Spencer Moseley

Jeff got to the Lanes at Coffee Creek bowling alley early. He had been late to friend hangouts too often these days, he'd decided. His glasses fogged up as he got out of his car and he wiped them with the bottom of his shirt. They fogged up again anyway.  Seymore and Patrick parked next to him shortly after with someone Jeff didn't know in the backseat. He admired Seymore's ability to drag new people into the friend group but it also made him feel less special, like Seymore would invite just about anybody.  "Hey, this is Brett," said Seymore, looking toward the bowling alley with a hint of impatience. He was like that sometimes. "Nice to meet you, Brett," said Jeff, hugging Seymore to get his attention briefly before they entered the alley. Seymore didn't look at him. "No hug for me?" asked Patrick. His hair was still wet, probably from a shower, and his face a little red from August. He turned his face to the side so Jeff could kiss his ch...

Adam felt as disoriented as a Neapolitan ice cream shake. He enjoyed his date, Ben, sitting arm in arm with him, but Ben had also been hawking a mix of puke and spittle straight on the comedy club floor for the last few minutes. He had feelings for Ben, but felt somehow wrong for that on a moral level, despite considerable time away from organized religion. "I have three kids and they all suck," said the sweaty comedian, trying his best to re-engage a bored audience.  Ben hiccupped, looked at Adam and asked, "Are we good?" He'd asked this question eleven times at this point. "Yeah, we're good. Are we good?"  Ben just hiccupped again, taking a sip of vodka-water. Adam sipped ice water from his own clear plastic cup, remembering a time his pastor had given the gay people are disordered  speech. He imagined what receiving the Blood of Christ from a red solo cup would've been like.  Ben rubbed Adam's back, and Adam liked that. Minus the frighte...

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" he asked.  "Just like that?" She was sitting on the edge of a counter, chewing gum. "Yeah I guess so," he said. "Is this okay? I mean—" "Yeah, it's fine," she said, reddening and looking away. "I've just never had someone come out and ask like that." "Okay cool," he said, heart racing. "Can I get your number then?" She gave him her number.  "I'll text you." "Okay great." He texted her after class the next day. "Want to hangout?" "Lol, sure. See you at The Point." They met up at The Point, a meeting place where the boys' and girls' college dorms converged.  "I want to take you to my favorite spot," she said.  They walked behind the campus, ducked under some barbed wire and sat on a sand dune.  "Are we allowed back here?" he asked.  "Nope," she said, grinning. He grinned back. "But...

 "What's coming up for you right now?" "I feel like a loser." Nathan cried and put his hands in his lap.  "That sounds really frustrating." Dr. Michael let him cry. He had practiced many times when to intervene and when to let the patient have some time. He kind of wished Nathan would use the tissues to wipe the tears, but Nathan seemed to enjoy letting them run down his face. "What do you think makes you feel that way?" "I suppose the high bar I set for myself?" Why does everyone say this like a question, like I'm supposed to be able to dig an answer out of their minds . Dr. Michael adjusted his glasses but didn't move in his seat, though his lower back ached. "Do you set a high bar like this in other areas of your life?" "Yeah," said Nathan. He brushed invisible lint off his work pants as a defense mechanism to avoid eye contact and inhaled sharply. "I do it quite a bit. I can't seem to just re...

"You'll never find someone who fucks you as good as I do," she said, eyes closed, on top.  I've already had better , he thought, but, "true true," came out of his mouth.  "Mhm," she grinned, moving her hips faster as he pushed her into missionary. He smiled, pulled out, and squirted on her tits.  She stared at his cock until he withdrew to her side.  "That was so hot," she said.  "Yeah." Alex put his jeans on and left her apartment with his dog.  "See you back here later?" she asked.  "Of course," he said. "It's your birthday weekend. I'll call the Uber." "Ok, great." Alex set his keys on the dining room table back at his place, lit some incense, and opened his journal. He clicked his pen against his lower lip. How does she know she loves me? Do I love her or do I just like her a lot? Everyone else seems so confident in their relationships.  Alex grabbed groceries and walked around...

Eric blitzed through the Pho Saigon entrance and slowed to a swagger. He lifted his red shades at the small Vietnamese lady who quickly greeted him. "Vietnamese iced coffee and a pork sandwich," he said. His face fell when she didn't return his smile with a smile.  "Okay, $8.53." He raised his eyebrows and frowned a bit, searching his pockets for his wallet. He flicked her his Chase card. He only tipped 15% instead of his usual 20%. "Sit over there. 10 minutes," she said, pointing.  He found a different corner of the restaurant than where she pointed as a passive aggressive way to spite her. He found that the little things aggravated people more than the big things, and he especially liked it when he could explain his ways of annoying people as blunders rather than choices.  The other customers occasionally raised their eyes from slurping down bowls of pho to glance at him. Eric felt cornered and pulled out his phone. He busied himself on social media ...

I'm currently working on a short story that's taken me two months so far, and there's still more work to do. That's why I haven't posted here in a while. I can't say I've worked on it everyday, but I can say it's the hardest I've worked on any story in my life.  This blog will be unedited word vomit about my life today.  Uncertainty.  This one word shakes me to my core. It haunts me. As a person with high anxiety and a tendency to obsess, this reality of our human existence affects me in acute ways. And I'm happy to know that other people feel this way too.  I'm learning not to be fooled by those who say "I know what I want". They feel like they know what they want, and they make a decision to follow that feeling even when contradictory feelings arise from time to time. These folks are like "houses built on rocks" (some Jesus parable). And that's a good thing. With nothing to ground us, we become like leaves floating f...