither one of these

additions goes as far as explicitly and unambiguously spelling it all out, though. Part of

the fun is inviting the reader to fill in the blanks. Nevertheless, I wanted to address

Patricks (and others) comment that the first draft of the story felt incomplete.

I was surprised by how much I enjoyed returning to a work Id already made my

peace with (i.e. a work I considered done). Im prouder of the product now that Ive

chewed on it again and changed it accordingly.