#Pat Conroy

[quotelr]

To have attracted readers is the most magical part of my writing life. I was not expecting you to show up when I wrote my first books. It took me by surprise. It filled me with gratitude. It still does.

Pat Conroy, A Lowcountry Heart: Reflections on a Writing Life

[mydaddywiki]

Pat Conroy

Physique: Husky Build Height: 6' 1"

Donald Patrick Conroy (October 26, 1945 – March 4, 2016; aged 70) was an American author who wrote several acclaimed novels and memoirs; his books The Water is Wide, The Lords of Discipline, The Prince of Tides and The Great Santini were made into films, the last two being nominated for Oscars.

Recognized as a leading figure of late-20th century Southern literature (and as a hot chub daddy), who has written several acclaimed novels and memoirs. A former military brat with daddy issues, if he was born a woman, he would have turned into a stripper or whore. Instead he became an author that I'd still take to a back alley for a blow-job. Sure the comb over might be a problem, but I’m positive I won’t be focused on that whilst said dick was in him.

Born in Atlanta, GA, Conroy moved often in his youth, attending 11 schools by the time he was 15. He did not have a hometown until his family settled in Beaufort, SC, where he finished high school. During his senior year in high school, he was a protégé of Ann Head who was an influence on his future writing. His alma mater is The Citadel, The Military College of South Carolina in Charleston, where he graduated from the Corps of Cadets as an English major. He briefly became a schoolteacher (which he chronicled in his memoir The Water Is Wide) before publishing his first novel, The Boo.

Conroy lived on Fripp Island in Beaufort County, South Carolina until his death in 2016 at his home from Pancreatic Cancer. Living in South Carolina, I use to imagine running into him and offering him THE DICK. Then write his own biography about how we were secret lovers for years. Fucking like dogs in heat every time we get together. Yes… that would be a top seller.

Conroy’s first two marriages ended in divorce. He is survived by his wife, the writer Cassandra King; four daughters: Jessica Conroy, Melissa Conroy, Megan Conroy and Susannah Ansley Conroy; five stepchildren: Emily Conroy; Jake, James and Jason Ray; and Gregory Fleischer; and seven grandchildren.

Works: 1970: The Boo 1972: The Water Is Wide 1976: The Great Santini 1980: The Lords of Discipline 1986: The Prince of Tides 1989: Unconquered (teleplay) 1992: Essay on the Hidden Subculture of Military Brats at the Wayback Machine 1995: Beach Music 2002: My Losing Season 2003: Unrooted Childhoods: Memoirs of Growing Up Global 2004: The Pat Conroy Cookbook: Recipes of My Life 2009: South of Broad 2010: My Reading Life 2013: The Death of Santini 2016: A Lowcountry Heart: Reflections on a Writing Life

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Son of The Great Santini

Featuring Bestselling Author, Pat Conroy

In the summer of 1995, famed Southern author, Pat Conroy sat hunched over his desk in his Charleston home, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the keys of his old typewriter. A half-finished manuscript of Beach Music lay in front of him, the pages filled with ideas and fragments of stories that seemed to spill out of him like waves crashing onto the shore. The novel was demanding, as his works always were, and the weight of the characters, the setting, and the complex histories he wove together was both exhilarating and exhausting.

At 54 years old, Pat had earned his place as one of the most prominent writers of his generation. His deep, soulful eyes and rugged face, marked by years of lived experience, spoke of a man who had spent much of his life in search of meaning. His once unruly dark hair, now gray, fell loosely over his forehead gave him the air of a man perpetually lost in thought.

But today, despite his focus on the manuscript, Pat felt the weight of the work more than usual. Beach Music was proving to be a challenge. It required a depth of research. Research that Pat had come to dread. He was a writer, not a historian, and yet, to fully capture the post-Vietnam era in America and the particular tensions in Charleston, South Carolina, he needed someone who could help him dig into the specifics.

That’s when he decided it was time to ask for help. But who? Stepping out for a break, Pat noticed his neighbor, a 24-year-old named Will, lived two doors down from Pat's house, jog past in a faded T-shirt and shorts. He hadn’t run for exercise in years, but Will seemed to carry the energy of youth in every stride. Will had always struck Pat as an interesting young man—bright-eyed, with a sharp wit and a hunger for knowledge. Will was tall, athletic, with sandy brown hair that seemed perpetually windblown, as if he'd just stepped off a surfboard, and he had a smile that seemed to light up the room. Though he was still finding his way in the world, Will had an easy confidence about him that Pat admired.

“Will!” Pat called, stepping out onto the porch. Will slowed his pace and jogged up the steps.

“Mr. Conroy,” Will said with a grin, wiping sweat from his brow. “How’s the book coming?”

Pat hesitated before answering. The truth was, he had been struggling. “It’s… coming. Slowly. Listen, I’m in need of some help, actually. Would you be interested in working as a research assistant for a while?”

Will raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Research assistant? For your book?”

Pat nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah. a lot of it’s in my head, but I need someone to help me organize the details.”

Will considered the offer for a moment, wiping the sweat from his face. “I’ve got some free time. I’d love to help, Mr. Conroy. What do I need to do?”

Pat chuckled. “Call me Pat. Let’s get to work.”

For the next several weeks, Will spent hours in Pat’s home, surrounded by towering piles of books, old Charleston photographs, and historical archives. Pat would often look up from his desk, his eyes slightly bleary from hours of writing, to find Will poring over a stack of documents, catching the young man starring. Will was lustfully checking out the mound in Pat's pants. From what he could make out Pat had an above average size cock and big balls. Pat began to spread his legs a little farther apart as if to give the young man a better view, but never said anything. Later that evening Will went home and jacked off thinking about his hairy balls.

Weeks later, on one particularly humid evening, with the sound of cicadas buzzing in the background, Pat and Will sat on his cozy back porch having a nice conversation, looking out over Battery Creek and the autumn-gilded marsh. After we each had two glasses of wine, the mood started to turn sexual. Just then Pat leaned back in his chair, spread his legs and absently stroked his belly.

The sight of this white haired man leaning back in his seat as if he wanted Will to crawl on top of him, got the young man so aroused that he haphazardly said to Pat, "You look sexy."

What he did next shocked Will. He kissed him. A twice married father and step-father of six, kissed him. After seeing how receptive Will was, Pat grabbed him and pulled him closer to him and they began to kiss frantically. Will's hands quickly roamed Pat's body, feeling at his sides and chest, running my hands under his shirt to feel his chest. Pat's big hands were eager too, roaming Will's muscled torso, rolling down the incline of his abs to the mound in my jeans. Tearing himself away from the husky, hunky next door neighbor and gulping air into his lungs.

'I want you.' Will growled as he started lifting up Pat's shirt.

He clucked approvingly as he caught sight of his big chest with the large red nipples as his mouth instantly fastened to it. This was a first for Pat; in all the sex play he had with his wives, somehow they had never gotten around to sucking his nipples. He sighed as Will sucked his very sensitive and erect nipples all the while running his fingers through his hair.

Will kissed his lips across his chest, inhaling the magical scent of a daddy still in his prime. He had Pat take the shirt off completely as Will's cock grew harder and harder. It rubbed up against Pat's belly and the older man liked what he felt. His hands closed around Will's tight little ass and massaged the cheeks. Then he slipped his hands under the young stud's shorts and underneath his underpants, feeling his silky smooth cheeks. Will got up and shed his clothes. His slim eight incher boner jumped free and pointed up at his navel.

'Damn, that's a mighty fine cock you have there.' Pat said as he reached out for it.

He stroked the slender cock, watching the head disappear and reappear with each stroke. It was just the perfect size for his hand, mouth and ass. Pat pulled the young stallion towards him and took the beautiful cock into his mouth. Swallowing half of his dick, Pat began bobbing his head up and down Will's shaft as his nuts bounced invitingly against Pat's chin. All the while, out there on the back porch.

Suddenly as if realising for the first time where they were, Pat pulled away from his cock and stood up.

"Fuck, you feel good," Pat rasped into Will's ear, followed by a flick of his tongue, making him shudder. "Lenore is asleep already. She took an aspirin with a sleep aid, she won't wake up till morning."

With their cocks dripping in anticipation, Pat took Will by the hand and led him into the nearby spare bedroom where they began to strip. Will whistled in delight when he saw his soon to be lover exposed at last. Pat's portly body was like a work of art: broad shoulders, beefy, ass, and ample belly. And hanging below, a thick circumcised cock with a pair of oversized fuzzy brown balls. Will kneeled and pressed his face into Pat's big thatch of pubes.

The sweet smell of Pat's crotch was utterly intoxicating to Will and he couldn't stop himself from sucking him. Will ran his tongue all over the cock head before putting his mouth over it and began to suck this old author off. Pat hadn't received many blowjobs and Will could tell it really turned him on to have him pumping up and down on his dick. Suddenly Pat the young man by the head as he began to spasm and groan like a wild animal, firing his load down Will's throat. And like that, he had finished him off.

Sensing Will's need to fuck him, Pat quickly got on all fours on the bed, turning his pale, beefy ass him and smiled as he said, "come and get it."

Presented with this view, Will pushed his mouth down to Pat's asshole and started running his moist tongue back and forth against his virgin asshole. When the young man pushed his tongue inside of him. This drove Pat wild and he pushed his ass back farther on Will's probing tongue, moaning loudly. After several minutes, Pat was begging for the young man 7-incher.

Complying, Will spit in his hand, grabbed his cock and slicked it up as best he could. Will thought he was going to shoot off before he could get his cock into the portly author. Rearing his head back, Pat said, "go slow" as Will started to touch the rim of his hot wet ass hole.

"It hurts." The old man said in a choking, husky voice as his tight ass began to open. Will pushed his cock in all the way in Pat's love hole.

His ass was so tight and wonderful Will didn't want to pull back, he just started to gyrate his hips to giving this married man the full sensation of being fucked. Surprisingly, Pat began to rock up and then slammed his butt back onto the young man's dick, pushing his hungry hole farther on to it. The slapping of thighs echoed throughout the room as Will began to wildly fuck his hot ass.

Wanting to see the look on Pat's face while fucking him, Will put him on his back the way he would have fucked his wife, missionary style. With their eyes locked on each other, Pat raises his beefy legs, spreading them wide apart, giving Will full access to his butt as he whispers "give it to me." His love hole didn't resist as much this time as Will buried himself deep in this handsome man. Then he was planting kissing on his cheeks, forehead and all over his face as he slowly continued fucking him. Pat moaned pleasurably as his entire rectum became slippery and no longer resisted the young man's thrusts.

After a few minutes, both men were moaning as it felt so good that neither of them wanted it to end. By now, the wetness of Pat's tight hole was making a suction sound which only helped to intensify the sensation. I tried not to cum too quickly and yet I was really enjoying the sensation of his virgin ass squeezing my dick. And Pat knew from the look on his face that he was getting close and said, "Fuck me hard Will, I need it."

Will doubled his effort and pounded Pats butt even harder, gyrating his hips to give him the full effect of his cock rimming him out. He kept fucking until finally he couldn't hold it any more and drove his cock deep down inside Pat and I let go of his load, spasming three or four times. The exhausted young man stayed on top of Pat for a while until I had enough energy to roll off, in utter bliss, still replaying the entire scene in their minds.

[shinigabi-tan]

Barbra Streisand as Susan Lowenstein in The Prince of Tides (1991).

[cinematic-literature]

Can You Ever Forgive Me? (2018) by Marielle Heller

Book title

The Russia House (1989) by John Le Carré

Dear Sammy: Letters from Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas (1977), edited by Samuel M. Steward

The Prince of Tides (1986) by Pat Conroy

The Magus (1965) by John Fowles

Possession (1990) by Antonia Susan Byatt

[dk-thrive]

Why do they not teach you that time is a finger snap and an eye blink, and that you should not allow a moment to pass you by without taking joyous, ecstatic note of it, not wasting a single moment of its swift, breakneck circuit?

– Pat Conroy, My Losing Season (Bantam; August 26, 2003) (via Wait - What?)

[pamwmsn]

Eat Stay Play Beaufort

"I loved these salt rivers more than I loved the sea; I loved the movement of tides more than I loved the fury of surf. Something in me was congruent with this land, something affirmed when I witnessed the startled, piping rush of shrimp or the flash of starlight on the scales of mullet. I could feel myself relax and change whenever I returned to the lowcountry and saw the vast green expanses of marsh, feminine as lace, delicate as calligraphy. The lowcountry had its own special ache and sting." ~ Pat Conroy

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

"(Music) is something I cannot imagine being without. For without music, life is a journey through a desert that has not ever heard the rumor of God. In music’s sweet harmony, I had all the proof I needed of a God who held the earth together between the staffs, where the heavens lay. Here, he marked all the lines and spaces with notes so perfect that they praised all of his creation with their beauty."

-Pat Conroy, Beach Music

+

“Why do they not teach you that time is a finger snap and an eye blink, and that you should not allow a moment to pass you by without taking joyous, ecstatic note of it, not wasting a single moment of its swift, breakneck circuit?”

--Pat Conroy

(Leila L’Abate)

[start-with-words]

LODESTAR (noun) - a star that is used to guide the course of a ship, especially the Pole Star.

In his shambling, good-natured innocence, Pierre will become the conscience and the lodestar of the novel, and his charming affability and deep intellectual curiosity will make his arrival on any scene or battlefield a welcome one.

- Pat Conroy, in the introduction chapter to Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace.

[culturevulturette]

Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends, but is played out over and over again in the quietest chambers. The mind can never break off from the journey.

Pat Conroy

Eric Kimberlin

[you-me-on-selftimer]

Oh boy. It’s gonna take a long time to heal from this one. A real masterpiece; look past the beach-read-esque cover art.

bookmark: vintage postcard entitled “along the shore”, no location listed.

[quotelr]

I wish nights like this weren't so fragile and slippery and impossible to nail down for study in one's leisure. But the really great nights pass through you like whispers or shadows. They shimmer, but don't adhere.

Pat Conroy, A Lowcountry Heart: Reflections on a Writing Life

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Unbelievable story of Pat Conroy! Thanks for making him a bottom. Man I wish I could have hit that ass!

When I saw that video of him dancing with Barbra Streisand and saw his ass for the first time. No way I'm not making him a bottom.

Glad you liked it.

[sapphoshands]

re-reading wot as an adult while having read pat conroy's the lords of discipline in the interim - which is famously based on conroy's own experiences at the citadel, to the extent that conroy was basically banned from campus for more than twenty years after its publication - completely changed my understanding of the white tower. com plete ly.

Biggest Wheel of Time 'Oh That Explains Some Things' about Jordan's background:

To expand on these further:

If you look up the Citadel (where Jordan went to university), so many of the ways that Jordan writes all teachers and places of learning seem based in what is reported out of this school: brutal hazing, breaking people to teach them duty and discipline, the symbol of graduation is even a special ring (though that's not uncommon), faux-military atmosphere.

Rand comes across as weirdly passive in his love life because Jordan was passive in his own -- when he was dating two women at once, they made all the decisions about when he would be seeing which girl.

Jordan has talked about how uniquely scarring it was for him to kill a woman during his military service, and this was adopted wholesale for Rand (and Mat at various points) despite their background not matching Jordan's.

[thepedanticbohemian]

[pamwmsn]

"A town fed by warm salt tides and cooled by mild winds from the sea; a somnolent town built on a high bluff where a river snaked fortuitously. So we came to Beaufort, a town I grew to love with passion and without apology for its serenity, for its splendidly languid pace, and for its profound and infinite beauty. It was a place of hushed, fragrant gardens, silent streets, and large antebellum houses."