Jason Rimbaud

Umm, Des. As all of us here know you never speak with your tongue attached to your cheek. We take everything you say in the exact manner as you meant it. Jason

Can I have your stuff?Jason (who doesn't wear fuzzy bunny slippers...EVER)

Thanks Wibby, I didn't know about the five people rating thingy. I guess it just took me a while to get five people to rate me.As for who has the best Blog, I believe your opinion is the only one that matters. :)Jason

Hey Des,I think I can answer part of your question. The one part regarding why certain blogs have no votes, or at least why we can't see the votes they may have.I believe, or at least I think, the votes and rating system doesn't show up until the Blog in question reaches Three Thousand views. Or at least I couldn't see my rating until after my Blog reached that number.As for how people rate each Blog, I think that varies from person to person. *shrugs*Jason

Trab, you say over and over again that you have no talent for writing. I want to take this time to publicly say you are sadly mistaken. You have a talent for descriptive narrative that delights me and frustrates me at the same time. In the many years I've attempted to write, I still haven't found the voice for such magnificent description as you show time and time again. A blind man could see the emotion you felt as you sat in that field, sharing a moment with a stranger. You take us on a ride each time you share these pieces and I thank you. Masterfully written my friend. Jason

Trab, I have been having trouble coming up with something to reply to this piece. And that doesn't happen often, as usually I can always find something to say. I believe, knowing a little bit about your personality and your battle with AS, that you meant this piece to show how easy it is for a person to lose themselves in petty day to day problems without looking at the big picture. And in this way, this piece makes perfect sense and I fully understand what you were trying to convey. But I wonder if the casual reader might interpret this piece a bit differently. As I did upon first reading. I wonder, if you are so incline to want a differing opinion, to do a bit of re-writing on the last paragraph to soften the blow of your brother's accident. Because I believe as it stands, it seems you are a bit callous in relaying these events in a cold dispassionate manner that is so far off the true nature I know you are comprised of. Of course, this is my opinion and means nothing. Jason

Richard, I can't ever remember having a conversation like the one you describe. Mainly because the moment I hear that little voice start, I automatically do whatever he is advising against. I learned many years ago that self-doubt robs you of living life to the fullest and choose to live come what may. Of course, I've done many stupid things over the years but I can say with all honesty, I've lived a great life. Jason

Trab, what vivid imagery. I am one that has never swam in any ocean, lake, stream or pond. Being scared to death of diseases, animals, and who knows what else lives in our planet's ocean, I can so relate to your fear of being attacked by sharks. This is why I only swim in private swimming pools, and rarely in public ones. Shudders Anyway, I do like the gentle way your writing flows. Jason

Thank you Adam, Such kind words from a fellow poet and masterful writer that delves into the darker side of humanity. Thanks ever so much. Jason

Des, What a remarkable bit of writing, the dialog was so smooth and seamless I had to double check if I was peeking into the bedroom of two real life humans instead of reading a flash fiction. Very good writing Des. Jason

You have no idea how bad I'd like to take her out in a dark alley one moonless night and teach her the better manners of minding her own fucking business. I knew she would cause problems for Mark, but I never thought she'd go as far as outing him to his mother. What a bitch.Jason

If there's anything I hate today, I would have to say girls, text messaging, and close-minded bigots that hold on to the Bible like a drowning man holds on to a life preserver in a storm-swept ocean. How the fuck does that affect what happened between Mark and I last week, my reader might ask? It's good that you ask, because I'm about to explain it to you in my usual round-about meandering way. So last we peeked into my life, I was having trouble with a certain nerdy gay boy that wished to seduce me in the worst kind of way. We also found out that Mark and I had decided to keep our relationship on the down-low for a few different reasons. Since that time, so many things has transpired I've been playing catch-up all week just to comprehend the life changing events of a single incident. I've always found it simply amazing how one tiny event can snowball into a gigantic cluster-fuck of situations, sweeping up all those connected into swirling mess of shit. It's not fair, not to me, not to Mark, and not to you, my faithful reader. Since I don't have a lot of time to explain, I must go to work in an hour, and my usual taking three or four hour's to construct entries just won't work today. So I'll move fast. Remember that little party Mark and I attended a few weeks ago, the one where he decided to kiss me in front of a few people? You do, that's good, this will make things all the more easier. (For those of you that have no clue what I'm referring too, just go back a few entries and you'll have the chance to catch up. It's Okay, I'll wait.) After that party, our relationship solidified and we existed, more or less, in a state of bliss, domestic, sexual, and any other kind of bliss you might imagine. It seems, one of the attendee's of that party, is a casual acquaintance of Mark's ex-girlfriend, you remember her don't you, the cum-dumster, blow-up doll, arm-candy chick? Well, this casual acquaintance wanted to improve his status by becoming a bit closer than just casual acquaintance, so he told her about the events that night, I'm sure with no other motive than trying to get into her pants. Needless to say, she did not take that news well. Matter of fact, she took it as a personal affront to her femininity and decided to call Mark's mother and spill the news that her only son was a faggot. And since she knew what Mark's mother thought of me, she probably danced around her apartment in glee knowing the mess of shit she was starting by relaying this information to a woman who wants nothing more than to have as many grandchildren as Mark's poor balls could produce. Earlier that day, at work, Mark and I had discussed that party, somewhat ironically now that I think about it, and how it felt good to show his affection in front of people he considered friends. Oh, one of his closet friends was a bit upset, not because Mark was gay, matter of fact this friend's mother is gay, no he was more upset that Mark hadn't trusted him enough to tell him sooner. This small bump was smoothed over rather quickly, and Mark was flying high, so to speak. Apparently, after Mark arrived home from work, his mother was waiting for him, crying of course. Mark hasn't really given me all the details, and even if he did, I don't think I would share them here, but to make this long story short, Mark ended up at my house, drunk and high off his ass, crying like a baby, and pretty much destroyed. Discovering one's son is gay must be a difficult thing to accept for a Mother, a Christian mother, even though I believe she's had her suspicions, making those supposes into reality must be hard. She was pissed, heartbroken, angry, concerned for his well-being, loving, accepting in her way, and generally confused and falling apart. So Mark had been staying with me since last week, they talk on the phone every day, and I believe they love each other way to much for this to drive them apart, but I did agree that the best thing for everyone involved was to give them a bit of space to adjust to this new bit of information. And quite happily, they have managed to restructure their relationship, and last night, Mark went home for the first time in a week. This made me quite happy, I'm used to living alone, and though I believe I love Mark, neither one of us are ready to move in together just yet. Plus, being such a mommas boy, this rift was slowly destroying him. I'm sure they have a long road to walk down but they both are trying and I have high hopes. A few days after his mother found out, Mark and I were at work when one of the servers suddenly asked why Mark was wearing one of my necklace's. This was a piece that he saw in my jewelry box and basically claimed it for his own. He said he wanted it to feel closer to me when I wasnt around. He hasn't take it off since, and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy bunny slippers. Before I could say anything, Mark put his arm around my shoulders, and said, and I quote, "Because we're fucking." And he kissed my cheek. Somewhat surprising for me, everyone was completely shocked, I didn't realize how good we had become at hiding our feelings. Congrats were thrown around like they were free, and almost everyone told me how happy they were that I finally found a great guy to have. This made Mark's day, he was beaming like a kid at Christmas who just got his new shiny bike. So the nerdy gay server was a bit un-happy but he'll get over it, after all, he didn't even know me, though he glares at Mark's back when he thinks no one is looking. He'll come around, everyone loves Mark, he's too likable for the nerdy gay to remain jealous. So for once, my life seems to be ending on a good note. I can finally let the world know that I'm dating a guy that I really like, Mark says the stress he felt seems to be slipping away, I guess he didn't realize how much energy it took to have a secret life. He still smokes pot, but not everyday, which I'm thinking will slowly disappear the more comfortable he becomes in his new skin. My boss was a bit worried at first, but when I told him that Mark and I have been dancing around this relationship for almost a year and assured him that it wouldn't affect my job performance as Mark's boss, he gave me his blessing. It seems my boss was the only one that figured out Mark and I had been playing around. I guess it's true what they that you can't fool all the people all the time. Jason PS: My comment about text-messaging and close-minded bigots was just to throw you off the scent. But I meant what I said about girls, who fucking needs them.

Richard-- I must say this was by far the best comment I've ever received for any piece I've ever written. That was exactly the emotion I was trying to invoke in the reader. Jason (proud author)

Believe it or not Camy, I've always wanted to direct a film or at best a short art film. Each time I write a story, I tend to visualize it on a big screen, the actors, the dialog, the settings...so Twaddle away you crazy Emu... J Thanks my fellow poet, J Richard--how cool is that. My first time making someone cry. WOOT! Seriously, thanks for commenting. Jason

Thanks Richard, I so agree with your comments. Both about showing our love as natural and by saying the piece was written well. Jason

I think I agree with Richard on this one, (sorry Cole ), I get the feeling/impression that something had been said, or even one further, someone saw something that could be observed to be gay in nature, and the narrator is freaked and trying to find a solution to control the situation, mainly his own sanity. Either way, emotionally packed and highly charged. To address Cole's comment, I think with these sentences... puts the kibosh on the suicide train of thought. When family and friends are faced with an attempted suicide, they tend to bond together stronger, to help their family member or friend through his troubled time. Of course, we could be wrong and you could be right. Either way, this is a very good piece Res. Jason

Hey Cole,You wanna know what I've been doing the last three days?Working my ass off at my hip up-scale restaurant and making tons of money.I really didn't mean to make you guys wait so long.Anyway I have tomorrow off and promise to write it all downJason

Cole- I've never heard someone say so much while claiming not to say anything. And wow, if only I had the time to fill you crazy people on the events of yesterday, Cole's and Des's advice would be pointless. But much like the way Cole accuses me of only telling snipit's of events and keeping everyone in the dark, I'm off to work for now. Maybe I'll have time once I return home.*laughs wickedly*Jason *scampers off to work before everyone traps me and beats the truth out of me*

Camy- Upon a few reads, Struggling to See the Light is a bit dark, and I wonder why this particular tale poured out of my mind. But seeing this was a story without a plot or direction, I'm quite proud of the end result. Though I don't believe I'll ever post something without any editing or changing again. Bruin- Wow, not entertaining, what a horrible thing to say to a fellow writer. No worries, I understand what you were trying to say. When I sat down to write this, I had no clue what I wanted to say. I had a vague idea, well at least I had a clear emotion I wanted to convey. Yet as the words poured out, I realized that I was describing a tale that had no real happy ending. The challenge for me, about half way through, was to find a way to give some kind of hope at the end, even if it was bittersweet. I think I succeeded in spades. Thanks Trab, praise from you is always jealousy horded. Cole, you flatterer. Thank you all, muchly Jason

Ah, pictures of confused love, touching under the table, groping and falling on beds. What a confused time to explore with vibrant words, fast-paced dialog, and bittersweet memories of a simpler yet earthshaking time. Brilliant Camy, Jason

Hey Ergo, Where as I do agree with those comments above, this piece was a tad bit confusing upon first reading, I also found this piece to be quite intriguing. I think I figured out what you were trying to convey, after re-reading it more than a few times. Sometime in the future, maybe as a means to keep the population subdued and the upper class in control, dreaming was deemed counter-productive and certain measures were taken to eradicate all forms of free-thinking. And I'm assuming here, that the measures that were taken to keep this in check, also affected memories and certain behaviors. I find this idea quite remarkable, and agree with Camy that maybe this needs to be explored in further detail, like a longer piece. I understand wanting to write something provocative, thought provoking, and edgy. And flash fiction is a perfect venue to explore these kinds of themes. But you must be careful, readers are extremely fickle...they want to be stimulated by new edgy ideas, they want to be taken down pathways that they normally never venture upon, but they must be taken there carefully. Nothing turns a reader off as fast as a confusing narrative and murky plot. Flash fiction is a piece shorter than a thousand words, but a complete story must be told in those thousand words. If I were you, I'd try to expand this flash fiction into a short story, delve a bit deeper into the story and explain in greater detail. Remember, short stories are anything under fifty/sixty pages. Plenty of space to flesh out this very intriguing idea. On a different note, you have great vivid imagery, a rich voice, and a talent for writing. I for one can't wait to read something else from you. Great job, Ergo. Jason

as usual, you hit the nail on the head Des.Why is it that we try and change the person we supposedly love into something so far removed from what they were when we first met them?I agree that for a relationship to truly work, we must allow our partners the freedom to grow and change just as we would like the chance as well.Because if we stayed the same, no one would be in a long term relationship, we would probably all kill each other.Very thought provoking Des...JasonPS: I did not read this blog entry until after I wrote my latest blog entry. I swear.

going through my own newbie relationship with a prior friend gives me an insight into M's and your's squables. and I hate being mature about "stuff", but I"m finding it's the only way to keep what I have.Ho Hum...life goes on.As for the make-up sex, I'll never tell my thoughts about that...normallybut since Camy's like familyIt's great.Yummy yummyJason

just for you camy, i've posted in flash fiction.jason

Struggling to See the Light A Flash Fiction By: Jason Rimbaud His lungs burned as he ran down the alley casting terrified glances over his shoulder every few steps. With each passing moment, the pain in his side intensified until he could no longer bear it and collapsed in a tired heap. Rolling over, he leaned against the brick wall and wiped the sweat from his eyes as he peered back down the alley, listening for any sounds of pursuit. He pressed a hand to the wound in his side, and winced as blood seeped through his fingers. He could feel his life ooze slowly from his body and knew the end was approaching; the pain already subsiding as the blood pooled beneath him. His mind, blurred by heroin and lack of sleep, struggled to comprehend between fantasy and reality. Though only sixteen, he had no illusions about death. He learned long ago that life was seldom fair and for those that lived on the street, life was nothing but stalking demons. Slumping forward, he began to cry. And it wasn't the fact that he would die alone in some deserted alley that caused his tears to stream down his cheeks. But it was the realization that he would never get to see his brother again. Had it only been a year since his father threw him out with a warning to never return? It felt like a lifetime ago, and in his present state, numb from the loss of blood, he thought back to that horrible night when his secret was thrust into the light. In his dementia, the scene played out again, his father bursting into the room, catching him bent over the side of the bed while some stranger thrust wildly into his body. He watched his father nearly beat the man to death before turning his hatred on his own son. His brother had always been his best friend, and for a moment he wondered what would have happened that night if his brother had been at home instead of being away at college. But that thought quickly slipped away as pain caused him to cough uncontrollably. So many times he had picked up a pay phone only to hang up before the first ring. How could he tell his brother that for the last year he had been selling his body for heroin? Quickly, if not painfully, he learned to survive on the streets by first selling his body for shelter, then later for drugs until he existed in a world filled with pain, hunger, and an endless search for drugs. And all this he faced bravely, fighting day to day to preserve this tenuous grip on life. Despite his religious upbringing, selling himself came easily. Especially when he realized that during the sex, he held all the power over his older companions. And for the first time in his life, he was the one in control, even if that control only lasted for an hour at a time. There were times, brought on by the daze of drugs when he fantasized about facing his parents, to show them what he had become, to rub it in their faces. But the love for his brother stopped him. His greatest fear was that his older brother would find out the truth and disown him like his parents had so long ago. That thought alone stopped him from ever returning home long after there was a need to stay away. Shifting his body till his legs were stretched out, he leaned his head back and stared up into the night sky. Looking into the haze above him, his eyes strained to see through the pollution and twinkling lights of the city. For as long as he could remember, he would peer at the night sky and try to count the stars in the heavens. Knowing it was impossible; he would lay there for hours and count himself to sleep. As he lay there gripping to the last threads of life, staring at the night sky, he wondered once again if there really was a God up there that looked over humanity. An all seeing, all knowing being that loved humanity so much that he would die for them. In his short life, he had never seen evidence of that kind of love, but if he ever needed to believe, that time was now. Gathering what remained of his strength, he lifted up his eyes, and said in a raspy voice, "Forgive me, I'm sorry." As he took the last breath, the sky above him suddenly cleared and the last thing he saw on this earth was a single shining star. His face broke out in a smile and he shut his eyes for the last time. I was reading Camy's blog and he mentioned that we should post something in Flash Fiction. So having nothing else to do, I decided to follow in his footsteps. I sat down and wrote without stopping for an hour, just to see what my imagination could accomplish. And in the spirit of sparking creativity, there was no editing, no re-writing of any kind. Long live flash fiction. Jason