Spencer Moseley

I received a text from a dear friend yesterday, and I need a place to offer a long-form response. If I could go back in time and be a Catholic youth minister all over again I would. And I'd have more fun doing it too. I remember getting criticized back then for using a youth group curriculum that wasn't presenting enough theology and for allowing social time: dodgeball, ice breakers, movie nights. I gave some timid, bullshit response back then, but now I'd give a more data based response: half these kids are going to leave the faith anyway because they're gay/bi/trans or want to support the LGBTQ community/women's rights, so might as well make sure they connect with it so they don't throw the baby out with the bathwater. From what I've seen, strict parents make wild college students, and strict religious upbringings foster amorality and relativism. It's to be expected. Why would someone with such a traumatic experience ever "keep the faith".  I...

Kevin Laciter bit into a bread roll while Seth talked about Harvard. The week before he had talked about community college, and the week before that some other college down in Florida.  His son stopped talking to butter his bread, but Kevin couldn't tell if he wanted his advice or not. It seemed every time he tried to offer it, Seth would bite his head off.  "Or I could just go to community college," he shrugged. "There'd be less to worry about with scholarships and whatnot." "Mhm," said Kevin. It's like he's baiting me to respond so he can yell at me if I disagree. Paula rounded the corner, "Or you could take a year off to consider your options," she said. Kevin glared at her. Paula ignored him and plated herself a roast chicken leg.  "No," said Seth. "I'll think of something." Oh thank God.  Seth must have seen a look on Kevin's face. "I'm sure dad doesn't want me to stick around. anyway....

 Sarah wore dark red lipstick, a black pencil skirt and her hair in a pinned bun.  Jason wore his hair in an uncombed mess, donned the same plaid shit from the day before, and his pants were wrinkled. He smiled at Sarah. She smiled but turned back to her computer screens quickly. He thought she didn't want to talk, but then, without looking at him, she asked him about his dog.  "His name is Francis," he said, turning back to his monitors, not deigning to face her if she wouldn't face him.  "Aww," she said, a little too sing-songy, like she didn't really mean it. He finished taking his notes about some customer who's credit card processor was back up and running. Why do I still work here? "Dude you gotta see this," said Leslie. Her hair was spiked. She was his lesbian best friend.  She showed him a video where a cat chased another cat until one of them fell down a flight of stairs. Leslie laughed like it was her first time seeing the video. ...

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...