Jason Rimbaud

I guess I'm in love with my I-Phone. There I've said it...publically and everything. With all the applications you can download, I'm surprised it's not listed as one of the worlds greatest something or other. Let's face it, it beats the shit out of the Grand Canyon. (Sorry Des) Though now that I think about it, the I-Phone should come with an ugly people spotting application for those of us that take a drink from time to time. It would've came in handy for me last night. I'm not saying the little twink that shared my bed was a two but he was definitely a two. *shudders* I was accused of not making sense the other day at work...to which I replied, "When I'm this dead sexy, I don't have to make fucking sense." There is a server at the restaurant I now call home, let's call him "D", who isn't really that good of a server. But the guests love him and he has a good heart so I keep him around. But after screwing up for the thousandth time the other night, I look over at the bartender and say, "Good thing "D" is attractive, because his smarts isn't going to take him anywhere." Why isn't Florida called, 'God's Waiting Room'? Since I got clean and sober, I'm finding it harder and harder to remain slim, I know, the drugs were killing me and my behavior was erratic at best. But at least I was thin. So what if I was bald, at least I was thin. Now, I'm still bald and at what my friends call a healthy weight...which is code for fat ass. And to make matters worse, the hair that I'm losing on top of my head is now showing up in the craziest places. Why would your ears ever need hair? For that matter, why would your back, blissfully free of hair for thirty-three years suddenly sprout what I can only describe as fur. And before you all freak out, I do a bit of manscaping to keep the Sasquatch on my back under control. But it's all a bother really. And yet instead of going to the gym, I'm sitting here typing this drivel while drinking a beer after I just ate half a pizza. Maybe I deserve this fat ass staring back at me from the mirror. I guess I really don't want to be perfect anymore. Damn-it all, I am quite happy. Maybe that's all I really need. Jason

Camy, I really liked One Voice....what a difference the finished track sounds like from the first demo I heard years back. The quality is amazing and I'd come see you perform if you were in the States. I haven't kissed a rockstar (chaste of course) in years. Fucking brilliantJason

And here it goes again...Wibby just won't stay gone...shit Jason (really happy that you're back, it's been all warm fuzzy bunny slippers for way too long)

I was in a bar earlier tonight and this black guy I have never met before comes over and says, I quote, "For a white boy, you have mad flavor." I'm not really sure what "mad flavor" is, but I gots it. So why would this stranger come over and say things I don't really understand? I guess I should start at the beginning. Well, not that far back, I don't think even my loyal reader would stick around to read this Blog Entry if I started at the beginning. So lets start from a beginning. I got pulled over the other night on the , way home from work. Apparently my left brake light was shorted out and where its not really illegal it does give the police a good reason to pull someone over at one AM in the morning so they can check and see if that someone has been drinking before getting behind the wheel of their little car. Doesn't that make you all warm and fuzzy bunny slippers? And unfortunately for me, I reeked of booze. And before you go all high moral road on me...I was not drinking. Matter of fact I hadn't had a drink in over a week at the time of this incident. Though if I were to be in this situation as I type this, I would be hammered. But the good news, I'm not driving a car right now. And even better news, I probably couldn't find my car right now. The pig...err...I mean police officer says, "Do you know why I stopped you?" "Not really." "Your left brake light is out." Then he leans in closer to my open window and says, "Have you been drinking?" "No." The bully in blue uniform goes, "License and registration please." This is the part of the story where I tell both of my readers (I know...I'm gaining readership) that as of this moment, I currently have an expired drivers license. Don't look at me like that, it's not that I did it on purpose. I'm no criminal. It's not like I get carded anymore, so I haven't looked at my license since I got the damn thing five years ago. So I have been driving illegally since my birthday back in January. I'm such a rebel. *insert devil horn hands* After taking a look at my expired driver's license, and the kick-ass picture, the donut eating machine says, "Can you step out of the car please?" We had a really busy day at work, so busy that I had to jump behind the bar, in a suit I might add, and help the bartender sling drinks for two hours. And do you know how hard it is to sling drinks wearing a suit and tie? Pretty fucking hard, matter of fact, so hard that I ended up spilling a few drinks all over myself. Cut back to the car at one AM, not only does this pig think I'm drinking and driving, he thinks I'm a dick with no respect for the law. There goes that warm and fuzzy bunny slippers feeling. I step out of the car, quite gingerly I might add. Work has been crazy busy and I'm not as young as I once was, my feet hurt, I think I tore a back muscle hefting around a keg of beer, so stepping out of the car isn't really true. I hauled myself out of the car, a bit unsteady on my feet. Sadly this didn't help me look stone cold sober either. "I swear, I haven't been drinking." Again the officer looked into my eyes and said, "I don't believe you. You smell like you've been drinking and you don't look that steady on your feet." I am a smart ass, but even I know when to keep my big fat mouth shut. So instead of saying, 'well you're eyes look glazed does that mean you've been eating donuts' I simply let the thought die inside my head. While I'm on the subject, why does every single police officer in the world have the same haircut? It's always shaved close on the side of the head and then on top they have this really bad crew cut. Seriously, next time you seen a cop, look at the haircut, they all match. So the patrolman sends me on a series of stupid tests designed to do nothing or tell nothing either than make your heart pump harder so any alcohol that's in your stomach reaches your bloodstream faster to give the cops a higher blood alcohol content reading. I had to walk a straight line, which is very difficult when your feet have swelled up the size of melons. I had stand on one leg and count to twenty with my head tilted back, touch my nose without looking, and my personal favorite, saying the alphabet back wards. Which ironically, I have absolutely no problem doing right now drunk as hell. After about twenty minutes of this useless shit, the dick head says he has reasonable doubt that I am indeed under the influence and demands that I take a Breathalyzer test. In the meantime, while the first cop was frowning at me for my blatant disregard of the law, two more police officers show up. I'm on the side of the road, about two blocks from my house, and three cops are gathered around, all who frown when cop number one says I am driving without a license and my brake light is broken. From the look on their collective faces, I am scum. Matter of fact I am wondering when one of those crazy S.O.B.'s is going to pop a cap in my ass. You have seen the footage about that BART cop last New Year's Eve who had that black guy on the ground, three of them holding him down, and the BART cop pulls his gun and shoots him in the back. That happened not that far away from where I live in the Bay Area. Check the footage on Tube if you haven't seen it yet. I can almost feel the pleasure oozing out of the cops, they think without a doubt that I am drunk, and I'm only a Breathalyzer test away from them making a shit ton of money and probably a bonus for busting a DUI. Did you know that? Police departments have a running contest each month, where the police officer with the most DUI's get a cash bonus. And you wonder why real crime is rampant in the world? The cops are all staking out bars trying to bust little Suzy who had one shot of Yagermister and two warm draft Coors Light instead of stopping violent crime like rapists and murders. You go Barney Fife. So they give me this little tube and I blow into it. And much like I knew it would, the results show I have zero blood alcohol content. The cop looks at the machine, and then back at me, and says, "There must be a malfunction." He takes me to another police cruiser and a different machine where I repeat my blowing. I wonder if I had been drinking, and failed the machine blowing thing, I wonder if they would allow me to go to another cruiser and blow again. Anyway, the results said again, ZERO. And now they aren't happy at all. It's now after two thirty AM, catching another drunk driver is all but impossible since all the bars are now closed and everyone is safely home. All the police gather around the machine and finally admit that not only have I not been drinking but I am completely sober. And do you know what, they don't apologize for wasting my time. The cop looks at me and says, "I could make it that you lose your license for a year, enough time has passed. How would you like that? Driving is not a right, it is a privilege for those Americans that follow the rules." I really didn't know what to say to that. This cop is so mad at me that I'm not drunk, something he should be happy that I don't drink and drive, but he's in my face, his face is red and his veins are sticking out. For a moment I think I'm in the twilight zone or something. Why is he so mad at me? I wanted to scream back at him, but I didn't, because I'm intelligent. So instead, I stand there, not saying anything unless he asks me a direct question, while he writes me up a ticket for an expired drivers license and another warning fix-it ticket for my brake light, and a warning that the next time he seems me on the road, I better have a current driver's license. So what did we learn... That cops get really mad if you smell like alcohol but haven't really been drinking and that I can't pass a sobriety test while completely sober. And apparently, I'm so gay that I can't change a brake light on my car without cutting my hand and ripping out the carpet lining in my truck. Thank god for my neighbor who had pity on me and changed the light for me. So I bought him a beer at the local bar and proceeded to get so drunk, and tell my story to anyone who wanted to listen. And while at the bar, after another telling of this story which started to get more and more blown out of context, this black guy comes over and give me a hug, and says, "For a white boy, you have mad flavor."

I understand the desire to lick ones own nuts...though a dog? That's just fucked up...Jason

So since I first posted this piece back in 2006, I have changed more than a few things. Not only have I taken Des's advice but I have had two new parts and have changed the name to Stages of Heaven. And seeing as I haven't been posting anything on these forums in a very long time, I figured I could give everyone the entire piece in all of its raw and ugliness. So here is the piece, I hope you enjoy it. Stages of Heaven By: Jason Rimbaud Edge of Heaven I awake to the sound of rain Drumming on the roof of my red convertible A bottle of Vodka rings in my head And the blonde that gave me this nightmare Lying beside me on the seat My eyes focus on the bottle of pills Lying on the floor next to the accelerator Ironically placed for an empty bottle once containing ?E? The euphoria of the drug had disappeared with the morning My mouth is dry My lips cracked and coated with some unknown substance Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand The memory of the previous night comes crashing back The sex was rough and sweaty Violence mixed with lust that could only be fulfilled By the emptying of ones essence into a willing receptacle I awake to the sound of rain Drumming on the roof of my red convertible The droplets rolling down the window Matching the imaginary tears that fall down my cheeks A pack of cigarettes rests on the dashboard I grab one And draw the dark harsh smoke deep into my lungs Glancing over at the blonde sleeping beside me My eyes run over the contour of his lithe body Already I can see the beginnings of several bruises Purple mixed with yellow against the pale skin of his back In his sleep he moves slightly I imagine him dreaming about the pleasures Pleasures I introduced to him last night I awake to the sound of rain Drumming on the roof of my red convertible The drumming matching the shallow heartbeat Of the blonde lying beside me I shove his legs off my lap And casually touch the end of my cigarette against his bare leg Gentle Almost caressing I use just the tip This touch causes him to moan And move a bit further away from me Images of us floats across my subconscious Images that will cause him intense self-loathing Flexing my arms above my head I stretch Wincing as pain shoots up my left arm Looking at my arm I see deep scratches Starting from my wrist and ending just below my armpit Another memento from my endless night's searching I awake to the sound of rain Drumming on the roof of my red convertible I awaken and remembered everything Conversation from the Edge of Heaven Shaking the blonde, I say, 'Wake up, it's time for you to go.' But there is no reply Barely even a grunt I smile and my face twists with disgust I punch him hard in the ribs And repeat, 'Get up! You have to go.' Groaning, he opens his eyes slowly I stare into his eyes eagerly Relishing the change I see Last night they were perfect blue orbs Today they are glazed and bloodshot He asks, 'Where am I?' 'The edge of heaven.' My grin now feral and harsh 'Now get the fuck out of my car.' For a moment he stares up at me Confusion showing on his face in a range of emotion I find him and his emotions quite pathetic Reaching over his body I open the car door The rain rushes inside the car Falling across his naked flesh With one swift motion I push him from the car He lands in the soft mud His once pale body now blackened from the filth And the bruises of our night of lust 'My clothes,' He stammers out Already shivering from the wind and rain Looking around the interior of my car I spy my used boxers on the seat beside me Grabbing them I throw them at his head 'Here.' And then I press the accelerator to the floor The powerful V-8 engine caused the car to lurch forward The car door slams shut As I speed away into the morning storm Leaving the boy crying and naked in the mud Rain falls upon his battered body And I wonder briefly how he'll make it home But by the time I light another cigarette The boy is forgotten Fading into another blurred memory In my long search to escape the edge of heaven Crazed Nights on the Edge of Heaven I arrive at the club shortly after one AM My blonde hair is loose about my shoulders I had decided on a pair of faded brown leather pants A sleeveless fitted T and my favorite pair of boots I look something like a hunter searching for prey As the bouncer eyes me up with a mischievous grin I pay the twenty dollar cover charge I dazzle him with a smile and enter the club laughing It will take more than a nice body to get my attention For tonight I am looking for something epic The club is dark giving off a fa?ade of beauty and mystery Rows upon rows of black lights litter the walls And flashing lights and revolving strobes Cause a never ending flashbulb affect that assaults the senses And leaves one with an euphoric high long after the sun rises Returning several smiles I casually stalk through the throng Relishing the stares I receive by the many drunken inhabitants I move gracefully eyeing up several promising candidates With a smile that could only be described as feral I wait for the twink behind the bar to notice me Catching the bartender?s eye I smile and nod my head A smile that I know will get me moved to the front of the line As he walks by again he makes sure to smile back at me And he thrusts his cotton covered ass out for me to stare at I grin and oblige him by giving it a thorough examination He screams out to be heard over the music, ?What?ll be sweetie?? Grinning, I answer loudly, ?Any imported beer you have.? ?None of that domestic shit for you,? He says, flirting with me He doesn?t know just how true that statement really is I was looking for something truly exotic this night I turn my attention back to the mass of dancing flesh before me Taunt bodies glistening under the lights to the pulsing beat of the music Out there in that sea of bodies was the lucky boy The one that would accompany me to the back room of the club And beg me to ravish his body only to leave them wanting more This obsession of dancing is one I never truly understood I come to these clubs for one thing and one thing only To find some poor unsuspecting boy and use him as a cum dumpster And out of the hundreds of boys on the dance floor Only two caught my attention and sent my imagination rolling One was a barely twenty something with a body built for fucking Narrow waist, toned muscular back with long legs His brown hair, gelled and pushed forward, was damp with sweat The only clothing to adorn his form was a pair of faded blue jeans And stamped across his ass was a red star that reminded me of a bull?s eye The other was a fellow blonde, his hair short and plastered down He also wore blue jeans but had a long sleeve white shirt as well I could see through the wet material to the tone body underneath Blondie?s muscles were straining to keep up the furious pace he set The intensity on his face makes me ponder how far he?d go to please me Both twink?s would make the perfect bottom for me this night And I wanted them both though for different reasons The blonde looked more experienced moving around the floor With a kind of confidence that only comes with sexual prowess I feel like a kid in a candy store that must choose only one item But Red Star looked to be shyer under the lights Like this was something new but he was willing to experience it all I gulp down another swallow of beer and watch both intently Both were dancing with two average looking boys And I notice that neither seems overly interested in their partners I down the rest of my beer and hand off the bottle to some old queen I grab his crotch and give it a small squeeze as a way of payment And ignore his smile as I walk across the dance floor I make my decision and keep my eyes intent on my prey I choose Red Star, I guess I like the nervous look that creeps into his eyes Hoping my instincts are right, I walk over to where he?s dancing I step between the two boys, my hand running down Red Star?s chest Stopping just shy of his faded blue jeans and look at his face I catch my breath as I stare into the bluest eyes I?ve ever seen Without realizing it we start moving together to the pulsing music Up close Red Star is even sexier then I had first expected He has high cheekbones and a narrow nose with thin lips That looks absolutely soft yet firm at the same time My hand creeps up to his neck and I pull him close He returns my lustful gaze with a nervous smile Red Star?s arms snake around my waist as he gains confidence He pushes himself tighter against me and I feel the heat from his body I can smell traces of cologne on his body mixed with sweat A fragrance that is all male and intoxicatingly innocent I continue my probing stare into those endless pools of blue By now a thin layer of sweat covers my body I feel it dripping down my chin and rolling down my chest Tickling my stomach before being absorbed into my leather pants Red Star?s hands finds my ass and pulls me closer to his sweaty form His other hand rakes across my back as we gyrate to the music I know I made the right choice when I saw the unbridled lust in his eyes With every thrust of my hips I could feel his cock grinding into me With every rake across my back he is urging me to take him I had him right where I want him I only had to show him So I show surprise when he leans in and presses his lips against mine I have been kissed by numerous boys and know each one has a different style Some kiss hard, their mouths open wide, almost engulfing mine While others are gentle, as if they are politely asking me for access But this kiss was different, like maybe it was his first time kissing a boy Like he is trying it out, comparing this sensation to other experiences Blushing deeply Red Star presses his lips hard into mine again This time with the same urgency I feel in his caress I grab Red Star?s hand and drag him towards the stairs This leads down into the backroom of the club I am surprised when he comes along willingly, almost urgently As we descend into the semi-darkness of the backroom I can see men all around us in various states of undress Some of these men were sucking and some were even fucking But all were moaning in pleasure as they searched for quick release I notice Red Star?s eyes widen at the sight of so many men having sex He grabs my hand tighter and continues walking further into this orgy Finding an empty space against the wall I push him against it I devour his mouth hungrily, invading the space with my tongue I caress his chest roughly, pinching his nipples until they are red I continue to kiss him even as I lose myself in the impending release Turning him around I press his face into the wall Even as I bite and suck on the flesh of his neck I fumble with the button of his pants as he reaches for my cock Ripping down his pants I grin when the whiter flesh comes into view I growl loudly at the sight before me and lust takes over With one hand I stroke his cock as my other hand opens my pants Without bothering to waste time by pulling them all the way down I pull out my cock and press it against his trembling flesh Rubbing along his crack I tease him, waiting for him to beg All rational thought burns away in the aftermath of his scream Biting his neck hard enough to leave marks on his tanned skin I slam myself deep inside him not stopping until I can go no further Crying out in pain mixed with pleasure he pushes back against me His hands and arms holding himself upright away from the wall With every thrust he clenches down causing me to push wildly into him By now both of us are grunting as we lose ourselves in the moment My shirt clings to my back as I concentrate on the vice around my cock Leaning my head on Red Star?s back I reach around and grab him Finding the natural rhythm of our bodies I know it won?t be much longer He is the ultimate bottom, wriggling around as I jab into him Clenching his muscles tightly each time I withdrawal He meets each of my thrusts with wild abandonment I feel something wet on my hand as Red Star yells out His seed exploding all over the wall before us Bringing my hand to his lips he cleans them as I fuck him Feeling the familiar tightening I push inside him as far as I can And moan as the sensation shoots from my groin and into his body Resting my head against his back I try to recover my breath He turns his head around and tries to kiss me again But I push his head away even as I hear clapping around us I look around and notice several guys had gathered around us watching I could tell some of them are hoping for their turn of our frenzied fucking Grabbing a shirt out of the hands of one of the bystanders I pull out and wipe my cock off on the shirt before zipping up Giving the shirt back I make my way up the stairs and out to the street The memory of Red Star fades as I open the door and speed away into the night By the time I arrive back home I will have forgotten the entire encounter My mind already focusing on the next twink, the next anonymous fuck He?ll be another blurry memory to go along with the memory of ?him? Just a usual night in a string of nights that makes up my life

This really a small piece that's connected to a much larger piece. As of right now, it's about twenty pages. I know.... But I'm working on the editing part. When it's finish I'll post it here. Thanks everyone Jason

What Have You Done? By: Jason Rimbaud He was in the shadows Standing alone Was he there, was he not? I stepped up A mask covering my eyes The air was still and so was he I walked up holding my breath In truth I knew This was the moment of his death I had but one chance I grabbed his arm and pulled him close Wanting him to savor the warm night air What have you done? He screamed to the night Then over to the wall His back towards me Smaller and vulnerable than in life His hair damp with sweat And clinging to his ears and neck Our love was suppose to protect us It didn?t Our love was suppose to heal us It didn?t I had begged you not to leave me You did A finger on the hammer sounded a click His body still and red Is this what our love looks like?

It's been almost two months since I started my new bright and shiny job in San Francisco...you know the one I'm talking about. The job that was suppose to give me more time to myself, time I could use to write. Well that dream was held up and then smashed to pieces right before my very eyes. I won't make NaNo this year, matter of fact I failed miserably. Oh don't you worry you crazy kids, I'll punish myself accordingly later. I had such high hopes and plans, but life keeps fucking me up lately. I get up and go to work, barely having time to wash my body much less touch myself in dirty ways. I still know what my dick looks like, I just haven't beaten it for a while. (and it might owe me money by now) I want to tell you about the guy I caught jerking off outside my restaurant window a few weeks ago, but I can't. Because I'm working to fucking much to take the time to relay the tale. I want to tell you about the old queen that sat down at my restaurant and got so drunk he pissed himself sitting in his chair in my restaurant, but I can't, I have to go to work early tomorrow morning and just don't have the strength to tell you about. Or the guy I got arrested because he tried to walk out on a $124 check without paying. Or how I walked across the street and caught him in another bar before dragging his broke ass back to my restaurant where I called the police. Not to mention that he owed the other restaurant for the drinks he consumed on their premises before I drug him out by his ear. And then there was this guy on the train that was so hot I decided to make out with between Daly City stop and Colman street station. So hot and heavy this make out session was, by the time he got off on his stop, I was standing there with a solid rock erection showing proudly for the rest of the passengers to stare out while I tried to wipe off the stupid grin on my face. And then later on in the grocery store when I was doing my weekly shopping, and my mind drifted back to that hot make-out session with this hot guy that I popped another boner all of a sudden and when I turned around, this lovely old lady was standing there, staring at my bulging pants with a horrified look on her face. (though I'm sure she has seen a penis erect before, I don't know why she was so offended) Do you have any idea how "hard" it is to do the weekly grocery shopping with a burning erection leading the way? I bet you don't, because I'm sure I'm the only one that is afflicted with man's greatest reflex. Fuck me, I'm way to sleepy and maybe a bit drunk to tell you about my last two months. So I'm sure I'll just take more pictures to send to random friends and go to bed. Sleep tight you crazy kids, I know I'll be sleeping restlessly. Jason

Cole, sometimes I am a bit on the stupid side...especially when I'm not the one on the prowl. I can be so oblivious when someone likes me, and If I'm not attracted to them, I am downright idiotic. So sometimes I have to get hit over the head with it, but Alex was so unexpected...in a good way.Matter of fact, he just left about an hour ago...after making me breakfast. A feat I won't have him repeat either, how can someone in their upper twenties burn eggs, toast, even the fucking orange juice. Next time, I cook...Jason

So Bruin, a burrito is a traditional Mexican dish, you take a corn tortilla and stuffed it with chicken, steak, or any other meat or veggie, add onions, sour cream, avocado, maybe cheese, refried beans and then wrap it closed and eat it. I'm not a fan, especially anything from Taco Bell, which is nothing but American food disguised as Mexican. Now a beaner, a beaner is a slang term that is used as a negative towards Mexican's. It's like calling a black person a "n" word, and much like using the word "n", beaner is only acceptable if used by a mexican towards another mexican.Jason

Have you ever heard the expression dipping your pen in the company ink? If you have, then you know that?s what they call it when you sleep with someone you work with. And since most of you know about my little fling with Mark, my semi-straight co-worker who I had a year long crazy affair with, you also know I?ve been to that movie already and by the end of it all I ended up firing him for stealing from my hip up-scale restaurant. You would think I had already learned my fucking lesson. And I guess you could say I had learned my lesson?or at least I learned my lesson six months ago. But apparently I forgot that lesson a few weeks ago. And this instance happened before I got my new job, a job I start this coming Monday. Where, by the way, instead of working for 65 hours a week, I?ll be working only 40 hours a week. So a few weeks ago, a whole bunch of us from work went to Ruby Sky, San Francisco?s biggest nightclub, for an AID?s benefit. We met in the city around 4pm, figuring we?d have dinner together and hang out drinking and such until the show started. Because I?m somewhat of a snob, I choose not to stay in the Motel 6 like everyone else. I instead choose to stay at a fine boutique hotel called the Palomore, about six blocks away from the nightclub. I decided to go all out and book a large suite with a Fuji-style tub and a large stone shower with glass doors and a king size bed. I must admit, the room was pretty fucking sweet. And one of my simple joys, whenever I get a few days off, I like to go somewhere and get a nice hotel room. It?s one of my little quirks that make?s me feel all warm fuzzy bunny slippers. For some reason, all my co-workers wanted to see this room; apparently they had never stayed in a room that costs $400 dollars a night. One of my co-workers, let?s call him Alex, declared that if I didn?t hook up with anyone that night, then he wanted to come back to my room and get in the Fuji-Tub. I know me, and just how big of a slut I am, I told him it was fine to come back to my room, if I didn?t hook up with anyone at the nightclub. I forgot about the exchange, and we went to dinner. So to give you a good picture of how much is a whole bunch, we asked for a table for six, four girls and two guys. Everyone at the table knew that I was gay; the four girls were a mix of single, taken, and married. But what we didn?t know was anything about Alex. Quick back story on Alex: Alex is twenty-six, straight blond hair, not very tall but quite slender, and is extremely private. He?s worked at the hip up-scale restaurant for six months or so and this was going to be my first time hanging out with him outside of work. And the girls, though they hung out with him before, said he was fun but a bit shy and never spoke about personal issues. Once at the restaurant, we all decided to forgo ordering individual entr?e?s and instead ordered a shit-ton of starters to share. Alex and I had our eye on the steak appetizer; matter of fact, we both ordered one. I guess you could say we love to eat meat. God that was a bad horrible pun?I?m sorry. Anyhoo, we had pretty much consumed everything and all that was left was one piece of this scrumptious steak starter. Alex and I both went for the last piece, our forks stabbing into the marinated cow at the same time. For a moment we sat there, staring at each other, our arms steady and unflinching. ?My fork was here first.? Alex says. ?I?d have to argue against that.? I reply. ?A Mexican standoff, how cosmopolitan.? He says before whistling the famous opening of The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. ?Well, I just happen to have my gun handy.? I state, grinning like the cat that ate the cannery. ?Better watch out, I?d hate for your gun to go off to soon.? This from Alex, who had leaned forward to get closer to me, his eyes sparkling. ?And that would disappoint you?? I quip, leaning forward as well. Alex shrugs, ?I?m use to disappointment. You?ve been my manager for six months.? So after dinner, we head to Ruby Sky. The place was packed, a mixture of drag queens, breeders, twink?s, over the hill queers, leather boys, bears, and of course me. As I looked around the club, I saw an open spot at the corner of the bar right next to the dance floor. I staked my spot and settled in for a night of drinking and flirting. I was pretty much the purse watcher; I stayed at the bar while everyone else danced their collective asses off. And since I always tip heavy, my drinks were made faster and quite a bit stronger than everyone else?s. Matter of fact, by the end of the night, the bartender wasn?t even charging me for drinks anymore. At the end of the night, right before the bartender gives us the last shot, he asks, ?Are you guys driving?? Alex yells out, ?After all the fucking shots you gave us and all the drinks we had, you ask us now if we?re driving?? ?Yeah, shouldn?t you have asked us that question a few hours ago?? I ask, laughing very drunkenly. We toasted the bartender and Alex and I helped the very drunk ladies out of the club and into a cab, the six of us piled in the backseat in an orgy of giggles and groping. Once we got back to their hotel, one of the girls was getting a bit sick so I carried her into the room and right into the bathroom where she spent the next several hours hugging the toilet. The other three girls were very drunk as well, and they had reached the stage of annoying. Plus they pulled out the pot pipe, and that was my cue to leave. I said my goodbye?s and walked out of the room and down the hallway and into the street where I looked for a cab. ?Hey, Jason, wait for me.? Alex says, running out of the hotel after me, his bag thrown over one shoulder. I grin and say, ?Too scared to stay in a room filled with drunken girls.? ?The drunk girls are right up my alley but I?m not a fan of pot.? Alex says, shrugging. ?And you did promise.? ?Yeah I did.? We get back to the Hotel Palomore and after a very quiet elevator ride, I open the door. We enter the room and Alex rushes right into the bathroom. I remember that I have a mini bar in the room and I yell out, ?Do you want another drink?? He pokes his head out of the bathroom and looks at me funny and asks, ?Don?t you think I?m drunk enough?? ?That?s really not up to me is it?? I say while I make myself a vodka and orange juice, not really caring how much that little bottle of vodka was probably going to cost me along with the bottle of orange juice. Alex disappears back into the bathroom and I suddenly hear water running. I walk in the bathroom and lean against the door, grinning. He reminded me of a little kid, filled with wonder and excitement. He was pressing all the buttons and making little squeals when he found out what that particular button did. He turns and looks at me with a huge grin, ?This is so fucking cool.? He?s cute, something I never thought about before. It must be the vodka because I?m not doing this again I think. But it does occur to me that Alex is the guy I hired to replace Mark. Kind of creepy? Alex takes off his shirt and puts it on the toilet seat and then drops his pants. He stands there, his arms wrapped around his body, staring as the tub fills with water. He looks at me, and asks, ?You going to get in?? Granted this tub is large enough for two comfortably, hell we could squeeze in three if there was a party. But I found it a bit strange that he would want me to join him in his soak. But I was drunk and said, ?Sure.? I take off my shirt and pants and then finish my drink. The tub is filled about half-way so I tell him I?m going out to the balcony for a smoke. Five minutes later I stumble back inside. One lamp in the bedroom is turned on, the lowest setting and all the lights in the bathroom are off. I ask, ?Why no lights?? I can see him in the tub, the water almost to his neck. He replies, ?The lights were hurting my eyes.? I shrug and climb in my side of the tub. And I must admit it felt good after a long night of drunkenness. I leaned back and enjoyed the soothing bubbles. After a few minutes, Alex says, ?I think I?m ready for another drink.? ?You decided you aren?t drunk enough?? I ask closing my eyes and letting the water take over. ?Something like that.? ?The vodka is over by the TV; make me another one as well.? He stands up to get out of the tub and his boxers damn near slide off his skinny frame, showing me a good portion of his left cheek. So I say, ?Nice ass.? He climbs out and looks at me, his boxers still down under his cheek, and says, ?You can?t really say that, you only saw half of my ass.? ?I?m assuming the other half looks pretty much like this half. I can put two and two together.? ?Not even the slightest.? He says as he turns around and pulls down the other side and tucks it under his cheeks. And I have to agree with him, his right cheek looks nothing like his left cheek. There is a tattoo that reminds me of a masquerade mask, the one that was used in the movie, The Crow. I leaned forward to get a better look in the half-light and say, ?Nice.? ?My ass or the tattoo?? I lean back and shut my eyes, and say, ?Take your pick.? ?Then I choose both.? ?So be it.? After a few minutes he returns with the drinks and climbs back inside the tub. It had been driving me crazy so I asked, ?Why the tattoo on your ass?? ?Why not?? I look at him, cocking my head to one side. He laughs and takes a drink, then he sinks down until only his mouth, nose, and eyes were above water. He then asks, ?So what happened tonight?? ?Not sure I understand the question.? ?I guess you?re just a pretty face then.? ?At least both of my cheeks match.? ?Okay, so we know you don?t have a tattoo on your ass, what about your carpet?? I open my eyes and stare at him, or what I can see of him, and ask, ?Are you asking me if my carpet matches the drapes?? He sits up and says bluntly, ?Yes, does your pubes match your hair color?? ?Um, I?m bald. So that question really doesn?t count, unless you?re asking if I shave my pubes.? He started laughing so hard his head went under the water for a moment and he quickly popped back up spitting out water. I say, ?That?ll teach you.? He glares at me and then says again, ?So what happened tonight? Why didn?t you find someone? Aren?t you supposed to be a huge slut?? ?I was actually having fun with you crazy guys, I just didn?t want to think about it.? ?Are maybe you just wanted me to come over and get into your Fuji-Tub?? ?Are you flirting with me, Alex?? I ask, suddenly very interested in our bizarre conversation. He laughs and lets his body float up to the surface and says, ?Maybe.? Even though it?s dark in the bathroom, I can still make out the nice bulging front of his boxers. He was not excited by any means; it was almost like he was showing me the goods, giving me assurance that should things get interesting between us, I would be more than satisfied with what he would be bringing to the party. I grab his floating legs and pull him close to me, my lips finding his. He kisses me back, and I know from that kiss that I wasn?t going to be disappointed. I wasn?t his first guy kiss. Several hours later, after messing up the bed a few times, he?s asleep next to me and I?m staring at the ceiling wondering what the fuck just happened. I look over and see his backpack on the chair. The same backpack where a few hours ago he pulled out condoms and lube. I start laughing, I?ve just been seduced by a younger man. I almost feel taken advantage of?but instead I go to sleep. So this happened a few weeks ago, we hadn?t a repeat performance. I still don?t know that much about Alex. But now that I no longer work for my hip up-scale restaurant, he had made the offer that he would like to get to know me a bit better. Though after what we did in that hotel room, I don?t know what else he needs to know. And if you?re wondering which one of us got to eat that delicious steak starter, we compromised and gave it to one of the girls. Though in the end, I got to eat my steak anyway.

So a few days ago, I was on my way home from my hip up-scale restaurant, and I get this frantic call from my friend Daniel. Apparently he was trashed out of his mind and had reached the stage of hungry and didn?t want to drive anywhere. So after a few minutes of his begging and pleading, I agreed to stop at the Taco Bell drive-thru and pick him up some munchies. Yeah I know, I?m cool like this. Since he didn?t give me a wish list, I figured I would get him a few different things and let him choose his poison. I pulled up to the speaker and the order taking guy blurts out, ?Sooner or later they all make a run to the border.? This struck me as funny and I say with a hint of a giggle, ?It?s not for me.? Order taking guy replies, ?That?s what they all say.? ?But unlike those losers, I?m not lying,? I insist. Order taking guy says, ?Come on, tell me what you want for forth meal. You know you want it.? I give in and say, ?I?ll take a number one and a number two.? Order taking guys says, ?That?s one number one and one number two. Anything else?? ?And two burritos to go.? Order taking guys says quickly, ?And two beaner?s to go.? For a split second I wondered if I heard him correctly, did he just say two beaner?s to go. And at a Mexican restaurant, and he had a Mexican accent as well. But I couldn?t let him have the last laugh, so I fired back, ?Only if they?re hard working beaner's.? Order taking guy starts laughing and tells me to pull up to the second window. And once there, he leans out?he?s a Mexican youth probably around twenty or so?and tells me I was the only person to not only catch on to his joke but fired back with a comeback. Apparently he had been working for twelve hours and was bored out of his mind. So for making him laugh, he threw in the ?beaner's? for free. But I might be an asshole, because I charged Daniel for the two value meals and the two free burritos. What? Don?t judge me. Jason

I think this video is fall down on the ground and piss yourself funny. Though now that I think about it, why would anyone want to do such a disgusting thing. Oh well, it's another one of those weird slang terms. Anyway, I did find this amusing, but what makes me laugh even harder, is there are a group of people who believe that this is going to happen in the next few years. Brave new world...I wish I could find the link, there is a short story written by Bruin, I think, called I-Plug, kind of hits on this topic but in a creepy way. It's a great story though, brilliantly written. Anyway, Jason

Cole, that was actually pretty hysterical...the brunet boy made it though, his little smirks and crazy meeeooo were perfect. Jason and Des, naughty...very naughty

Right back at ya Des. I love hugs.Looking back, I realize just how offensive this Blog entry was, but as Des stated, I wasn't attacking other people's belief, I was merely stating how religion has affected my life. And in my anger, I probably did offend anyone who is still reading this out-dated Blog. But I also channeled my anger in a constructive way as opposed to going up to random strangers in the street and try and get them to change to my way of thinking. I don't think I would make a very good missionary. :winkI have Christian friends. *spoken with my tongue firmly planted in my cheek*So please, if this Blog entry isn't your cup of tea, I understand. Most of the time I can't force myself to read half the shit I write. And Des, seeing as I will be starting a brand new job on Monday, one that lets me work on 40 hours a week as opposed to the one I have right now where I was working 70 hours a week, you'll be seeing a lot more of my rambling Blog's in the coming weeks.Jason

So something happened to me over the last weekend that I've been debating on whether or not I would share with those of you that read this Blog. And it's not because I think the events that transpired that lonely Friday night is of a personal nature and I'm unwilling to share it here to those that read my Blog on the daily. Because I think you know that I've been nothing but brutally honest in these entries over the last few years. Whether I'm writing about my past drug addictions, my straight-boy crush Mark and our adventures, or the stupid shit that happens in my daily life, I never once second guessed or deleted a single Blog entry I've written. Not to say that I'm proud of each and every entry that made it online in this Blog and the other one over at Awesome Dude. There are more than a few that never should've been posted in the first place. But that's the beauty of Blogging, being raw and uncensored. And yes that was a dig at Julien, maybe I want to read your Blog entries more than once, I love reading old Blog entries and the comments. But let's move on, and I still love you Julien. *smooches* But when I decided to begin this journey of online Blogging, I created a personal standard, a guideline of do's and don'ts that I swore to strictly follow. I promised myself that I would always write candidly and without fear, no matter the subject. And that I would never censor my words no matter the personal cost. And looking back over the last few years, I think I've kept that promise. So why would I hesitate about sharing this particular event if I swore to always be honest in my Blog? Well, I never swore that I would share everything that happened in my life, I only swore to always tell the truth when I did Blog. After all, no one person's life is so interesting enough to disclose each and every event that happens. Can you imagine trying to read a Blog where the author described in great detail each and every little boring thing that happened to him on a given day? After a few entries, you?d find something else to read, if you just didn?t put a gun to your head to stop the boredom. It?s the Blogger?s duty to only present the interesting moments and to keep the boring shit safely locked away far from the reader?s eyes. So I was talking about last weekend night?or to be more accurate I was talking about thinking about telling you about what happened last weekend. But before that? Most of you know that my parents threw me from their house after my father caught me in a compromising position with an older boy when I was sixteen years old. Most of you know that my father died shortly afterwards and that was the last time I ever spoke to my father. My relationship with my mother is nonexistent. The last time I saw the breathing cunt that gave me birth was the day she tried to trick/force me to enter Desert Stream Ministries (I think that is the name), a place that specializes in the re-education of homosexuals. That was the day when I stopped hoping that my mother would one day come to accept my sexuality. That day, I remember looking into her eyes and I realized that I saw nothing but hatred, disgust. And I saw the blame. I think she blamed me for the heart attach my father head a few short months after he found out his son was a no good rotten cocksucker. That was the day I kicked her out of my life. And believe me when I say, I will die a happy man if I never speak to her again for the rest of my life. I wouldn?t go as far as to say that my sexuality is necessarily the fault of my parents, or that they somehow conceived a defected child. But I will go on record saying that they did nothing to curb my natural behavior. And in a way, a very big life changing kind of way, they contributed greatly to my innate desire to be in close proximity with other boys. ?Oh really?? you might have voiced this question or a different question that is somewhat similar to the one I offer here, upon first reading the above statement, at this particular time, while reading this particular paragraph, of this particular Blog entry. Or you might ask, ?How could a set of parents, so righteous and so in tune with the almighty god ever contribute to a son of theirs being a faggot?? I?m glad you asked one of these two questions, it will make the rest of this entry more interesting. For those of you that didn?t ask that question, please feel free to exit?now. Beware, the worlds longest sentence is coming up. When you isolate twenty to thirty, thirteen year old boys, in a camp far away from all contact with the female type species, especially at the time when those boys are just discovering that the thing between their legs has a more important function that releasing bodily waste, only an idiot would be surprised that the boys, or at least a few of those boys, would find an alternative method to release and explore the pent up sexual energy that Mother Nature has so thoughtfully imprinted in our DNA. This is a fact. I?ve seen it proved too many times over the years. Hell, I?ve proved it too many times over the years. Don?t believe me, put three, twelve to fourteen year old boys in a room for three days and leave them to their own devices and see what happens. At least two out of the three boys will experiment, sexually, with one another. Because all humans have one thing in common, deep inside our genetic make-up, we are hardwired to ensure the continuation of the human species. And if you take that away, we will still try to fulfill that need. Sex is something that most American?s shy away from. I think in part because of our ancestor?s fear of women being accepted as an equal. And in part because a majority of American?s believes that sex is a gift of God that is only supposed to be used for procreation. Any other reason that brings you to orgasm is in direct violation of the Bible and therefore deemed to be an abomination. This is completely and hysterically fucking funny to me. We all know, just by reading the papers, the religious right are known to have the kinkiest sexual habits of them all. Of course, the bathroom trysts aside, they justify this behavior by decreeing that if these deviant acts are between a husband and a wife then all is fine and perfect. Just don?t let those same acts happen between two people who are unmarried, or ever worse, of the same sex. Because then it?s an abomination unto God and the evildoers should be put to death. Apparently, in the Christian Bible, only a male and a female are allowed to fall in love. Why do we know this to be a fact? Because some asshole who lived in the dessert three thousand years ago claimed he was a messenger of God and said so. That?s it. No facts to validate his claim. Apparently, if you live in the dessert for a few years with nothing to eat or drink, except what birds happen to regurgitate in your mouth, then everything you say must be directly from the mouth of God. Who, by the way, hates faggots for some unknown reason. And if there was a reason, he decided not to explain it to the world. He just hates faggots?because. Get this, two guys fucking is such a sin that it ranks up there with anyone who eats shellfish. I know, that?s pretty fucking bad. I don?t know why, and I bet your local minister can?t explain it rationally either. And I also bet everything I own, that your minister eats every kind of shellfish even as he denounces homosexuality. The two laws are in the same book, and I think in the same chapter. But shellfish are good so we?ll throw out that law but two guys fucking gives me the creeps so we?ll keep that in. It never ceases to amaze me, how any religious fanatic/fuck can pick and choose seemingly at will, which parts of the Holy Book he follows blindly and which parts he?ll casually dismiss. If you take even a part of the book as truth, then you must take it all for truth. Once something is an abomination, it?s an abomination forever. And that?s a long fucking time. Just because the custom of the land has changed, and shellfish is no longer deemed unclean by the masses, which is why the early Jew?s were not allowed to eat shellfish and pork in the first place, that doesn?t mean that God?s law has changed. It doesn?t matter what man might twist or interpret the words to say, God?s law never changes. It says so in the book, a cannon that was published by a panel of Christians who were ordered by an emperor to create a standardize belief system that could be implemented by physical force on the entire empire. Or to be more realistic, the entire known world at the time. Fuck you, it?s your religion, I?m just quoting from the book you decided to live your life by. If you have a problem with what I?m saying/writing, take it up with your god. These are his fictitious words, not mine. Whoa, fuck me backwards Batman, I seemed to have digressed into a rant about religion. This is just a habit I frequently do while writing these Blog entries as you who read my Blog well know. And I am tempted to delete every paragraph that doesn?t pertain to the original topic?but. I won?t, because believe it or not, life on this planet will not go forward until this delusional belief in an imaginary figure in the sky disappears forever. This goes for Christians, Muslims, Hindu?s, Jew?s, Buddhists, and any other fly by night religion. Notice I didn?t include Scientology, because let?s face it, those fuckers are insane. Even the Buddhists take a step back and say, fuck. So I can still choose which parts of my life to share online and which parts to keep private, how do I decide what to share and what not to share? I think for one?s own sanity, the author and the reader, there are certain things that should remain private and things that should be offered up for anyone to experience. And that is why I?m currently struggling inside even as I write this sentence. I don?t know if I should continue this line of thought and let my emotions take me where they may or stop typing and go back to work?

Just perfect....great surprise ending and a message we should all live by. Jason

What a nice way to chronicle random meetings, I love the sweet and gentle play between them, sometimes the eyes can say it all. Jason

I love the raw emotion, and the anger seething at the surface. Enough said... Jason

What a shy, slowly awakening tale about a man who is finally stepping out away from the shore. Much like Des, I flirt outrageously with almost everyone, I find that it gets me what I want easier. And no I'm not talking about sex, but I find approaching these clerks with a bit of humor and a flirtatious manner gets me that refund, or that special deal. Jason

It's kind of ironic, at this moment I'm listening to AD's first podcast, and the song is playing, Son of a Preacher man, and then I read this brilliant, sad flash and I couldn't help but draw parallels. One hasn't realized it's beyond over while the other is trying to hide his unavailable emotions. How often I've been in this situation, trying to let the other person down gently, lying to make it more human, while all the time just wanting to say the truth and end it like pulling off a band aid. I likes this muchly Jason

If you go to Theo Tams offical website, the video is available there. I kind of like the song, he's got a really unique voice. Jason

Here in the USA, we call them blow jobs...no wonder I didn't get the reference.Jason (always up for any kind of job)

I'm still wondering about the whole, "head job" comment.Jason (the confused)