I love. This is something I do. I love with terrible fury. Those who can withstand it, prosper; those who cannot, fall. Sadly, it is thankless to love me, but remarkable. Those who have bled for me, cried for me, pulled themselves apart to offer me what I would only discard with indifference, they hold the keys to a world where pain is not an ( Read more... )

http://kevan.org/johari?name=soucyland

Greetings friends and strangers, it is I, the one and mercifully only, Chris Soucy. Today's entry is an acknowledgment of the blaringly loud wake up call that has been ringing for years now without let or hindrance. for those of you who may not know this, here we go: I am no longer an employee of the City of Savannah. That's right, I have taken the ( Read more... )

What can I say? Something is finished. Done. It has passed from present to past tense. There is a lingering sadness. One I can embrace. I am an expert at goodbye. I have had to say it one way or another all my life. I had always prefered just disappearing. This is a suitable farewell. One day someone notices that there is an empty space in their ( Read more... )

You can now email me at soucyman@comcast.net. Thank you very much.

A kiss. It's a simple, small action. A momentary connection that defies description. You can try. You can say it was a melting of two souls. Or you can say it was wet, warm, potent... Or you can simply say wow. But words don't do do it justice. And maybe that's because it is what we do when the words aren't there. When we can't express in any other ( Read more... )

There once was a man, well, better to say he was a boy - There once was a boy, who thought he was a man, who went off to face the world with open arms. The world met him with a knife in each hand and stabbed him in the back as they embraced. Silly, silly boy. But this did not kill the boy, oh no, only his dreams. The boy, with a bitter tint to his ( Read more... )

so here's to you ( Read more... )

In my hand, I held a blade. To swing it meant that blood would spill. But to leave it still was too hard for me. Standing, waiting, hoping for the strength to drop the sword. But no such luck. The blade was moving before I knew it. The sound of the steel cutting the air was the sound of regret. I knew no one could survive. I knew no one had a ( Read more... )

Well, two years later and none the wiser, I embark upon another Chris Soucy original Black Box Production. Now by original I of course mean I pirated through some pre-existing story that was near and dear to my heart and ripped it to shreds and put it back together in some sad, shambling resemblence of my own twisted psyche... I mean, I wrote a ( Read more... )