Jason Rimbaud

And You Know By: Jason R. You called me up on the phone today It was a struggle to find the words to say They say time can heal all the wounds But I?ve been sick since before the womb And you know I?m not the one that you once knew That lonely kid all alone in school I?ve made a new life accepted it all I embraced the name you wrote on the wall And you know When my father died I stole his last breath I was addicted to lust and flirting with meth My first trick was a boy with your face A suicidal thing with a beautiful taste And you know Confronted my mother about the sins of the past Screamed at a tombstone about death too fast Wrote a thing or two about a boy named John Accepted the fact that most of me is wrong And you know The question I ask is why the years of lies I know you liked me in between your thighs Each night you might lie next to your wife But I bet you miss me and our secret life And you know In the end I guess I?m finally doing fine I?ve leveled out and reasoned the rhyme Next to me lies a boy I call best friend But if the time was right I?d fuck you again So now you know

More of A Few More Sentences It was a place like no other he had ever seen before. It was dark and light, seamless and joined all around him with no clear ending or beginning. Existing at the same time, hot and cold, black and white, a place where time didn't seem to hold stable, where time stopped or slowed depending on it's own whim. There was no sensation in this void, only a feeling of being. For the longest time, he didn't think or even seem to be aware of his surroundings. He couldn't remember coming to this place, only that he had been here forever. What he was before didn't matter now, only what he was. And he was alone for the first time, all alone in this void. His conscience mind drifted like the wind, going through his memories at a rapid rate. He was astonished at what his mind would linger on. Events that seemed small when they happened, his mind dwelled on them for the longest period of time. And yet, the events that were huge and self-changing, his mind briefly paused before continuing on it's journey. A journey that he wasn't in control of, but merely like a passenger on a cross-country train ride. A bystander of his memory's every whim. He wasn't aware of when it stopped, or when he awoke to an empty room. It was sudden, he was there and sitting alone in a chair. His eyes wandered around the room, taking in the strange sights and sounds. It looked to be a circular room about twenty feet across, and all around him was darkness. Not a darkness that he could see, no, not this darkness. It was more like a darkness he could feel in the depth of his soul. Suddenly, a loud noise began echoing around the room. A single beat that reminded him of a heartbeat, a wounded sound that seemed to be faltering with each passing moment. His nostrils filled with a smell, a smell that he could only associate with death. It filled his nostrils, causing him to gag with each ragged breath. Yet it was the sound of his own breathing that brought him to his senses. 'Where am I?' he thought. Standing up, he looked around, trying to find a door, something to tell him where he was being held. But the room was empty except for the chair he had awakened in. Standing up, he walked around the room, finally making his way back to the chair in the center and sat down. "Where am I? Is anyone there?" He shouted out. But there was no answer. He didn't know how long he sat there in that chair, but it seemed like days. He had all but given up hope that he would ever find out where he was. He had accepted the fact that he was going to die in this room...alone. Yet, finally, out of the darkness, a voice said, "I've been waiting for you, welcome, Scott Taylor." "Who are you?" Scott managed to stammer out. Looking around the room, he tried to find the speaker, but the room was empty save for that blasted chair. "Who I am is not the question." The voice countered. "But who are you?" Turning to face the direction of the voice, Scott saw a cloaked figure standing in the center of the room. He took a hesitant step towards the figure but stopped, and said, "What do you mean? You know me? You said my name." "Yes." "Who are you?" Scott asked. "What am I doing here? Am I dead?" "Questions that need answers, every one. Questions that I might answer, but for now, answer mine. Who are you?" "Stop it, what is this place?" Scott demanded, approaching the figure. But once he was two steps away from the figure, it vanished before his eyes. But he heard this statement as the figure disappeared, "When you are ready, you will know." Running to the center of the room, he called out, "Wait! Don't go. Where am I?" But before he finished, the room dissolved and became a narrow corridor that seemed to go on forever. Looking in both directions, he pondered what path to take. Suddenly, in front of his eyes, a sign appeared. Taking a deep breath, he studied the sign. It was an average ordinary sign, one arrow pointed one way, with a single word, 'Beginning'. And another arrow pointed the opposite direction and read, 'Confusion'. "My god, where am I?" Scott pleaded to the darkness, sinking to his knees, and hugging himself tightly. "Choose." The voice thundered inside his mind. Reeling back in fear, he backpedaled across the corridor, running into the wall. Even as the voice kept repeating its cryptic instructions. "Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?" Scott screamed, pleading with the voice inside his head. "Choose." The voice repeated, this time harshly. Scott started running down the hall, in his haste forgetting which path he fled down. He ran for what seemed like days, his body racked with pain, his throat burning from lack of water, his body drenched in sweat. And finally, the end was in sight. A bright light, intense and burning, stopped his mindless run. Walking out of the tunnel, he entered a house. Suddenly and quite unexpectantly, his senses were overloaded. He knew this house, that smell of leather furniture mixed with cheap pipe tobacco. He had smelled that for over half his life. "Welcome home Scott, you chose wisely." Startled, Scott turned his head and saw the figure standing next to him. He tried to look beneath the hood that veiled the figures face, but failed. It was just too dark. "How's this possible?" He asked in wonder, staring at his parents as they sat in the den reading different parts of the evening news. "Everything is possible. I've been waiting for a long time to get you here. So, now, it begins." "Who are you?" Scott begged, reaching out in his desire to know the figure under the cloak. Turning to look directly at him, the figure replied, "Whom do you want me to be?" Scott stammered, disbelief on his face. He asked, "Roy?" The figure dissolved, and in its place, stood Scott's long lost cousin, Roy. Backing away from the figure that had stolen his cousin's face, he yelled out, "You can't be here, you're dead." "No." The figure/Roy said in a sad voice. "You keep me alive." Falling to the floor, Scott cried out in pain. His fragile mind couldn't comprehend these circumstances. Laying on the floor, he began murmuring to himself, rocking back and forth on his heels. "There is much work to be done." "No!" Scott screamed, clawing at his eyes. Trying anything to block the vision of his long lost cousin from his sight. His scream was still echoing in the void as his surrounding changed and once again, he was back in the circular room with that damned chair. For an eternity it seemed that he screamed. When he was out of breath, he slowly looked around. Standing off to one side, his cousin stood, staring at him with a burning intensity in his eyes. Again he heard that sound. It sounded like a heartbeat, but it was getting fainter with each passing second. He stammered, "How is this possible? Am I in hell?" His cousin, laughed out loudly for a few minutes before saying, "Hell? You've been in hell for seven years. Not only do you live in hell, but you put hell into your body on a daily basis." "What?" Gliding over to where he was hunched down on his knees, Roy grabbed his arm and showed him the track marks that covered his arm. "I never thought you would turn into a junkie. You were always better than that. Better than this." "How do you know about that? You're dead." "I know everything about you," Roy asked seriously. Adding, "And who says I'm dead." "I saw you die." Scott yelled out. "You died in my fucking arms." Roy laughed. "If I'm dead, how is it that I can do this?" Roy punched him in the face, causing the confused boy to fall backwards onto his back. "You hit me!" Scott screamed, a stunned look on his face. "Why?" Rushing over to where he lay, Roy sat on his chest, preventing the boy from getting up. Saying, "Yes I did. You know better than to do that. We made a pact, remember? No matter what happened, we'd never do that. You broke that promise." With each word Roy spoke, he punched Scott in the face. "You said we would be together forever. You lied to me." Scott screamed out, trying to block the blows raining down on his head and face. "I fucking died," Roy screamed. "And it was all my fault," Scott replied, breaking down in tears. Standing up, Roy reached down and hauled his bleeding cousin to his feet. "It was not your fault. It was no one's fault." "No!" Scott denied, blood pouring from his face and running into his eyes. The sound of the heartbeat growing fainter still. Roy's face saddened at the denial of his cousin. As he began saying something, his face dissolved again and the figure with the dark cloak returned. "Wait, come back." Scott pleaded. But it was too late, Roy was gone. THe figure spoke, "Who are you?" "Fuck you!" Scott screamed. "I'm sick of this, I want to go home." "Home." The figure said. "Do you remember home?" Scott stopped in mid-sentence. Did he remember home? It had been years since he had been back there. But the memories came flooding back. He said, "Yes, and I hated it. My parents treated me like shit." "Then why do you want to return there?" The figure asked. "I don't know..." "Yes, you do." The figure argued, approaching Scott. Reaching out a cloaked arm, he grabbed Scott's head and whispered, "Remember." Scott started to shake and convulse, his memories returning un-aided. Memories of his father, picking him up and carrying him to bed when he was just a little boy. He could see the love in his father's eyes as he tucked the half-asleep boy safely into his bed. He could feel his father's lips on his forehead and a deep voice whispering that he loved his only son. He remembered his mother singing him to sleep. He remembered the way she would wash away the blood from his scrapes and the way she would kiss away the pain. He remembered the way she would stop doing the dishes or whatever she was doing just to ask him how his day went. He remembered the times his mother would get up in the middle of the night to fetch a drink of water for her scared little boy. Memories upon memories of the selfless sacrifices that both his parents made for their only son. A son they loved so fiercely and unconditionally. He couldn't deny the love he saw in their eyes. Trying to fight the memories, he screamed out, "No! They hated me."' "They loved you," The figure countered, drawing out more memories. Trying to block out the images, Scott screamed, "Love is a lie. They never loved me, love doesn't exist. They hated me and they stopped talking to me because I killed Roy." The heartbeat grew fainter. "You stopped talking to them." The figure said, taking a step towards Scott. "You pulled back, it was you. Never them." "No! They blamed me for his death. You don't know, I was there. YOu're twisting it all around." Pulling Scott to his feet, the figure stood face to face and said, "So was I." Scott reached for the hood and threw it back. HIs eyes widened as he saw for the first time behind the mask. He screamed out in horror as he realized he was staring into his own face. The heartbeat grew slower, fainter, until finally there was silence. It had stopped beating entirely. Scott lay on the floor clutching his chest and gasping for air. He knew, he could feel it, that any breath could be his last. He tried to get to his knees but the pain became to intense. He stopped struggling and gave up as he collapsed on the floor, staring up into his own face. The figure in black, his other self, looked down in comtempt as he raised his hand in a silent plea for help. The figure said, "Oh, are you in pain? All ready to give up?" "Help me!" Scott pleaded, turning away from his other self. "There you go again, running away. Always afraid aren't you, never willling to face the truth." "Help me, I'm dying." Scott begged. "Help you? Why should I?" The figure stated, laughing loudly. "When you won't even help yourself." "I am you." Scott said, his voice a whisper. "You are me, if I die, you die." "Really," The figure said. "Maybe that's for the best. You don't even know who you are. You are pathetic, complaining about your problems, no one loves me, no one cares. Boo hoo, poor little Scott," The figure now mocking the dying boy. Grabbing the figures arm, Scott tried to pull himself upright. But his fingers slipped, he was too weak. He said, "Help me." Even as he argued with his mirror image, he could hear someone speaking to him, though it sounded far away. It sounded just like Garet's voice and he was...Scott couldn't make out what his friend was trying to say. "Do you hear that?" The figure said, cocking his head to one side. "Do you hear what you are doing to your friends back there?" "I can't understand you," Scott shouted out to Garet. "What are you saying?" "He's yelling at you because you gave up." The figure said, laughing. "Your body is dying in that bed, and all you can do is lay on the floor." "I don't want to die." Scott said, staring at his mirror self. "Why not? Love does not exist. Nothing is ever good enough. Why not just lay down and die." The figure countered. "Get it over with." "I don't want to die," Scott spat out. "I'm scared." "Finally." The figure said, taking a step back. "You admit it." "What?" Scott asked, trying again to sit up. "You admit it, you are scared. Do you know that out there," The figure said, waving his arm, "Garet is scared because he loves you." "No." Scott denied, shaking his head. "Yes, he does. Listen to him, he's telling you in so many different ways." The figure said, bringing his hand to his ear. "He's begging you not to die, he loves you, just like your parents do." "NO!" "Just like Shelia does." "NO!" "Just like I do." "How can you love yourself?" Scott demanded, clutching his chest in pain. "Because, that is the only way you can exist." The figure said, his voice filled with sadness. "You are me, and I am you. I am everything that you used to be, everything you wanted to be, and I am everything that you are running away from right now." "I'm not running away," Scott said in between gasps for breaths. "I"m right here along side you." "You left me a long time ago, but I never forgot what we used to have." His other self pleaded. "Just stop running." "What am I running from?" Scott begged, his breaths a bit stronger than before, the pain a bit softer. His cousin, Roy, appeared next to the two Scott's and whispered, "From me." "NO!" Scott yelled. "Never from you." "And from me," His other self stated in a gentle voice. For the first time, Scott really looked at the figure that had his face. It was his, but it wasn't. Even though the face had a sad look, the eyes were so bright, full of life. Not like the stormy eyes he normally saw in the mirror. His face wasn't the same either, it was more youthful. He realized he was seeing himself long ago. Long before the drugs, before the guilt, before the death of his cousin. His eyse shifted to his cousin's face. Roy looked the same as the day he died. Scott asked, "How can you be here?" "You won't let me go," Roy said sadly. "You cornered me off in your mind, you won't let me die. You can't find peace until you forgive yourself." "I can't, I love you," Scott cried, the tears streaming down his face. "It's all my fault." "No," his other self shouted. "It was not your fault, it was not God's fault, it was just bad luck." "It was my time," Roy said, reaching out to the tortured boy. "Let me go, I don't blame you. I forgive you." Scott broke down and cried. This was not sad tears but more tears of acceptance. His breaths became harder, crashing into him, threatening to swallow and consume him. He grabbed out to Roy, like he was the only thing that could save him. Roy looked down and said, "Let me go." Scott's mirror self said, "If you want to finally be free, just let go." Scott held onto his cousin, crying as the weight of guilt pressed him down. His heart felt like it would burst from the pain that he had put himself through. HIs mind ached from the emotional turmoil that had racked his spirit for so many years. The pain in his chest returned, and somehow, he knew that he was dying. And he was tired of feeling all this pain, all this guilt. He wanted to finally be free of it all. So he did something he had never done before. He squeezed Roy tightly one last time, and just let go. As Roy began to fade away, Scott heard him say, "I don't blame you, and I will always love." His other self grabbed him, hugging him close until they were touching every inch of their bodies. And yet his other self squeezed even tighter until Scott felt the two bodies begin to merge. At first he fought this sensation, but finally he surrendered to that part of him that was everything good and pure and right. His mind exploded with forgotten feelings of love that he had run so hard to escape. His heart stopped hurting and his breathing returned to normal as he embraced what he had fought so long to deny. And then there was only one Scott. As the darkness slowly dissolved into pure light, and as he passed the point of no return, Scott heard a voice whisper, "Finally, it's over."

The thing I love most about poetry: the meaning of any given piece varies on the reader and that readers experience throughout life. Which is why with this single piece, already three or four readers have gotten at least two different meanings. Though I tend to agree with the "straight one" of the mail crew version , I think Trab's interpretation is valid as well. In the end, whether you take the morning after pill or watch a close friend take an overdose to end the suffering, the meaning is the same. Regret, bitter sweet victory, and the always inevitable what-if scenario. Gabe, from your recent poetry posts, I have a feeling that life has been very interesting for you lately to say the least. But then that's what I've always loved about life, if you aren't learning anything, you aren't growing as a person, as a man, or a human being. Either way, I love your recent work and think, If I'm right, we have lots more of good stuff to come from you in the future. Jason R.

I like this as well. The last stanza speaks volumes. "It's you You're the only one I want Not a body Or an idea" Once, long ago, I fell in love with a girl. And though she returned that love, it was hard for her to wrap her mind around the idea of me sleeping with boys before her. I tried to explain that it didn't matter about which parts she had or didn't have, but in the end, we broke up. I tihink you captured what I tried to tell her all those years ago. I loved her, not her body or the idea of being straight. Very powerful piece that spoke directly to my emotions. Loved this, really did. Jason R.

A bit off topic, but I still can't wrap my small mind around that right now, you are moving into winter, where I am finally moving into spring and summer. This seems somehow backwards to me. Though you paint a pretty picture of fall in Adelaide and I wish I could see it. But I think its still weird. Jason R.

A Few More Sentences The house was dark and at first glance he didn't think Scott was there though his car was parked in the garage. But upon closer inspection, he saw the outline of the blond sitting out on the balcony staring up into the night sky. He didn't think he could cry anymore, but the sight of his boyfriend caused the tears to once again cascade down his cheeks. Willing the tears to stop, he wiped them away with the back of his hand and went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of vodka. Filling up a glass, he walked outside and leaned against the rail. He could feel Scott's eyes on him, boring a hole in his back. He lifted the glass to his lips and drank deeply, the clear liquid falling down the sides of his mouth. Scott spoke, "That isn't going to help you know." Spinning around, his blue eyes filled with anger, he said, "Fuck you." "It's your stomach," Scott said, shrugging leaning back further into the chair. The darkness hiding the pain in his eyes. Justin threw the glass out into the night, a few moments later he heard the sounds of the glass shattering somewhere below. He asked, "What did I do wrong?" "Nothing," Scott said in a quiet voice. Throwing his hands in the air, Justin asked, "Is there someone else?" "No," Scott answered immediately, surprised by the certainity of his voice. "There could never be anyone else but you." "Then why?" Justin asked, sinking to his knees in front of the chair, his hands clutching Scott's knees tightly. "Don't you love me?" Tucking his hair behind his ear, Scott caressed Justin's cheek, saying, "Of course I love you." "Then why did you say no?" Scott could not meet Justin's gaze, he looked so childlike, his eyes big and full of pain. Scott said, "It's hard to explain." His tears began falling down. "Tell me please," Justin begged. Searching for the right words, but knowing no matter which words he chose, Justin would never understand. Again he wondered if he should have just said yes. A part of him wanted to marry Justin, someday, but not like this. Not without something to offer in return. But that voice inside the back of his head urged him to tell the truth. Sighing, he stated, "Well, for one thing, I don't really believe in marriage." "What?" Justin asked, a confused look on his face. "What do you mean?" "Justin, even if I were straight, and you were a girl. I wouldn't marry you." Scott said in a soft voice. Though immediately he wished he hadn't said them like that. Justin's face darkened, his temper rising fast. Scott continued quickly, "That's not what I meant. I just don't see the point of going through a ceremony that wouldn't even be legal. I love you, you love me, can't we just leave it at that and spend the rest of our lives together? Why do people think they have to say an "I do"?" "It's about a commitment," Justin said, trying hard to force the anger from his voice. "It's about standing in front of a group of friends and acknowledging our love for each other." "Have you ever doubted my love?" Scott asked, slumping in the chair. "Not until tonight," Justin replied, standing up and walking back to the railing. "How can you say that?" Scott yelled out, standing up in his anger. "In front of everyone, I asked you to marry me, and you...you said no," Justin explained. "How the fuck did you think I was going to feel?" "Just because I don't want to marry you doesn't mean I don't love you." "I know, it just means you don't want any strings," Justin said, turning to face his lover. "You'll only love me on your terms, but not on mine." "That's bullshit, and you know it." "Is it?" Justin asked, his fists clenched tight. "After everything we've been through. All the bullshit that happened with Michael, all the shit that happened with your band, don't you think...you owe me...you owe me this little thing?" "Owe you?" Scott shouted out. "That' the problem, I feel like I owe you everything." That caught him by surprise and for a moment, Justin stared at him. "What?" "All this," Scott said, waving his arms around him. "This isn't my house, it's your house. The car I drive, even the fucking clothes I wear aren't mine. How could I marry you when I have nothing to offer?" Justin groaned and rolled his eyes. Everything came back to this tired argument. He said, "How many times have I told you, that what I have is yours?" "That's not me," Scott intoned. "I can't keep living my life on your good graces. It drives me crazy having you buy me stuff. I can't even buy a pair of shoes without first getting money from you." "You don't seem to have any problems getting money to go drinking," Justin spat. "Or using my money to make your fucking record." "That's beneath you." Scott said in a quiet voice, ignoring the tears falling down his cheeks. He turned away and headed inside. Justin followed him and grabbed his arm roughly. Scott spun around and pushed the man hard on the couch, his arm raised back, his fist closed tightly. Anger flashed in his eyes and Justin realized he had went to far. Closing his eyes, he waited for the blow to drop. "Damnit," Scott yelled, punching a pillow next to Justin's head. "I didn't want this to happen again." For a moment thinking back to the time he lost his temper in a herion induced rage and hit his best friend, Shelia. Justin stared at him, his eyes wide and filled with fear. And when Scott collapsed next to him on the couch, he breathed easy. Hearing Scott mumbling something, he reached out to touch him, yet was shocked when Scott whispered, "Don't." Scott stood up and headed for the front door, his shoulders slumped. Justin called out, "Where are you going?" "I don't know, but if I stay, I might do something neither one of us can forgive," Scott replied hoarsely. "Are you leaving me?" Justin asked, standing up clutching his stomach with his hands. Turning his head, Scott said over his shoulder, "Never you, Justin. I'm leaving me." Before the door shut, Justin fell back on the couch and curled up in ball. He cried for sometime until he couldn't cry anymore. After an hour, he went to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of Vodka.

All about Eve or Stupid Words Strung Together to Form Sentences He left the two laughing, his blue eyes searching the crowd for Brandon, hoping he wouldn't run into anyone else he knew. After going to the bar, he ordered another beer and sipped it slowly. "Hi, how are you?" a deep voice called out from behind. Turning around, he looked into the smiling face of Justin, another one of Brandon's bandmates. "Hi. I'm fine, and you?" "Bored," Justin replied, shrugging. "But then I'm always bored at these kind of parties." Holding up a full martini, he laughed, saying, "But this always helps." "Yes, I agree. Insulation always helps." Gabriel said before draining his beer, ordering another. "Alcohol is good for many things," Justin continued, never taking his eyes off the longhaired man. "Such as?" Gabriel asked, returning the gaze intently. "Like forgetting, or maybe enhancing certain feelings we usually keep hidden." Justin stated. "Really," Gabriel said. "And here I was thinking it was only good for getting wasted." Laughing a deep rich laugh, Justin shook his head. "Oh no, my friend. You see, alcohol affects the brain, and when you've consumed too much, you do stupid things." "Really. I"ve never noticed." "Really." Justin said, pointing over towards Brandon, who was trapped between four older ladies. "Take him for instance. He gets that way after a few beers. One time, he told Robert DeNiro that he was one of the most overrated actors of all time." "Now that's funny." Gabriel said, chuckling at the thought of someone telling Robert DeNiro off. "I bet that was the first time anyone told that jackass the truth." Waving his hands, Justin said, "That's beside the point, we were talking about alcohol and it's effects. Take this other friend of mine." This time Justin pointed to a tall dark haired man talking to a pretty blond girl over in the corner across the room. "Alcohol makes him believe something he's not. When he's drinking, he can forget all about his true nature." Musing over Justin's statements, Gabriel still couldn't figure out what the blond man was talking about. He asked, "And what does alcohol do to, someone like you?" "Me? Nothing, I'm the same asshole drunk or sober," Justin stated, grinning broadly. "But what I'm worried about, is you." "What about me?" "What does alcohol make you do?" Justin asked, his face turning serious. "For one, it gives me the patience to answer stupid questions from people I don't know." Gabriel said. "And for two, it makes me realize that some people shouldn't drink martini's. Excuse me." Gabriel started walking away, but Justin grabbed his arm, saying, "Wait." Gabriel pulled his arm from Justin's grip, saying, "Yes?" A smile returned to Justin's face. Downing the rest of his martini, he said, "I like you. I do. But I don't want a certain friend of mine to get hurt." Feigning ignorance, Gabriel asked, "What do you mean?" Shaking his head, Justin said, "Absolutely nothing. I just wanted to tell you that you should be carefu what you drink. Other than that, have fun." Turning around, he ordered another martini. Looking over his shoulder, he said, "Besides, I haven't seen him smile in months."

Five Greatest Hitchcock Films of All Time Last Night my roommate, Daniel, and I, got into a loud fight about Hitchcock's greatest films. Three of the five we agreed upon but he feels like North by Northwest is Hitchcock's greatest. I'm not sure if anyone that reads this blog watches Hitchcock, but here is my top five. If you havent seen any of these films, you should do yourself a favor and rent them. Great flicks by a master storyteller with brilliant acting by both Cary Grant and James Stewart. Number One: Suspicion The best movie Hitchcock ever directed. The last scene with Cary Grant holding a glass of milk as he walks up that long circular staircase still sends chills up my spine. Brilliant. Number Two: Rear Window Jimmy Stewart's finest performance. Unleashing the voyeur in us all, Hitchcock shows us that nothing we do is really private. Number Three: Rope The first movie I ever watched with hints of gay love. Though the villains are the gay guys, brilliantly acted and shot beautifully in three continuous takes. Number Four: The Man who knew too Much Another Jimmy Stewart gem, playing a man who wants his son back no matter the cost. Love this movie. Number Five: To Catch a Thief Retired cat burgular Cary Grant, stops at nothing to prove his innocent with the beautiful Grace Kelly by his side. Very cool movie.

One question if I may: You mentioned only if "they" were cute would you purchase the ticket. My question, who decides who's cute and who's not. My mother once upon a time thought I was cute. Does that mean I might apply for cute if I would find an error? And if you are the deciding vote on who's cute and who's not, how do we know you have good taste in men? Maybe you actually like ugly men, then that wouldn't be fair as I am quite striking. I don't think you are being very fair at all. Not at all. Jason R.

Oh Des, how little you know us bloggers. I should probably let you slide as you are new to this whole blogging thing. But take my word,and offer of sex to all those who find errors in your work is like dropping off a case of cheap Scotch in the middle of an AA "meeting". More than one will ponder over each story you write, including your blog entries, and even if they have to make something up, they willpoint it out and expect payment. My only hope for you is if you have a large enough bank account to cover all the plane tickets you'll bepurchasing on your credit card in the days to come. Even though I took it upon myself to warn you of making such casual statements, I am evenas I type this going over each and every story you have posted online in hopes of seeing the land down under one day soon. Good luck on your new blog and I can't wait for your new April Fool's story to post. Jason R.

Hey TR When I read your reply, I realized what I had said. I meant, I haven't been happy with my poetry either lately and that I could understand your.......frustration if you will. This is just another example why I should never write somethig and post right away. No matter how many times I proof read, I always mess it up. SORRY TR. ANd I mean I'm really happy to have you back in the forums. Jason R.

I love this. Especially the last stanza. Good one Gabe Jason R. PS: The comment about a rainbow on your shoulder? Is that a tattoo or a metaphor?

Interlude #1 I feel lost And never found Sometimes I feel Turned inside out I'm silent when I'm screaming inside I can't love And tend to hate It's hard to live And appreciate How much you care or even try I'm always right You're always wrong I give you take We'll never get along Is there more of us than this I never smile You always laugh Each time I cry You're torn in half I'm calm yet so loose at the seams When it rains It really pours Too much of you Is overkill Love is never beautiful more like a bitter pill

TR said in another post that he hasn't been happy with the results of his poetry or plays lately. I agree, I guess in a way, we all can agree with that statement. I tried taking out the first person like TR suggested, and I didn't like that version either. I think I shall let this stew around in my mind a bit longer and then take a fresh leap as it were. As for TR's statement about people on the internet and the bad spelling. I can't figure out if you are picking on me about a mis-spelled word in the piece or making a general statement. Because I looked for a spelling error and can't find it. *crossing my fingers and hoping you're making a general statement* Because if you're not, I really need to go back to school and learn spelling once again. Nice to see both TR and Gabe back on the poetry forum. Jason R.

You welcome.

Maybe The Cause I Am A Bit Fucked-Up I am in the process of moving, and I found this piece I wrote when I was sixteen. To give a brief, like I could be brief, backstory, I come from a VERY religious background. In the News and Views this week, Dude posted an article that scared me, so much so I decided to post this piece here, on my blog. To show others how real the threat of the religious right truly is, and how the young are brainwashed on a daily basis. This piece was herald by the private school I attended, it scares me that they bought into this piece and made everyone in my class read it. Stating during chapel no less, that I might have been inspired by the divine one himself/herself to write such a cautionary tale. MY REWARD By: Jason R. One dark and stormy night, I died. It wasn't the first time I have died, but it would be the last. Some say that the best is always saved for last, as it was when Jesus turned the water into wine and the wedding guests claimed the host had saved the best for last, and it was true. I will never forget this time. NEVER. I was lying in my bed, touching myself, as I entertained thoughts about my best friend, when my heart suddenly stopped. Instantly, I was transported to an empty field. Each other time when I died, my earthly senses became void. Like I was so much wind floating through the earth. Yet this time, I could hear the wind gently blowing through the tree tops, I could see the grass slightly bending over by the subtle force of the wind, I could smell the night air, soft and rich with the promise of rain, I could feel chill in the air and I shivered. I made a small noise in the back of my throat that reminded me of a child whimpering. All around me was calm, much like the eye of a tornado. I could feel forces moving through the earth and I was scared out of my mind. Without warning, my eyesight focused so that I could see even the bugs crawling along the leaves in the trees several hundred yards away. I looked up, and much to my amazement, I actually saw the infinate of the universe as I stared into the night sky. I shook my head and took a deep breath, filling my nostrils with a moldy, dead smell that made me lightheaded and disorientated. Instinctively I knew something was wrong and I began running as fast as I could. I had not gone four steps when the ground started shaking violently, falling and rising much like a rushing river, I lost my balance and fell to the cold earth. To my horror, the trees started falling on the edge of the clearing, great massive trunks that threatened to end my life as they crashed around me, plummenting down on the grassy field showering me with dead leaves. In the center of the field, a chunk of earth shot up, flying through the air before landing fifty feet away. Smoke and fire exploded from the hole causing me to choke as the tonic fumes billowed out like sheet falling on an empty bed. Rising out of the hole, clothed in fiery tones of red and black, Satan ascended in all his horrible glory. As this supernatural being rose grandly from his earthly domain, I was forced to my knees by the power and hate that eminated from this devourer of souls. As the figure revolved around to face me, I shook and quivered as I hugged the charred earth. His powerful chest rose and he breathed out, a fetid smell that caused me to choke. This supreme master of evil watched me shaking, a look of contempt on his face as he surveyed the scene. Without speaking audibly, he commended me to rise to my knees and look upon his countence. I tried to resist but the force of his will overpowered my fragile human mind. As my eyes focused on the sight before me, I screamed out to God, because I had look upon Satan himself. Satan laughed, a sound so vile and twisted it caused me to heave, my stomach emptying on the ground. Again, I screamed out for God to save me. Satan stopped laughing and said with much glee in his voice that God had forsaken me. That I had commited the unspeakable sin in my heart and that there was no forgiveness for one such as I. That God had turned his back on me and that I would live the rest of my life serving a new master. I was informed that I would awake, and that I would live forever. Abruptly he disappeared and I awoke in my new body. I went insane as I realized I was a swine, my reward for being a faggot. Whether or not the writing is good, it scares me to remember how I felt back in my teens, trapped in a closet with hate surrounding me like so much sharks waiting to devour me. It scares me to think that others, young and impressionable teens are filled with such images every time they walk inside a church. I have not fought for gay rights, nor have I stood up for those doing so. I told myself that I did not care about marriage, so why fight for it, I told myself that I am tough enough to hear the word faggot and not become angered. I conditioned myself to use the word faggot, claiming humor as the reason I told "gay" jokes. For years I have fought being gay, for years I have acted straight, so much so that people wonder if I only say I'm gay for effect. I use to claim that I was helping the "straights" accept gays by acting like them, showing them I was "normal". Maybe in a way I was helping along the ideas that its a disease that can be cured. My god, what have I done? I think its time to be different, show them that I'm willing to fight for all basic rights. If we spend even a tenth of time on fighting for gay rights as we do fighting for the next piece of ass, what a difference we might be able to make. Chilling thoughts from me tonight. Jason R.

Ah, Camy, Do you really steal underwear from your friends? Is that some kind of British practice I've never heard of? Ele civil,Since you are new to this "adult or mature" mode of dress, I thought I'll help you out and lay it all out for you. Step by step.Number One: Upon first entering the store, preferably men's clothing store, of course you made choose whichever one best fitsyour personal tastes. For this purpose, lets pretend you pick mens clothing. Once inside the clothing store, find the cutest male employee, DO NOT, and I repeat, DO NOT, pick the employee that has the best taste in clothes. This will only lead tofeelings of inadequacy and frustration of never living up to an impossible standard. Once you find the cutest employee, wait as longas necessary for that employee to "free" up from his other customers. If he is taking a long time, puruse the rack that is advertising 50% off clothing, this will ensure no other employee will approach you as they'll think you have no money to spend and will avoid youlike the plague. Once the cutest employee is free, smile a lot and keep repeating money is no object, the clerk will see dollar signs and will do almost anything to complete the sell, even up to going into the dressing room with you to make sure the pants fit in all theright places.Number Two: Make sure, while selecting which color of suit, that not only does it match your eyes, but it will also look good crumpled on the floor of the cute clerks apartment in the morning. This is a must, do not cheap out.NUmber Three: You'll know when you've found the right suit when, all the gay men in the store stop shopping to watch you with one hand in their pants. Buy that suit, no matter how much the cost. It will be worth the money in the long run. At least I tell myself thisto justify the reason I bought a five hundred dollar suit crazy enough, this morning.Number Four: Now that you have the suit, the fun begins. The cute clerk will take you to a stage, surrounded by mirrors on three sides.He will put you in the suit to fit it to your body type. (side note, if the clerk entered the dressing room with you, wait ten minutes beforestepping on the stage to allow certain things to shrink. A lesson I learned accidentely enough, today) The cute clerk will basically gropeyou as he draws on your new suit with chalk, and though it is not necessary, he will measure your inseam, 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 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 clerk. Choosing the first combination only brings the ending that much sooner. Number Six: After deciding on the shirt and tie combination, now it is 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 makeing the belt the least important item on the list. The beltonly gives the cute clerk another reaon to stick his fingers in the waist of your pants checking if the fit is proper. Number Seven: Now comes the socks and shoes. Socks should match the suit while the shoes should accent the suit without overstating. Allow the cute clerk to slip the shoes on your feet, for those with a foot fetish this is a easy and cheap thrill that will be shared by boththe cute clerk and yourself. As it is my experience with those humans that sell mens clothing, they either secretly or openly enjoy the male figure and touching males without the pretense of sport situations, like smacking one another on the ass after a great touchdown, is replaced by concern that the wearer of the suit is most comfortable. Plain English, GAY. Not that there's anything wrong with that. And lastly, Numbr Eight: No matter how cute the clerk is, no matter how excited you are to leave that suit in a crumpled mess, do notpurchase the shoe trees. For those of you who don't know, they are devices that fit into your shoe to maintain its shape. The reason behind this, is very simple, we can't all buy five hundred dollar suits every month, shoes are much more affordable. This gives you anexcuse to return to the store every few weeks under the "guise" of maintaining nice shoes for your five hundred dollar suit. Though the cute clerk knows the reason, believe me, he'll pretend right along with you. It's a win win situation. I know you're a college student, so I'll breakdown the price item by item, this will give you an idea how long you'll have to drink really cheap beer to afford this rather expensive flirting method.Suit that makes guys get hardon's: Five hundred dollarsShirt that matches your socks: Fifty-five dollarsTie to state just how powerful and sexy you really are: Thirty dollarsBelt just to give the cute clerk a chance to stick his hands in your pants: Fifty dollarsSocks that will be hidden at all times until the cute clerk secretly sniffs them: Twenty dollars(three pack)Shoes that accent the suit without overstating: One hundred ten dollarsGetting felt up in the dressing room by cute clerk: Seven hundred and sixty-five dollarsPRICES MIGHT VARY STATE TO STATE: COUPONS AND EX-BOYFRIENDS NOT ACCEPTED AS PAYMENTI hope I have been some help to you. Good luck. Jason R.

Chat Room By: Jason R. Push that button Squeeze that key Fingers sweating In this altered reality Erotic action Flashing screens But who is the author And what does this mean Fake friends and fake foes Through thrills and through woes It goes on On On On I am King King of the chat room Here I'm the man Chairman of the board I am King King of this chat room And here I will reign Yet I am trapped Victim of this chat room Deep inside I don't know what love's about I'm a prisoner A victim of this chat room Reality where are you Someone show me how to get out I think I have something here yet I know something is missing. If anyone has thoughts, I'd love to hear them. Thanks Jason R.

Wibby, Since I have a laptop I don't think I could get the screen you suggested, though I might look into buying a PCnow that my eyes go screwy. Thanks for the suggestion and the good wishes. Camy, The prospect of losing my sight was one I had never entertained before. Talk about re-thinking my entire outlook. *shudders* Anyway, I'm doing much better, thanks for the good wishes. Trab, I hope everything goes well for you, I really understand what you must be going through. I will have a Canadian, one for me and one for you. Heres hoping everything goes well. Thanks again,Jason R.

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.

I'm in the process of moving and found an old notebook of mine. This poem was written way back in 94', I thought I would share it with all of you. Everything Was All Right By: Jason R. 9-20-94 There was this boy I knew We both went to the very same school We were best buddies we were pals I even stayed with him once in awhile We were just like two pees in a pod Like the same things it was rather odd You see, all through the junior high We?d try to catch the pretty girl?s eye Since I was the loud one in my class Bold and brazen I had a lot of brass He sort of kept me on the narrow Claimed I was like a broken arrow He warmed me to settle down And not be the wild boy in town I just laughed, he sort of grinned Said I?d settle down sometime when And everything was all right back then High school came the very next year I think my brain broke a gear For those classes were hard and the teachers were mean I went to class most days just to make a scene I was jealous, he was a straight A student I?d never pass and the teachers knew it So they wrote me off and gave up hope They knew I?d hang myself if given the rope But he stuck by me till the end I got pissed off and that?s when I went and called a teacher a jerk I lost it, I went berserk In the end I got kicked out of school And that teacher felt like a fool So I apologized but she was still mad So I flipped her off and said I was glad And everything was all right though I was sad I went to work at a fast food joint And started hanging with the boys at the point See, the point was a big underage party spot And one night it got busted by the cops I ran away from the scene Right into the arms of a cop who was mean The cop made me call someone to pick me up He came out in his brand new truck He thanked the officer was a smile Then didn?t speak for a couple of miles I was drunk and more than a little sick He threatened to hit me with a stick He said it would kill me if I didn?t stop He said I needed help but not from the cops He shook his head and said he?d do whatever That we were still friends forever And everything was all right the ties I couldn?t sever But that didn?t stop my wild days I kept living fast I was set in my ways Met a man who asked if I was willing I said I?d do anything short of a killing So we plotted to do a robbery The day came when it was set We robbed that store and hedged our bet But the clerk pulled a gun, screaming there was no way I had to shoot knowing there was hell to pay The man ran away with the cash I sat down knowing my life had finally crashed The cops came and hauled me away And he couldn?t see me for a couple of days But he never gave up and showed up for the trial The judge took the man?s description But said it wouldn?t change his decision And everything was all right as I went to prison So I was left to take the heat Since I killed a man I got the seat They let my only friend be there That dark stormy night I got the chair He looked at me with tears in his eyes As I begged him never to cry He shouted out that this shouldn?t be I answered the water always returns to the sea That some things are meant to happened And we talked about the good times ignoring his reaction He told me this wouldn?t change the way he felt But I?d have to play this hand I had been dealt He promised to visit me at my grave I simply said, I?d never forget you, Dave I knew we would be forever tied As we hugged for that final goodbye And everything was all right for he never cried?again

We all say harmless things each day of our life, but sometimes, the harmless things we say can cause us embarrassment in the most public of places. I'll elaborate. First Example: I walked into a hair salon with my roommate, Daniel, and asked loudly, "How much do you charge for a shampoo and a blow job?" Immediately I realized just what I said, I turned around, walked back out the door and have never went back. Daniel didn't say a word...he knew better. Second Example: My friend, Karen, took me to a golf store to compare different kinds of golf balls. She was unhappy with the women's type she had been using. She had been browsing for several minutes so I took the time to chat up this hot guy who was changing the price of the items in the discount bin. We were flirting and doing some chit and chat when Karen walked over with a confused look on her face. The hot guy asked if she needed any help. Without thinking, she answered, "I think I like playing with men's balls. Third Example: Karen and I were at the mall a few days later, and we passed by a store that sold a variety of candy and nuts. She drug me inside and while we were bending down deciding on what to purchase, the young boy behind the counter asked if we needed any help. I replied, "No thanks, I'm just looking at your nuts." Karen started laughing hysterically, the boy chuckled, while I turned all sorts of red. Forth Example: While in line at the bank one afternoon, my roommates nephew, decided to release some pent-up energy (probably from the tons of sugar I had been sneaking to him all afternoon) and run all over the place. Daniel finally grabbed hold of the little terror, but not before we received several looks of disgust from the other customers. Daniel told his nephew that if he didn't start behaving right now , then he would be punished. To my amusement, the little boy looked right in Daniel's eyes and said in a voice just as threatening, "If you don't let me go right now, I'll tell my mommiy that I saw you kissing JUncle Jason's pee-pee this morning." The silence in the room was deafening after this enlightened exchange. Even the tellers stopped what they were doing and stared at the three of us. Daniel mustered up what little dignity he had left and walked out of the bank with his nephew in tow. The last thing I heard as the door shut behind us was the entire bank bursting out in laughter. Fifth Example: Daniel's nephew had a lot of problems with toilet training and his parents were on himconstantly. One day, we stopped at Taco Bell for a quick lunch, in between errands. It was very busy, and after the boy caused major problems while waiting in line, we finally sat down to eat our taco's. Daniel smelled something funny, and after realizing the boy had not gone to the toilet in some time, he asked the boy if he had to go to the bathroom. The boy answered, no, and continued eating. Daniel was worried, as he had no extra clothing if the boy did have an accident. So he asked again, "Are you sure you didn't have an accident?" Again, the boy replied, "No." The smell was getting worse, so Daniel asked again, "Are you SURE you didn't have an accident?" This time the boy jumped up, yanked down his pants, bend over and spread his cheeks, and yelled at the top of his lungs, "See Uncle Daniel, it's just farts." While thirty people nearly choked to death on their taco's from laughing, the boy calmly pulled up his pants and resumed eating. Final Example: This had most of the state of Pennsylvania laughiing for two days and a very embarrassed female news anchor who will, in the future, think before she speaks. What happens when you predict snow but don't get any? We had a female news anchor that, the day after it was supposed to have snowed and didn't, turn to the weather man and asked, "So Bob, where's that eight inches you promised me last night?" Not only did he have to leave the set, but half the crew did too they were laughing so hard. Maybe we could all learn to think before we speak. Hope this makes you smile as it did me.

WBMS...

Someone sent me this list of questions today, and since I don't know the answers, I figured I'd pass it along for you to take a crack at answering the questions. 1. Ever wonder about those people who spend $2.00 apiece on those tiny bottles of Evian water? Try spelling Evian backwards N-A-I-V-E 2. If 4 out of 5 people suffer from diarrhea...does that mean that one actually enjoys it? 3. There are three religious truths: A: Jews do not recognize Jesus as the Messiah. B: Protestants do not recognize the Pope as the leader of the Christian faith. C: Baptists do not recognize each other in the liquor store or at Hooters. 4. If people from Poland are called Poles, then why aren't people from Holland called Holes? 5. Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery? 6. If a pig loses its voice, is it dis-gruntled? 7. Why do croutons come in airtight packagees? Aren't they just stale bread to begin with? 8. Why is a person who plays the piano called a pianist, but a person who drives a racecar is not called a racist? 9. Why isn't the number 11 pronounced onety-one? 10. If lawyers are dis-barred, clergymen de-frocked, then doesn't it follow that electricians can be de-lighted, musicians de-noted, cowboys de-ranged, models de-posed, tree surgeons de-barked, and dry cleaners de-pressed? 11. If Fed Ex and UPS were to merge, would they call it Fed Up? 12. Do Lipton Tea employees take coffee breaks? 13. What hair color do they put on the driver's licenses of bald men? 14. People tend to read the Bible more often the older they get, are they cramming for their final? 15. I thought about how mothers feed their babies with tiny little spoons and forks, so I wonder, do Chinese mothers use toothpicks? 16. Why do they put pictures of criminals up in the Post Office? What are we supposed to do, write to them? Why don't they just put their pictures on the postage stamps, so that the mailmen can look for them while they deliver the mail? 17. If it's true that we are here to help others, then what exactly are the others here for? 18. Why is it that you never really learn to swear until you learn to drive? 19. If lightning wouldn't zigzag, what would the speed be? 20. Whatever happened to Preparations A through G? 21. As income tax time approaches, did you ever notice, that, when you putthe two words "The and "IRS together, it spells "THEIRS"? And never argue with an idiot; they'll drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.