Director Daniel Haller’s 1970 cult classic, “The Dunwich Horror,” an adaptation of an H.P. Lovecraft short story, stars a mustachioed Dean Stockwell as Wilbur Whateley, a man with a plan and an eye on a book. The book in question is the infamous and oft-used manual for summoning spirits with black magic, the Necronomicon . Enter Sandra Dee, as the impressionable, pretty-young-thing who falls under the spell of the mysterious Whateley, much to her detriment. Working in her university’s library near closing time, she is easily manipulated into handing over the priceless Necronomicon to Whateley because she “trust(s) him,” despite the pleas of a concerned friend. As viewers will soon find out, this means that all hell will literally break loose.


Add in a few crazed hippies cavorting in a fever dream, a small town in the middle of nowhere, hooded occultists, a demonic pregnancy, and you’ve got yourself a good time. In honor of H.P. Lovecraft’s 125 birthday, NecronomiCon Providence and Frank Difficult Presents have collaborated with a screening of the film along with music from local bands and live performances during the movie, (à la Rocky Horror). Audience members are encouraged to dress up in their finest black robes. An entry fee of five dollars is amazingly low and well worth the expense – help bring back the “Old Ones!”


I’m a bit saccharine and that’s not subject to change so…I’ll put my ear to the floorboards in the hopes that I’ll learn something – just how does everyone else do it? Walk hand in hand, knowing or at least pretending to know a secret language reserved for two (?)

Is that obsessive behavior? Have I lost my touch? Is that obsessive behavior lost in my touch?

Here’s a plan and you should follow my lead, because I’m bored and you’re depleted and somehow we’ve been reminded of our separate sadness – Look, I’m learning!

I’ll draw a square around my ankles and live in it. I’ll roll the chalk to you so you can fit yourself into a circle – I know you’re capable! Now toss the chalk as far away from you as possible, past paved parking lots and playgrounds, over hills and through various cities – (if your arm is good). Now look at me.

Occasionally, you may want to erase that one continuous line you’ve drawn and reshape the constraints – your own version of geometry. In some instances, you may even feel comfortable enough to connect your lines to mine and I may, at some times, even want to erase a line and extend it towards you myself. I’ll do this because I’ll want to help, because I’m like that. I’m impulsive in the best and worst ways. You’ll lose track of the ever changing blueprint of your shape and feel good for a moment, finding pleasure in the uncertainty. I’ll move an inch to the left of my slowly dissolving square, tiptoeing like the stealthiest feline but kick a nearby pebble in the process.

You’ll snap out of your daze and quickly retreat, tethering yourself to the absolute radius of your enclosure. You’ll wag a finger at me and I’ll have nothing to say.

Thanks to Frequency Writers, I’m creating poetry with a more academic, experimental approach. Here’s my first time writing a Cento.

Here are my source materials:

1 “My Life by Water” by Lorine Niedecher

2 “Unicorn Believers Don’t Declare Fatwas” by Nada Gordon

3 “A Thousand Virgins Shout Fuck Off” by Elizabeth Treadwell

4 “Some Pink in Your Color” by Amy King

5 “Fragment 1: Sea-ward, white gleaming thro’ the busy scud” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

6 “To the Swimmer” by Countee Cullen

7 “Clotilde” by Guillame Apollinaire, translated by Donald Revell

8 “Repose of Rivers” by Hart Crane

9 “They Come” by Cathy Park Hong

10 “Latero Story” by Tato Laviera

“A Cento to See You” – July 2015

 Rabbits –  1

Linseed-eyed and broad of face, 9

3 We douse ourselves with flame retardant 9

4 And douse the town to flame – 9

5 a tarred prehistoric castle. 9

6 Heaven why? 3

My life, 1

My heart, goes out to you of dauntless courage and spirit indomitable 6

9 Into my heart, grown each day more tranquil and peaceful, comes a 6

10 struggling, 6

11 gnawing, 1

12 fierce longing 6

13 my hands shelving themselves… 10

14 is squandered by night. 7

15 Salivating on my index finger, 10

16 a balloon of such gravity I ache for stars in a jar, 4

17 congested with putrid residues, 10

18 pointed toward 1

19 wasps, whose love reminds me of fireflies tonight. 7

20 Several times a day I touch evil rituals… 10

21 of the soft 1

22 and serious – 1

23 seaward, white gleaming thro’ the busy scud 5

24 Rise up and ride in 9

25 my shore, 1

26 raided. 1

27 Now as I watch you, strong of arm and endurance, battling and 6

28 Along each town we pass 9

29 How much I would have bartered! The black gorge, 8

30 A craving for shadows 7

31 As we eye from afar, 9

32 we rave and rove and gore 9

33 where gloom has lain 7

34 Between love and disdain. 7

35 Road’s a batter of blood and dust 9

36 So many soldiers on the brink of their lives returning! 4

37 And willows could not hold more steady sound… 8

38 Our shadows meet 7

39 with an outward stroke of power intense your mighty arm goes forth – 6

40 We hear other deaths in flames. 9

41 And finally, in that memory all things nurse; 8

42 I have read a guide to success – 10

43 Opened in gardens 7

44 Giving 1

45 to wild green 1

46 Tyranny; they drove me into hades almost… 7

47 So worry about something more important 2

48 what to encounter… 10

49 like getting hit in a collision between 2

50 Dry blood infectious diseases 10

51 of a cancerous cell… 10

52 Indigestions somewhere down the line… 10

53 The cherry blossoms of August… 4

54 I can’t imagine the heart anymore 4

55 Oddly enough, there is a 2

56 Hold, I say. 9

57 Did you know I’m in this hospital bed? 4

58 Whose pulse is worn down with an IV to the head. 4

59 Someday I might become experienced enough 10

60 I’m not. I’m in the same light you stand in, 4

61 Till age had brought me to the sea. 8

62 After the city that I finally passed, 8

63 Passed too fast, nearly in the flash of Rose 9

64 Guts – 3

65 Now that it presses my ribs apart, 4

66 From my territories 10

67 To make it big 10

68 But I cannot use rubber gloves… 10

69 Where cypresses shared the noon’s 8

70 Posts on, as bent on speed, now passaging 5

71 Spring’s 1

72 Flags, weeds. And remembrance of steep alcoves 8

73 A town of shacks painted kiwi green 9

74 Ride into a town of tires stacked 9

75 To offer “technical assistance.” 10

76 Stamp the earth rind down. 9

77 Shuck our boots and nap on. 10

78 We are all Snow Birds atop 4

79 Moonlighting at night as a latero 10

80 Moonlighting until dawn by digging 10

81 that in order to get rich 10

82 “I have to sacrifice myself” 10

83 (Are you writing your name?) 3

84 The pond I entered once and quickly fled – 8

85 Now floats upon the air, and sends from afar 

86 Are we still talking to the same god? 

87 We are from the world above, 

88 We can never rest. 9

89 And now you must follow: 7

90 I am thinking of publishing 10

91 A wildly-wailing Note – 

92 Arts and letters… 1

93 Slimy grease blood hazardous waste materials… 10 

94 Such heartbreaking “I love you O My God” 4

95 And though my lips would speak, my spirit forbids me to ask, 6

96 “Are you here from the world above?” 9

97 Two – 1

98 Are you here from the world above? 9

99 Are you here from the world above? 9

100 Is your heart as true as your arm? 6

WE DID IT! Uh, no pun intended. Boston Hassle is excited to collaborate with fake news site The Lankville Daily News for a weekly feature called “News from Lankville.” We happily present to you headlining stories and editorials by both real and fictional characters, living in a town just on the brink of existence. This week’s feature is by self-love/sex positive expert, JoLayne Fasters (Devon Fick):

Was it good for you?

If you’re like most of Lankville, chances are it wasn’t. Chances are it was really bad and maybe even scary. You were addled with anxiety, there was an otherworldly piercing noise you couldn’t identify, you were worried about your physical worth. Even if the act achieved the idealized heights of a romantic novel or the back of one of those juice cans, you still harbor your suspicions. Sure, you thundered like a bucking stallion, sure, you melted at his touch like candy on a particularly hot Easter. And yet, you still think- you’re pretty much not getting it anywhere as often as everyone else.

You think to yourself– can’t we all just have great sex???

Of course we can. All the time. But first, we must decide what great sex is.

“Great sex starts in here,” says clinical psychologist Patti Cooks, pointing to her breast. “What, in your boobs?” we asked. “No, no, in your heart.” We nodded slowly. “It starts in your heart and great sex is about what is in your particular heart and in the heart of your lover and then the two hearts come together to decide what great sex is. It could be multiple orgasms throughout an entire raucous night, it could be a lot of chatter and then some quick sort of breezy thing. But first, you have to do this.” Cooks then pointed to her wide open mouth.

“What…? Oral…?” we asked confusedly.

“No, no,” she admonished. “You have to open your mouth. You have to talk.”


So, as we found out, the mouth is great for kissing and for orally-administered forms of arousal but it’s also a tool of communication. Try it. Tell each other what you want. Maybe you want something simple like a particular part of your body rubbed sensuously. Maybe you want your partner to dress up as a happy smiling tooth and distribute dental supplies on a street corner while you videotape the entire thing. But you’ll never know any of this without an open line of communication. Shoot for trust and openness.


Don’t believe all the bragging out there about sexual potency– everyone is apt to exaggerate their exploits and paint distorted pictures of their sex lives.

“About 97% of people are liars,” Cooks says. “A lot of people think they’re missing out on something because they read all the crazy talk on things like Lankbook and at amusement parks. “Don’t think the pleasure ship has sailed and left you behind. The pleasure ship is still docked. It’s ready for you to hop aboard.”

Cooks excused herself momentarily.


Commutes. Computational devices. Calculators. Challenges. “The Four C’s”. And they all lead us to stress.

Stress is a great enemy of sex. So is anxiety about performance. Minimizing both helps maximize your enjoyment of your partner. “If we can quiet our minds,” Cooks says, “put away those calculators for just a minute, we can open ourselves up to better sex.”

Cooks recommends a mentra: FOLPS (Focus on Luscious Pleasurable Sensations).

“There are techniques ranging from quiet leering at your partner at close range to a sort of synchronized breathing that helps keep you in the moment,” she notes. “Great sex happens in the present. It never happens in the future.”

The author and Dr. Cooks suddenly got into an argument about time machines and this segment came to an abrupt end.


No two people are built the same (fact) and it’s important to have compatible body parts. For some women, men of a modest size may be a perfect fit. For other women, they need the good stuff. Nevertheless, it’s a matter of physiology and personal preference. Perfect-fitting penetration isn’t the only avenue to satisfying sex.

“My goodness, no,” Dr. Cooks laughed. “Small men can be perfectly useful. There’s kissing. Cooing. They can sit in the corner and coo at you. It’s a full panoply of pleasure giving.”

Next time, we’ll continue with a few more great sex tips. In the meantime, try a few of these out and let us know how they go. We always appreciate your letters, electronic mails and telephone calls.