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Jason Rimbaud

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  1. Jason Rimbaud
    My Fiftieth Blog Entry
    So I realized a few days ago, that this would be my fiftieth blog entry here on Awesome Dude. Of course this was after I wrote one of my typical blog entries. And much to my surprise, I was petrified to post this average run-of-the-mill post. Let's face it, my fiftieth blog entry warranted something special.
    So for days I struggled with finding the right topic. I thought I'd come up with something witty, maybe a bit smart, and really funny. But as I stared at the blank screen, I discovered I didn't feel very witty, smart, or funny. So then I thought I might offer up some advice, something so deep that it would change the life of anyone who might read it. But I don't have any advice other than to advise to never wear pink out in public, and that's really not that life-changing for everyone. So I called my friends, polling them for any glimmer of insight they might have to offer. But sadly, I found out they are pretty much as pointless as my left over toenail clippings. Then I danced around with the idea of relaying some past emotional trauma for you but I don't feel like being all deep and vulnerable right now.
    So here I am, my fiftieth blog entry and I've got nothing to say.
    But...I can offer this one admission, an admission so terrifying and so embarrassing just the thought of it causes me to run and hide in the closet and never come out again unless I first change my identity.
    I am really looking forward to the new Harry Potter movie.
    You average Awesome Dude readers might not think this is a very scary admission at all. Truly not scary enough to warrant posting it as my fiftieth. But let me explain this first, so it becomes crystal clear why this admission frightens me so.
    First off, let me say that I've never read a single Harry Potter book. Mostly because I'm not a fan of books starring children, for some reason I can't seem to identify with twelve-year-olds, no matter if I act the part most of the time.
    Nor have I watched a single Harry Potter movie. When asked about Harry Potter, I would roll my eyes and say something along the lines, "How good can it be, it's a childrens book." To be honest, I've been known to vehemently say I would never read, watch, or pursue any avenue that would lead me to Harry Potter or that freaky witch that writes the stories. In my opinion, J.K. Rowling is one step below Satan. I don't care how much money the whore has made.
    So how could I go from hating all these Harry Potter to looking forward to this new Harry Potter movie?
    Let's go back to last week. I had the good fortune of having Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday off, Wednesday being the fourth of July. And while Monday and Tuesday were quite eventful and I'm pretty sure I'll be posting those events in blog entries very soon, Wednesday I had absolutely nothing to do.
    Hanging out with Daniel's family is okay, most of the time, but there are times when I just want to hang out alone and veg. Unfortantly, sometimes Jason alone is not a good thing. Idle hands and such, so when I begin feeling a bit bored, I do what I normally do...I clean my apartment. But that only killed about four hours and two bottles of wine. So I decided to order food from my favorite Chinese Restaurant, in reality I ordered enough food for three people. Once the food was delivered, I settled in front of the TV to eat WAY TO MUCH food and watch some mind-numbing programs on my 60 inch screen.
    Okay, I know the fourth of July is a holiday about the celebration of the independence for our nation. I love America, I really do, but fuck me running backwards, why the hell do they have to play those crappy war movies all day long. I've seen them all, a billion times and I wasn't in the mood for blind patriotism. I wanted a different flavor, so channel surfing became my way of doing something different. And since I have every channel available, going through them is a chore in and of itself.
    Two hundred channels and nothing on right. It's how it always goes. The only movie I was even considering watching was on TCM at two o-clock, Mel Gibson's The Patriot. Looking at my watch, I had about twenty minutes to kill. In my channel surfing, I saw that Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone had just started a few minutes earlier. So on a whim, I switched over, after all, I was all alone in my apartment and I would allow my balls to be ripped from my body by a herd of wild baby elephants before I would ever admit to what I had just done. I had planned on watching it for a few minutes before The Patriot started, no harm, no foul. Right? Okay, yeah, I'll tell myself that.
    Holy Shit! Before I knew it the ending credits were rolling and I was in shock. Not only was it a good movie, but I really, really, really, liked it. So much so, that I got dressed and raced to the local Blockbuster to rent the other three movies. I won't mention that I made a big show of saying to the pimply faced nerd behind the counter that I was renting these stupid movies for my little cousin, so loudly that everyone in line heard me.
    I watched all three movies back to back. And I was sitting on the edge of my seat the whole time. I couldn't believe it, the story drew me and kept me waiting to see how this all played out.
    So my friend, Ann, is a Harry Potter junkie. I mean junkie, she has all the books, signed probably from E-Bay, she owns all the movies and has watched them over and over again. And for years, I gave her a ton of shit about this unhealthy addiction. But once the fourth film finished, I was so excited, I called her up.
    Did you know that Pennsylvania is three hours ahead of California? I did, but for some reason in my excitment I forgot that important piece of information. It was a few minutes after midnight in California, for me, yet for her, it was just after three AM. After she yelled at me for about five minutes, something about waking her up in the middle of the night on a work day, I finally got the chance to tell her about the Harry Potter marathon I had in my apartment.
    Three hours later, we finally hung up. She had twenty minutes to shower and get dressed for work. We talked about the story development, the movie version as opposed to the books, it was a fucking amazing conversation. In those three hours, I learned so much about the world of Harry Potter. I hung up the phone in a daze, and a bit confused why I had for so many years dismissed Harry Potter as mere children's drivel. And I realized that I was a fan.
    At least when it comes to the movies. I still won't buy a single J.K. Rowling book, mostly because of the things I've heard her say in the press and the way she goes after those who writes fanfics about her characters. Fanfics are the truest form of flattery, why the hell she gives a flying nun's fuck is beyond my understanding. Anyway, J.K. Rowling sucks, no matter if they can make good movies from her crappy books. About enough about that crazy whore.
    So now I'm waiting for the new movie. I'll even go see it with all the other wacko's and won't be embarrassed to be seen in the theatre. Mainly because I know I won't be the only fag in the theater who is watching because of Daniel Radcliff. My oh my how he's grown up. And I've been fortunate in that regard, I've watched him grow up in a single afternoon instead of waiting for each new movie like the rest of you.
    So I'll admit it, I'm a fan of Harry Potter. And I should never have said never. Oh well, life goes on.
    Jason R.
    Now if I could only persuade Ann to keep her big fat mouth shut, and not tell all our friends. Like that's going to happen, she probably already sent out a mass email to everyone. Tragic I say, fucking tragic.
  3. Jason Rimbaud
    Stupid Jason, Doing Stupid Things
    I said I was never going to do this again. And after the last time, this is the last thing I wanted to happen, again. But I have to face the facts, it did happen. And now I can?t stop these thoughts, I can?t control these feelings, and I don?t know how I?ll look at myself in the morning. Or even if I?ll try.
    Stupid Jason, doing stupid things, again.
    And I don?t even know how it started.
    Wait, that?s a lie. I know how it started. I just don?t know how I let it get this far.
    It?s Sunday night, I don?t know what time it is, but then time doesn?t matter anymore, it?s already too late.
    It?s Sunday, a great day of football since the Colts lost and next week I?ll be watching the Chargers play the undefeated Patriots. It would?ve been a great Sunday if the night would have ended at that moment. But it didn?t, and I was drunk.
    It?s Sunday, the day my manager closed the hip up-scale restaurant where I work so the employees can enjoy a late staff Christmas party. A good idea normally, but I knew Mark would be there with his GIRLfriend in tow. Definitely not a sight I wanted to see on my day off. I have to see her enough as it is when she visits her boyfriend at work.
    Because of that, I had declared that I wasn?t going to attend. But a few nights ago, while drinking at a bar, I was somehow manipulated into promising I would at least make an appearance.
    Stupid Jason, doing stupid things, while drinking.
    It?s Sunday, and it started off okay, I arrived around seven-thirty, an hour and half after it started. And I wasn?t late because I wanted to make an ?entrance?; I was still celebrating the Chargers win at the Sports Bar. And because I knew I would need a lot of insulation before facing Mark and his bitch. So I spent most of that time doing Vodka shots in between ordering double Screwdrivers. So by the time I arrived, I was quite hammered.
    Stupid Jason, doing stupid things, because of fear.
    And while I was drinking myself into stupidity, I came up with a plan. My plan was simple; I would ignore Mark and his cum-dumpster. I would focus all my attention on everyone else. Good plan, right?
    I wish, but I was drunk. And we all know that a drunk Jason is a very dangerous thing. I should?ve gone home, but I didn?t.
    For an hour or so, my plan seemed to be working. Whenever Mark would walk towards me, I?d leave and start talking to the first person I saw. When I would sneak a look, he would be staring at me with an inquisitive look on his face. I could tell he knew what I was doing but there was nothing he could do about it. Not with his arm candy hanging on to him like she was scared he?d blow away in the cross-breeze from the ceiling fans.
    Like I said, this worked for an hour or so, but even with me ignoring Mark, it was still hard to see him dancing with his little blow-up doll. It didn?t matter that a few days ago; I could?ve had sex with him but refused because of past situations. It was still hard, so while he was dancing, I went outside to have a cigarette.
    Stupid Jason, doing stupid things, while hoping he could handle it.
    And guess what? I couldn?t handle it, it was driving me crazy. How pathetic is that? I turned him down and I?m the one with all the regrets.
    So I go outside and sit down on the curb with a cigarette. I?m about half-way done when I smell him. I hang my head, it was going so well. I look up and see him standing next to me.
    He says, ?Always the loner.?
    I reply, ?Yep, did you think tonight would be any different??
    ?Not really. But I was hoping.?
    I focus my attention on my cigarette, like I?ve never seen one before. I see the end, glowing red in the semi-darkness, and realize that I?m slowly killing myself. But at that moment, dying would be welcomed, anything so I didn?t have to face him.
    I finished my smoke in silence; he stands there, staring at me patiently. I flick the butt away and stand up to go back inside. I never knew that silence could be so deafening.
    Until that moment, my plan of ignoring Mark was working perfectly. I had been there for over an hour and hadn?t even greeted him or his stupid walking blow-job machine. But if I know anything about Mark, I know he is quite determined. Mark is the type of guy that confronts things head on with a stubborn attitude that could wear down mountains if given enough time.
    As I go to pass him, he steps in front of me and peers into my eyes.
    I stop, I know it?s over. But I?m not going down without a fight.
    ?WHAT?? I hope hears the edge in my voice.
    ?So you think ignoring me is going to make all this go away.?
    I shrug, ?That was the plan.?
    He shakes his head and grins. ?You?re so stupid.?
    I have to agree with him, I am stupid. I should?ve punched him in the face. But I didn?t, instead I try again to walk around him. He blocks me again.
    Stupid Jason, doing stupid things, because of a straight-boy crush.
    He takes my silence for approval, because he asks, ?Don?t you even want to hear about it??
    I shake my head no, and it?s the truth. I know what ?it? he was referring to and the last thing I wanted to hear was his adventures in gay sex from some boy I didn?t even know.
    So I did what I always do, I changed the subject. ?How?s your girlfriend?? I?m sure he caught the sarcasm; it was almost dripping from my mouth.
    He looks at the door of the restaurant and says, ?She?s fine.?
    I crossed my arms, if he wanted to talk about ?it?, then I wasn?t going to make it easy for either one of us.
    I ask, ?Did you tell her about it??
    He smiled and asked for a cigarette. I should?ve punched him, but I didn?t. I gave him one. I should?ve walked away while he was lighting the smoke, but I didn?t. Instead I offered my lighter and lit it for him.
    Stupid Jason, doing stupid things, still.
    He took a deep drag and after he blew out his nose, he said, ?It was horrible, I hated it.?
    ?And I don?t care.? But I was lying, I did care. Because hearing him say that, it only served to drive home the fact that I was crushing on another unavailable straight boy. My anger started spiking.
    ?Liar.? This he said while staring into my eyes. He took a step forward and I took a step back.
    ?Why should I care??
    I know it was weak, it even sounded weak as I said it. I was just hoping he didn?t know how weak it really was.
    Again he laughed, ?That should be obvious, even for someone as drunk as you.?
    I crossed my arms and gave him an ?Oh Really? look. ?Pretend I?m stupid.?
    ?Nothing happened.? This he said very softly.
    I couldn?t help myself, I said, ?Now who?s lying.?
    He took a step towards me and said, ?He played with me for a bit and put it in his mouth, but I stopped him.?
    I stand there, not moving a muscle. ?That would explain why you were walking funny the next day??
    Again, he takes a step closer; we are now only a few inches apart. He whispers, ?I hurt my back, I fell off his bed when he tried to kiss me.?
    We were so close that I could smell the alcohol on his breath; I had to fight the urge to take a deep breath. Instead, I say, ?You couldn?t kiss him??
    He shook his head; his eyes seemed to be dancing, daring me to reply.
    So I asked the question that I never should have. I knew it the moment it left my lips. ?Why not??
    Stupid Jason, doing stupid things, while caught up in his dancing eyes.
    ?Because it wasn?t him I wanted to kiss.?
    And that?s when it happened, I don?t know why, I couldn?t help myself. I leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. And for a moment, he didn?t do anything. He didn?t kiss me back, he didn?t push me away. It was like we were frozen. And just when I started to think I had just made the biggest mistake of my life, he kissed me back.
    Someone moaned, I don?t know who, but I felt his hands on my hips and felt him pull me closer, tight against his body. I wrapped my arms around his waist and began kissing in earnest.
    I?ve had lots of first kisses, some were horrible, some blew my mind, and some were just okay. But this kiss was unbelievable. It was urgent, filled with passion that caused my knees to shake. It was like all the longing I locked inside over the last year suddenly came pouring out in a torrent of lust and wild abandonment.
    I don?t know how long it lasted, it couldn?t have been more than a few minutes, but I suddenly realized what we were doing and where we were doing it. I pulled back and pushed him away. He was confused by my actions; I could see it on his face like someone had drawn it with crayons. He shook his head and leaned in again.
    I put my hand on his chest and said, ?Stop.?
    ?Why?? He asked, still breathing a bit heavy.
    I looked at him; I saw that he was so wrapped up in the moment everything else had faded away. It was like he had finally given in to the feelings racing through his body and decided that rational thought was overrated. I know because while we were kissing I could feel it against mine.
    ?This isn?t right. Your girlfriend is right there on the other side of that door. And any moment she could walk out here looking for you.?
    That was enough to wipe that dazed look off his face. The reality of it all smashed into him. He was standing in the parking lot kissing a boy while anyone driving/walking by could see him.
    He looks at the door and reaches into his pocket while saying, ?You?re right, this isn?t a good place.? He takes a few steps away from me and puts his phone up to his ear. I hear him say, ?Hey babe, Jason and I are going to my car to smoke a bowl; we?ll be back in a few minutes.?
    He puts the phone back in his pocket and realizes I?m staring at him. He grins and asks, ?Where did you park??
    Stupid Jason, doing stupid things, because he?s horny.
    I should?ve been angry or at least a bit bothered that he had just lied to his girlfriend so we could go to my car and continue whatever it is we were doing. But I wasn?t, because instead of running away, I say, ?This way.?
    It?s Sunday, I?m drunk, and I allowing my stupid straight-boy crush to come back with me to my car. To say my thoughts are a bit jumbled wouldn?t be accurate. I wanted this to happen, hell, I?ve wanted this for a year. But I can?t help but think back to the last time I got involved with a straight boy.
    And what if we get caught? What if my little crush turns into something more? Something I can?t handle. What if afterwards he hates what we?ve done and it ruins what ever is left of our relationship? What if he doesn?t live up to my fantasy? Oh my god, what if he likes it?
    I get to my car and pause, asking, ?What are we doing??
    He gets this look; I can only describe it as passionate lust, and smiles. ?Something we should?ve done months ago.?
    Stupid Jason, doing stupid things, like unlocking his car.
    I hadn?t even shut my door and he was all over me. I did the only thing I could; I gave in and went for the ride.
    There was groping, mutual and animalistic without being violent and kisses that were so powerful they drove away all thought and for a time, we were one and the same. We had lost all sense of time during our exploration because thirty minutes later he phone started ringing.
    His girlfriend, who had given up waiting, had walked to his car only to find out we weren?t there. And though I found the situation to be wrong on so many levels, I was a bit amused by how pissed she sounded on the phone.
    It was surreal, Mark had one hand up to his ear and his other hand was lost inside my pants. As he lied to her, saying I ran out of cigarettes and we walked to the store to buy more, his hand never stopped exploring. After promising we?d be back in five minutes, he rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth bending up into a grin. He leaned in again.
    But I stopped him, the phone call reminding me that I was being very stupid. ?This isn?t right.?
    I couldn?t believe I said it either.
    ?It?s not fair to her.?
    What the fuck was wrong with me? After all this time, I had finally gotten what I wanted.
    Stupid Jason, doing stupid things, fucking morals.
    He removes his hand from my pants and sits back and stares thoughtfully at the restaurant. ?I know.?
    I grab my cigarettes and light up as he says, ?What do we do now??
    I look at him, I don?t speak. I can?t. I don?t know what we should do now. I know that for thirty minutes I was happy, but the cost of those thirty minutes were beginning to frighten the shit out of me.
    ?You should go,? I finally say, looking out the window, anywhere except the passenger seat. ?She?s pissed enough already.?
    ?She can wait.? He declares, crossing his arms. ?I?m not done yet.?
    It was getting to me. This little game of cat and mouse that Mark and I had been playing all these months had finally reached the crossroads. Now was the time to decide. We couldn?t ignore it anymore, not after groping each other, and he was right, we weren?t done yet.
    I looked at him, his face flushed and his eyes shining, an expectant look on his face as he waited for me to say something, anything. And when I didn?t, he said, ?I know what you?re thinking.?
    ?Really?? I said, keeping my voice steady and neutral. I didn?t want it to show, the racing heart, the longing to lean over and resume exploring his mouth, and I didn?t want him to know just how much I wanted him.
    ?It?s her, isn?t?? He asks, though I believe he knew the answer.
    I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say. I felt sorry that I had that moment and he was going to be blindsided. But without asking, I knew he wouldn?t leave her for me. Not with the pressure from his family, and not with his fear of being gay. Not when it was just a few kisses in the front seat of car. I did the only thing I could do, I lied.
    I forced my face to a blank stare and said softly, ?This won?t happen again.?
    ?What?? I surprised him; he wasn?t expecting to hear those words. ?Why??
    I punched him lightly on the shoulder and said through a forced smile, ?We were just having some fun.? I almost stopped, his eyes stopped dancing and his smile faded. I saw the hurt in his eyes and forced myself to continue.
    ?I won?t tell anyone, we?ll just blame it on the shots.? Again I smiled, but then I had to look away. I wasn?t sure which one of us was about to cry. I think it was both, if only on the inside.
    But I forced myself to add the last nail to his coffin, I said, ?She?s waiting, go back inside before you get into trouble.?
    Now he looks away, and opens the car door. He pauses for a moment, so I say, ?See you Tuesday.?
    He shuts the door and quickly walks across the parking lot. I couldn?t help myself; I actually felt tears slip down my cheek.
    I start the car and drive away. My head knows I did the right thing, but damn if I hate it for that.
    Stupid Jason, doing stupid things, and now he?s alone.
  4. Jason Rimbaud
    I can't believe it's been so long since I last wrote something here....
    But then I don't care...I've grown to hate the sound of my voice/words...whatever...
    I've got nothing to say/write at the moment....
    Not to say that nothing interesting has happened to me lately...because let's face it...I attract drama like lightening to metal
    and Sunday night was pretty fucking huge...I mean here it is two days later...and I'm still at a loss of words.
    On top of that, it's around 9 am on Tuesday morning. I haven't been to sleep yet and I think I might be dreaming this Blog entry instead of typing it. Who knows...if no one replies then it was all a dream...and since it's all a dream...I might as well tell you all about Sunday night...but then I'm not sure if I'm ready to share this particular bit of information to my loyal READER...this might be something I want to keep to myself for a bit longer.
    Fuck that...I'm embarrassed to tell you...
    You'll make fun of me...I can hear you now...shaking your head as you softly say, "I knew it, that dumb boy couldn't keep from making a dumb decision like this...it was just a matter of time."
    Yeah, you say that behind my back, but do you have the courage to say it to my face!
    Then I'd get mad...we'd get in a fight...then I'd feel bad that I hurt your feelings...and then I would bake cookies...
    Well, I'm out of eggs and the flour isn't that self rising kind...so you can take that attitude of yours and beat it...cause I don't need no one making fun of me...I feel bad enough as it is...god I want to sleep!
    Jason
    PS: Mark is beautiful when he's asleep.
  5. Jason Rimbaud
    Apparently Cole and Trab feel like I've failed to deliver a pay-off that has been hinted at concerning my interest/relationship with Mark, a straight co-worker, and the story behind my little trip to the hospital a few days ago where a cute nurse asked me to remove my shirt so he could take a peak at my insides.
    As I read that paragraph back, I wonder why they need a further explanation. It seems pretty straight forward to me. My co-worker is straight. So any interest I might have/had toward the fucker is/was a waste of time. Unfortunately, Cole and Trab, my name isn't Paul Harvey and there is no rest of the story. And after everything that transpired that night and the obsessive analyzing I've done ever since, I don't have the strength to write it all down here in my Blog. Sorry, that's all you're going to get about that subject.
    On a related note but not really, Mark is no longer curious about gay sex. And much to my chagrin, he now knows, without a doubt in his pretty little head, that he is in fact very straight and happy with his stupid GIRLfriend. Whatever...fuck him right. He wasn't circumcised anyway. And for those of you that have been reading my Blog from the beginning, you'd know about my fear of foreskin. If not, then go back in my Archive and check out the first entry.
    So Cole, Trab, I hope this explanation helps in some small way. I hope you're happy about making me go through it all again. Closure, you have it now? You happy?
    Jason R.
    Oh yeah, POST SCRIP, since I refused to "help" sort out his curiosity, he no longer talks to me. Though I must admit to laughing at the way he walked the next day. Apparently the kid who introduced him to fucking wasn't that gentle in the end. Serves him right I guess, I'm better off anyway.
    *rolls eyes*
    And just so Cole and Trab won't have a reason to bitch. I'll quickly explain about the hospital visit.
    So I quit smoking a few weeks ago. And to help fill that void, I started eating sweets. So the other day, I bought an extra large chocolate bar before I went to work. I ate half the bar but it did nothing for me so I bummed a smoke from a friend and smoked it down right away. It wasn't long before I had trouble breathing and my heart started racing, like I snorted about an eight-ball of cocaine all at once. I freaked out, and rushed myself to the hospital. After telling my story to the doctor and several different nurses, I was told that since it had been a while since I smoked, I had a reaction to the cigarette. This seemed like a probable reason, so I went home and straight to bed.
    The next morning, I ate the rest of the chocolate bar and twenty minutes later, I had the same reaction. I went back to the hospital and the only thing that made since was the chocolate. So after a simple test, I found out I couldn't eat chocolate anymore. Which is fine with me, I don't really like chocolate anyway. So it's Monday, I bought a fresh pack of cigarettes and threw away all the candy. And I was told that smoking was going to end my life. Go figure.
    Are you two happy now? Did I answer all your questions? Did I?
    Cole and Trab: You guys are awesome!
  6. Jason Rimbaud
    Wow, I can't believe how long it's been since I last posted an entry.
    Bad Jason.
    A few things have been happening lately.
    I got a job promotion. I'm now the Catering Manager as well as the Assistant Manager in my hip upscale restaurant. And since we made the list of the top one hundred restaurants in the Bay Area, the catering sales have doubled. But I love it, I'm rarely in the restaurant anymore and get to boss around everyone. How cool is that?
    I'm single again. Mark is back firmly in the closet and in a way, I'm happy with that. I was going to write a long rant but I haven't the energy. Oh well, don't be sad, you all know I'll write a poem or two about it soon.
    Oh yeah, since I'm his boss now, I get to order him around. How fucking cool is that?
    My site should be up and running any day now over at the Hub and I'm pretty fucking stoked about it. So stoked that I'm almost finished a new five part story I started writing months ago when I stayed at the beach for three days. I think it might be called Time Stood still, but who fucking knows.
    I bought a new 65 inch 1080P projection TV and a Bose surround sound with the winning from two days at Cache Creek Casino. I was unbeatable at the black jack tables and won several thousand dollars which I promptly spent. Along with the TV, I have a new mattress, a steam carpet cleaner for those pesky stains in my rugs, and a new TV stand for my new baby.
    Thank god Wolfie likes the new digs, I was a bit worried as I didn't consult him.
    I made an appointment to get another tattoo and can't wait till next Thursday. I'm thinking about getting "SLAVE" on my neck, but my boss pointed out that it would'nt be the right kind of advertising for my current sex life. *shrugs* He suggested slut instead. I don't know, it just doesn't have the same flow as "SLAVE".
    I've decided to stop smoking, then I realized I'd rather die of cancer than of diabetes so promptly started again.
    Got so drunk a few days ago, that I called Mark up and begged him to come over for a friendly fuck.
    Needless to say, I had to wash my sheets again but was quite pleased that the new mattress lived up to my expectations.
    Further realized that sex with Mark is much better when both parties are a bit indifferent and slightly pissed. Rough sex...I likes.
    Well, that's about it from Jasonland. It's getting late and I have an early day tomorrow. Later
    Jason
  7. Jason Rimbaud
    5:00AM...M wakes me up by straddling my back and whispering in my ear that he wants me to go running with him
    5:15AM...M and I walk out the front door to freezing wet air and head off toward the upcoming sunrise
    6:15AM...We walk back inside the house and head toward the shower, we don't make it
    6:17AM...M rewards me for running with him
    7:04AM...We get in the shower and I thank him for rewarding me
    7:43AM...We sit down for breakfast. M gets 2 eggs over easy with coffee and I get a bagel with OJ
    7:55AM...M heads off to class and I do the dishes
    8:20AM...I get in my car and drive to Millbrae to catch B.A.R.T. train to San Francisco
    8:45AM...Get on B.A.R.T. and start checking and replying to work related emails
    9:00AM...M sends text and says he's misses me
    9:25AM...Get to the restaurant and begin checking the overnight voicemail
    9:46AM...Recieve call finalizing cocktail party plans for 6 PM that night for 50 guests
    10:00AM...Recieve phone call from a busser who claims he can't come to work
    10:01AM...Tell busser to come or else...he claims he tried calling me all morning but I didn't pick up
    10:02AM...I call bullshit on his claim as I had been awake since five AM
    10:17AM...Send M a text that says...Grrr
    10:30AM...Greet and Brief the lunch staff about the days events and specials
    11:00AM...Open for lunch and deal with a server "suddenly" becoming ill
    11:01AM...Sent server home and I'm not happy as we are booked quite heavily for lunch
    11:17AM...Busser shows up to work late we are 17 minutes behind schedule
    12:00PM...Order a Chicken Cobb Salad for lunch, can't wait
    12:15PM...Homeless crack-head tries to steal food off a table sitting on the patio
    12:16PM...Feel a bit better after yelling at the crack-head
    1:30PM...Finally get a chance to eat...Chicken Cobb Salad is wilted but tasty
    2:00PM...Receive email about last minute changes regarding cocktail party
    2:01PM...Push time up to 5PM and change the menu with Chef for cocktail party
    2:13PM...M texts he'll be staying at his apartment tonight but he loves me
    2:30PM...Was told that "sick" server left to meet one of our chefs for some afternoon delight
    2:31PM...Not happy with server or the chef, can't wait until tomorrow's meeting
    3:00PM...Sit down with a wine rep and have a tasting for new Pinot Noirs
    3:30PM...Surpervise the setting up for the cocktail party and decorate the room
    4:00PM...Greet and meet the night shift and brief them on the cocktail party and the night's business
    5:00PM...Guests arrive for the cocktail party and the fun begins
    5:30PM...Restaurant is full and I jump behind the bar to help bartender make drinks
    6:45PM...Finally get a chance to leave the bar and smoke a much needed cigarette
    6:45PM...Text M just to say hi
    7:30PM...I yell at a server because she forgot to ring the entr?es for a table of five...for twenty minutes
    8:00PM...To console the table I buy them a round of drinks and dessert, I think it worked as they left happy
    8:07PM...M texts that he's going to bed and that he loves me
    8:15PM...D and I begin doing physical end of month inventory on wine, beer, booze
    10:00PM...I do all the book keeping for the day's business and send the servers home after a job well done
    10:30PM...D and I finish physical inventory and I turn off the lights and lock the doors and head toward B.A.R.T.
    10:52PM...Get on train and text M that I love him and goodnight, he doesn't respond
    11:29PM...Arrive in Millbrae and walk to my car
    11:35PM...After waiting for my car to warm up I start driving home to San Mateo
    11:55PM...I walk in my door and see a note on the counter from M
    11:55PM...M figured I wouldn't get to eat dinner so he left me a slice of pizza in the fridge
    11:56PM...Forgo the pizza and head up the stairs stripping out of my clothes as I head to the shower
    12:05AM...Walk into my bedroom and realize that M is curled up with my pillow snoring softly
    12:06AM...Stare at M asleep and realize that I can't imagine life without him
    12:07AM...I pounce on M and life is perfect
    1:00AM...M says he couldn't sleep alone and figured he'd surprise me
    1:02AM...M whispers goodnight and moments later he starts snoring softly
    1:04AM...I shift to a more comfortable position and set my alarm for 5 AM
    1:05AM...I grab my laptop and start typing what will become this Blog Entry
    1:31AM...I post this Blog Entry and snuggle up to M's back and drift off to sleep...happy and content
  9. Jason Rimbaud
    Yesterday, Mark and I met for coffee an hour before work. I guess he knew I was still pissed and in his usual stubborn refusal to ignore things like normal males, he confronted me.
    How is it that this little boy can have so much power over me? He's not that hot, more of a nerd really, just your average type "Joe". His haircut is nonexistent, I think his mother puts a bowl on his head and snips away. His taste in clothes is typical of every stoner in the world, jeans and t-shirts with skater hoodies.
    And...he's a drug addict. Though I must admit that pot is pretty harmless. But fuck, I don't think I ever saw him completely sober. But "just" pot or not, he still is an addict. And I don't think I need an addict in my life, one is enough thank you.
    Can you believe it's been five months without cocaine? I think out of everything I've ever accomplished, I am most proud of that. Five months completely off cocaine and pills. And I can't remember that last time I was drunk. God I'm getting boring.
    Forget about the drugs, let's focus instead on Mark's girlfriend.
    Did you know that after four months, they still haven't had sex yet? Apparently, and boy did I wish he would've kept this bit of information private, there's been a handful of blowjobs and some finger work, that's it.
    Should I be happy about this? Because as he told me this earlier today, he was fully expecting me to jump up and down with joy at this admission.
    Yeah, you haven't fucked her yet, you don't know if you will fuck her in the future, you come scratching at my door every day to shag like bunnies, but in the end, you still have her. Answer me that fucking question. You wanted to talk, let's discuss this topic.
    There's something about his eyes, it's hard to keep my thoughts in order when I stare into his eyes. And the one thing I really like is his constant eye contact. I find myself forgetting my argument while peering into his chocolate eyes.
    And a few weeks ago I found out I was allergic to chocolate. Why can't I learn my lesson?
    Fuck Mark.
    Unfortunately he never answered my questions at the coffee shop. Our co-worker saw Mark's car and came inside to join us for a cup of coffee. Boy was that awkward, here we were in the middle of a fight about our....whatever it is...and suddenly we have to act all nice and status quo. And I hate that. I've been through to much shit in my life because of my sexuality...I'm not up for hiding, or keeping secrets about something I am not ashamed to be.
    We worked, estranged and uncomfortable. So out of sorts, a few of the other servers commented on our lack of "affection". How do you answer that? Oh sorry, can't be all fluffy giggles with Mark, I'm mad because though he's fucking me and not her, she gets the prime time with him. You know the time slot that involves public appearances mixed with family time.
    Something I really like about Mark, he is extremely family orientated. Something I believe keeps him silent about me and firmly with "HER", his family might not be accepting. Which is something I doubt considering the closeness they share. I'm sure his mother would love him the same. I think all the problems reside inside Mark's fear of being labeled a "gay".
    Later that night, I finish first. I get my tip money and bolt out the back door without saying goodbye. Mainly because throughout the shift, I had convinced myself that, though fun, continuing with Mark was self-destructive and maybe a threat to my sobriety. I had decided to cut my losses.
    I wasn't a block away from my hip upscale restaurant when my phone started ringing. Without looking, I knew who it was. We hadn't finished our "fight" at the coffee shop and Mark couldn't let it go. I threw my phone in the back seat and turned the radio up.
    By the time I got home, he had called four times. I left the phone in the car.
    Once inside my apartment, I headed to the fridge and grabbed the Orange Vodka and OJ and made myself a cocktail. When my doorbell rang two hours later, I had three cocktails. Not enough to be drunk, but just happy enough to answer the door. On my way to the door, I told myself that I would fuck him one more time, and send him on his way like a worn out trick. I was going to treat him like I would any other one nighter. I wasn't even going to kiss him.
    I opened the door, shirtless and smiling with a drink in my hand. He didn't say a word, he grabbed my head and kissed me. It was like nothing else...I can't describe it...I won't...this is for me, something I won't share.
    A few minutes later, we had somehow made it the couch, and somewhere in between he has lost his shirt. It was so intense, I didn't even tell him to take off his shoes. He was right there, next to me, staring into my eyes.
    "Why didn't you answer the phone?"
    I didn't want to talk to you, I'm still mad.
    He smiles...fucker...I look into his eyes...he speaks, "I was wondering if you'd like to come to my house for dinner."
    Did I tell you, since he's still in college, he lives at home? Um, did I tell you that I haven't been to his house...yet?
    Why? I know, but it hasn't sunk in yet.
    "I want you to meet my mom and my sister."
    I met them, remember they came into the restaurant.
    He shakes his head, and playfully smacks mine. "I really like you."
    Remember, I'm a bit happy(read drunk).
    Okay, I'll tell the truth, it wasn't three cocktails, more like six. I was a bit drunk by this point.
    "I really like you."
    Prove it.
    That was me, my challenge to him. I was still pissed. He's fucking me and playing with her. Nobody wins...nobody.
    For the first time, he looks away, takes a deep breath, and almost whispers, "It's over."
    I'm crushed, because though I don't want him to know it, I really, really, really like him. And since I don't want to know how much he hurt me, I say, It's for the best.
    He looks at me, sees my face and for a moment he looks confused. This his face lights up and he starts to giggle. He grabs my face and kisses me again. ( it's none of your business) "No, silly fag. I broke up with her tonight."
    We didn't talk much after that. We messed up the covers on my bed and had one fantastic shower a bit later on. Much of the evening is a bit blurry. He's still not ready to admit/come out, he doesn't want anyone to know about us.
    But god damn, she's gone, out of the picture, flushed away.
    I don't know what the future will hold. There is a lot of obstacles and a hesitation on my part to try this. He's so much younger than me, so much he hasn't experienced yet. But fuck, the world is such a better place when he's lying next to me. He brings a calm, a willingness to try. To be something like human.
    Jason
    PS: I'm sorry about the errors and spelling issues with this piece. When I first started writing it, I was a bit pissed, slightly drunk and by the time I finished writing it, now it's after five am, I'm happy and quite exhausted. And I won't go back and re write it like I would normally.
  10. Jason Rimbaud

    Camera Phones Suck

    By Jason Rimbaud,

    It's around two thirty in the morning, Tuesday morning, and I am at a loss of words.
    I was sleeping, all cozy wrapped up in my favorite comforter dreaming of blonde haired boys with dancing eyes, and right when it was getting to the good part, my phone woke me up. Or rather the noise my phone makes when I get a new text message.
    For a moment, I glance at the table next to the bed and debate whether or not to look at the phone or to try to fall back asleep so i could find out how that nice dream ended.
    But since I rarely get text messages at two thirty in the morning, I decided to reach over and check out the asshole who chased away that sexy blonde from my dreams.
    To make a long story short, or just to try and cope with what just happened, I'll blurt it out and forgo the long winded digressions and rants.
    It was a text message from Mark, remember him, my straight boy crush. Yeah, the message was only four words long, it said, wish you were here.
    Why am I experiencing this loss of words? Because it wasn't what he typed that sent my head spinning, it was what picture he sent that sent me flying out of bed and rushing out to the balcony in my boxers to have a cigarette.
    I won't lie, it was a nice picture. But damn it, I thought this was settled. I'm going insane. I'll never be able to control myself now. Even with the cold night air, I had enough excitement to send him a picture back with this message
    Yeah, so do I.
    Damnit, I fucking hate him.
    I'm going back to bed. Maybe that blonde will return and finish what the bastard started. I can only hope.
    Jason R
  11. Jason Rimbaud
    So I went to a place to buy contacts, I won't tell you the name but it rhymes with BenRafters. After ringing in my 3 month supply of contacts, the lady said pleasantly, please look on the screen and make sure everything is correct, then please press a button to accept the payment. So far, pretty standard practices. But this is when they get sneaky. Because on the screen isn't a list of the items I purchased. Instead, on a white screen, with green boxes, and inside the boxes are bold black letters that says, $5, $10, $15, $20. Across the top is a banner that says something about donating money for something eye related.
    But I couldn't see a way out of the screen unless I pressed one of the boxes marked with a donation. So I look at the lady and ask, how do I get off this screen without donating to whichever charity you are shilling for. She smiles and says, just hit the button that says no thank you. I looked at the screen again, and finally I saw it, a white box on a white screen with white lettering that read, no thanks.
    How much money do you think they got out of people that just hit a button because they couldn't easily find the no thanks button. I looked at her and said, "this is a great scam you got going on here". And she had the nerve to look at me blankly like I was the asshole that didn't want to donate to eyes for the homeless.
    Do you think its right that companies prey on people in scams like these? This isn't the first time that companies purposely hold back information when it comes to your money. She could have said there is a screen that will ask for a donation for seeing eye dogs, but she didn't, she said plainly, please make sure everything is correct and then press a button to accept payment. 
    And while I'm here, in California anyway, my local grocery store always ask me if I would purchase a meal for the homeless. If I do, I get a free shopping bag. My answer is, why don't this multi-billion dollar a year company donate meals for the homeless. I can barely afford to purchase my after work beer to help forget that I live in the most expensive city in America and I can't walk down the street without stepping in shit or tripping over a crazy person shooting up heroin on my way to my overpriced condo that has amazing views of the alley and the building over neighbors hanging their undies over their balcony.
     
    Jason
  13. Jason Rimbaud
    aw man, hospitals suck. but the nurse who took my chest x=ray was cute. and when he told me to take off my shirt, it took a moment to realize that we weren't going to have sex. not that i could in my condition but my mind is still a pervert.
    Jason R.
  14. Jason Rimbaud
    Just returned from watching Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom.  Or should I say dragged to see the flick.  
    I should start by saying that I am a huge fan of Jurassic Park, a satisfied fan of Jurassic Park 2, a meh for Jurassic Park 3, and a very disappointed viewer for Jurassic World.  
     
    For all the amazing CGI of the first one, they did not skimp on the story and characters.  All I have to say is Alan Grant.  Jurassic Park 2, the sequence when T-Rex squared pushes the camper off the cliff is stunning, again they did not skimp on the story and characters.  I know they have plot holes and characters that were only half developed.  But the entertainment factor of Dr. Ian alone carries that film that is re-watchable each time I see it on cable.  Jurassic Park 3, sees the return of Alan Grant, one of my favorite actors from the 90's and eerily attracted to in a carnal way, returns to an okay horror film.  I love the moments with Eric Kirby, he has some of the best lines in the entire film.  Plus, you have the human eating birds attacking our steadfast heroes.  Lets not talk about the spinosaurus as a villain.   
     
    Then you have Jurassic World some 17 years later with the amazing B.D. Wong and the over-hyped Chris Pratt and his abs.  Great CGI and a pulse pounding action scenes but with under developed characters, kids in danger for no reason, and a deeply unsatisfying ending that is a bit too nostalgic for my taste.  I felt that Star Wars Force Awakens suffered from the same malady.  A fan that grew up and made a homage movie to their childhood fantasies.  In both films, each writer and director focused more on feelings that actual story, spectacle over substance, and nostalgia dripping from the screen that makes me wish instead of essentially re-making a classic, they would have been better served in just re-watching the originals.  
     
    So when "N" insisted on us going to the movie tonight on my one day off this week, I was prepared for another Jurassic World.  After all, Chris Pratt has already given me a sequel that was boring on the surface, sub-par in the meat of the story, and just plain awful by the discovery of the villain.  Of course i am speaking about Guardians of the Galaxy Chapter 2.  
     
    I offered other opportunities, even went as far as begging us to go to Las Vegas last minute just to avoid this movie.  And much to my chagrin, he wasn't having any part of that strategy.  And once the credits rolled, damn was I impressed.  For the first time in a long time, Chris Pratt was more grounded as an actor since I first saw him on Everwood.  The writers/directors kept him from his Prattness and he acted the shit out of a smart, believable script that didn't seem like over two hours that it ended being.  Bryce Dallas Howard stopped being the damsel in distress/high heels from the previous one and held her own against the new villain of the piece.  I will give zero spoilers but finally a sequel to Jurassic Park that was promised.  I didn't stay past the credits so I don't know if there is a post credit scene., but they set up the next installment perfectly that made sense in the framework of the story.  Completely understand why its making all the money.  
     
    I would say watch this movie, you won't be disappointed.  
     
    J
  15. Jason Rimbaud
    I must say I like the new look of our Blog's as well as the upgrade. It seems to be a step-up though it gives me more work as now I need to change my Blog to match the face lift of the site. But I'm ready, and if I'm not ready I am at least excited to start.
    It's been a while since I lost posted, ignoring my Election night brief entry because that doesn't really count, two months. I've had a lifetime worth of events transpire and its taken me that long and more to sort it all out.
    I hate left-overs, something about half eaten food makes me shake. I've never understood why people eat left-overs, if it was so good then you should have eaten it all and if you couldn't eat it all then you shouldn't have ordered so much food. Much like the way I can't drink out of an open container, I waste so much Orange Juice I really should be brought up on charges of abuse.
    But that's me, left-overs and open containers freak the shit out of me. I've learned to live with it, it's my cross to bear as it were and for the most part it's harmless and doesn't affect anyone else.
    Mark loves left-overs, and for some reason he doesn't eat them, but he loves to bring the containers back to my house and settle them comfortably in my fridge where they sit forgotten and over time to get back at us for leaving them alone in the fridge they begin to mutate into something unrecognizable.
    I beg, I plead, I implore with my logic, I threaten, anything to get him to stop this madness but nothing gets through. I once decreed that he was no longer allowed to open the fridge for any reason and this only empowered him to become extremely lazy. I was then forced, by my own words, to become his bitch and wait on him hand and foot.
    He is of the opinion that he paid for the food, and he won't waste it by leaving it at the restaurant. This would be fine if the fucker would eat the food instead of waiting for it to grow green legs before I finally throw it out.
    Work has been progressing, sometimes rather well and sometimes not. Based on the current economy, people are having less disposable income and instead of going out two or three times a week, they are only going out once a week, sometimes once every two weeks. This has caused the servers to become a bit more stingy with their money as they went from X amount a week to Z amount. Tempers are flaring, arguments are happening between the staff and everyone has a general feeling of stress.
    This makes my job harder, controlling these tempers is like walking a fine line between a volcano and the pits of hell. One wrong misstep and life becomes way to hot to handle.
    A few weeks ago, I was counting the cash in the restaurant, tallying the books for the days business. When I discovered that I had somehow lost two hundred dollars from the opening cash to the closing cash. Seeing how I am directly responsible for the cash, and must pay for any shortages, I opened all the checks for the day and begin backtracking to find where my mistake occurred, hoping that it was an addition error as opposed to me giving either a customer to much change or a server to much tips.
    In this time consuming process, I was going over a server's checkout (for those of you that have never worked retail, a checkout is a list showing each and every transaction a particular server did on that particular day, with detailed accounts of credit cards and cash.) and saw a discrepancy on a credit card slip. The amount of the credit card was $119.45, the guest added in a tip of $10.00, making the total on the slip $129.45. Granted this was a horrible tip, and the guest really should be taken to a square somewhere and flogged. But be that as it may...
    When I looked at the slip, and the compared that transaction with the server's checkout, I noticed that the server had adjusted the credit card tip to $20.00 dollars instead of $10.00 dollars.
    I'm the first person to realize that mistakes happen, you might be tired, you might be joking around and not paying attention, loads of things could happen.
    But this sent up a red flag, and I began to cross check every credit card slip with the checkout for that particular server. On that day alone, I found two other "mistakes". I forgot about the $200 dollars at that moment and started going back and checking each day that server worked. Over the course of a month, I found several mistakes on that server's books, totaling over $150 dollars of stolen tips.
    Love is a wonderful thing, you accept someone's faults, overlook the bad annoying habits, and focus on the feelings that bubble over every time you look at your lover's face. Mark snores, I find this to be cute with him, all of my other roommates I've had I threatened to kill them if they didn't stop snoring, even when they were in another room on a different floor.
    Mark is messy, to the extent that drives me completely crazy. When he gets out of the shower, he doesn't bother to dry any part of his body before stepping on the floor, leaving water spots everywhere. When he's done with the towel, he leaves it on the floor in a ball. We've managed to work around this, I yell at him, he giggles and slowly cleans up after himself, not good enough so I always have to redo it, but we work through it.
    He leaves empty glasses everywhere, along with plates, forks, spoons, not understanding that if you do that, it leave a better chance of ants crawling around everywhere. He can't wash a dish properly to save his life, though it makes me all fuzzy bunny slippers when he tries.
    Love is what makes us overlook these annoying habits, because though he has faults, he more than makes up for it with his grand gestures of romance, his subtle yet loud declarations of love.
    But to be honest, I'm glad we don't live together. I would kill him.
    Being that I'm rather new to my job, I wasn't sure how to handle this situation of a sever stealing. What would happen if a guest realized that the server did this? I'm pretty sure my owner doesn't want her restaurant to gain the reputation of not running an honest establishment.
    I knew I had the server dead to rights, once could be argued away that it was an honest mistake, $150 dollars is a bit harder to explain. If it was a mistake, then that server is pretty fucking stupid and doesn't need to be handling money whatsoever.
    Yet I liked this server, we had worked together for over two years and I trusted him. Plus I know how much this job means to him, he's still in college that he pays for, his car just got painted and redone, plus I'm assuming he has other bills. Losing this job would affect his life in grand ways. I know, sometimes I'm a bit to nice.
    I was confused, I knew this behavior had to stop, but I didn't want to call in my boss just yet because I liked the guy. After a restless night sleep, I decided to confront this server on my own, and gage his reaction when I showed him the evidence hoping that we could come to some kind of agreement without him getting into trouble.
    The next day, I called the server and asked him to come to work early, right after his classes were over.
    A few hours later, he walks into the office smiling, happy as hell, and sits down across from me, "What's up?"
    I take a deep breath, I admit I was a bit nervous but had decided this had to be taken care of. I retrieve just one slip from the night before, hand it to him, and said, "You screwed up, you adjusted the tip wrong."
    He looks at if for a moment, shrugs, and says, "Oops, do you want the ten bucks back right now?"
    "That would be cool," I smile. He gives me the ten dollars and as I begin correcting the mistake in the computer, I ask smiling, "Have many times do you make this mistake?"
    "Come on, you know me better than that." was the reply.
    "So if I check, I won't find any more of these mistakes?"
    "Nope." He says, looking straight in my eye.
    For some reason, I took great offense in this. Here I was trying to keep this quiet so the big bosses won't find out, basically trying to save his job, and he looks me right in the eye and fucking lies to me.
    "That's weird, because I spent most of last night going through your slips and I found many more mistakes. So either you are lying to me, or you're stupid, which is it?" I was past nervous and slipped into anger by this time. "Is there anything you want to tell me, Mark?"
    His smile drained from his face and he stared at me blankly for a moment. I didn't know what to feel or what to say. This was a man that I shared my life with, a man that came out to his mother just to be with me, a man who faced the world and his own insecurities with his head held high. A man that I realized that I didn't even know.
    He started changing his story, saying that times were hard, and he only did that to the guests that didn't tip him accordingly to the service that he provided. He said they deserved what they got because they were cheap.
    I can overlook many things in a relationship, but this was something I couldn't overlook. I pride myself on my moral and work ethic. I do my job to the best of my ability and when I don't get that tip, or when a guest complains, I tightened my belt so to speak and continue on, knowing that in the end it all works out. One table doesn't tip you well but the next table tips you extra, it makes up for it and after all, we can't force people to tip.
    "I have to report this," looking him in the eyes. "If I don't, and my boss finds out, I could lose my job."
    "I won't do this again," he promises. "Just don't tell."
    "I can't, you are committing credit card fraud, that's a felony. If someone says something, we could lose this entire restaurant."
    "You're my boyfriend," he said, his anger apparent. "Can't you just forget about it."
    By this time, we're yelling at each other. He wants me to hide it and I can't. He accuses me that my job is more important to me than my relationship with him. And I guess in a way, it is. Loss of trust is what destroys relationships, and I don't think we could last with me knowing that not only does he steal but he doesn't have remorse or even thinks it wrong.
    Needless to say, I did tell my boss about the incident when he came to work the next day and Mark was gone. I showed him the evidence, my report on the conversation, and told him that I fired Mark.
    My boss is no longer worried that I would allow my relationship with Mark to interfere with my job, he knows how much this cost me, and understands how hard it was to do.
    My fridge no longer has left-overs inside it, I wish my heart didn't either. But time heals all wounds, and looking back, I believe I did the right thing.
    Mark and I haven't spoke a word to each other since that day. I gathered up his stuff that was at my apartment and gave it to a mutual friend to give it to him. It's weird that he was such a huge part of my life and suddenly there is a hole. The last two months have been difficult. I haven't been drinking much lately, I guess I have nothing to celebrate. And yet I've thought less and less of using cocaine. I go days without it entering my head, slowly over time I think it will gradually disappear all together. I guess I owe Mark that, because no matter how it ended, he helped me learn that if I focus on other things, namely my happiness, I wouldn't focus so much on the past. And my future is looking pretty fucking bright.
    I did find the missing $200 dollars, it was an addition error and our books match up perfectly.
    I'm moving at the end of the month, my lease was up and sadly I didn't want to live in a place that reminded me so much of Mark. I have a new place, smaller but with cheaper rent but in this economy, I'd rather live cheaper than resort to stealing.
  16. Jason Rimbaud
    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."
  17. Jason Rimbaud
    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
  18. Jason Rimbaud

    I'm Sorry...

    By Jason Rimbaud,

    So the restaurant has been crazy the last few weeks...of course when is it not crazy. In a way, I'm glad people still have disposable income in these tough times and that they still come to my restaurant to spend this disposable income.
    But why the fuck do these people with these disposable incomes think they are so much better than the rest of us and insist on treating us like donkey shit eaters. Fine, we don't make as much money as they do, and we don't drive the same kind of cars or walk in the same circles as these elitists. But that doesn't make us the shit that hangs out on the bottom of your shoes that gets casually wiped away by one of your peeps.
    We work just as hard as they do, sometimes for long periods and without the lavish vacations. We live on shoe-string budgets that wouldn't pay for their yearly car insurance bills.
    I'm sorry you drove all the way down from San Francisco in your gas guzzling SUV and got stuck in traffic for three hours due to a car accident. I'm sorry that when you walked in the door ten minutes before we close and demanded a table for three I told you that we would be needing your order in five minutes as the kitchen will promptly close at 9:30 and all orders must be in before that. I'm sorry we ran out of the halibut ten minutes before we close the restaurant. I'm sorry that at five minutes after ten that you decided to order another entree because you were still hungry. I"m sorry that the kitchen staff had left to go home after working 13 hours to see their already asleep families. I'm sorry that we were so inconsiderate as to close before you were completely finished. I'm sorry that we are nothing but assholes who had forgotten that we only live to serve you.
    And we still don't have kill an asshole day yet in America?
    Jason
  19. Jason Rimbaud

    Sands of Iwo Jima

    By Jason Rimbaud,

    I'm sick, I think I'm dying.
    My head hurts and I've got this light-headed feeling. My nose is running, there is no way I can have so much snot inside my little head. I'm cold, for the first time in years I'm wearing lounge pants in bed, I have a sweatshirt and I'm wrapped up in a comforter. I'm watching the Sands of Iwo Jima starring John Wayne. God, why can't I just die.
    Jason R.
  20. Jason Rimbaud
    Four months ago, at least from the outside, most would say that I was on top of the world. I have a good job, a great apartment, and an amazing boyfriend. I had a good start on a saving account, a brand new car with all the bells and whistles. If I was a normal person, I would have been content at the success I enjoyed. Yet for all those possessions, something was lacking in my life.
    I first started working in hospitality the year I turned 21. I really didn't have the opportunity to go to college, and didn't really have any other avenues to traverse. What else could a cute gay boy do for work besides shake his ass as a bartender.
    And though I moved from working in gay bars, then stopped bar-tending completely, only to move into serving before landing a job as a manager a few years later. Truthfully, at least professionally, it was the only thing I was ever good at. And I can say with complete modesty, I am very good at my job.
    From the time I was a young boy, my only dream was to be a writer. And until I turned thirty, I followed that dream. But then I got sidetracked, I started listening to others telling me that I had to secure a future. So I guess you could say, I fell into the hospitality business. I built a career out of the one thing I was good at and for a time, I was content to do so.
    But content is not happy. The future was starting to cement, I started growing my savings account. And I had built up quite an impressive resume with some of the most successful people in San Francisco. 
    I calculated each move, every time I left and took a new position, it was for a better future for me. I sacrificed a five year relationship and more friends then I would care to admit in my single minded ambition to secure a future. 
    For a time, I told myself that when I reached success, when I finally made it, then I would focus on my personal life. But truth be told, the more successful you become, the more time and energy it takes to maintain that success. I started to wonder when enough would be enough. 
    Then I met "N" two years ago. Three hours after meeting him, I told my friend that I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. I just knew it. Two months later, I had gave up my condo in Daly City and moved into San Francisco with him. Again, from the outside, most people would say that I had it all. 
    But I wasn't happy. And yes, I could mask it at work, I am a professional after all. But the years of 14 hour days, six to seven days a week, working every single weekend. Sometimes not getting home until 1am only to get up at 4am and then head back to work for another 14 hour day. 
    "N" understood the long hours, after all, he is in the same business as me. The difference, the owner he works for truly believes in work life balance, and he rarely works more than 40 hours a week and always gets two days off a week in a row. I am not so fortunate. 
    In the dark parts of the night, snuggled in bed with "N", I told him about my long forgotten dream of becoming a writer. Of course he was interested in reading my work as any good "N" would be, I showed him my past writings. And he started to encourage me to take up the words again. And over the last two years, I have slowly dipped my toes in the water of creativity again. Though it had only been occasionally and in brief spurts only. And much like the discovery of an old friend, I started to realize how much I enjoyed sitting down at my laptop and spewing forth nonsense onto the screen.
    The dedication it takes to operate at the level I had managed to achieve is total commitment. It's working 14 hours in the restaurant, then spending another three hours at home answering emails from the department managers and various vendors that need my attention it seems daily.
    I will admit, I probably worked more than I needed too but the restaurant brought in 12 million a year and I was responsible for every dollar of it. So yes, my focus was on the bottom line for more than just my quarterly bonus.
    It had been brewing for a while, my unhappiness at work. And I can't blame the owner for wanting to make the most money he possibly could. But I started to wonder how much money was enough. I knew the numbers, I knew the magic number. Once the restaurant makes this magic number, anything over that amount is profit for the owner. And he was a single owner, he had no partners. So when he set the budget for this year 25% more than last year, I had to wonder what he was thinking. 
    He's the owner, he can set whatever budget he wants, its his right. And as a professional, it was my job to try and hit that budget. I"m not so naive that I don't understand business. He is only in it for the money. And its his money and his right.
    Any of you that understand budgets and how the restaurant business works, it is highly unlikely that any restaurant, unless something out of the ordinary happens, to grow a business by 25% over the previous year.  Especially when 35% of your business is tied up with the Moscone Center and their convention business.
    I'll give him the unreachable budget. When it was written the year before, he did not know Moscone Center was going to be in construction and all the conventions we enjoyed in 2017 would not be there in 2018.
    Nor did he realize that international tourism is down due to our current political climate. Add that to our out of control homeless problem and several large conventions citing homeless issues as the reason they are no longer booking in San Francisco, and its no wonder all restaurants in the city are down fifteen percent city wide.
    After talking with friends in the accounting world, he should be happy he's only down 10%. He is actually doing better than most currently in San Francisco. I have lost count of the high end restaurant closures and the celebrity chefs that are struggling to keep the doors open.
    I know the main reason he raised my budget so high, was to help cover the cost of his new restaurant that was opened in 2017 and was struggling, to put it mildly, in the current climate.
    For full disclosure, I started losing my happiness at work the moment I met "N" and realized he was something outside of work that was more important than anything. It had been brewing for months. So when the culture of the restaurant started to change and the owner started to show his stress more and more.
    So during the monthly meeting when he demanded what I was going to do to attain this budget, I brought out the numbers, a bit more in detail than what I describe above, and he looked at me and responded that it was only excuses and he didn't pay me to give him excuses. And he is right. He didn't pay me to give him excuses.
    So I said the first thing that came to me. And trust me, I had given better speeches over my career. And it might have been a mistake, but every fiber in my being said it was the right thing to do. I can't say what I told him, I don't really remember. But I resigned that day. For the first time in my life, I walked away with no notice and no prospects.
    San Francisco is a small town, every owner knows all the rest. And leaving like I did was not the smartest thing I could have done, but that was the day my happiness returned.
    And I will be honest, it wasn't just because my owner is an asshole, he is. But I don't think my life has room for something that is so demanding that takes me away from being happy in my life. 
    So for two months I've sat in my great apartment with my amazing boyfriend and made time for myself. For the first time in ten years, I have nothing to do. Everyday I spend time with "N" before he goes to work. Then I clean the house, I do laundry, sometimes I play video games, sometimes I get hammered in the middle of the day for no reason, but most of the time, after I do my house chores, I sit down at my laptop and write. 
    I write like I did in my twenties when the desire was strong and I didn't know what the future held but I was excited to face it. 
    My vacation payout alone was two months salary and I figured I was going to enjoy every moment. We aren't rich and my little diversion from work won't last much longer. After all, this is the most expensive city in the country to live and he won't let me be a bum much longer.
    I think my time in hospitality has come to a close. I think my next job will be something that will allow me to pay my bills yet leave me time to focus on what really matters in this life.
    The night I left my job, I went out and bought my amazing boyfriend a ring, we are planning on getting married next June and life could not be happier for me.
     
  21. Jason Rimbaud

    My New Site

    By Jason Rimbaud,

    For any of those that are interested, my brand new site is up and running over at the Hub. It contains every piece of work that I've posted online. Designed by Rob Hawes, I couldn't be happier with the final outcome. So if you're interested, look over at the upper left hand corner of the screen and click on the link called, The Writings of Jason Rimbaud.
    Jason (proud poet)
  22. Jason Rimbaud

    Being Gay Sucks

    By Jason Rimbaud,

    Current Music Selection: DJ Sammy
    Current State: Flying the V
    Current Mood: Somewhat sad
    So I went to dinner with my older brother tonight. My first mistake was showing up sober. Why did I think it would be different this time? It?s been ten years since he found out I was gay. How much fucking time does he need to accept who I am?
    So I?m from a religious family. So my lifestyle is one long sin and I have an open reservation into the seventh layer of hell. Do I really need him to lecture me on morals and righteous living? He?s working on his third marriage and I?m morally deficient.
    While he?s telling me how promiscuous ?my kind? behaves, he?s flirting with the waitress. And she couldn?t have been more than eighteen. Maybe the left should re-evaluate their belief systems.
    And he says I broke our mother?s heart. I?m pretty sure her expectations and desires didn?t include having three daughter-in-laws or three grandchildren by two different mothers. Fuck, she should be happy she got grandkids at all after all the lectures she drilled into our heads about the dangers of sex.
    I remember the last time I was in the same room as my parents; I was surrounded by a group of ?concerned? family friends who decided I need a prayer circle to cleanse me of my sinful ways. Believe me when I say that no amount of chanting or yelling will ever cure my desire to suck cock. It?s bred into me on a very basic level. You know, genetically.
    My mother calls me periodically to guilt me into becoming straight. Or to read me passages of scripture that describes in disturbing detail what awaits in the afterlife for people like me.
    Thanks to her, I now know that people like me are a bunch of pedophiles, drug addicts, and sex offenders that only end up in jail or dead from sexually transmitted diseases. Looking on my life, I figure I?m doing all right. I only have two of those problems at the moment. But then I?m still young yet.
    I remember a few years ago, my mother drove from the Valley to San Francisco to see me. She called me at seven AM and wanted to go to breakfast. She kept saying how much she missed our relationship and wanted to mend the fences so to speak. After I kicked out the boy I picked up the night before and hid my drugs, I arranged for her to come pick me up at my apartment.
    Much to my surprise, she?s waiting for me in the lobby of my building. So I let her up and as I shower and get rid of the smell of sex, I hope that we can somehow achieve peace between us.
    As a child, my family was close. I lost my father shortly after I came out. Well, I never came out so to speak. It was more I got caught in the living room sucking off one of the boys from church. My brother stills claims the shock of finding out his youngest son was a faggot caused the stroke that slowly took his life. Maybe that?s the reason my mother hates me so, I killed her husband.
    During breakfast, my mother apologized for the way she had been behaving and asked my forgiveness. I was shocked. There was a god and he answered my prayers. We cried and for a moment, I felt like I was complete again. I might not have my mother?s approval or understanding but I knew I had her unconditional love and support. For those two hours, my life was perfect.
    Her words, I still remember so clearly. ?I want you to know everything I did, everything I?ll do, is always with your best interest. I love you Jason, don?t ever forget that.?
    Those words accompanied me back to my apartment. But the illusion of those words were shattered when I opened the door and saw my childhood minister and three imposing men waiting for me in my living room. Again, my mistake in trusting my mother.
    I escaped conditioning only because I was over eighteen and legally they could not take me against my will. That was the last time I saw my mother. But sadly, that was not the last I heard from my mother.
    While I was in the shower washing away the sex, my mother was busy putting little post-it-notes around my apartment. In my dresser, under my sheets, in the pockets of all my shirts, my desk, my kitchen cabinets, anywhere you could possibly think of posting a note, she posted. Each note with a different scripture verse and corresponding reason why I should stop being gay. Family.
    My brother and I really have nothing in common. He?s straight and like all straight people, he has an agenda. To alter anyone like me into his ?Normal? behavior. To keep people like me from ever marrying or enjoying the same freedoms.
    My first mistake was arriving sober. My last mistake was allowing him to make me feel bad about being gay. Sometimes I hate my life and wish I were never born this way. Sometimes I hate being gay. That sometime is today. I hate being gay. I hate the way it makes me feel. I hate the way I can?t have a relationship with my family. I hate the fact I can?t change it. I hate the fact that I?ve become everything I hate about gay people. I hate the fact that I?ve written these words. Today I hate everything.
    No wonder I think about letting the pain slide. No wonder I think about letting the pain slide. I wonder when I?ll let the pain slide.
    Dark thoughts from me tonight. I?m sorry but I?m a bit depressed and I don?t feel like typing anything else. Cheers and tears.
    Jason R.
  23. Jason Rimbaud
    For the last few months, I have been undergoing some disturbing eye problems. This condition has virtually stopped me from writing, for a time it stopped me even from driving, working, and such normal activities I had taken for granted for years. Let's not even mention the toll it took on my porn watching habits. For three weeks I sat in front of the television and guessed what I was watching/hearing by putting together the sounds I heard. The screen a blur I could not make out.
    For a while, it was unknown if I would ever regain my ability to see, even with glasses, contacts, ect ect. To say I have been more than a bit depressed wouldn't do justice to the feelings raging inside my small mind.
    For most of the month of January, I was locked inside my house, the blinds shut, the windows blacked out with tin foil to stop the light from coming in. Not because I hate the sun, but my eyes were so light sensitive the merest light caused intense headaches and nausea. For weeks, I could barely open my eyes much less see anything. As a writer, I thought my life was over. Dark thoughts jumbled around my head, I questioned if I wanted to live without sight. I don't know what I would do if not for "Susan". But that really isn't the reason for this post.
    The blurred vision is all but gone, the constant draining and nasty fluids no longer leak from my eyes, and though my eye glass perscripton has grown in strength, I am now classified as legally blind without corrective lenses of some kind, at least I can see clearly with glasses. Unfortantly due to the nature of my eye problems, I can no longer wear contacts. And let me tell you, my eye glasses, even with all the new technology offering thinner lenses, my glasses are still like coke bottles. I think they make me look ugly but on the bright side, I can at least see.
    Even now, i can only stand staring at the computer screen for about an hour before the light from the screen causes intense headaches. At least I can resume writing again. If only for a small amount of time. Watching TV in thirty minute clips is a bit strange, but it gives me something to do, as reading is out of the question for now.
    The doctors say I'm on the upswing and its only a matter of time before the damage done to my eyes is healed. They predict, if I follow their guidlines and suggestions, that I'll be back to "normal" sometime around summer. Though normal is now skewed, since I've done permenant damage to the cornea of my eyes.
    To all you contact wearers, be careful about wearing your contacts too long, sleeping with them in, and waiting too long to get new lenses, a leasson I'm learning very well at this point.
    I've got to get going, my eyes are starting to bother me and its time to rest them. which is basically me sitting with my eyes closed, remaining still and calm.
    Special thanks go out to my support system: Absolute Ruby Red Vodka, French wine, Vicadin, Valium, Pot, Molson Candian Lager, Daniel, Susan, and of course, my cock. Thank you all for keeping me somewhat sane the last few months.
  24. Jason Rimbaud
    I've been on vacation for the last five days and I must say, I haven't done anything of importance. Okay, that's not really true, I have done things. Yet none of these things were things I had been needing to do.
    On Sunday, while on the train going home to start my five day vacation, I wrote this in my notes section of my handy dandy I-Phone...'Starting tomorrow, I'll be having five days off work, not really sure what I'll be doing or where I'll be going but it's time to find a warm hole and stick my dick inside it.'
    Lofty ideals huh...don't judge me, it's not my fault. I blame television.
    On Monday, I had a plan to go to San Jose to get Hot Wings from my favorite place, Smoke Eaters.
    I would like to take this time to admit to a problem...nay an addiction that I have been struggling with for ten years. The taste of a really spicy Hot Wing sauce is like nectar of the gods to me. This is a straight up addiction no fly by night flirtation. So much so am I addicted to this sauce, I could probably mainline the sauce on a daily basis. I even go as far as to dip my finger in the sauce and lick it off while I drink beer. I guess I love the way it burns my mouth and lips. Though I must admit, the next day, while doing certain daily activities it burns like I'm stuck inside the seventh level of hell.
    So I had this idea to go to San Jose and get Hot Wings from Smoke Eaters and then go back home with a case of beer and maybe a new video game and veg out in front of my big screen high definition TV. So on the way, I stop off at the local GameStop to see if there is a new game that might stir my interest. And boy, did I find more than I bargained for...
    Splinter Cell, the latest one, I was very interested in purchasing so I sauntered up to the counter to this delicious geek that was standing there in all his nerdy glory and asked if this game was satisfying. Apparently, he loved the game because he started talking a mile and minute, his hands wavering in weird motions and he was practically bouncing off the walls.
    He was a typical looking geek, long hair, scruffy beard that couldn't grow in all the way, dressed like a fashion reject from a bad eighties movie with a Spiderman T-Shirt that was two sizes too small for his lanky frame. I'll say it, sex on wheels.
    It's four o-clock in the afternoon, I'm on vacation, and I'm randy as goat. While he's going on and on about this game, I couldn't help but to laugh. I say, "You seem pretty excited about this game."
    "I am."
    "I usually don't get this excited outside of sex, how about you?" I say/asked, flashing him my most seductive smile.
    For a moment, he looks at me, then he smiles shyly and looks around before saying, "I get even more excited about sex."
    "What time do you get off?"
    "Five o-clock."
    "Fancy an after work blow job?" I ask bluntly. After all, I only have five days and I don't have time to beat around the bush. Plus I really wanted to eat my Hot Wings from my favorite place in San Jose and drink some beer.
    It was so cute, he looked down at his feet and turned his head, not bothering to look me in the eye. He mumbles, "I'm not gay."
    "It's okay, my mouth is gay enough for the both of us."
    Geek always taste better when it's straight geek.
    On Tuesday, I had to do laundry and wanted to give the apartment a good cleaning over. Wolfie had been on my ass lately about the streaks and dust on the TV so for a few hours, I lost myself in the mundane chores of keeping house. About seven o-clock, I worked up a mighty thirst so I showered quickly and headed off to the bar to find myself a dumpster.
    Figuring I would make this vacation's theme, Straight Week, I decided to only try and seduce straight boys.
    For the last few weeks, there is this little hottie straightie that hangs out at my local neighborhood straight bar, and we have been giving each other the eye. Or to be truthful, I have been giving him the eye and he's been giving me the eye when he thinks I'm not looking. That night I decide that I'm not just going to look from afar, I decide that he's going to be my dumpster for the night.
    Turns out his name is Brad and he wasn't completely straight. He goes to some college, he's getting his undergrad in some subject. I know, when he was talking I really was paying attention.
    As he sat on the stool beside me, I couldn't help but notice his bulge, it was so enticing and mysterious. He's okay looking, probably about a "5" with no visible spots. I buy him a drink, make some dirty chit and some flirtatious chat before I say let's go back to my place.
    "I don't need anything else to drink."
    "Me neither." I say, rubbing my hand across his prominent bulge.
    Undergrad students who try to be straight tastes better than your average gay undergrad. Must be something about their pheromones.
    Sometime last week, I was riding on the train on my way to work when I noticed this young couple sitting a few seats away from me. I would guess they were around sixteen or seventeen and they were making out pretty heavily like only kids can do in public. The girl was cute, curvy and had red hair. The boy was your typical EMO, dressed in black and wearing skinny jeans that couldn't be any tighter unless he just painted them on. But what stood out about this couple, after fifteen minutes of heavy petting, the boy was in a very aroused state. You have to love skinny jeans.
    The boy looked to be embarrassed about his predicament, trying to place his arm in his lap, his hands, anything so as his erection wouldn't be seen by either the passengers or even his make out partner. I believe the girl was oblivious as to his state and as I watched this for a few minutes, I couldn't help but to laugh. Here was this boy trying hard to hide his cock and yet he still wanted to make out with his girlfriend who's hands had started to roam about his body.
    As my stop was approaching, I folded up the paper I had been reading and as I walked past them to exit the train, I dropped the paper in his lap and smiled at him. He quickly placed it in the proper place and gave me a look that said he was more than grateful for my act of generosity. I walked off the train feeling like I had done my good deed for the month.
    On the way home, the very same day, I watched two people fucking on the train. It was surreal, I was on one end of the train car and they were on the other end. They saw me but they didn't care that I was watching. She was sitting on his lap and from the moans they were making, they were having a ball. So I did what any person would do in my situation, I took a picture. So much for my belief in Karma. Whatever good I did with the boy by giving him a paper, it didn't come back to me in the least.
    The topper to this little tale, she suddenly jumped off his lap and then her head disappeared and the guy almost screamed out in ecstasy. So I started clapping. They didn't even have the shame to look embarrassed. I guess I lost my Bay Area Rapid Transit cherry.
  25. Jason Rimbaud
    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.

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