Jason Rimbaud

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

Mark and I have reached the point in our relationship where the newness has finally faded and we've moved into the realm of comfortable bliss. Our days slip by with the quickness of one that is quickly approaching the end. Not to say that we aren't stupidly happy, nor do I mean that the sex has lost it's allure, because let's face the truth, we hump like mad men who have finally been released from prison...a all female prison. You could say that everything is perfect... Yet I can't help but think that the other shoe is about to drop...from the top of the Empire State Building right on my pretty little balding head. I know myself, I do, after all I've lived with this crazy freak for thirty-three years and I am painfully aware of my track record. One of the reasons I've had bad luck in past relationships is I find it difficult to keep my...err...manhood in my pants when faced with temptation. In other words, I have a wandering eye for the pretty men I meet in my life. What If I stumble At work, at my hip up-scale restaurant in Palo Alto, I've had my difficulties as well. Mainly from the other servers, servers who for the last two years were my co-workers, my partners in crime, and my equals. And now, because of my recent promotion, I am no longer their equal, now I have to tell them what to do. And I'm finding it a bit hard to balance past friendships with the tedious nature of being responsible for the restaurant. All while trying to maintain a new relationship with Mark, another server who at one time was my equal. And it's not that he expects special treatment, he does, and it's not that he tries to push the boundaries to find the line, he does, and I'm at my wits end trying to juggle all these things while still doing my job to the best of my abilities. And when I have to put my foot down and say enough is enough, after all, it doesn't take thirty minutes to take a piss, not even with a Urinary Track Infection or some other horrible sexually transmitted disease I am hoping beyond sanity that he doesn't have. And though no one knows about us at the restaurant, he knows, and for some stupid reason can't understand that I won't let him do whatever he wishes. What If I stumble... The other day, a server called me aside and asked that I speak to this table that was sitting on the patio. I inquired why, and the server said the guest was quite unhappy that she had found a leaf in her entr?e and was demanding that I take the steak off the final bill. I know... This stupid bitch demanded to be seated outside, it wasn't like we forced her to sit underneath a fucking tree on a windy day in Palo Alto. Nor did we purposely sit her at a table that attracted some kind of flying insect like bears to honey. She picked the fucking table. I mean seriously, how fucking stupid can this bitch possibly be? Can you believe she demanded that we comp her check. What If I stumble... And to make matters worse, we hired this completely sexy, out and proud gay boy that is the spitting image of my friend Daniel in his younger days, so basically he's a nerd, with glasses to boot, and a narrow ass that begs me to squeeze it with my face. He doesn't have the hang-ups that Mark clings to like a virgin clings to it's pillow. He's proud to be gay, comfortable even, even in public. And he smart, witty, charming, and dare I say, dead fucking sexy. What If I Stumble... And to make matters worse, he has made his intentions quite known to the staff. Remember, no one at work knows about Mark and I, so in the broader sense, he's doing nothing wrong. But this leaves me in quite the pickle, as far as everyone is concerned I'm single and if you ask the staff, in desperate need of some loving. Then you have Mark, trying in vain to control his jealousy as the nerd chases me with determination that is quite commendable, if I wasn't balancing a jealous boyfriend, friends who won't mind their own fucking business, and a boss that sits back and laughs at the whole damn mess, I'd probably shit myself with laughter. What If I stumble... All this and I'm a bit frazzled. I really like Mark...like...fuck that, I told him I loved him this morning before I crawled out of bed to head off to work. And I do, love him that is, and I know I won't jeopardize this for some sexy nerd with glasses or a hot, sweaty, semi-violent one night stand. But I know how I sabotage my happiness, and I am fearful of this past behavior. And then, this morning, way before Mark opened his beautiful brown eyes, I lay there, his pale body entwined with mine, the soft snoring that escaped his lips, and the occasional sleep noises he made, brought such comfort that all these fears slipped away and I couldn't help the ravaging of his sleeping body. While I was in the shower, I couldn't help but laugh at myself. I was so worried about the thousand what-ifs that I had completely forgotten about the things that mattered most. Worrying about stumbling is no way to live a life, because let's face it, everyone stumbles. It doesn't matter that we stumble, all that matters is how we get back up and try it again. What If I stumble...who fucking cares.

Thanks Des, at least I know I'm not filled with wishful thinking. That being said, how can you have such a boring BF? After all, aren't you a confessed Hippie? What happened to free love and all that? Jason

Thanks Cole, Your words make me feel all funny inside... Praise from a reader is always nice, but praise from a talented author is almost unbelievable. Jason (remember I said almost unbelievable, as I know I'm a great writer)

Thanks Bruin, Writing this piece was pure, in the moment self-loathing. And I'm quite proud of the finished product. Thankfully, I've come a long way since living those type of nights. Jason

Thanks Bruin, I wanted to write something fuzzy bunny slippers using a model of homosexual love as the inspiration for breeders to follow. I think I did a pretty good job at that. Jason

Now if only I could write something longer than two hundred words. Though I do have several other flash fiction shorts starring these characters, I can't seem to link them together for something longer. Thanks Bruin, Jason

Being a fan of piratical jokes, even I would never go as far as Camy decided to take his characters. *shudders* Still, I'd love to see this little ditty as a short film. Gruesome. Jason

I remember being so confused during my High School days, one moment I would be flirting with a guy and the next minute calling him a faggot, mainly because I was so scared of my sexaulity. If only I had done things differently. Oh well, great job Emu, I like it when you write as well. Jason

Poetic Justice of A One Night Stand By: Jason Rimbaud I feel sick, diseased and lifeless. I saw the darkest parts of myself today and struggled with the reality long after the hope of ever changing had faded into fantasy. I'm dirty and in need of a shower. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? I washed the sheets today, they were stained and filled with memories I'd rather forget. His name was, Alex, and I met him at Nola's last night after I got off work. He was a tall, skinny, brunet with a lop-sided grin. In a bar filled with straight women and ugly old fags, he was the only one I'd fuck with the lights on. It was pathetic, awkward, and unfulfilling. A coupling where all you really want is to cum as fast as possible just so the night would be over. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? His breath smelled of unwashed ass, even after I made him rinse out with Mouthwash. A putrid smell I swear I can still smell on my dick, hours after I bid him adieu. But tonight I needed a dumpster, a stranger, someone I would never have to see again. Release is primal, and jerking off only takes you so far. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? I saw stains on my carpet, I wonder if Resolve would truly remove them? Alex was cute, tall and gangly but with way too much body hair. I've seen less hair in old 70s porno movies. I told him to get his situation under control; it's 2007 for Christ's sake. He couldn't have weighed more than one-hundred-and-forty pounds, and stood at least six foot three. At first I had fears of breaking him in half, though that fear faded once primal urge took over. When he stripped off his clothes, I admit, I was a bit surprised. Because a monster cock fell out of his boxers that looked enormous on his small frame. And though I know cocks always look bigger on skinny guys, his dick was huge. And I found this endowment rather amusing because he was a total bottom. This gives me a small belief in the idea of a god. Because only the twisted god of the Christians would have the sense of humor to give a total cock slut like Alex such a monster cock. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? Having sex with Alex was like fucking a box of ice, cold and slightly numbing. The noises he made were small and in the wrong places. I thought at first he was simply going through the motions, but his freaky cock was hard the whole time. I don't think he came, though sex was never about him in the first place. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? I washed my sheets today, three times; I think they might still be dirty. Or maybe it's just the grime I sense inside myself. His name was Alex, and he told me he was just out of a two month relationship with his once confused best friend. I wonder why all gay boys crush on their straight best friends? Again my belief in a god doubles. At Nola's, he told me he was tired of jerking off and of sleeping alone. All he wanted from me on this random night was some human contact and a bit of compassion. I guess one out of two isn't bad. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? I scrubbed my carpets this morning, early, right after I told him to leave my apartment. I can still see the look on his face, a sad look of quiet acceptance. It was heartbreaking to see a fellow human so broken, so conditioned by the world to believe the notion that having sex with another male is morally wrong. I saw hints of tears in his blue eyes as he quickly pulled on his clothes. Alex is still young, young enough to have delusions about one day finding true love and lasting commitments. In the brief time he spent in my bed, I think I might have jaded him, tarnished his golden armor, and set him on a path to becoming another jaded fag, just like me. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? His name was Alex and he was beautiful. His hair smelled of honey and mixed berries, I can still smell his designer cologne on my skin. And his breath was intoxicating, a mixture of beer and cigarettes that always drives me wild. Young and filled with passion, Alex was a tiger in the bedroom. The sex, though primal, was filled with passion and sweat. Why does the innocence smell sweeter before the act, while afterwards it reeks of guilt and self-loathing? Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? I washed myself four times today, I still feel dirty though. Scrubbing the stains from my carpet was something I could control. Elbow grease works, my carpet is once again spotless. Just like my shower, the fourth time I showered I spent most of the time scrubbing it. My skin smells like 409 Bathroom cleaner. My toes and hands are wrinkled, and I don't think I'll ever feel clean again. Have you ever fucked someone for the sole purpose of trying to feel alive? Have you just fucked somone over? Have you?

Friends By: Jason Rimbaud Lance shifted his gaze towards his two best friends, Justin and Scott. He creased his forehead together as he tried to differentiate the two. Lately, if you saw one you saw the other, joined at the hip without being overly annoying like most couples. Never a fan of public displays of affection, they were subtle about their love, showing it in little ways, a glance, a touch, a blush, a steady showing of love that only a blind person would miss. Lance felt a sudden surge of love for his friends, without their knowledge, their relationship was the catalyst that pushed him over the edge and helped him find the courage to propose to Shelia. They were the true testament of love?s perseverance and understanding; and maybe more importantly, love?s forgiveness. The two boys were sitting together, so close as to be on top of one another. They were holding hands, something they just started doing a few weeks earlier; an unconscious display of love that Lance thought was cute. Scott noticed the staring and mouthed, ?What?? Lance smiled, ?I love you.? Scott winked with a smile, his fingers brushing the back of Justin?s hands tenderly.

A Disturbing Phone Call By: Jason Rimbaud ?Hello? ?Hi, baby.? Smiling, Justin replied, ?Mom, how are you?? ?I?m fine, how you holding up?? ?A bit tired, but I?m used to that.? ?Are you eating properly?? ?I just ate breakfast,? Justin said, adding, ?How?s everyone there?? ?Everyone went sailing with your dad.? Regretting the time away from his family, Justin sighed as his mother added, ?Sarah called.? ?Yeah.? He replied hesitantly. ?She wants her ring back.? Looking over at his dresser, he said, ?I?ll send it off today.? Sitting on the chair, Justin said, ?I wish she called me instead of you.? ?She?s a bit pissed at you at the moment.? ?I can?t blame her for that.? ?No you can?t. We had a long talk.? She added, ?I love you, and it?s your decision but you really need to talk to her.? Justin replied through a sigh, ?I can?t...not yet. ?Are you sure you don?t want to tell me what happened?? ?One day, but not yet,? Justin said. ?Just remember I?m always here.? ?Thanks.? Justin hung up the phone and wiped the tears away. How could he tell his mom the truth? She so wanted grandkids; it would break her heart. He looked in the mirror, ?I?m gay.?

Ummm, thanks I think. Trust me Maddy, I know what you're going through. I"m not really happy about it either. Jason (stupid Jason)

I've watched every video Bo's put out since I discovered him about a year ago. For being as young as he is, his wit is quite remarkable as is the way he strings words together. Klan cookout is probably one of my favorites along with My Family Thinks I'm Gay. Jason

Trab, after everything that has happened over the last year, I feel like the luckiest man in my apartment. hmm, trying to figure out if being a tart is a good or bad thing?*shrugs* Don't care, really. Mark is sitting beside me as I type this. Cole, as happy as I am right now, and I am, but at times I'm scared, waiting for the shoe to drop with Mark. And just like you, I hope that I don't fuck it up or hope he doesn't fuck it up. Here's to doing the right thing. Wibby, you calling me weird is like a pot calling the kettle black. But then you did get the movie reference, so I'll let it slide without pointing out your own weirdness. As for molesting Mark, do I detect a hint of jealousy? Bruin, you wouldn't believe how happy writing this entry has made me. Jason

Hey Des...you can keep the award as long as I still get to keep Mark. Jason