Jump to content

Jason Rimbaud

AD Author
  • Posts

    812
  • Joined

  • Last visited

Everything posted by Jason Rimbaud

  1. Dear Des, (maybe a traitor to the cause)Okay, once again I must defer to my betters as I am not experienced in trying to find loop-holes in the "Gay Handbook" to further my own "penny-pinching agenda". Though I have contacted several who flat refuse to acknowledge any edition/amendment that comes from Australia. I further put forth this question on the validity of any person/person's who tries to use age as an excuse to "NOT" use or own camera phones. With everything that is happening around the world, I, as well as my contemporaries in the gay world, are somewhat skeptical of "lazy gayness" in the world-wide community as a whole, In a time where Tinky-Winky is on the verge of becoming exposed as a prime recruitment tool of the gay community, I believe we should not only promote camera phones, but force all those who are charter members to purchase camera phones. As the saying goes, Out of the closets and into the streets. Or to fit better, Out with the old phones and in with the new video/camera phones so we can take "secret pictures" of any we deem worthy enough and use those images either online or at home...alone...in the privacy of our room...where you can appreciate the picture all the better. I might have digressed again, sorry.At this time, I do not have the voting power behind me to enforce this...following of the rules, already in place for over five years I might add, I am campaigning as we speak to abolish the Australian Edition with all these counter-productive amendments.Truly gay,Jason R.(a true patriot for gays everywhere)
  2. Hey Des,The question isn't why you didn't take a photo of said hot guy, because I think Wibby stated it perfectly for all of us. Yet I will put forth this question if I may, What the fuck do you mean you don't have a camera phone?*checking the section in the gay handbook called, membership rules*Just as I suspected, it's not even legal. How can you take dirty pictures of yourself to share on line if you don't have a camera phone? You can't. How can you take pictures of cute foreign guys for all us American's? You can't. You might get kicked out of the club, I'm serious. And why? Because you DON"T think a camera phone is a justifiable expense. well I won't let this happen. I won't let you get kicked out. No sir, not me. ATTENTION ALL AWESOME DUDES!!!!!!!!!Below is a link to a website dedicated to helping our poor friend on the bottom of the world attain a camera phone. The site accepts all forms of payment, legal or otherwise. Please donate what you can afford, let's not let another mis-guided queer lose his membership.www.desneedsafuckingcameraphone.fuMonetary value differs between currency, Raccoon dropping not accepted anywhere
  3. "What is filled with holes yet still holds water?" My guess is a sponge.
  4. Thank you all, Camy, Des, Wibby, for your kind encouragment. When I first posted this entry, I really wasn't expecting any comments. It's hard to think of something to say after reading that particular piece. Though in the end, I thinik the piece is very hopeful and shows that no matter how messed up life gets, if you try hard enough, you can always iron out the wrinkles. Jason R.Where the hell did I pick up this positive attitude from? Damn Susan and her soft words of advice.
  5. A Good Reason To Spend 765 Dollars I wrote this as a comment in (Ele)Civil's Blog a few weeks ago. I really liked it, and while discussing it with my friends back in Pennsylvania, they wondered why I did not have it posted here. So to oblige them, I reposted it here. I changed a few things around and add a few things, so maybe, even if you've already read this, give it another shot. Pretty please, just for me. I know how scary purchasing a new suit can be to the first time buyer. Not only do you have to decide which color of suit you should buy, but then there's the shoes, the shirt, etc. etc. I wanted to create a "How to Guide" for all of you that have a desire to dress in a more mature or adult manner. To lay out the proper steps, one by one to help you achieve the satisfaction buying that first suit will bring. Number One: Upon first entering the store, preferably a men's clothing store, of course you may choose whichever one best fits your own personal tastes. But for this "How to Guide", let's pretend you picked a men's clothing store. Once inside the clothing store, find the cutest male employee. (DO NOT, and let me repeat, DO NOT, pick the employee that has the best taste in clothes. This will only lead to feelings of inadequacy and frustration of never living up to an impossible standard.) Once you find the cutest male employee, wait as long as necessary for that particular employee to "free up" from his other customers. If he is taking a long time, peruse the rack that is advertising a 50% off going out of style sale. This will ensure no other employee will approach you as they'll believe you have no money to spend and they will avoid you like the plague. Once the cutest employee is free, approach him and remember to smile a lot while repeating money is no object. This will cause the cute employee to see dollar signs and he will do almost anything to complete the sell. (while the above is not mandatory, it does help ensure the cute employee will go above and beyond the call of duty, even going as far as entering the dressing room with you to make sure the pants fit just right in all the right places.) Number Two: Make sure, while selecting which color of suit to purchase, that not only does it match the color of your eyes, but it will also look great crumpled on the floor of the cute employee's apartment in the morning. This is a must, do not cheap out. Number Three: You'll know when you've found the perfect suit when, all the gay men in the store stop shopping to watch you with one hand in their pants. Stop right there, buy that suit, no matter how much it costs. Believe when I say it will be worth the money in the long run. (at least I tell myself this to justify the purchase of a five hundred dollar suit I made recently.) Number Four: Now that you've picked out the suit, the real fun begins. The cute employee will take you to a stage, surrounded by mirrors on three sides with powerful spot lights shining directly on you. This is to lull you into believing that you really are the star of the store. (side note: If the cute employee entered the dressing room with you, wait at least ten minutes before stepping on the stage to allow certain things to shrink back to normal. A lesson I learned quite by accident the day I purchased my five hundred dollar suit.) The cute employee will now start to grope you as he draws on your new suit with white chalk. And though it's not necessary, he will measure your inseam, sometimes three or four times, just to make sure there is ample room in the front of your trousers for certain situations should they ever arise. Number Five: Once the fitting is over, he will strip you of your now chalked suit and begin showing you different shirt and tie combinations. This is very important, DO NOT settle for the first combination he shows you. Even if it is the one you end up buying. The object of this game is to spend as much time with the cute employee as possible. Choosing the first combination only brings the ending that much closer. Number Six: After deciding on the shirt and tie combination, it is now time for the belt. While I urge you to pick a belt that matches your shoes, it is not necessary as usually your jacket will be closed at all times. This makes the belt the least important item on the list. Though buying the belt gives the cute employee another reason to stick his fingers in the waist of your pants to make sure the fit is proper. Number Seven: Next is the socks and shoes. Socks should match the suit, while the shoes should accent the suit without overstating it. Always allow the cute employee to slip the shoes on your feet. (For those of you with a foot fetish, this is an easy and cheap thrill that will be shared, if your lucky, by the cute employee and yourself. (Side note: It has been my experience with these humans that sell men's clothing, they either secretly or openly enjoy the male figure. Fitting men into suits gives them the excuse to touch males without having to resort to the pretense of "sport allowed" situations. IE: smacking your teammate on the ass after a great touchdown, etc etc. Clothes fitting has replaced this "sport allowed contact" under the guise of concern that the wearer of the suit is happy and comfortable with his purchase.) And lastly, Number Eight: No matter how cute the employee is, no matter how excited you are to leave that suit in a crumpled mess on his floor, DO Not, again, Do Not purchase the shoe trees. For those of you who don't understand that phrase, I'll explain. Shoe tress are devices that fit into your shoe when you are not wearing them to maintain its shape. The reason behind me instructing you to NOT purchase the shoe trees is this, we can't all buy five hundred dollar suits every month. Yet shoes are way more affordable. This gives you the excuse to return to the clothing store each month to see the cute employee under the "guise" of maintaining nice shoes for your five hundred dollar suit. And though the cute employee knows the real reason you return each month, he'll pretend right along with you. It's a win win situation. I know some of you might be college students, so I'll breakdown the price list, item by item. This will give you an idea how long you might have to drink really cheap beer to afford this rather expensive flirting method. Suit that makes guys get hardon's: Five hundred dollars Shirt that matches your socks: Fifty-five dollars Tie to state just how powerful and sexy you really are: Thirty dollars Belt just to give the cute employee a reason to stick his hands in your pants: Fifty dollars Socks that will be hidden at all times until the cute employee checks your shoes: Twenty dollars(three pack) Shoes that accent the suit without overstating: One hundred and ten dollars Getting felt up in the dressing room by cute employee: Seven hundred and sixty-five dollars I hope this "How To Guide" has been some help to you. Good luck in your own purchasing adventures Jason R. PRICES MIGHT VARY STATE TO STATE: COUPONS AND EX-BOYFRIENDS NOT ACCEPTED AS PAYMENT
  6. I'm all up for full blown orgy. Exactly how many do I need before I get blown? Ha ha ha ha. Trab, your logic astounds me. I never would have thought of that. Hey Des, I can't answer this question for you, because the answer depends on how understanding your partner is. Very understanding=Just one Not understanding=Never. I'll let the two of you decide. But you must promise to tell me his answer. No, really Des, you don't have to, I'll do it myself.
  7. Little White Pill Life has been really good lately. The problems I've had with my eyes have healed up nicely. I've been eating healthier and not drinking so much. I've been getting seven to eight hours of sleep each night. And the dark circles under my eyes, which I thought would never go away, have cleared up as well. My job is moving along at the speed of light. Money is pouring in, enough to decorate my new apartment, I even have pictures hanging on the walls. And no, not a single one is a naked guy. It looks and feels like home. And believe me, it's been too many years since I have a place to call home. So life has been really good lately. Recently I had the opportunity to purchase a new computer, so for the last month or so I've been slowly going through all my old files, deciding which ones I want to continue working on, and those that should stay in computer purgatory. And a few days ago, I found this piece and it disturbed me on so many levels. So I figured I would post it on my blog. Little White Pill By: Jason R. Little white pills I wish I never found you Complete emptiness as the addiction grew No matter the cost I?d gladly pay It?s not up to you or what others say Consuming all of the trends Forcing me to pretend That I wasn?t in league Through lies and intrigue I pushed it down into places Only showing you painted faces And now the moment is here I?ll slide away all the fear I choose pills over the gun Maybe life isn?t for everyone Written Monday, July 24th, 2006 7:25 PM I noticed that this piece was written almost a year ago, and for a moment I struggled to remember why I first wrote it. I mean, what could I have been feeling during this time? What broken emotion could I have been entertaining to have the "given up" attitude to write something like this? Upon first reading, I wondered, if at one time, Last year, could I have been suicidal? And if yes, Why? If you have ever read my blog, my poetry, then you might have an idea that drugs have always played a part in my life. There was a time when between the booze and the cocaine, I'd take ecstasy to level off. Believe me, there have been too many Sundays spent "rolling face" in bed with some random stranger after a weekend of vodka and coke. Sadly, this was my life for many years. And though I gave up the cocaine years ago, and my drinking is nothing like I once indulged, and though I only "roll" occasionally, I believed I was doing pretty good. After all, all the hard drugs were long forgotten. Yet I had another vice waiting in the wings. Vicadin. Wow, cocaine was nothing next to this pain killer. I guess I never really liked sobriety, and with Vicadin you get a feeling of numbness without the guilt you'd get from a drug like heroin or cocaine. Last year at this time, I was up to eating nine or ten Vicadin's a day. Sometimes more depending on my state of mind. And I had convinced myself that it was harmless, after all, it was only a pain killer. Right? So addicted I had become, that the days I ran out of pills, I would start shaking and vomiting. I won't even get into my mood swings. During this time, I dropped a lot of weight. (For all you chunky guys out there, want a sure fire way to lose weight, get yourself a drug habit. The pounds seem to melt off. Though the down side is you lose all your friends so no one is around to say how gaunt you look. Everything it seems has a trade off.) Believe it or not, Vicadin is not an easy drug to come by. And when my supply ran out, I slowly began looking around for other substances to achieve my altered state of reality, to stop feeling. This quest led me to Crystal Meth. And just like years ago, once again my life became ruled by rails of white. And somehow, this high wasn't enough, so when I could get Vicadin's, I would smashed them up, mix them with Crystal, and snorted the whole mess together. Quite surprisingly, this is the time I started cruising heavily in San Francisco. I mean, Meth kept me horny for days at a time. And when I went cruising, it was nothing for me to have fifteen or sixteen cocks in my mouth in a single night. And for a time, this behavior was standard operating procedure for me. The biggest problem with Meth, it makes you feel like you are in control. Take away the powder, and life seemed out of control. So when Daniel began cautioning me about this behavior, I denied it, I pushed him away and almost lost the best thing that ever happened to me. But even though my life was spiraling out of control, Meth made my creativity explode. And with drug induced clarity, I began writing poetry with a passion. Nothing was off limits, I delved into the darkest places in my soul, and wrote about it with an honesty that I never had before. And like a wounded soldier, I tore off the bandages and let the wounds bleed for the world to see. And if you go back, in the poetry section, you can see the mistakes of my past jump out in vivid script. In this out of control lifestyle, the drugs somehow caused me to examine my past through my poetry, and pushed me to realize what I was doing with my future. In the last great Vicadin/Meth binges, I wrote the above piece in complete despair. It wasn't long after this piece, that through Daniel I did achieve a measure of sobriety. He urged me to go to "Susan" and seek help. Shortly after that, I started writing this blog. I found sharing stories of my life with perfect strangers helped me close one chapter of my life while starting a new one. I really wanted to share this piece here, yet I wanted to make sure those of you who care, understand why i wrote this piece and know I do not feel this way anymore. So to those of you that read my blog, those of you that take the time to post a comment, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Until the next time. Jason R.
  8. Hey Camy, I've been listening to your songs and I must say, I really like Ancient. What a vivid picture this song paints. And your vocals, haunting and almost filled with self-loathing. Like you know what the most important thing is but you know you'll never find it. I like this very much. With the song Courage, I love the flute solo, very powerful. At first I wasn't sure where Happiness was going at first, but then the lyrics kicked in. Very surreal for me, almost like a dream. I won't bore you by giving you a rundown of your songs, but I really like this side of you. More than just listening to you read poetry, though it's cool to put a voice to this crazy Emu we all love. Makes me wonder if I'll ever hear H.R.S.A again. (hint, hint) Jason R. PS: Mental Anguish reminds me a bit of vintage INXS, like your channeling Mr. Hutinchson. Very cool.
  9. What is this show with John Cleese that you are speaking about? Because here in America, I have not heard of it. Damn these American's that don't get British humour. Damn, damn, damn. Jason R.
  10. Jason Rimbaud

    I want to cry

    Hey Camy,It's been my experience that creative souls rarely cry. Maybe it's because we pour our heart and emotions into music, manuscripts, and so on. It's like we give so much emotion into our creative outlet, we have none left for our own use. Which is why we muscians, writers, and such are so difficult to live with. I know there are times when I would rather hang out with my characters than with real people. Jason R.PS: My boyfriend thinks I'm emotionally bankrupt because I don't cry at sad movies. Though I always make him feel better afterwards.
  11. Des,I can honestly say I don't know what to say. Well except, maybe, Happy Birthday. Though I'm not sure if I should comment about the spanking, noodle tasting, and such. So I'll leave the comments to my betters. Best wishes in the upcoming year.Jason R.
  12. Trab, Though it was not my intention to drag you down, it was my intention to invoke a strong emotional response. In that I might have exceeded my expectations. A Season in Hell, is basically a desent into madness. With IDMOD, I wanted to chronicle my own desent into relationship madness. This was a period of rapant drug use and lust filled encounters with a boy just as troubled as myself. Sometimes loved hurts, sometimes its co-dependant, sometimes its beautiful. But it's always an experience worth having. Jason R.PS: Sorry about depressing you. But don't worry about my mistakes. If love comes knocking at your door, grab hold. You know what they say, it's better to love and lose then to have never love at all. Though I've always thought who ever said that, was a happily married person.
  13. You might not be aware, and more than likely you probably don't give a shit either way, but Rimbaud is not my real last name. When I was sixteen years old, I discovered a thirty page poem called A Season in Hell, written by a seventeen/eighteen year old poet by the name of Arthur Rimbaud. I had just discovered my love of writing/prose/poetry and I was amazed that such a brilliant thought provoking piece was written by a boy, and not just any boy but a gay boy like myself, from that moment, I have wanted to write my own Season in Hell. And though I have yet written a thirty page poem or written a masterpiece for that matter, I Devise my Own Demise is my own way of honoring a visionary poet that through heartache and loneliness lost the will to write at such an early age. He wrote from the ages of sixteen to nineteen, in that short span of time, he not only changed French poetry but the face of modern poetry as well. So without any more digressing, I give you my attempt, I Devise my own Demise By: Jason R. Meeting I remember that first day we met I was sitting on the porch A cigarette dangling from my lips A Molson in my hand You were there with your friend An attractive female I remember thinking to myself If you were with her, what a waste You were silent as she spoke to me She inquired about the room The room for rent in my building But I only had eyes for you You made my pulse quicken My thoughts scattered like the wind Your gaze, intense, emerald and bold An instant connection we shared I sent her inside to speak to the landlord You remained outside, with me You asked for a cigarette Though you claimed you were trying to quit A small white wicker bench You sat down beside me Our legs touched ELECTRIC As we talked and smoked in the shade I became fascinated by your lips Or perhaps your entire mouth It didn't matter what you said And each time you laughed, which was often A sound so infectious, it drew me in You drew me in with fits of giggles It was instant between us For over an hour we sat on that porch Comfortable Like two old friends chatting Yet all too soon, it was time for you to go You lived in Pittsburg I lived in Harrisburg So we said a sad goodbye And I watched you walk away Such sadness from a random encounter How pathetic I was sitting there Staring as you walked away Hoping to see you look back I watched this amazing guy walk away Never asked for a phone number An email address, something, anything I only knew your name, John At the time, I had thought I'd never see you again I was wrong For better or worse You returned the following weekend Your friend never moved into that empty room You did And just as before It was electric Falling It's a rainy evening and I feel so fine Because you're in my heart and inside my mind I think I'm falling into love with you Kiss and flirt a little I know you feel it too In the moonlight as the rain it falls We can last forever tear down these walls Do not question it just go with the flow In my electric garden reap the things we sow Heartbeats pounding faster as we embrace Our bodies shift in motion I like the way you taste I know the way you feel much like getting high Painted orange and red into an unknown sky I've got this burning feeling this is no false alarm I'm content beside you wrapped up in your arms And when the sun is shining there is no more rain I'm a brand new person happiness instead of pain In my bed of roses rest your head awhile I'll kiss you so sweetly get lost in your smile Every waking moment is like a dream come true I want to spend my life getting off with you Sinking It's like I temporarily lost my mind It's true what they say infatuation is blind Truth never entered into our conversation Sex was the prize and intended manipulation As we flirted and talked late into the night Vodka and cigarettes under moonlight You were the beginning of love I can't escape Your eyes the anchor the pathway to hate Drama surrounds us as we chase the extremes Loving you was like loving a dream Even though inside your embrace I felt warm It was the eye of a hurricane stillness before the storm Drowning Maybe it was the madness that I let reign Maybe it was the innocence I lost when I came Maybe it was the feelings sucked through the drain Maybe it was the heartache of love quite insane Maybe it was the ocean that gave me these tears Maybe it was the moonlight so far yet so near Maybe it was the sunshine that stripped all the gears Maybe it was the lust that banished all fears Maybe it was the highs that together we achieve Maybe it was the mountains resting on your sleeve Maybe it was the promise that you'd never leave Maybe it was the connection we had as we grieve Maybe it was the motion of standing in this place Maybe it was the refusal to grant emotional space Maybe it was the past neither of us could erase Maybe it was the searching to let love replace Maybe it was the fear of us saying goodbye Maybe it was the self-destructing gleam in your eye Maybe it was the sameness I heard in your lies Maybe it was the tears that fell as you cry Ending Violently he grabbed my arms And twisted them tightly behind my back With a hellish look in his emerald eyes He clenched up his fist and attacked Fingers laced with rings he beat me hard From my shoulders to my feet The metal sliced right through my olive skin Just like razors through a sheet Countless times my blood splattered As each inhuman blow was given From the memory of lies I told He smiled as my nose was torn to ribbons Much to his surprise I lifted my chin Though the words I used were few His face turned brighter shades of red When I shouted out, fuck you Uncaringly he tossed me against the wall And kicked my weakened form As my blood pressure fell deathly low I could hear the sirens swarm With determination and rage inside My face he punched and smacked Forcing me to my knees I fell when he kicked me in the back Through lack of sleep and inebriation My eyes began to swell And weakened by my loss of blood This liar...addict fell And when I fell my blood splattered On the boy and on his shoe And as he bent to wipe it off I spat out, fuck you In his rage he took a knife from the sink And jabbed it deeply into my arm He opened the door and threw me out I knew in my heart this boy will cause me harm Lying there in agony and torment My body convulsed with pain I tilted my face towards the stars Slipping towards the insane In a moment of clarity I finally knew The price for the hate before that time or since I made a statement that to this day Caused the boy I still loved to wince I lifted my head and looked him in the eye Struggling to maintain a calm so my words were true I wanted him to remember what I said When I whispered, John, fuck you
  14. "I'll Never Wear Boxers Again" Wibby posted a rather funny story that prompted me to remember a similar incident involving one of my good friends. So I thought I?d share it with my loyal readers. (maybe I should?ve said loyal reader, I don?t want to become to ambitious) Anyway, during my late teens and early twenties, one of my best friends was also named Jason. We worked together and were known as the ?two Jason?s? or simply as ?Jason Squared?. After we both turned twenty-one, each Monday night we?d go out for our weekly pub crawl. This night was reserve for just the two of us, no friends, no girlfriends, and no problems. It was during these weekly binges that I first told him I was gay. True to his devil may care attitude and laid back demeanor, he took this declaration in stride. Though looking back, I kind of wished he would have been more upset. This would?ve saved me tons of heartache. But I digress?yet again. Jason and I were always comfortable around one another. It was common for us to sleep in the same bed, granted, we were passed out. But waking up snuggled together was something that happened often. Before I told him I was gay, we?d go double dating and the girls would often complain that we?d spend more time talking to each other than paying attention to them. Looking back, it was quite obvious that sooner or later we?d start fooling around. The first time something happened between was after one of these pub crawls. We had stopped at a gas station to get cigarettes and sodas on the way home from the bar. Jason had to go to the bathroom, so I paid for the grocery?s and waited for him in the truck. After he climbed inside the truck, I noticed he had this weird look on his face and for the rest of the way home; he acted strangely, nervous and giggly at the same time. I chalked it up to a long night of beer. Once back inside my apartment, he was flirtatious, in a way he had never been before. I was drunk and getting hornier the more he carried on. After about twenty minutes of this weird flirting, I informed him I was going to bed. It wasn?t that I was really that tired, but I really wanted to toss one off. He looked down at the floor and in this quiet voice, he asked if he could stay with me. He didn?t ask if he could crash, he didn?t ask if he could sleep over, he asked if he could stay with me. For a moment, because I really wanted to jack off, I almost said no. But I never could tell him no, even now, I can?t say no. Anyway, and no that was not a digress. So there. I took off my clothes, and slipped into a pair of shorts. He asked if he could borrow a pair of boxers to sleep in, something I thought was a really strange request. Jason did not then, nor does he now wear boxers, EVER. I gave him a pair and he went into the bathroom to change. Another thing that was strange. I climbed into bed and turned off the lights, and waited. After a few minutes, I heard the bathroom door open and heard footsteps down the hall. The door to my room opened and in walked this?glowing cock. While he was in the bathroom at the gas station, he had bought a glow in the dark condom from the machine on the wall. I was more than taken aback, yet intrigued at the same time. I said something along the line of ?nice cock?. To this, Jason laughed and flipped on the lights. It was not his cock that was in the condom, but three of his fingers. We laughed and once again he turned off the lights. I could see him slowly coming towards me, his pretend cock wagging before him leading the way to the bed. I admit I watched him walk towards me wishing that really was his cock. Once he reached the bed, he started giggling again, and I watched the hand that had the condom on it move to his side. I saw the condom disappear and realized his fingers were inside the boxers. I realized he was pulling down his boxers when another glow in the dark condom suddenly appeared. Being that he was two feet away from me, this time I could tell that this one really was his cock. He took another step, his crotch now inches from my face; I could smell him he was so close. The hand that hand the condom on it, moved from his side to grip his very hard cock. I heard him whisper, ?Do you like what you see?? I didn?t answer, I couldn?t. I didn?t want to risk destroying this moment. I reached out with my hand and touched his cock. He sighed loudly, my wish had come true. Needless to say, neither of us got much sleep that night. A few years later, in the after glow, he would admit that for months he was racking his brain, trying to conceive a plan of attack to seduce me. But he wanted to make sure I was interested in something sexual before trying anything. After his admission, it was clear how thought out and methodical he had been. From the constant touching, the sleeping together, suggesting naked hot tubing, everything had been done with the purpose to get me into bed. I asked, why didn?t you just ask me? He replied that I had said shortly after I met him, that I would never have sex with a friend. This caused me to laugh, because though he was in the room, it was the girl sitting next to him that I really wanted to hear me say that I would never have sex with my friends. She had been throwing herself at me and I had no desire to catch her. Lots of wasted time, I could?ve saved so much time if I would have just said, guys, I?m gay. Anyway, still not digressing. So Jason and I were friends with benefits. To be honest, I was completely head over heels in love with him. And no matter what he says, I know for a time, he loved me as well. Shortly after this incident, he moved in with me and for the next two years, we were almost inseparable. But being gay was/is something he denies being. He?s told me, and I believe him, that I was the only guy he was ever attracted too. I was the best man in his wedding, and the night before he promised to forsake all others, he asked me to fuck him one last time. Okay, this might be digressing. Jesus, be patient already. To get around to the point of this post, one night, during those two years that we lived together, we had gotten home after Monday?s pub crawl. Both of us were quite trashed. At the time, he was dating this chick that was away at college and I was trying really hard to catch this nerdy little boy I had been chatting up online. So once back from the bar, I immediately jumped on the computer to see if my boy was up for some dirty talk. He was, and for about an hour, I was content to do some chit and some chat. DIGRESSION ALERT! Ever since that first night, whenever I saw Jason in boxers, usually a pair of mine, I knew that he was looking to fool around. If he was wearing briefs, then I was going to be tossing one off alone. Like I said, I was chatting for about an hour, when I heard Jason open the door to his room. From where my desk was against the wall, I could turn my head and see Jason?s bed if the door was open. He walked out, wearing a pair of boxers, and headed into the kitchen where he got a drink. Walking back towards his room, he looked at me and smiled. I noticed right away he was rock hard. Yet on the computer, my nerdy boy was almost ready to finally meet me in person. We were so close, I could feel it. I looked at the screen, I looked back to Jason, he was now lying on his bed, naked, slowly stroking his cock. I didn?t know what to do, I was horny, ten feet away was a willing boy, yet I kind of liked this nerdy boy as well. But Jason, jacking off while saying my name only a few feet away, and honestly the love of my life, won. I walked into his room, he looked at me and smiled, his hand stopped. He pointed his cock in my direction, silently telling me to have my way with him. So I did. It was just starting to get fun when suddenly he begun puking his guts out. I was sober enough to get out of the way, but he puked all over his bed, all over himself. It was quite the mood wrecker. Once he finished, he headed into the bathroom and jumped into the shower. Being the neat freak that I am, I cleaned up the mess and threw the sheets in the washer. Figuring the night was over, I went back to the computer to see if nerdy boy was still online. He was, again we started chatting. A few minutes later, Jason comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered and still wet with a raging hard cock. He smiles at me, and heads into my room. Needless to say, I never did meet nerdy boy. Jason and I had this weird relationship for years. When we were alone, late at night, we would fuck for hours. But it was something we?d never talk about during the day. We had dozens of unspoken rules that we both followed, silently and in secret for years. Never speaking about or acknowledging our lust filled nights. Until the day I met his fianc? for the first time. We were talking over dinner, and Jason and I were reliving some of our wilder times. And he gets this smile on his face, and suddenly brings up the time he almost pukes on me. Of course she wants to know why we were in bed together in the first place. I was at a loss for words, but Jason smoothly told her a rated G version of the story. Later, when she had gone to the bathroom, he started laughing, saying something about the look on my face. I didn?t think it was funny, remember, I was still in love with him and more than a bit jealous. He leaned in close and whispered, ?You give the best head I?ve ever received. And I know I can?t love you the way you want me too, but sex with you is something I?ll never forget, no matter who I marry.? It was the first time he ever admitted to fucking me while sober. But it was the right thing to say, because that statement convinced me to agree to be his best man. Sadly, I?ve not seen him since the wedding. I hear he has a baby girl now, and I wish him the happiest of lives. And though our friendship has fallen away, I?ll always have the memories of that apartment and the time we spent together. Jason R. PS: During that night I met his fianc?, she brought up the fact that he refuses to wear boxers. Jason and I exchanged looks, and started laughing. He kissed her, then said, ?I love you, but I?ll never wear boxers. I used too for a time but I stopped.? The night before his wedding, he was wearing boxers.
  15. Drop written by Justin F. I touch the tongue to see A devil's face in front of me You blow your nose and cry The clown demands a sad good-bye A sad good-bye Black below the tree White horses dead in front of me A scar below the cheek There's a sweaty man in a bloody sink It's just a trip not a way to ease your pain Self-help...Tell another shrink the same damn thing Stay cool, everything is going to be okay Until you decide to drop again A blue jean girl to be Sweaty man is behind the trees The flip side of sanity is the game Fourteen million miles away from sane A dark man in the restroom window pane Whose words just pour out human pain It's just a trip not away to ease your pain Self-help...Tell another shrink the same damn thing Stay cool, everything is going to be okay Until you decide to drop again Until you decide to drop again Now, I'm so high, so high
  16. Hey Camy, You would be entertained watching me enter into a word battle with someone who could probably confuse and destroy me at will. I did not know that Emu's were so....devilish. As for relying on body langauge, tone of voice, I agree. I hate using emoticons but at times, it would clarify what I'm saying. Like the above sentence, in real life, I would have said that with a complete straight face. Trusting that if I had taken the time to actually speak with you, that you would be smart enough to get when I'm taking a piss at your expense. And if you didn't get the joke, then it would be even better. I have a dry sense of humor and not everyone gets me. Plus like you said, HUMOR, just like spelling changes depending where you're from. And I have it on good authority that I'm really not that funny to Emu's. But with real people, I kill 'em. Completely un-related, but my therepists thinks I'm nicer onlilne than I am in real life. If I would've been listening to the person I was refering to, I would not have hestitated in telling him to shut the fuck up. Maybe I should do all my speaking online from now on. It might get me a few friends. .....................................................................Fuck that. I've a hard enough time with dealing with just one friend. Couldn't possibly take on another friend until Daniel dies.Was that a joke?Jason R.
  17. Hey Wibby,My thoughts exactly. I've been mis-understood several times, usually because I wrote in the moment. My fingers can't keep up with my mind and I leave words out or I think one word and type another. And though everyone tells me I should read back what I wrote, I normally shoot it off without ever re-reading it. So I get that I might have mis-understood or that person can't convey exactly what he means online no better than I. And I could go into detail about why this person makes me envision doing bodily harm against him, but there really isn't a need. I probably will always detest this person. Maybe in the real world I would like him...naw, if he's that arrogant online, he's that much of an asshole in real life. But again, I digress.As for naming names, it wouldn't serve a purpose. It would only cause problems that I really don't need in my life. My therepist thinks I'll calm down with age, I'm not sure but I can always hope. If I can continue to learn from these little lessons, then I'll be a much better person for it. As usual, you give sound advice. For a raccoon, sometimes rabid raccoon, you make a lot of "cents". Jason R.
  18. Jason Rimbaud

    Trust on-line

    OKay, my two cents.Several people have posted some valid cautions and sound advice. But reading this carefully, and with a sober mind I might add , your question has caused me some confusion. I know, you shouldn't be surprised that I am confused.Would you tell a stranger that you just met in a bar your personal information? Probably not, but you will introduce yourself by your name. If the two of you are involved in a friendly chat, like over a football game or maybe cricket. It is harmless, a name tells nothing about yourself.Why is it online, everyone has these fears about using their first names? It tells me nothing about you, other than a handle to call you. It has been brought up that you can't trust the things others say to you online. I agree, but it has been my experience you can't really trust someone in real life either. How do you know that person you've been talking to in your local bar for three years isn't waiting for the right moment to take you home and pull your insides out? You don't, just like online. And maybe, you've never told that bar friend anything about you except your name. No harm done. Just like using your first name online does no harm. Because face it, if someone really wants to find you, it doesn't matter how you've hidden your IP address, or how clever you are, there is always someone else just a bit "CLEVER'ER". Whether online or not, if they want to find you, they can.So the question shouldn't be can you trust someone with your real first name. The question is do you want the false sense of security your handle gives you, or do you want to roll the dice just as you do in life, and not live in fear of what could happen. Before you reply, let me say that I know some of us online are fearful of being "outed". Understandable. Some of us might be in jobs that would frown upon these websites. Understandable. Some of us "might" be known if we were to reveal our true names. Like maybe we are a "known" editor, producer, director, actor, the list is endless. If so, I can understand having a handle.But if you are out, in your life, your job, and so on, I can't see the harm in telling others at least your first names. After all, how many Jason's do you know? My fourteen cents, and I'm usually wrong.Jason R.
  19. Something strange has been happening the last three days. Beginning on Saturday night, I have been trying to reply either in the forums or post a rather...err...hostile blog message. But somehow, for three days in a row sometihng has stopped me from posting. The first time, I was rather drunk Saturday night and fed up with a few things I have been reading in the forums. After writing a long rant, filled with anger and curse words, I closed the window without hitting the "add reply" button in my drunken state. Save number ONE. The second time, Sunday night, after trying to construct the same entry, I was unsure of my spelling so I hit the spell check. For some reason, the spell check button wasn't working. (though it worked before that time and ever since) So when I went to download a spell checker, I accidently closed the window again before hitting the proper button. Save number TWo. The last time, Monday night, I attempted to post it again. But this time, right in the middle, I recieved a phone call. It was a boy I have been trying to get to know better. While we were doing a bit of chit and chat, I was absently toying with my computer. Again, I closed the window and lost the entry again. In the time since that failed attempt and now, I began to realize that fate might have been on my side for once and maybe, just maybe, has a bit of compassion for this stupid fool. Saving me from looking the asshole that I no doubt would have looked if I managed to post what I wanted too. Now, a few days later, I realized that I shouldn't really care what someone has to say in a forum/topic that I'm not even directly involved with more than just a casual read. I"m not sure why I depise this "person" so much that I wouuld attack him for something he said to another. To my knowledge, this person and I haven't ever spoken/wrote. Maybe it's the arrogant way he writes in the forums, or maybe his opinion just gets my ass chapped. And for some reason, I figured I should tell him how stupid he appears in these forums. Yet, I've been pondering these feelings. I've come to the conclusion that what he says really doesn't affect me in any way UNLESS I allow them to affect my spirit. And ignoring this person actually saves me time, when I see his name, I'll just skip over whatever he wrote. Then I won't become angry, I won't spend two hours constructing a reply that would only make me look foolish. Because next time, fate could just decide to allow me to post my replies and then I'll have to wear the asshole crown. Jason R.
  20. I won't always say this, only after a few bottles of wine, but I really love the way you speak, probably your accent, and in the morning, while staring into my lovers eyes, I'll deny that I ever wrote/said this, but right now, with wine on my breath and blood in my cock, Camy, you are sexy. Jason R. PS: Can someone fall in love with an accent? And if so, will it last?
  21. Jason Rimbaud

    Too many blogs

    I first thought hell would freeze over before that nasty EMU actually began a blog of its own. But alas, it seems that hell has not only froze over, but has decided that it really does rain frogs. Or is that rain pigs? I'm not sure, but Camy has begun a blog of his own. Which means, I, Jason R. should stop posting as of now. How can I, a mere human, ever compete with an EMU. The world is now doomed. And we are about to find out more details than anyone ever should find out about EMU's. God help us all. *makes the sign of the cross* Jason R.
  22. Hey Camy:What exactly does Gobsmacked mean? I know what jealous means. I'm used to emu's being jealous of me. But I don't think I want an emu being Gobsmacked of me/by me/around me.As for finding a stud, I wish you luck with that. I seem to remember you mentioning three pairs of jeans, a few T-shirts, and one decent pair of trainers, but much to my surprise, and maybe why you're having trouble finding a stud, you failed to mentioned underwear. Might I suggest you look into purchasing some. And as for discussing wardrobe on a blog, nobody reads my blog so it's just like you're talking to yours self about your wardrobe. As for Desdownunder's comments:I've never heard that quote before, but I really like. "To be alive is to take off your pants and look for trouble."And for Trab:Maybe I can prove that I really don't have a problem, or a severe problem. I have nine wallets, different styles and colors to match what I'm wearing of course. A boy can't wear a nice suit and not have a wallet to match.Same goes for the Zippo lighters, different styles and colors to match what I'm wearing. Cigarette cases just because I LOVE to smoke. I'm smoking right now. and I love itThe four red bics, I can't think of a bad reason much less a good reason. I might have a problem.And that crazy racoon:How 'bout I keep all my clothes, and you come over and tell me all about those apartments. We can open a bottle of wine, maybe get into my fine cigars and do a little bit of chit and chat in the hottub. But lets leave out the skin crawling part. *shudders*
  23. I know wishing everyone a Happy 4-20 day on 4-22 is a bit trite, but for some reason I totally forgot to post this on 4-20 day itself. I know there should be a reason for forgetting, but for the life of me I can't remember. HAPPY 4-20 Everyone Jason R.
  24. Daniel and I Part Ways(Finally) After almost three years, Daniel and I have decided to part as roommates. Okay, the truth, Daniel decided, and since it was his house, I agreed. So for the last three weeks I have been busy moving into a nice two bedroom apartment in Redwood City. Please don't make any jokes about finding a "NICE" apartment in Redwood City, it can happen. I swear. It's okay, I love the new apartment. But there is a fear that I'll go back to my old ways now that I am once again living by myself. Anyone that knows me, knows that a bored Jason is a dangerous Jason. It's not that I love getting into trouble, but when I don't have a stabilizing force to keep me in line, I tend to do the first thing that pops into my head. I'm sure in the coming months you'll hear all about it. But for now, luckily, I've been too involved with work and moving to do anything stupid. But I know it's only a matter of time before the boredom sets in. But that's not the reason I'm posting today/tonight. During the course of my move, I've realized that I've become somewhat of a clothes whore. I have: Eleven jackets (three black leather) Thirty-two pairs of shoes (two pairs of dress shoes, one black, one burgundy) Seventeen towels Forty-five pairs of jeans Twenty-one pairs of slacks Thirty something Hoodies Fifty or so T-shirt's with assorted sayings on the front Seventeen casual pull over shirts Thirteen Sweaters (all from the Gap) Well over a hundred pairs of socks Seventy-five pairs of underwear (boxers/briefs/boxer briefs/thongs/ect) with twenty pairs of just blue Thirty-seven button-up shirts Four suits Three blazers Two ties (i need to work on this) Three large jewerly boxes with assorted rings, necklaces, braclets, ear rings Nine wallets Two identical cigarette cases Thirteen Zippo lighters Four red Bic lighters Nine sets of cuff links And thirty-seven watches, of which fifteen are silver And sadly, I couldn't bare to throw any of the cothes away as I began packing. Not even the clothes that are so old it's almost like wearing nothing the fabric is so thin and worn. Yes, I know I might have a problem. Believe I know. It's even worse that all the clothes are color coordinated by type, and in alphabetical order. Though, because I'm left handed, the A's are on the right and the Z's are on the left. And the color is mixed up as well, a dark color, then a light color, then a dark color, so on and so on. I just realized, as I type this, that I could be the saddest person alive. Let me explain, before you hastily agree with me. The above list is no joke, I actually counted and catologed my clothes as and before I packed. The list is sitting right here next to me. I guess Daniel was right, I do have OCD. But on the bright side, my apartment is clean, I go even as far as making sure the vacuum cleaner lines are perfectly straight in each room. I know I'm going to end up yelling at my guests for using wire hangers instead of the nice wooden ones sometime in my future but I'm okay with that. I swear Jason R. By the way, Daniel and I still remain friends. With his new boyfriend moving in, I was feeling like a third wheel. And besides, it took him so long to find someone, I didn't want to be in the way. Okay, that's all a lie, I didn't want to come home late from work only to find them fucking in the living room. Not a sight I want to see twice in my lifetime.
  25. I have really enjoyed following this topic. And though it seems to have come down to personal preferences, this thread IS posted in the writers workshop. And by reading the different replies, I can readily see that many have definate opinions about 1st or 3rd person POV's. I would think any newer author would benefit from reading this thread. These posts are like having a direct link into one's intended audience. What better way for a writer to better his skills then by finding out what the majority wants. Not that I think you should write what others want you to write, but listen, or as in this case, read what others are saying about the POV's and learn from this advice. Personal preferences aside, The Pecman, Cole, and others are really saying, learn the rules so you can know when to break them. Don't sit down at the computer and just start typing willy nilly, take the time to learn from those that have probably made these same mistakes early on. The worst thing a writer can do is frustrate his audience. If more people shy away from mutiple POV's, find a way to tell your story either using a single POV or 3rd person. After all, wait until you have that best seller before you write your master piece epic novel using ten seperate POV's switching back and forth between them like you are some kind of queer Cybil Sheppard without meds. Then again, what the hell do I know. I read Arthur Rimbaud's A Season In Hell on a weekly basis, so I love being frustrated. Jason R.
×
×
  • Create New...