Eric Barry Writes: Poetry, Short Stories, And Writing

Apologies for the hiatus! I've been busy—writing a goddamn book! But I didn't want to continue to neglect the podcast, so please checkout Chapter 4 from the novel Rainbows. And if you know any literary agents of publishers, I'm looking! -- As far as I was concerned, Ms. Levy was an evil woman. She was lilliputian in stature—I’d later learn that meant small, with nails that protruded from her paper mache hands. Every time she grabbed the chalk, dry and brittle like her, she’d drag it down the board in parched shrieks—shrieks I’d only heard rivaled by the sound of her own voice. Her early morning routine of eating canned sardines and pricking her blood from her finger bolstered rumors that she may in fact have been a witch. We never learned Ms. Levy’s first name. I don’t think she had one. I once heard a quote that said, “to learn the first name of your oppressor is to humanize them, and there’s little in the world more vulnerable than being human.” It’s possible I just made that up. I really can’t remember. Ei

A working draft preview of chapter 3 of Rainbows, the novel I've been working on this year. I would really love your earnest thoughts, which you can send to ericbarrywrites@gmail.com, or on instagram @ericbarrywrites, and twitter @ericbarry. -- The Covenant had a community center with a gym and pool, and every Friday night they’d hold these barbecues where all the families in town would come down and the kids would drink grape soda and play games in the pool while the adults ate ribs and talked about God or something. The food was amazing, much better than anything my parents ever made. Ribs, sausages, burgers, brisket, potato salad, ice cream, you name it. Only problem was the yellow jackets. Any time you made a plate those fuckers would swarm it. If you set it down for just one second, you were finished. Without the food, those nights were pretty crummy. I dreaded swimming. My skin was so ghostly white that putting on sunscreen was always a humiliating affair, and more often than not, my parents would miss

A working draft preview of chapter 2 of Rainbows, the novel I've been working on this year. I would really love your earnest thoughts, which you can send to ericbarrywrites@gmail.com, or on instagram @ericbarrywrites, and twitter @ericbarry. -- A great fear and fascination of sex was instilled in me at Greg’s house.   The Closet Game was indeed a game to be played hidden and away from the eyes of adults.   “Come in here with us,” Lindsay implored. “Um. I’m just gonna watch this time if that’s okay.” “What’s a matter? Are you scared?” She had no idea. “No. I just. It seems bad.” “Just get in here.”   Greg slid the closet door open slightly further, and I entered into the void.   “If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine.” I couldn’t understand how she was so confident, no fear of our judgement. Even at eight years old, she knew her negotiating power as a female. “I’ll do it next time,” I said, praying she wouldn’t persist. “I’ll go,” Greg volunteered himself. Her own brother. The Closet Game seemed to be one a

This is a very unique episode, featuring an early preview of the first chapter of the novel I'm working on, "Rainbows." I would really love your earnest thoughts, which you can send to ericbarrywrites@gmail.com, or on instagram @ericbarrywrites, and twitter @ericbarry. -- When you first find out about death, the whole deal seems pretty rotten. And once its knowledge touches you, it’s a grasp you feel right until the end. At least that’s how it was for me. Maybe that’s where the loneliness started. The understanding that this was all going to be for naught. That we were brought into a world filled with pain and loss and sorrow, told to chase the joy, the shiny things, told to manufacture and lust for happiness. Knowing the whole while that inevitability and time would slowly pluck it all away. And in the end, we are all truly alone. Left to the worms and mites, as impressions fade through generations until our name no longer finds residence in the air, and the sun scorches our earth lifeless. I don’t mean to b

I rant about a couple people's reaction to rainbows and ownership of my body, or something. Oh, and a tiny poem. email: ericbarrywrites@gmail.com, instagram: @ericbarrywrites twitter: @ericbarry -- Chasing rainbows, to no end Following a path of perpetual bend Tears roll by as I smile and stare Not quite sure what was ever there  

A poem about searching for something you didn't want to find. email ericbarrywrites@gmail.com or @ericbarrywrites on insta, @ericbarry on twitter. -- I set out on a journey, Heart open and eyes set wide I grabbed her hand with no set plan And said hey let’s kill some time   Whiskey and tequila, What’s mine is yours and yours is mine With pressed lips, where fingers slip And a chaser filled with brine   So you don’t know Which way to go Or what you’ll want to find But restless hearts, beat on their parts With undiscovered lies   You asked for some seeds of doubt Watering alone, hoping something would sprout But there was no plant, just your watering can And a concern no concern would be found   I guess looking’s a foolish man’s game So I said hey let’s give it a play On top of the trash, the marks on your back It always ends up the same way   So you don’t know Which way to go Or what you’ll want to find But restless hearts, beat on their parts With undiscovered lies

A piece I wrote about a recent experience. If any musicians out there are interested in setting this to music, I'd love to hear your interpretations! email ericbarrywrites@gmail.com or @ericbarrywrits on insta, @ericbarry on twitter. -- Lay me down With your words   Needle me Till it hurts   Out and in Your hand it knows   Start over again The story goes   So paint a picture, however you see fit Make me your work of art, Filling in my empty parts   Your broad strokes, and interpretations I’ll open up, I won’t complain Leave me with your permanent stain   And once it’s all over.. We’ll take in what's been done We’ll bite our lips like some schoolyard kids, “Hey thanks, I had fun” And we’ll leave each other, maybe with a hug But when we part ways, no matter what we say, We’ll look back in the mirror on what happened that day And from time to time, we may change our mind, But we’ll never slip this skin   So paint a picture, however you see fit Use me up, I’ll be fine with it, Make me your work of art, Filling in

Thom Selleck is looking for an escape from his present life as an escort, so travels to the past by way of Cuba. Though he soon realizes Cuba is not a place of the past, but of an alternate dimension. Social Links:  instagram.com/ericbarrywrites twitter.com/ericbarry facebook.com/ericbarrywrites email: ericbarrywrites@gmail.com  

This week we're doing something a little different, as I'm posting a live performance of a story from my real life involving my first foray into sex work from the Chicago podcast Your Stories on the Nerdologues network. I'm off to Cuba but will update ASAP. Social Links:  instagram.com/ericbarrywrites twitter.com/ericbarry facebook.com/ericbarrywrites email: ericbarrywrites@gmail.com

My Inside-Out Beauty What role of disgust must I fulfill In order to fill the hole that I feel In order to feel whole and feel real An order of happiness found in a pill Is it "Fuck! Shit! Mother of God!" "I am made ugly! Parade the facade!" Is it bubbling, boiling, oozing with fat? "Acne on my face! Moles on my back!" What will be demanded of me To proclaim imperfection and help me to see That I once was blind to the ugly in me Some exercise in catharsis to purge this beauty An exercise in fingers and bile and throats An exercise to see what misery company loves most An exercise in “Ready? One two three lift!” An exorcism of esteem, an osmosis of shit Hairy nipples, hairy ass, hairy balls, hairy legs Hair he dreads, hair he snips, hair he clips, but his head Butt his head ram his head in disgust to the wall Butt his head ram in it, to makeup what’s too small To makeup for what was once clear, Too makeup to makeup for labels and queers Let’s makeup and take-up our worries and fears And fill in the gaps with m

A man gets trapped in the bathroom and lost in thought on a first date. Social Links: http://instagram.com/ericbarrywrites http://twitter.com/ericbarry http://facebook.com/ericbarrywrites email: ericbarrywrites@gmail.com 

On this week's episode, we're doing something a little different as musician and new author Collette McLafferty stops into the writer's den to discuss her new memoir Confessions of a Bad, Ugly Singer, available on Amazon and all other online retailers. Collette and I discuss her background growing up as a performer in the suburbs of Chicago, her move to New York, and how she eventually found herself embroiled in one of the most ridiculous lawsuits ever filed, and the equally maddening and inaccurate media coverage that surrounded the suit. Transcript of the interview to follow, but for now, please listen. Social Links: http://instagram.com/ericbarrywrites http://twitter.com/ericbarry http://facebook.com/ericbarrywrites email: ericbarrywrites@gmail.com 

Apologies, it's been a few weeks. I decided I'd rather spend the time to release something I feel is worthwhile than just push out halfhearted stuff for the sake of it every week. So I will continue to try and get stuff out as soon as possible, but pieces may fluctuate in regularity. Social Links: twitter.com/ericbarry instagram.com/ericbarrywrites facebook.com/ericbarrywrites Google Voicemail: (415) 779-6855 AGAINST THE MOON I want to watch the moon with you because it’s something pure and trueAnd if it should ever fail to rise, I’ll wait with you and watch the skiesThat first night we never knew, what would come and what would doBut naïve ways once held untrue, brought truth to youth and came unglued Wishing stars, wish to give, all we take that we must liveI wish that I could burn so bright, granting wishes through the night They say the sun will set, the moon will rise, to never challenge, nor surpriseThings are what they are, will be what they’ll be, to never expect differently Things never change, thing

This week we continue following the journey of a young woman in her quest to find herself and an unlikely partner in the bedroom. Follow the show: Twitter.com/ericbarryInstagram.com/ericbarrywritesFacebook.com/ericbarrywrites Email: ericbarrywrites@gmail.com Listen to more from Heartache at soundcloud.com/heartache Listen to more from Julian Gray at juliangraymusic.com 00:34 - Heartache - No More Control 04:16 - Hans Zimmer - Quantifiable Connection 09:40 - Mum - The Land Between Solar Systems 12:30 - Julian Gray - Breathe 13:25 - Hans Zimmer - Where We’re Going 19:41 - Phil Collins & Philip Bailey - Easy Lover 20:06 - Mum - K/Half Noise Corinne and the Cheese (Part 2): On Tuesday, July 7, 2015 my Honda Civic broke down on the side of El Camino Real in San Mateo. It would not be inaccurate to say that in many ways, I too broke down that night. I pressed my forehead down to the steering wheel, and closed my eyes.   I was 30 years old and living at home in the Bay Area. I was 30 years old and failing out of

A woman struggling with life inside and outside the bedroom finds love in all the ripe places. Questions and comments ericbarrywrites@gmail.com Google Voice # (415) 779-6855 Twitter: @ericbarry Instagram: @ericbarrywrites Corinne and the Cheese (Part 1): It would not be inaccurate to say that I had a love affair with cheese. It also would not be inaccurate to say that I’m a woman who doesn’t like to mince words, so before you start snapping your fingers and thinking, “this girl gets me,” I need to be clear: I like to fuck cheese. -- I remember my first encounter. I was running down a flight of stairs towards our kitchen—I must’ve been two, three years old—and my mom said that magical phrase “Sweetie, lunch is ready!” God my mom had a way with words. I scaled the chair to the kitchen island where meals were always served. She ushered the pan from stove to countertop, my plate awaiting like a landing pad below. And then I saw it. Two perfectly butter-burnt golden pieces of bread, enshrining the Kraft singles a

In our inaugural episode, I write about a Facebook post in which a women discussed her discomfort with a man talking to her on the train, and the confusion that often surrounds knowing how to approach women.  

Checkout the new podcast I'm launching,  featuring short stories, poetry, general musings, and more.   It should be available next week, so check back on iTunes, @ericbarry on Twitter, or the website at www.ericbarrywrites.com.