Jason Rimbaud

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.

Hey Mr. Savik, When writing about my own personal history, I found it so over-whelming and uncomfortable, that I had to create an entire new persona, just so I could write the words on paper. Thus, Jason Rimbaud was born. I'm not saying everything I write is personal, but the parts that did happen, it helped to write from the perspective of a "fictional" character. Maybe something that helped me will not work for you, but then again, transference is a powerful thing. (and if that word is spelled wrong, I'm sorry.) Another thing that helped me, when I did write all those personal things, I made sure to use dramatic license, after all, real life can not compare to a great story. And after reading just some of the replies in the forum section, you have that knack of great writing. Maybe all you need is a fresh perspective, try reading back your story "Broken" as if you are a first time reader. Take away the emotion and history, you might get a better feel for what you have accomplished. At least, that's my thought. I could be wrong, and probably am. Jason R.

A book that has helped me in more ways than one, is Jerry Cleaver's Immediate Fiction. Jerry Cleaver is the creator of the quite legendary Writer's Loft in Chicago and has been both a successful writer and teacher for over thirty years. This book covers story craft, the creative process, self-editing techniques, self coaching, how to manage your time, and helps with getting published. Great book Jason R.

On the Sundance Channel the other day, I watched a short film called, Godly Boyish. I'm not sure what the message of this short film was or even if it had a gay theme. But for some reason, I could identify with the two main characters. Has anyone seen this or heard about it? I did watch this really bad movie the other day called, Sideline Secrets. It was two steps away from really bad porn. I think the plot was to show as many full frontal nudity shots in a single film. Bad acting moronic script, and horrible direction. Stay away from this movie, it's a waste of money, time, and energy. But I did enjoy Another Gay Movie. It's spoofing all those stupid teen movies like American Pie, She's All That, and whatever the others are called. This movie is so over the top and almost crude at the lowest level but the acting is superb and the jokes are dead on. I liked this one. L.I.E. was tough for me to watch as well, but damn what a movie. Mysterious Skin, read the book and seen the movie, both are equally disturbing as well as somehow beautiful. Great acting, great script, great movie. Jason R.

It's not like you were going out of your way to help the worms. Because if you were, that would be a wee bit strange in my book. Though now that I think about it, the spine might be broken on my book. As for knowing when I'm acting a bit crazy or strange, that's a bit tougher. Normal and strange tend to blur together for me. One day I'll get the dosage right.Don't ever change, you stay your strange/crazy pirate loving self. Everyone is just jealous of you anyway.Jason R.

Well, think about it like this Trab. It's good I don't have AS, you would not want to be lumped intoa catogory with the likes of me. I would give a bad name to AS suffers everywhere. :icon_geek:Jason R.

Scared Silly or (He pissed on himself) Current Music Selection: Elvis Presley?Live in Vegas Current State: California Current Mood: Hyper So next door to the hip up-scale restaurant where I work, is this little Japanese place that specializes in Sushi. Now I?ve never tried it, anything related to fish or sometimes takes on a fishy odor; I try my best to stay far away. Either way, this restaurant is ?rumored? to not only have the tendency to ?over-serve? its customers but allows underage kids to drink alcohol quite illegally. For the record, I?m not against underage drinking. I?ve made literally thousands of dollars hanging outside seedy gas stations on the weekends, waiting to be approached by underage youths wishing me to purchase beer for them. I?m okay with contributing to anyone?s delinquency, minors or adults. And since I?ve been known to reach the state of ?over-served? myself, I can?t really complain about such behavior. But since this is my blog and by now, you?re pretty sure I?m going to complain about something or make a fool of myself, you might be asking where is this going? Saturday night at work, I?m finishing up, waiting on that last table to pay the check and leave. I think to myself, this is a perfect time to go outside and burn a cancer stick. I worked hard all day and deserve to shorten my life by seven minutes. (why so caviler about smoking? Because though I?m shortening my life, it?s not the fun life, the first part, I?m shortening the last part, the miserable life. Judging by how miserable old people are, I?d rather not live) So I?m outside smoking. And out of the corner of my eye, I watch this guy leave this Japanese restaurant. Now the reason I notice him, he is not Japanese or Asian. Now before you accuse me of racism or stereotyping, I know white people enjoy some of that Asian cooking. I, myself, love the flavor of the Orient. (and the food isn?t that bad either) Yet, at this particular restaurant, I?ve never seen anyone other than Asian darken the doorway. So seeing this very drunk white guy stumble out of the building caused me to take a double look. The reason I continued to watch this drunk white guy was I thought he was kind of cute, in a dirty skate boarder kind of way. As he approached my hiding place (out back behind the restaurant in the shadows of the building, quite invisible unless you see the cherry of my cancer stick) I can hear that he is having a conversation. Unless he has an invisible friend I can?t see or a few pink elephants following him, I can only assume he?s arguing with himself. To stay hidden and continue my voyeuristic staring, I drop my cigarette to the ground and stand perfectly still in the shadows. Now that he?s even closer, I can him hear say things. I quickly deduce they have ?cut him off? from drinking anymore. And by the way he keeps mumbling over and over again, he didn?t agree with them, at all. Apparently he was the sort who wanted to keep drinking until his liver said, ?Fuck it, I quit. You win.? He stops about ten feet from my hiding spot, and looks around. Recognizing that he has to take a piss from the way he keeps pulling on himself and the way he looked around to make sure he was alone, I chuckle silently. I?ve had a rough day and I decide to have a little fun with this drunken white guy. Sure enough, he walks up next to the building and fumbles with his pants for a few moments. He leans his head against the wall and uses his left hand to balance, and a few seconds later, I hear the unmistakable sounds of someone pissing. I let him go long enough, just long enough where I know it will be tough or even impossible to stop the flow. Once I figure he reached this point, I clear my throat loudly and say, ?What are you doing pissing on my building?? I was expecting him to jump a bit, maybe let out a few curse words, you know, something along those lines. Anything really would have made me smile. But oh boy, did I get so much more. I only wish I could describe this in a way where you could see exactly what I did. The moment I said, ?What are you doing pissing on my building?? He turned into something right out of a Marx Brothers Comedy or something. His head whipped around with a look of utter terror on his face, while his hand that he was using for balance dropped to his waist. This caused him to lose his balance and he started falling into the wall. He barely brings up both hands fast enough to catch himself. Now he?s pissing all over himself and his hands drop back to his waist. While he?s fumbling to stop pissing and put his cock away, he has to use his head, now pressed against the wall to keep him up-right. And just when I thought it was over, he lets out a scream. This scream was filled with such agony; I instantly knew he caught some part of his twig and berries in his zipper. He falls to his knees, right in the puddle of his own piss, and frantically tries to untangle his genitals from his zipper. I?m laughing because, well, because I?m an asshole. And I don?t think anyone should get so drunk, ALONE, that they find themselves unable to perform such simple tasks as urination. Plus, I?m totally against public urination, especially on my restaurant. That?s where I make my money for fucks sake. So I watch him for a few moments before walking back inside the restaurant, I now want to tell the other servers about this idiot that is outside in a puddle of piss. I rush in and tell everyone to come out and see the guy I scared so badly he pissed all over himself. But after going back outside, I was disappointed to find that he had already gathered himself and disappeared into the night to lick his wounds as it were. My juvenile antics probably scarred him for life, but hopefully in the future he?ll think twice about pissing in public. Well, at least on my restaurant.

Mistaken Identity and Two Rolls of Toilet Paper Current Music Selection: Snow Patrol?Eyes Open Current State: Buzzed Current Mood: Fulfilled So I stabbed my co-worker in the back with a fork tonight at work. I don?t think you can appreciate this statement. So I?ll Chris Nolan it, Memento style. We?ll go back in time so you can get the full impact of this statement. As some of you know, I work in a hip up-scale restaurant in Palo Alto California. Most of my co-workers are between the ages of nineteen and twenty-one. Almost all of us are males, and for the most part, we get along rather well. No matter how professional we are in the front of the house, the main room of the restaurant for those un-familiar, the back of the house, the kitchen area, is one rowdy and fun loving place. Here is where we make fun of the guests, catch up on the gossip of our co-workers, and mainly play practical jokes on everyone. Usually the games we play are divided between the servers and the kitchen staff. Mostly our games are harmless, high school games. Like the circle game. For those of you that haven?t heard of this game, I?ll explain. You bring your forefinger and thumb together to make an ?O?, and making sure the ?O? is below your waist, you try and trick the rest of the co-workers to look at the ?O?. If they look, you get to hit them in the arm. But there is a way out, if the person who is shown the ?O?, can without looking, takes his forefinger and breaks the ?O?, and then he gets to hit the person who flashed the ?O?. Usually we all go home with black and blue arms. Lately our games have been escalating to hit and run attacks of the left nipple. And yes, only the left nipple is targeted. This gives everyone a fighting chance, as we all have pockets over our left nipples and we can stick things inside to protect the rather sensitive nipple area. So of course we have to be rather creative to get a direct hit, but then we all are pretty creative. But none of these games were the cause of the above statement. I?m getting there, just like Memento; good things come to those who wait. Now, we have individual candles at each table to give off good ambience. At the beginning of the shift, we all have to light the hundred or so candles that litter our restaurant. One of my co-workers, after lighting thirty or so candles, walks over to me and complains that his lighter is really hot. I call him a pussy and to prove how hot the lighter is, he places the metal part, where the flame comes out, against my left forearm. I must admit, he was right. The lighter was very hot and it burned me. For some of you here on this site, you might not know that straight guys love hurting one another. And since I?m pretty straight acting, I think it?s kind of fun to inflict good natured harm to guys I like. Like I tell them all the time, we?re two steps away from one big gay orgy. That would inflict lots of harm mixed with pleasure but I?m getting off topic again. I stabbed my co-worker with a fork. So I scream out, stating the obvious that he burned me. Now, his best friend walks over to see why I screamed out like a girl. After relaying the story, and showing him the spot on my arm that is now a deep red and beginning to blister, that fucker uses his lighter and burns me again, a few inches above the first burn. So in pain, and with a vengeful nature, I flick both of their nipples, hard. So hard that I actually hurt my fingers. They scream out, complaining that the right nipple is off limits and that I cheated. So we stood there, the two of them rubbing their sore nipples and me blowing on my burnt skin. So loudly were we screaming, our General Manager came out of his office to see what the commotion was about. After telling him that I cheated by targeting the right nipple, a game he plays as well (we have a great boss) he looks at me and shakes his head, but then I showed him my arm. In his great wisdom, he allows the flick to go un-punished as they did burn me. I stick my tongue out at them, gloating. I know, real mature. But serving in a restaurant is a really stressful job and we need all the distractions to help us get through the night. Now remember, we haven?t even opened for business yet and already I have two co-workers declaring they will get me back for my unlawful nipple attack. I walk away, confident that I?ll survive whatever the two come up with. Remember, I?m a man of routine. We open at 5:30, at 5:15 everyday I go outside to get one last cigarette down before the hell begins. After I finish smoking, I go to the bathroom, relieve myself and wash the cigarette smell from my hands. They see me go outside, ten minutes later, they watch me walk into the bathroom. I enter one of the stalls and proceed with my business. I hear the door open and someone walk into one of the stalls. I think nothing of this; it?s a public bathroom after all. About a minute later, I hear the door open again. I hear them speaking, it?s the two that have sworn to get me back. They walk into the two remaining stalls. I hear a banging noise, and a few seconds later, one calls out to the other, asking if he?s ready. The other replies yes, and then I hear two loud bangs and then a splash, then a muffled yell, followed immediately by a very deep voice saying this, and I quote, ?I?m not who you think I am.? They had decided to grab two rolls of toilet paper and chuck them over the stall walls. What they didn?t know, they had chosen the wrong stall. It seems our delivery driver had needed to take a shit after giving us our beer. One of the toilet paper rolls hit him in the head while the other fell right between his legs and into the bowl. Needless to say, both of them bolted out of the bathroom like two scared rabbits while I started laughing. What made it even more comical, was after they left, the driver continued to curse and yell about the incident. I calmly washed my hands and walked out of the bathroom to find both of them, hiding in the office with scared looks on their faces. I shake my head, and then tell every person working what had just happened. To say they were mad about the nipple flick was an understatement now. They both swore they would get me before the night was over. And for the rest of the night, periodically one of us would look at the two of them and say, "I'm not who you think I am." Shortly after that, we opened the door and had one of the busiest nights in our history. And through the night, though we help each other out, every free moment is spent flicking nipples, pushing, punching, and generally having one hell of a time trying to out do one another. Now, wait for it, here comes the reason I?m writing this entry. At the very end of the shift, the one that burned me first, comes at me with a pen in his hand and acts like he?s going to stab me in the nipple with it. My reflex is to stop this from happening so I stick out my right hand. At that moment, the second one that burned me chose this moment to push the other guy hard from behind, sending him crashing into me. Needless to say, I get stabbed in the hand with a pen, deep enough to draw blood. I react without thinking, I pick up the first thing I could, which happened to be a dirty fork from one of the plates. I looked at the one who stabbed me, he protests, saying he was pushed and that he really wasn?t going to stab me. I shake my head and he starts to run. I chase him out of the kitchen and down the hall to the back door, where I catch him and in a moment of stupidity, I stab him in the back with a fork. He screams out, I push him outside, and slammed the door. Everyone, including the General Manager is standing there laughing as he bangs on the door. Yelling that I tried to kill him with a dirty fork and that he?ll probably get some crazy disease. After work, I buy a six-pack of beer and in the parking lot, we all drink beer together and laugh over the days events. Speculating on what the next day we?ll bring and what kind of adventures we?ll have together in this hip upscale restaurant in Palo Alto.

To me this piece is so hauntingly beautiful. Probably one of your best Gabe. Blew me away. Jason

Hey Camy,Happy New Years to you as well. And even if I wanted to, I don't think I could ever label myself. With all my different personalities, that damn label would change from moment to moment. I'd spend my whole life using my handy dandy label making machine. And where I'm not opposed to labeling my CD collection or my five hundred pairs of underwear, labeling my life would just be too big of an undertaking.As for Trab's comments, I'd never want you to change. If it works for you, I say attack that syndrome with a passion. And even if you fail, you could always blame the failure on something. Just kidding, I'm not making fun of your condition, just teasing you because I like you.Happy New Year to everyone (except that crazy weird lady from the smoke shop) I really don't care if you burn in hell. And your little dog too. (first reference on my blog to the Wizard of Oz) Maybe I'm not really gay. Damn labels.Jason

One giant can of Red Bull, Spearmint Gum, and a pack of Marlboro Lights Current Music Selection: Snow Patrol?Breaking Benjamin?Ryan Star Current State: Slightly drunk Current Mood: Optimistic So on the way to work, I stop off at Max?s Smoke Shop to buy a giant can of Red Bull, Spearmint gum, and a pack of Marlboro Lights. This is something I?ve been doing every day for the four months I?ve worked in Palo Alto. I say hi to Max, light up a cigarette and shoot the shit with probably the coolest ?old guy? I?ve ever met. We talk about football and the chance of the 49?ers making the play-offs. I ask about his wife, he asks about my flavor of the week, we converse in friendly tones. Being slightly OCD, I really, really, really, like my routine. If something happens to alter this routine, I become?well lets say it how it really is shall we?an asshole. I?m sure you guessed it; this routine was altered today when I returned to work after having off for New Years. It?s another post, if I ever get the nerve to write about New Years, but I walked into Max?s Smoke Shop, a smile on my face, and a happy New Year greeting on the tip of my tongue for my favorite ?old guy?. But that damn greeting died on my lips when I saw the nightmare standing behind the counter. Have you ever seen that show on BBC, called Are You Being Served? If so, do you remember that old chick that always changed the color of her hair? This is exactly what the DUDE behind the counter looked like. Even down to the cheesy old skirt and stained white blouse. It was frightening. I know I live in the San Francisco Bay Area, probably one of the largest gay communities in the world, and I know it takes all kinds. If you have any doubts, take a walk in the Castro and you?ll see what I mean. But digressing again and I?m trying to stop this practice. Upon seeing this?thing behind the counter, I pause at the front door. I look around, making sure I walked into the right store. I?ve been known after a long three days of partying to wander into stores aimlessly. But I had walked into the right place. I swear I stood at the front door for a good minute. I get used to certain things and I wasn?t sure if I wanted to buy my giant can of Red Bull from this sitcom reject. While I stood in the doorway, I noticed this old lady with probably the ugliest dog I?ve ever seen. I immediately shudder; this lady was somehow odder looking than the ?thing? behind the counter. She was wearing this long black wig, it was dirty and ratted like she had never bothered to run a comb through it. But the thing that made my head turn to one side, much like a dog, was every few moments she would raise a wrinkled hand to her wig. Like she was making sure it was still atop her ?probably? bald head. And each time she checked her wig, she would move it slightly. So by the time I saw her inside Max?s Smoke Shop, it was beyond crooked. I think a slight breeze would send it careening to the floor, which would be cleaner than the mess resting on her head. But digressing yet again. She was wearing these shoes, I can?t even describe them. But I bet they were old during the fifties. I think at one time they were black, but now they looked more like?mud. Her skirt, bright red with yellow fringe, looked like it was two sizes too small and unfortunately left nothing to the imagination. I couldn?t see what shirt she chose to accompany this ensemble, because she was hiding it under a three-quarter length fur coat. Which I might add, was suffering from the same affliction as her head hair. I think its time to let you know that I?m not an animal lover. I?ve never understood the need for a pet. But hey, it takes all kinds, right? Whatever, but I do believe that since I can?t smoke inside public places, then I don?t think a flea infested dog should be allowed inside public places. Digress, no thanks, trying to quit. I reach into my pocket and pull out my trusty silver cigarette case. I check to see if I have enough to make it through the night. I shake my head, three cigarettes won?t cut it. So I make the decision to go the rest of the way inside and quickly grab my giant can of Red Bull, my Spearmint gum, and a pack of Marlboro Lights. After all, Susan said I should be more open to change. Stupid therapist, change sucks. So I walk quickly by the ?thing? behind the counter. I hug the gum shelf to get as far away from the smelly dog, and its ugly companion. I breathe deeply as I reach the cooler that is normally filled to the brim with giant cans of Red Bull. Again for a moment, I stand there, staring in disbelief at the empty cooler. I decide that Max must?ve changed the coolers around again without giving me the week?s notice we had agreed upon. You would think the ?old guy? would?ve learned his lesson the last time he moved the coolers around. Why would you put the Red Bull cooler all the way in the back? It was right next to the gum shelves, it was perfect. I?d walk into the store, I grab the gum, grab the giant Red Bull, turn, and walk to the counter where I would pay for everything. So I walk down the row of coolers, peering into each one carefully. Maybe the ?old guy? had finally taken my advice and moved them back to the front of the store. But once I reached the gum shelf, I had not seen any Red Bull. So I walk back down the row of coolers, peering carefully again. After doing this two more times, I look at the front of the store. The ?thing? behind the counter was now leaning over the counter petting the ugly dog while the weird old lady looked on with the biggest smile I had ever seen on a human. Crocodiles had nothing on this lady, except maybe a few more teeth, but that was it. Again I shudder; dogs shouldn?t be allowed inside public places. But I choke back that retort and instead ask where Max moved the Red Bulls. This is when the ?thing? behind the counter, looks over at me and replies, I swear this is his exacts words, ?That?s right, Max left a note telling me to make sure I fill up the Red Bulls.. Sorry, I forgot.? So I walk towards the front, I ask, ?How can you forget? He left you a note and everything.? ?Sorry, why don?t you try a Rock Star instead?? This is what he says, now fully focused on the dog. Seeing that he has gone to that place when adults see either children or animals, I give up. I can do this, change is good, remember. So I grab my Spearmint gum and walk to the counter. I notice, because I?m somewhat intelligent, that the weird lady is neither waiting to purchase anything nor has she purchased anything. As far as I can tell, she wandered in just so the ?thing? behind the counter could pet her ugly dog. I wait, longer than a minute, I know I looked at my watch, and this ?thing? behind the counter is going on and on about this dog. Talking to it like it?s a human, like he expects the ugly dog to answer his stupid questions. And when he asked the ugly dog if it got everything it wanted for Christmas, I finally lost it. I ask for a pack of Marlboro Lights and threw my pack of gum on the counter, still standing a good six feet away from weird lady and ugly dog. The moment I spoke, that damn dog turned and looked at me and before I could do anything, it had covered the distance and jumped up on my freshly pressed pants. I pushed the dog, cringing at touching such a dirty animal, and looked at the lady and say, very plainly, ?Please control your dog.? You would?ve thought I punched the dog, which was my first instinct but after four months talking to Susan, I had ignored this reaction. She called out for the dog and the ?thing? behind the counter gave me a funny look. So I repeat what I wanted. The ?thing? rolls his eyes and grabs a pack of Marlboro Lights. While I?m paying for my purchase, minus one giant can of Red Bull, that damn dog jumps up on me again. This is when all of Susan?s advice went out the window. I shoved the dog down, and looked at the lady saying, ?What don?t you control your flea ridden dog for fucks sake?? Granted, not very diplomatic, but after seeing what I did the first time, she should?ve expected something along those lines. The ?thing? behind the counter looked at me and said, ?Calm down, he?s just happy to see you.? So I say, ?I believe Palo Alto has a very strict leash law, shouldn?t that thing be leashed up out front or better yet inside the car?? The conversation pretty much went down hill from there. The lady went off on me, telling me where I could stick my leash law and the ?thing? behind the counter told me to get out. I was mad, but I knew in the back of my mind I needed that pack of Marlboro Lights, so I told him I wanted the cigarettes. He refused, so I threatened to call animal control and say that the dog attacked me and that it wasn?t on a leash, and I was inside a store. I admit I might have been just a bit irrational at this point. But change really isn?t good and sometimes I just can?t help my anti-social behavior. I really do try but I don?t have a lot of patience, or good judgment at times in crisis. Besides, I brought two people closer together today. I?m sure, long after I left with my cigarettes, they bitched about the asshole who doesn?t like dogs. So in a way, I did a good deed today. I wonder what Susan?s take on this will be next week. She probably won?t like it on one hand but on the other, she realize just how much money she?ll make trying to help me adapt to change. Wow, that?s two good deeds I did today. One more and I?ll make Eagle Scout. But I digress again.

Thanks, Jason R.

Great, now you're questioning my religious beliefs. Thanks. Just kidding, I never listen to rabbits anyway. Unless I'm personally involved with the person (definition for person=man) I'm not much on touching and/or hugging. I think its common for all molestation victims to stay at arms length. Besides, all that glitter and cover-up boys sometimes wear clashes with my natural complexion, WHITE. As long as you show interest in some kind of "sport", though calling ice skating a sport is stretching reality just a bit, I won't hold anything against you unless you ask me to first. PROMISE! Jason R.