Jason Rimbaud

Hey Bart,With the help of, Susan, I'm beginning to come to grips with "all" my past. Though itsalways hard around the holiday season, I've spent too many Christmas's alone. Luckily, my roommate, Daniel, has adopted me so to speak and his family makes me welcome.Though I must admit, I save a ton of money. Buying presents for three is a tad bit cheaperthan buying for eight. Until next time,Jason R.

Moonlight Will Prevail Conclusion By: Jason R. After the funeral was over, my Uncle told me how he had tried for years to contact me but my father had refused his inquiries. He told me I was welcome to stay in his house for as long as I wished to stay. And I have lived there ever since. I guess he became the dad I should?ve had in the first place. He taught me that hate, any kind of hate, was no way to live this beautiful life. He forced me to see that if I truly didn?t want to be like my parents, I couldn?t hate them for what they did to me. Or for what they believed. He taught me to love and to show compassion for all living things. And that loving a boy wasn?t sinful. He showed me that love in any form is pure and seldom achieved. Through his patience and constant guidance, I learned that love is a gift from God. He opened my eyes to the gift Greg had left me. From shortly after my sixteenth birthday till four days after my twenty-second birthday, I lived with my Uncle in bliss and contentment. He had never married and to my knowledge wasn?t gay either. He enjoyed hanging out with his many friends and of helping others out in thousands of different ways. For all I know, he never thought about sex unless I asked an absurd question about this or that. The time I spent in that house with him is some of the best years of my life thus far. For everything he taught me about life, about relationships, or just about giving of ones self to others, I am forever in his debt. Unfortunately, I will never be able to repay his kindness. You see, four days after my birthday, my Uncle passed away from lung cancer. It seems I?m destined to lose everything I love in my life. First, I lost my beloved, Greg. Just a few brief hours after that, I lost my family. The ones I have loved so deeply and to this day still miss like it was only yesterday. Then I lose my Uncle, my dad if I may be so bold. As I look back on the last ten years, I can see how I grew and how I changed due to my Uncles influences. He has helped me through some of life?s hardest lessons. But the most important lesson I ever learned, I learned from Greg. It wasn?t one thing he said or did but how he lived his life day in and day out. If anything, I learned by his example. I have to live everyday like it?s my last. We really never know when it?s time to go. I learned to follow my dream now, today, and not wait for that ?perfect moment?. I learned that it will never be perfect, sooner or later, if you wait, your dreams can pass you by. When I went to Greg?s funeral, I didn?t get it. I was so angry with the High School kids and their indifference. This attitude they had, thank god it wasn?t me. I hated each and every one because of this attitude. I didn?t know then what I know now. Last week at my Uncle?s wake, I didn?t get it at first either. All his friends were sitting around the table, laughing and joking like nothing happened. At first I was angry, but then I watched as they looked at old pictures of my Uncle and told stories about his life, and slowly I began to understand. Funeral?s aren?t about mourning the passing of a loved one. It?s not about groaning and moaning over death. A funeral is a celebration of life, my Uncles? life. His friends weren?t laughing because they didn?t care. They were laughing because they remembered my Uncle in the most precious of ways. They celebrated his life and what he did for them and everyone he came into contact with on a daily basis. It was a remembrance of all things good about a beautiful man. I wish I had known this for Greg?s funeral. I could?ve let everyone in that building know what a wonderful and kind person he was. And how much love he had inside his body and his passion for chasing his dreams. But I was still caught up in the trappings of death, I didn?t understand. I don?t mourn for Greg anymore. I miss him just as strong today as I did then. But when I think of him now, I remember the laughter we shared, the love that held us together, and I remember his life and what we all could learn from it. To live life with no regrets, to never pass over a dream due to fear and to always follow your heart. I believe with every breath in my body that Greg died content and happy with his place in the universe. A free spirit that never let circumstances dictate his happiness. The doctor said he had a heart attack, that he died peacefully in his sleep. He promised me it was painless and quick. I like to think sometimes as I gaze up at the moon, that the last thing he felt was my love and the last thing he thought was his love for me. I?ll never forget our walk in the moonlight nor will I forget he gave me the most precious gift of all, a will to embrace life and to always take a chance on love.

Moonlight Will Prevail Part Nine By: Jason R. It was shortly after I ?borrowed? the neighbor?s car. I had stayed at Greg?s house that night, not an uncommon occurrence as our parents had long given up on trying to keep us apart. Though they did try towards the end. Maybe they suspected our friendship, maybe they could see the special bond we shared, maybe we weren?t good at hiding it as we thought. Either way, it was a night I?ll never forget. His room was in the basement of their house. We had proper pictures on the wall of landscapes and animals, but on the back of those innocent pictures were pictures of guys we thought were hot. When we were in the room with the door locked, we?d turn them around so we could look at them. We had a bunch of things that glowed under the cheesy black lights we had stolen from the local mall. It was our domain, the place we went to be in love. The only place that was safe for us to be ourselves. I remember that night so strangely. It?s all perfectly clear but I remember it happening so slowly, like a movie playing fourteen speeds too slow. Greg had been telling me about his plans for us for the millionth time. How when he turned eighteen, he would get an apartment right down the street from my house so I could sneak over and join him during the night until I turned eighteen the following year. Then we would go off to college together and never look back on the hell of our childhood. It didn?t matter which college we attended, as long as we were together and free to be the couple in public we had always been in private. I asked him what he wanted to do with the rest of his life after hell and his reply is still burned in my brain like the afterglow of staring into the sun. I want to live my life without fear. I never want to be afraid to seize the day. I want to live life with a passion that will take me to the moon. That night we fucked, hot and animalistic. We both loved to fuck and I loved fucking Greg. I wish I could say we made soft passionate love where we voiced our undying love for one another, but I can?t. We fucked like two horny teenagers, hot and sweaty. I clawed his back and he bit my tongue so hard that little piece on the underneath took over two weeks to heal. Around three-thirty in the morning, we finally drifted off to sleep. I lay on my back and Greg put his head on my shoulder. We fell asleep clutching tightly to one another. It was our favorite position for sleeping. At that moment and for the rest of the night, we felt like we were one body, just like our souls were joined in a perfect love. When Greg was sleepy, his voice got this raspy rough sound that drove me crazy. And the last thing I ever heard him say was whispered to me in this sexy voice. He leaned close and said in my ear, I can?t believe I get to hold you in my arms every night. Ever since that first night in the moonlight, I?ve been the luckiest boy in the world. I kissed the top of his blonde head and called him a goof ball. I was never really comfortable saying what I felt inside but I knew he knew how I felt about him. He could see it in my eyes every time I looked at him and in the tiny ways I showed him every day. I slept great that night, just like always when I slept with Greg. I woke up around 11am that morning and instantly knew something was wrong. I felt it in my soul, like my heart had turned cold. Greg had his arm draped over me as he lay there tightly against my back. But his arm was cold, I could feel the chill emanating from his body pressing against mine. I don?t remember when I realized he had died sometime in the night but I do remember screaming my soul out. All my pain, all my dreams, all my love, I screamed out until there was nothing left inside me. My screams brought his parents crashing through the locked door, where they found us naked in the bed. I was holding on to Greg?s lifeless body. It took one EMT and two policemen to pull me away from Greg?s side. In the end, three of my ribs were broke before I released the grip I had on him. The rest of the day is a blur. Sometime between the time they found me and when they pulled me away from him, someone had called my parents. I remember they walked over to me as I sat on Greg?s floor, still naked, staring at the bed where so many times we had made love. Where so many times we had confessed our love for each other. Where so many times we sat there, laughing and basking in the joy of just being close to one another. Where so many times we made plans to leave hell and begin our life together. A life we should?ve had from the beginning. That?s the day my parents kicked me out of their house and out of their lives. The day I became forever cut out of the family. And yet none of that mattered to me, only Greg mattered. My moonlight. I remember Greg?s parents picking me up and carrying me outside where they dumped me on the sidewalk, still naked. Because they couldn?t bare the idea of having a filthy queer inside their house. I don?t know who called him, but my Uncle Malcolm came and picked me up. He took me home with him where he wrapped me up in a warm fuzzy blanket and just held me until I couldn?t cry anymore. I remember showing up at the funeral and seeing that my parents hadn?t bothered to show their support. But I heard they made sure everyone in the church knew about their queer son and that Greg was my queer lover. Even going as far as telling Greg?s parents that the reason Greg had died was because he was queer. Greg?s parents wouldn?t look at me and sometimes I think they only showed up because they had too. It was sad, hardly anyone showed up to pay last respects for the most beautiful person that only wanted to love. My Uncle sat there beside me, supporting me in something he didn?t?couldn?t understand. But he was there. Five students from our High School showed up, I recognized one of them. I figured Greg must?ve known them casually from one of his classes. Because we spent all of our time together and I never had seen them before. I suspect they showed up for the excused day from school than out of any other emotion. That was it, my lover, my best friend, my true north, had less than a dozen people at his funeral. And I was the only one that knew him. And I was the only one that loved him.

Moonlight Will Prevail Part Eight By: Jason R. After I hit the water, my erection pretty much went south fast. I believe it would be safe to say that my genitals had retreated inside my body due to the chilly water. But as we touched and grappled in the water, my genitals decided to return with a vengeance, and from the look in Greg?s eyes, so did his. He had gotten behind me and was trying to force my head underwater when I realized I felt something poking me in the lower back. I can honestly tell you that sensation sent chills down my spine. The more I struggled, the harder he poked. It wasn?t long before all pretence of wrestling stopped and we just enjoyed this new experience. He grabbed hold of my shoulders and turned me around so we were facing one another. Our bodies smacked together as he pulled me closer to him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pull him just as tightly into me. Staring into his eyes, I began to grind myself into him, time stood still in that moment. One of his hands reached behind me and started caressing my lower back, stopping just inches from my backside. As we touched each other, our eyes were locked in a frozen moment there in the moonlight. And I saw something in those beautiful eyes I?m still searching for to this day to duplicate. Unconditional love and an unwavering devotion backed by all the youthful lust he possessed. It was nothing short of magical. All my shyness and all my fear vanished in that single moment. I pressed my lips to his and we shared the first of many kisses. But none could ever compare to that first kiss in the moonlight. It wasn?t a shy kiss, a timid peck or a kiss fill with uncertainty. It was full of passion, a kiss loaded with certainty and the belief that this was right on every level despite what others might say. It was a kiss that transcended all barriers of religion, all thoughts of normal male behavior. All inhibitions of right or wrong were thrown to the wind and flew up to the moonlight that bathed us. Can a kiss mean so much? Maybe if you don?t believe you haven?t found the right person or maybe I?m a hopeless romantic that refuses to live in reality. I don?t know anything about that but I do know that I became complete in that one kiss. And if it doesn?t happen to everyone then I count myself lucky and fortunate to have it happen to me even if it was all in my head. The kiss could?ve lasted for years and we never would?ve known the difference. But we found ourselves kneeling down on the edge of that lake. Water dripped down our bodies, the shimmer of the droplets a plethora of moonbeams on our skin. Facing one another, we continued that magical kiss, our hands explored every inch of skin. And when his hand found me, I shuddered. From his continued touching, I started to convulse and one of the most powerful orgasms I?ve ever had exploded out of my body, leaving me breathless and filled with wonder. Once I regained some control and after my body slowed to only slight tremors, I returned the favor as best as I could. It wasn?t long before his eyes rolled back into his head and he thrust into my hand one final time. Groaning louder than I could ever imagine, he collapsed into my shoulder. And we knelt there, holding each other under the light of the moon. I?ll never forget that first time of exploration under the moonlight. I eventually lost my virginity a year after that first encounter. I was lucky my first time was with someone I truly loved. And when I took his virginity, we shared something special that so many people lose out on. Greg and I became so much more that night we went swimming in the moonlight. I guess I would define him as my soul mate, the other half of my incomplete soul. That day he came into my life, I found my way, my North star that always pointed me in the right direction. It was something we shared and enjoyed together until his untimely death at the age of seventeen.

Moonlight Will Prevail Part Seven By: Jason R. I found myself running into the night, following my best friend. After we proceeded a safe distance from the house, we stopped running and started talking excitedly. We laughed the rest of the way to the lake, about a mile from my house. During the climb out the window, he had decided we should go swimming in the moonlight. He kept saying something about getting in touch with our inner primal beast. He was always spouting shit like that. I never knew what the hell he was talking about half the time but at least I can honestly say I was never bored around, Greg, either. After we reached the lake, I told him I was a bit nervous about swimming at night. What if we went out into the water and couldn?t find our way back to shore? But he laughingly pointed out, With that full moon, there isn?t a chance in hell of us getting lost. Now stop being a chicken. To his credit, he always had an answer for everything. I think he just went through his life bullshitting and just happened to get lucky so everything always worked out for him. I was stalling though, from my fear of getting caught, and swimming at night. So I brought up that fact that we didn?t have anything to swim in. So what. He admonished. It?s only us guys. We?ll just go naked. When that didn?t make me agree, he added, After all, I?ve seen myself naked and believe, I?ve got the same thing between my legs that you have. So what?s the deal? That was his logic and damn if it doesn?t make sense to me now but back then, I was still fighting thirteen years of repression. It was evil to be naked in front of another human being. So as we stood there on the edge of that lake, I was debating on whether or not I could actually go through with stripping down naked in front of him. What if my father awoke and realized we were gone? What if he came looking for us at the lake? It was bad enough to sneak out of the house, but if we were caught naked together, I would probably be killed right then and there, no questions asked. Greg didn?t seem to care one way or the other about getting caught. Matter of face he thought it added to the thrill of sneaking out. Though he did care about whether or not I was killed, so he told me not to worry. He would protect me like always. And though that feeling in my stomach came over me again, I was still riding the fence pretty hard. But when he said, I?m going to strip and you?re chicken if you don?t follow me. That statement was enough to make me jump off that damn fence. That?s how I found myself watching another boy undress under the moonlight for the first time. I was transfixed when he kicked off his shoes. I watched him bend over and take off his socks, and something I didn?t know I had inside came bursting out my mouth in the form of a ragged breath. As he bent over, my eyes were drawn to the tightness of his slacks around his lower body, causing an overload in my very active imagination. He stood upright and turned so he was facing me. A slow grin crossed his face and he began to slowly pull his shirt from his pants. He didn?t rip off his shirt quickly like I normally did in the safety of my room. No, not this blonde cherub, he pulled his shirt up slow, sensuous. He grabbed it from the top and slowly lifted his shirt up his torso. His pale skin seemed to glow in the moonlight and I could see him take every halting breath. Slowly as the shirt moved up to where I could see the pink of his nipples, instantly becoming hard due to the chilly night air. His chest muscles moved under his smooth skin as he finally brought the shirt over his head and casually toss it to the ground atop his socks and shoes. I swear the entire time he looked me right in the eyes as his hands moved ever so slowly to the front of his jeans. With calmness I know I didn?t possess, he undid his belt. His eyes seemed to sparkle as he unfastened the top button of his pants. When my eyes immediately dropped to his crotch, a knowing grin broke out on his face. I remember sneaking looks at him in between watching him undress and he had this crooked grin on his face. Like he was having the time of his life stripping for me. Or maybe it was the time of his life making me uncomfortable. Whatever it was, I took a deep breath when I heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled down. This caused him to laugh out loud, shaking his head in the process. I couldn?t take my eyes off his partially exposed crotch, my body no longer under rational control. When he started pulling his pants down, one of his hands grabbed my shoulder to steady himself as he took one leg out then the other before kicking his pants over to the growing pile of clothes. His touch shot through me like electricity, a gasp escaped my lips. It shot through my body down to the soles of my feet then back up into my brain where it must?ve fried all intelligent thought. I swear by this time, just seeing him in his tightie-whities caused emotions to well up inside me I never knew I possessed. And while I struggled with my growing excitement and thoughts of making god cry, he stood there with that damn knowing smile on his face. It wasn?t a mocking smile or even a teasing smile, it was more like a smile of conquest. Like the game between us was almost over and victory was in his grasp. (later on I would find out he had been carefully orchestrating this encounter, waiting for the perfect situation to make his move) When I found this out, I wish he had done it two months earlier. For a heartbeat, we stared at one another, his hand still on my shoulder and that damn electricity still shooting up and down my body. Finally he spoke, Since you watched me, it?s only fair I get to watch you. I took a deep breath. Not only did I not have the experience, but I didn?t have the courage to return the favor he had done for me. I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my socks in one fluid motion. My shirt was over my head in two seconds flat, no slow striptease for me. If I had gone any slower, I would?ve lost my nerve and probably would?ve ended up running home like the chicken he accused me of being. I undid my pants and kicked them off on top of my now growing pile of clothes, right next to Greg?s. I?m not sure if he enjoyed the show but I rather doubt it. At least I know I?ve since made up for that rather sloppy strip show, several times as a matter of fact. Then he did something I never really understood. He grabbed my clothes and put them together with his pile. And he still had that damn smile on his face. While I, on the other hand, had one hand covering my growing ?evil thing? and the other one covering my chest. (don?t ask, I still don?t know why I did that except this was the first time anyone had seen me in nothing but my underwear besides my parents) I?m sure my face mirrored the emotions running through my fragile mind, I felt so out of place, uncomfortable, turned on, nervous, and maybe a bit sick. He must?ve sensed my fear because he stated softly, We?ll take them off together, at the same time. I breathed deeply and then nodded my head as he counted backwards from five. When he hit one, both of us pulled down our underwear. Immediately two sets of blue eyes became glued to the most private of places a boy can share with another person. I had been ashamed and trying to hide the fact I was erect, but once the underwear came off, I smiled at him shyly. Because much to my surprise, he was in the same state as I except he stood there proudly in his nakedness. I kicked off my underwear as he stepped gracefully out of his. Reaching down, he grabbed both pairs of underwear and placed them together on top of ?our? pile of clothes. (looking back now, it kind of felt like some kind of primitive marriage ceremony, something like by these piles of clothes we do wed or by the joining of these pairs of underwear I now pronounce you married) I know I?m strange, you don?t have to tell me again. Both of us hit the water at the same time. And for a while, we splashed around, dunking one another. You know all the childish ways you would try to make contact without seeming to make contact. But once we started to wrestle, things quickly got out of hand.

Moonlight Will Prevail Part Six By: Jason R. The first time I committed a crime was all Greg?s doing. He dared me to steal a pack of cigarettes from the local gas station, the same one he stole all the booze from. I could never refuse him, no matter what he asked of me. He was there when I first discovered the joy of spray painting cars in the middle of the night, his idea once again. As I look back now, everything I ever did up until I was sixteen was all because of a blonde boy named, Greg. ?Borrowing? the neighbor?s car one Saturday night, so we could stare at the moon at the rock query outside of town was his fault too. Another time he called me chicken. I think he knew I idolized him, and that I was so much putty in his hands. I believe he loved that fact. Don?t get me wrong, I wasn?t some stupid kid he dared to do crazy things. I know for a fact I was the reason he breathed, the driving force that got him out of bed each day, just for the pleasure of staring into my eyes. Fuck, I don?t know how we fooled everyone for so long but when we finally got caught, it was a shock to the entire neighborhood as well as the entire church body. I think a part of my parents died that day. But I?m getting ahead of myself again. Like I said, behind closed doors, we were very different than how we appeared in public. It was exactly two months after we first met that something wonderful happened between us. I had been begging my father and he his, to allow a sleepover at my house after Friday night service. It?s a strong belief in ?our? religion that a child should never go to another?s house to sleep overnight. Something along the lines that no other parent can take care of your child like you, the parent, can. I don?t know how we pulled it, but whatever the reason, they all agreed and the date was set. I remember time passing so slowly that night after church. It felt like years before my father stated it was time to go upstairs and get into bed. It was only ten o-clock, but Greg and I ran upstairs to my bedroom. Since my bed was so small, it had been decided by all that Greg would sleep on the floor at the side of my bed. An arrangement I had been looking forward to though I didn?t fully understand until much later. My father came in to make sure we weren?t doing anything we shouldn?t be, like wrestling or eating smuggled sweets. But we greeted him with innocent smiles and he shut the door, giving us one last word of warning, urging us to go to sleep and behave ourselves. This was an exciting night for me. For the first time I had someone staying over. I was so keyed up and hyper I knew I would never be able to fall asleep though I was accustom to going to bed at such an early hour. Greg, the proverbial night owl, never went to sleep until much later. I never understood how he did it, but he would never go to sleep before 3am each night only to wake up like clockwork at 7am rearing to go for the rest of the day. He did this the entire time I knew him, and he never seemed sleepy. Matter of fact, he had this boundless energy that drove him to always look around the corner. While me on the other hand, needed at least seven hours of sleep to function at any normal level, even to this day. Anything less and I walk around in a daze, my eyes puffy and bloodshot. Why was I so excited Greg was staying over? First, as an only child, I had always wanted a brother. And secondly, I had heard from other kids in school how much fun they had on sleepovers. Greg wasn?t my brother, though he was the closest thing at the time, and I was ready to experience some of this fun I had been hearing about. But lastly and most importantly, by this time, I was in love with Greg and wanted any chance I could get just to be close to him. I was in love with him, though I didn?t truly understand what it meant back then. I knew he made me feel like no one ever had. When I was around him, life just seemed better, and I didn?t think whether or not I was making god angry or sad. Around Greg, I became a kid, a normal average everyday kid. I wanted that feeling to last forever. I remember hanging my head over the edge of the bed, he had placed his makeshift pallet right next to my bed, so that his head and mine were almost touching. We remained like that for hours, whispering softly to each other, laughing and talking about everything. Around eleven-thirty, I heard my father walking down the hallway and I quickly lay down on the pillow and pretended to be asleep. And thanks to my prompting, Greg followed suit and shortly afterwards my father opened the door to make sure his charges were safe and fast asleep. We must?ve fooled him because we heard him walk down the hall and enter his bedroom. We waited for the bedroom door to shut before we resumed our early positions. We talked for another hour in hushed whispers before Greg really began getting restless. Suddenly he sat up, his face inches from mine and asked, You ever sneak out of the house? I couldn?t believe what he was suggesting. Even with my newfound ?rebellious streak?, I had never thought about doing such a daring and risky thing. What, you scared of the dark? He asked, a blank look on his face. I told him I wasn?t, that I just had this fear of dark places in the great outdoors. And that I was greatly afraid of my parent?s wrath and the punishment I would receive if we got caught sneaking out. Can you guess what that bastard did? He called me a chicken. So somehow I found myself getting dressed in the darkness and opening my bedroom window. (because he had informed me that we had to sneak out through the window, that it was a rule or something like that) He told me that he had done it many times before at his house and that running around in the dark was kind of exciting. (later on I would find out this was his first time sneaking out as well, claiming I made him reckless and it was really all my fault for the things we did together) I?ll let you decide who?s telling the truth. Who are you going to believe anyway, him or me?

Moonlight Will Prevail Part Five By: Jason R. I had heard the word ?fuck? before at school, but had never heard that word uttered in my house much less inside the sanctity of my room. I was shocked at his blatant rebellion for everything ?our? religion stood for. And yet, at the same time, I was intrigued by his knowledge of all things carnal. Maybe this was my savior. Maybe he could show me all the things I wanted to know. Though I thought these things in my mind, I still looked around the room nervously, making sure no one had heard him swear. I was extremely scared that if my father had heard him utter that word, I would lose my new friend, my maybe savior, forever. When he saw me looking around the room, he began to laugh. I can remember that laugh so vividly. It was a laugh full of mischief, and very infectious. Not like the whole body laugh where the body shakes uncontrollably and it wasn?t a quiet laugh either. More like a laugh from the depths of the soul. Like he had found some kind of inner happiness and nothing could ever take it away. So I was nervous when he stopped laughing and asked me in a serious tone. Have you ever said that before? I replied, ?I could never say that word, I don?t want to make god mad at me.? (yes, I really was that innocent once upon a time) Do you know what he did, he laughed at me again, that bastard. I was more than a bit hurt by his laughter, and yet on the other hand, I wished I could be so reckless with my mortal soul. He teased me for awhile, calling me chicken. (one thing about me, and to this very day, I don?t like being called chicken) I told him I wasn?t scared but I wouldn?t say a word I didn?t know the meaning of. I had this smug look on my face, since I knew there was no way in the world this kid could know the definition to such an ?evil? word. I was sure he was only saying it because he knew it was a word kid?s shouldn?t say. Damn, was I wrong about that. I know my face turned every shade of red when he began describing in great detail, just what that word meant. I know I was squirming in my shoes, and that my soul was forever tainted at what I learned that day. But when he began to show me what it meant by using my bed as a prop, I lost it completely. I started yelling for him to stop desecrating my bed, and that he was the devil's child and that I never wanted to see him again. Do you know what he did as I was yelling at him, he laughed all the harder. I put my hands on my hips and demanded to know the reason he was laughing at me. Because you?re stupid and it feels good to laugh at you. He kept saying that word over and over again, FUCK. I put my hands over my ears to block out the sound of that dirty word. Now remember, I was still feeling guilty about my own brush with sin a few days earlier. And it?s easier to forget my mistakes if I can condemn him for his. I find this is a typical reaction of the religious zealots that populate our society. Then he asked me the one question that shut me up and caused my soul to freeze. Have you ever even jacked off? The look of confusion on my face must have been hilarious because it sent him into fits of laughter. And when he realized I had no idea what ?jacking off? was, caused him to laugh even harder if that was possible. After he regained control of himself, he began to describe what ?jacking off? meant, going as far as mimicking the motions right in front of me. I guess he could tell by the embarrassed look in my eyes that I knew exactly what he was talking about. You?ve done it. He accused, taunting me as he bounced up and down on my small bed. Then he looked at me, his eyes sparkling, and dropped the second bombshell on my life. Did you enjoy it? I think the hardest thing I ever did in my twenty-two years of living was to answer that question. My mind was telling me to deny it, but my recently awakened libido was screaming for me to admit that not only have I done it but had thought about nothing else since. Like a huge match of tug-o-war, my religious side was warring with my carnal side. Needless to say, my carnal side kicked the shit out of my religious side. I think in that one moment, with that one question, all hopes of me following in my father?s footsteps went out the proverbial window. That question started an adventure I?m still on to this day. Some would say I?m trying to justify my lust with logic. Others would say I?m blaming my promiscuity on a sense of adventure, and the admittance to a fourteen-year-old boy I enjoyed jacking off. Hell, both might be true. I do have an appetite for sex, and the pleasure of new experiences. Which is why I have tried sex with both males and females. Call it what you will, but I have to blame it on something, right? I remember hanging my head down in shame as the words came out of my mouth. ?Yes, I did it, and it was like nothing I ever felt before.? My head shot up as he said, You know it?s normal for teenagers to do it. My teacher said there?s nothing wrong by doing it. It?s actually healthy for boys to do it. He further admitted that he had been doing it at least twice a day for a few years now. I asked, ?Did it always feel the same way each time you do it?? How was I to know, it could have been a one-time thing? That night I learned about fantasies. I learned you could think about other people touching you while you pleasure yourself. I?ve always had an active imagination. So what if I put it to good use that night after Greg?s family left. This is the tricky part, up to then and for some time to come, I knew nothing about girls. So my fantasy that night used the only template I had at my disposal. That night I masturbated thinking about Greg. I?ve had lots of arguments with other gays about whether it?s a choice or if you?re born a certain way. Honestly, I don?t know the answer to that question. My thoughts marry the two ideas together. Some are just born that way while others have it thrust upon them by society. I don?t want to argue or start a discussion with anyone. Can?t we all just get along? See another choice. Up until that night, I was a complete sexual non-entity. I was attracted to neither sex, hence, I made a choice of what I was attracted too. And when I have felt that same attraction to a particular girl, I?ve had sex with her. I?m not bi-sexual, and I?m not heterosexual, nor would I call myself homosexual. I look at myself as a sexual being who enjoys the act of consenting sex between adults. Most of the time I?ve chosen males, kind of a remembrance of my first love so to speak. Where was I? Oh yeah, I started discovering my inner pleasures that night thinking about my new friend, Greg. As the weeks and months went by, Greg and I became close friends. Both of our families like the idea of us hanging out together. Because at that time, we both acted like good little Christian boys in public. But behind closed doors, that was another matter all together. Greg was my first in so many different ways. Not only my first sexual encounter but also my first time skinny-dipping. I remember choking my lungs out the first time we tried smoking a cigarette out behind the fence of my backyard. I was petrified my father would smell the smoke all the way inside the house or hear us coughing and come outside and catch us. I can still taste the puke I threw up the first time we got drunk on a bottle of Jack Daniels Greg stole from the local convenient store. It was horrible, and I vowed to never drink again. Though I broke the promise the very next weekend on a church camp out. This time it was a bottle of vodka, and I thought it might not make me sick like Jack Daniels. Again, I was wrong.

Moonlight Will Prevail Part Four By: Jason R. From the moment I walked into the church, a feeling of dread came over me. How could I pray and worship god with this horrible secret hanging over my head? At that time, I wanted so desperately to be a good little Christian boy, and wished with every fiber of my soul that I could somehow take back that dreadful deed. But as the service progressed and still nothing happened to me, I began to look around at the other people in the congregation. Not a single person was looking at me funny. If they noticed me at all, they smiled and waved at me. I couldn?t believe it. They didn?t know. No one knew. And that revelation rocked my senses. As I looked at the other children I began to notice their faces, maybe for the first time. They looked how I must have looked just three days earlier. They were staring intently at the minister as he spoke of the evils of drinking and carousing, and they were eating it up. Have you ever seen an eight-year-old child completely enraptured by a message of sobriety? Believe me, it?s not a pretty sight. As I looked at them, a wave of confusion came over me. Were they somehow better than I was? Did my evil act segregate me from the other faithful? Was that the reason I couldn?t keep my attention on the sermon or the man speaking? I started squirming around in my seat. Which only caused my father to smack me and command me to pay attention. I tried to listen, I promise I did. But I noticed a boy on the opposite side of the church a few rows back from where I sat. I had never seen him at church before. I concluded this must have been their first visit. Later on I found out they had just moved into town and were happy to find a church that taught like they believed. And what a good influence the church and its members would have on their son. Boy, were they wrong about that. He was staring at the ceiling with this bored expression on his face. I wondered why he wasn?t behaving like the other children. Did he touch himself too? Was that the reason he wasn?t paying attention to the sermon? I didn?t know the answer but something inside of me told me I had?must find out. The service seemed to drag on for days but finally the minister dismissed us and I told my father I had to use the restroom. But that was a lie, my eyes were on the boy as he walked out of the church to stand on the sidewalk in front of the building. I followed him and watched as he leaned against one of the trees. He stood there, staring up at the star filled sky seemingly lost in his own little world. I studied him for a few moments. Was he as evil as I? Could this be the one person I could relate to after my brush with carnal knowledge? I hoped so, I felt like I needed some answers and needed them fast. He was this fascinating blonde that had the most unusual eyes I had ever seen or have seen since. They were blue like mine but his held a light?a fire that burned with such intensity that I felt immediately drawn like a moth to a flame. I remember thinking if I was going to burn, I was more than happy to be burned by him. He was shorter than I was but one year older. His body, though more muscular than my slimmer build, but he still had that layer of baby fat that anyone with half a brain could see he would grow out of it. He was dressed in a suit, just as I was, but the way he wore it suggested he would rather be in a pair of shorts and nothing else. His tie, which would always be this way for the rest of the time I knew him, was crooked. Like he was constantly trying to rid himself of it. And his short blonde hair looked like someone had tried to comb it, but had given up half way through. I couldn?t explain it or recognize it, but it was so intense my normally shy personality flew out the window and I walked over to him and asked him his name. I remember the way he looked at me after I asked my question. He took a long look, up and down my body for a few seconds, saying nothing. His gaze caused me to shift uncomfortably, like he was eyeing up a horse he was interested in purchasing. I was half surprised he didn?t make me open my mouth and show him my teeth. (though I would have just to have him near me) It was a judging gaze, gauging how to react to my forwardness or maybe to see what kind of miniature Christian I was. But after a few seconds, he spoke. My name's Greg. I could tell he really wasn?t interested in speaking to me but that didn?t stop me from firing questions at him in rapid succession. When I?m nervous, I tend to speak constantly. You can?t shut me up and I babble about anything and everything that pops into my mind. And boy was I babbling. To all my stupid questions, he would reply with the minimal amount of words required without ever asking a single question of his own. He never offered information about himself, seemingly content to half ignore me. I babbled on for a few minutes until his parents walked outside. I guess he didn?t have many friends or maybe never because they seemed to be deliriously happy that he and I were speaking. If you could call what Greg and I were doing speaking together. His parents asked all the questions Greg should have been asking. Like my name, where I lived, who my parents were, what school I attended, and if it was any good. They kept firing questions at me until my parents walked outside. My parents, in finding out I had made a friend of a boy that attended our church, which automatically labeled Greg as a ?good boy?, quickly invited this new family over to our house for dinner. That is how Greg and I found ourselves alone in my room the following Saturday night. He wasn?t the best talker at first. He was shy around those he didn?t know and wasn?t one to speak very often. Though later on I couldn?t shut him up when it was just the two of us. But I?m getting ahead of the story again aren?t I. Considering ?our? religion was more than strict, and there weren?t that many ?safe? toys to play with back then, we had nothing to do. So we sat there on my bed, staring at one another for the longest time. Even with someone as patient as Greg was, he finally got bored enough to ask me in a quiet voice what I did for fun. I had found out earlier that night that his parents had only recently found this religion. He had to give up all his toys, his friends, his video games, his TV, and other assorted activities that were so foreign to me. And he wasn?t taking the change well. My hopes of him being like me were dashed upon hearing this. Much like a small skiff dashed on the rocks in the middle of a storm. He wasn?t sinful like me, he didn?t touch himself in bad ways late at night. He didn?t have the answers I so desperately needed. Once again a feeling of panic washed over me. Most of the things he talked about, with regret in his voice, I only had small clues as to what they were but I knew I envied his experience. He had played sports, football, baseball, and soccer in his last school before the ?conversion?. I felt so sorry for him. The look on his face is one I will always remember, when he confided in me in a quiet voice. I?m not allowed to play sports anymore because of this fucking religion.

I Devise my own Demise Conclusion By: Jason R. Violently he grabbed my arms And twisted them tightly behind my back With a hellish look in his emerald eyes He clenched up his fist and attacked Fingers laced with rings he beat me hard From my shoulders to my feet The metal sliced right through my olive skin Just like razors through a sheet Countless times my blood splattered As each inhuman blow was given From the memory of lies that mattered He smiled as my nose was torn to ribbons Much to his surprise I turned my head Though the words I used were few His face turned brighter shades of red When I shouted out, ?Fuck you.? Uncaringly he tossed me against the wall And kicked my weakened form And my blood pressure fell deathly low Yet I could hear the sirens swarm My face he punched and smacked Forcing me to my knees I fell to the floor when he kicked me in the back Through lack of sleep and inebriation My eyes began to swell And weakened by my loss of blood This liar?addict fell And when I did my blood splattered On the boy and on his shoe And as he bent to wipe it off I spat out, ?Fuck you.? Then he took a knife from the sink And jabbed it into my arm He opened the door and threw me out I realized this boy had caused me harm Lying there in agony and torment My body convulsed with pain I tilted my face towards the stars Slipping towards the insane In a moment of clarity I finally knew The price for all the hate I had carried Before that time or since I made a statement that to this day Caused the boy I once loved to wince I said, ?I?ll never love you now no matter what you do.? And as I blacked out and slipped into darkness The last words he heard was, ?John, fuck you.?

Moonlight Will Prevail Part Three By Jason R. Who can explain the first time a male masturbates? Who can describe the feeling of ecstasy one gets at the slightest touch on the male penis? I know I could never describe it but the feeling has never been as strong since that first time lying naked in bed. Not even after my many sexual encounters and my desire to learn new things, I have never felt that feeling again. I guess in a way, I?m still searching for that level of awakening. In a weird way, it?s the reason I?m writing this now. But I?ll get into that soon enough. For a few minutes or maybe hours, I would rub one finger against my ?evil thing?, reveling in the feelings I received. And just as every boy learns eventually, I began using more fingers and in no time I had begun a gliding motion up and down. No one teaches a boy how to masturbate, that?s obvious in the many different techniques I have observed in the various partners I?ve had over the years. But the gist of it, the end result, is always the same. As I played with my ?evil thing?, I began to notice each time my finger brushed against this one certain spot, right below the head, a shiver would shoot down my back. I don?t have to say this but I will, I enjoyed this immensely. So naturally I began to focus all my attention on that one area. It wasn?t long before I had wrapped my entire fist around my ?evil thing? and slowly began to develop the technique I would use for the rest of my life. That first orgasm didn?t take me long to achieve. I remember letting a groan escape my lips and my entire body convulsing as the release raptured my being, spilling out my seed on my heaving stomach. (I remember disregarding the seed on my stomach. I knew what it was, by that age I knew where babies came from and how they were made.) I?m amazed by what my parents considered good teachings and what they considered bad teachings. My breath came in gasps, and I realized I was still quite hot. I had sweat above my upper lip and my hair was damp from the exertion of my hand. But I felt satisfied. And in a weird way, I had taken the first steps towards my awakening free will. Steps that would set the tone for the rest of my life. Can I really place this much awakening on a single orgasm? At that time, I learned there was something other than religion that could give you satisfaction. I know it?s satisfaction in two distinct different ways, but it was satisfaction none the less. My parents had told me that my ?evil thing? was the downfall of humanity and that nothing good would ever come from it until I was safely married. That was the day I first found out they had lied to me. A lot had come from my ?evil thing?, and for the first time in my life, I begun to question what they had taught me. I?m not saying that next day I didn?t feel guilty about what I had done. But I didn?t tell my father either. That was my first experience that I had kept from my father. And though there has been many since that night, masturbating was the first thing I kept from my parents. (so dad, in a way you were right, my ?evil thing? really was the reason I stopped believing in your god, but only in a way) The next morning, over breakfast, I was petrified that my father would know I had played with my ?evil thing?. He had drilled into my head that god saw and knew everything we did on earth. And I was expecting to hear that god told my father about what I had done the night before and that I would be burning in hell forever for making god cry. And yet, all through breakfast, my father sat there telling jokes as he enjoyed his morning coffee, laughing with my mother like he didn?t have a care in the world. And then my overactive imagination took over. I began to believe that my father was making me suffer, and that he would yell at me after my conscience had wrecked havoc on my tortured psyche. It was the longest day of my life. All day I was jittery and nervous. I just knew my father was hiding behind every corner, ready to jump out at any moment and accuse me of my sinful act. But it never happened. After that long horrifying day, I swore I would never do it again. I had learned my lesson. I even went as far as to wear pants to bed with a belt tightly fastened to make sure I could never touch my ?evil thing? again, not even in my sleep. I must have sweated buckets in those following few days after I touched myself. My mother kept asking me why my sheets were so wet every morning. (try explaining the rational behind that freakish behavior to your mother) My father actually spanked me on the third day after I touched myself because he thought I must have wetted the bed during the night my sheets were so soaked. Couldn?t he understand I was trying to stop my ?evil thing? from sending me to hell? But after a few days with ?nothing? bad happening, I began to calm down. I thought I must?ve gotten away with it and I felt as long as I never did it again, that god would forgive me and let it slide just this once. He was supposedly a loving and forgiving god, right? But then church night came and once again, I was petrified out of my mind. At that age, it was the first time in my short life I really didn?t want to go to church. I had convinced myself that god had told the minister about what I horrible sinner I was and he would stand up in front of the congregation and explain how I touched my ?evil thing? until my seed came out. (I know I was a bit strange, but I had every right to be strange, I had a strange childhood, what?s your excuse?)

Moonlight Will Prevail Part Two By: Jason R. What is this forbidden fruit I discovered? I hear you ask with a hint of anger in your voice by my lack of explanation. So I?ll tell you. I discovered I had a free will. And I did the unthinkable in our religion, well any religion for that matter; I began to think for myself. And I decided to explore this newfound gift I discovered. I began exercising free will like a boy with a never-ending back account. I thought about whatever I wanted to think about, not the ?safe? subjects they outlined for me and drilled into my head. I thought outside of the box. I thought about all the hate that surrounded my life. The hatred that consumed my parents and I didn?t want to end up hating everything and everyone like they somehow managed to do. I thought about all the choices I could make, and all the different roads I could walk. Heavy thinking for a twelve-year-old you might say. But I was the only child of a father with an IQ of 174. Let?s just say I was taught from an early age the beauty of learning. This was a man who grew up during the sixties and all the paranoia that went with that decade. He taught me to think independently, and never to rely on what others taught. I was being taught by my father from the moment I awoke to the time I went to bed. It wasn?t just religious subjects he drilled into my head. Though I must admit that took a huge chunk of my day. But he taught me the classics. And I developed a love of reading and a thirst for knowledge at an early age. I know my father was trying to make sure I would not be swayed from my religious brainwashing by the ?worldly? teachings of public school. He knew that peer pressure overwhelms millions of students each year, and wanted to make sure I would never fall into that trap. (independent thinking, can you see how that might backfire with anyone with an IQ higher than 92) I was a good kid in my fathers eyes as long as I listened and followed whatever my parents or minister instructed for me to do. But when I began to question their words or deeds, I was branded a rebellious teen and punished accordingly. I ask you, how can you teach a child to be wary of what others teach and expect them to never question what they have been taught by you? I remember my father saying long ago, that he was a horrible father because he taught me independence. Thankfully, it was a lesson I learned well. But back to what I was trying to say earlier. I discovered my free will. And with that realization, I knew I could choose whichever path I wanted to take. I could choose what kind of person I would become. I could choose what religion I would practice. I could choose which sex I would sleep with. You had to know I was going to go there eventually, didn?t you? I have since found out that suppressing people?s mind is never the proper procedure for a well-adjusted adult. If you tell someone ?no? enough times, sooner or later they will do ?it? just to see what the fuss is all about. Well, at least that?s what I did. From the time I could understand English, I was told that sex before marriage was sinful. And if I ever dared attempt premarital sex, I would be hurting god. Do you have any idea what that does to your libido? Every single time I got an erection, I had this picture of god crying. It?s hard to have sex with god crying over your shoulder, believe me, I know. To this day, there are still times when in the middle of sex, I get a picture of an old wizened bearded god crying as he watches from on high. I missed out on so many years of intimate relations with my left hand because of the powerful fear of making god cry. All it took was a free will and suddenly my hand is one of my favorite partners. What? You know you do it to. I can remember so vividly, the first time I actually masturbated. It?s funny now, but at the time, I was so scared that god would send an angel down from heaven and punish me for wasting my seed. It was late at night, I?m guessing around four in the morning. It was summer, that nasty August humid summer night that makes sleep without air conditioning impossible. (we weren?t allowed to buy an air-conditioner for our house based on the belief that if god would have wanted us to be cooler than he wouldn?t have made the sun so hot) That?s right, I was speaking of masturbation. I was lying there in my small twin bed, naked, all the sheets thrown on the floor in my perpetual quest for coolness. My bed was so small; I didn?t have the small luxury of finding the cold spot on the bed. I had to lay there on my back, trying to fall asleep with that sickly sweaty feeling all over my body. I?m not sure what I was thinking about, but I started the innocent rubbing of my chest and stomach area. I found out quickly that if I lightly rubbed my body, using just my fingertips, I would receive a chill for a brief moment. To say my youthful curiosity was peaked would be pretty much redundant. I slowly ran my hand over my nipples, my body shivering at the feather like touch. With just one finger, I began to rub my left nipple ever so gently, alternating the direction every few seconds. As I now know, if I wanted to cool myself off, this wasn?t the best way to go about it. But back then, I was touching my body in a way I had never done before and I was enjoying the new sensations. As dirty as it might have been for me mentally. For the first time, I actually thought about my thirteen-year-old body. I was slim, even for a thirteen-year-old. I had been taught from birth that god hated obesity and was kept on a strict diet by my father. Which is the reason I was always the best-conditioned boy in my school. I exercised every day with my father for two hours. We would run two miles every day, then do sit-ups, push-ups, crunches, and all other sort of exercises that most adults, much less other thirteen-year-olds, didn?t even know existed. And of course, our daily workout offered my father the opportunity to continue his brainwashing. Where was I? Oh yeah, I was lying naked in bed, a big taboo in our house. You know, nakedness being a sign of the unclean as well as a sign of those that had unlawful carnal knowledge. (I wonder if my parents have seen one another naked even after so many years of marriage) Yet here I was, naked, and doing the unspeakable. I was touching myself and for the first time, I was lost in the euphoria of male sexuality. My flat stomach had sunk well below my ribs as I lay on my back. And each time I took a breath it sunk even lower. (to this day, I still lay on my back and stare at my stomach as I breathe. It never ceases to amaze me at the illusion of my stomach and guts disappearing into my body somehow) As I rubbed my chest and nipples with one hand, my other hand began stroking my upper, inner thigh. By this time, I had noticed my ?evil thing? between my legs was fully, painfully hard and sticking straight up in the air. And I swear, this isn?t just denial talking, up until this night I speak of, that very moment, I had barely touched my ?evil thing? unless I was washing it or putting it back inside my underwear after relieving myself. I had been told repeatedly that it was a sin to touch or play with it at anytime. I had been spanked because one day my mother saw me scratching myself in public. Quite accidentally, while I was rubbing my upper, inner thigh, my pinky finger brushed my ?evil thing? for one brief moment. This sensation shot through to the very core of my body, a torrent that washed over me, drowning all thoughts of a supposed crying god. Not only did I get the chills I was trying to create, but I also received pleasure that shot up from my toes and directly to the nipple I was massaging at the time. Needless to say, I brushed against my ?evil thing? again, quickly.

I Devise my own Demise Part Four By: Jason R. Maybe it was the madness that I let reign Maybe it was the innocence I lost when I came Maybe it was the feelings sucked through the drain Maybe it was the heartache of love quite insane Maybe it was the ocean that gave me these tears Maybe it was the moonlight so far yet so near Maybe it was the sunshine that stripped all the gears Maybe it was the lust that banished all fears Maybe it was the moment of something masculine Maybe it was the desire for life more feminine Maybe it was the illusion of one true friend Maybe it was the past repeating all over again Maybe it was the fear of us saying goodbye Maybe it was the self-destructing gleam in your eye Maybe it was the sameness I heard in your lies Maybe it was the tears that fell as you cry Maybe it was the highs that together we achieve Maybe it was the mountain resting on your sleeve Maybe it was the promise that you?d never leave Maybe it was the connection we had as we grieve Maybe it was the motion of standing in this place Maybe it was the refusal to grant emotional space Maybe it was the past neither of us could erase Maybe it was the searching to let love replace

Moonlight Will Prevail Part One By: Jason R. I guess I?m just like everyone else, I have good days and I have bad days. I cry through the bad days and laugh through the good ones. Most days I just exist. But then there are some days, I don?t know if I can take it anymore. You know those days. That day when your favorite cousin tells you his child, the one the doctors said they could never have, has a greater than average chance of being born retarded. That day when you realize that your cousin and his wife do not believe in abortion. That day when your heart seems like its going to burst from the sadness that encompasses your life. It never ceases to amaze even a skeptic like myself that the human will and the human mind can endure such pain and hardship. Any other species would have given up on life long before suffering the amount of torment that most humans deal with on a daily basis. That?s the magical word isn?t it? The human will. We all secretly laugh off life?s little misfortunes. We claim allegiance to one form of god or another. Even going as far as offering empty platitudes to those that have suffered a loss. We pretend, as a society, that we?re happy for those who pass, saying, ?He was in so much pain, he?s better off with the angels.? But isn?t that just a lie? I?m not saying we aren?t happy. I?m saying we?re happy for a completely different reason then we show the world. Aren?t we really ?happy? it?s not us lying in that expensive wooden box with brass covered handles? Isn?t that why we have the party after the funeral? Not to remember the loved one but to express thanks to whichever god we serve that we made it another day. We spend a few horrid hours pretending to feel sorrow by eating and drinking, whispering in small circles, telling all the sordid details of that person?s life. Thankful, deep down inside, that we have given death the old heave-ho once again. Unfortunately, to many of us humans feel that way. Maybe it?s something the collective society breeds into our heads from an early age. Maybe it?s the influence of pop culture that teaches us this manner of mourning? We?ve all seen the movies. You attend the wake, get drunk out of your mind, and talk about that person in quiet revered tones. Well, I think its all bullshit. And luckily, I learned what it?s really about. And I learned it from the most unlikely of places. I was raised in a strict religious household. We attended church four times a week. Yes, I said four. Once on Sunday morning for Sunday school, once for Sunday evening services to make sure we all remembered to give money to the church. Once on Wednesday, to drive home the fact that church was the center of the universe and once on Friday, to keep the parents out of the bars and keep the children brainwashed. It wasn?t the best way to become popular at school let me tell you. Looking back it?s quite ironic that I was one of the most popular students in my High School. I didn?t say I was well liked, I simply said everyone student in that school knew who I was. For good or for ill, I was famous. We had lots of rules growing up in my household. I won?t take the time to list them all since I wouldn?t want to bore you any further that I already have. But since most of the sports all took place on Friday nights, my father, deemed it blasphemy for any child to attend or play sports. To me, it seemed the church was more concerned with the loss of revenue if all the parents skipped service to attend their kid?s game. Do I sound bitter? Because I am. I had twelve years of torture and abuse from the other students because I never wore the proper clothing. No jeans for me, nope, I was lucky. I got to wear a suit every day to school. And don?t think for a moment I attended an exclusive private school, I know some of you were headed into that direction. I went to a normal everyday High School in Menlo Park California. If only Menlo Park had a Christian school back then, but also it did not. Years later my parents would blame the public school for all the ?trouble? I got myself into. Or they would blame my Uncle Malcolm, saying he had been nothing but a bad influence on my young fragile mind. (my uncle believed in free will and taught me to follow my dreams no matter what the world threw at me) Just thinking back on my childhood makes my blood boil, and brings an unquenchable rage rising to the surface from the core of my being. Should I hate my parents for raising me in this manner? I did, for years I hated them. Hatred so strong my anger consumed me until the very thought of my parents had me fantasizing about the horrific deaths I could inflict upon them. I didn?t want to be different. I wanted to be just like ?Billy? or ?Tommy? or countless other little boys that did all the things I could never do. Yet, little did I know that my quest for normalcy or to be the same as everyone else, would take me down a road seldom traveled by ?normal people?. I look back and smile at life?s little irony. I have to admit I bought into the ?whole god thing? pretty much hook-line-and-sinker. Until the tender age of thirteen, I said my prayers each night. All I wanted to do was save the ?sinners? from their evilness, and their inevitable descent into hell. This attitude never helped my already legendary image at school, no one likes a ?bible thumper?, especially a twelve-year-old one at that. What happened to change me you ask? I discovered the forbidden fruit. I discovered, which to the day my father died refused to admit or talk about. (when asked of my parents what happened to their only son I?ve heard they reply by saying I died in a horrible car accident) Nice parents huh? But don?t get mad at them, hate the disease not the person. That makes me laugh, my father always quoted that while I was growing up. I guess it?s a saying of, do as I say not as I do kind of thing. Oh fuck, he was wrong. I did listen when I was a child. Too bad he never followed his own advice. Not only did he hate the disease but he also hated me as well, and was convinced to the day he died that I was going to hell. I know, I say this with such casualness. But you must look at it from my point of view, I don?t believe in hell. To Be Continued

I Devise my own Demise Part Three By: Jason R. It?s like I temporarily lost my mind It?s true what they say infatuation is blind But as I watched you walk back into my life Little did I know we would end in strife But as we talked amongst the stars Like a complicated dance, two fighters that spar The truth never entered into our conversation Sex was the prize and intended manipulation As we flirted and talked late into the night Vodka and cigarettes under moonlight My intent was to charm and seduce a straight boy For you I was a living, breathing sex toy You were the beginning of love I can?t escape Your eyes the anchor, the pathway to hate Drama surrounds us as we chase the extremes Loving you was like living in a dream For I was young and filled with passion You were a whore and laughed at my reaction Even though inside your embrace I felt warm It was the eye of a hurricane, stillness before the storm

I Devise my Own Demise Part Two By: Jason R. It?s a rainy evening and I feel so fine Because you?re in my heart and inside my mind I think I?m falling into love with you Kiss and flirt a little, I know you feel it too In the moonlight, as the rain it falls We can last forever, tear down the walls Do not question it, just go with the flow In my water garden, reap the things we sow Heartbeats pounding faster, as we embrace Our bodies shift in motion, I like the way you taste I know the way you feel, much like getting high Painted orange and red, into an unknown sky I?ve got this burning feeling, ain?t no false alarm I?m content beside you, wrapped up in your arms And when the sun is shining, there is no more rain I?m a brand new creature, happiness instead of pain On my bed of roses, rest your head awhile I?ll kiss you so sweetly, get lost in your smile Every waking moment I will give to you I want to spend my life getting off on you

Graeme, I had read both pieces a few months ago and enjoyed the oblivion of the father. But when I listened to you read the piece, the amusement in your voice as you read the piece added so many levels of enjoyment. I picture the father to be somewhat out of touch or maybe in denial but good hearted and filled with love. By the way, you sound a lot like my Executive Chef. His voice sounds sexy too. Jason R.

I knew a Dan once, you know, in the biblical sense. Oddly enough, I too was drunk at the time. I wonder what it is with boys named Dan? Jason R.

I Devise my Own Demise Part One By: Jason R. I remember that first day we met I was sitting on the porch A cigarette dangling from my mouth A Molson Canadian in my hand You were there with your friend A female and an attractive one I thought what a waste You were silent as she spoke to me Inquiring about the room for rent But I only had eyes for you You made my pulse quicken My thoughts scattered like the wind From your intense emerald gaze An instant connection we shared I sent her inside to speak to the landlord You remained outside with me You asked for a cigarette Though you claimed you were trying to quit A small wicker bench You sat down beside me Our legs touching?electric As we talked and smoked in the sun I became fascinated by your lips Or perhaps your entire mouth And each time you laughed A sound so infectious You drew me in with fits of giggles It was instant between us For over an hour we sat on that porch Comfortable like two old friends chatting Yet all to soon it was time for you to go For you lived in Pittsburgh And I lived in Harrisburg So we said a sad goodbye And I watched you walk away I thought I would never see you again Such sadness from a random encounter How gay was I sitting there Watching the most interesting guy walk away Without asking for a phone number And email address or anything I only knew your name?John

I love the title. I wish I would have thought of it first.

Stay True to the Dreams of Your Youth He rose again from his shadow to contemplate the decision before him. The sun was descending into the west, and he felt it exploding him from behind. A few feet from where his eyes rested upon his young face stood two signs. One sign pointed down a road where a car awaited to take him into the womb of certainty, should he choose that path. The other sign pointed towards a narrow trail that disappeared into a lush forest. He looked at the sign pointing at the car. Upon it, in big, black gleaming letters was the word CERTAINTY?10 miles. Underneath this word written a bit smaller, it read, ACCEPTENCE and SECURITY. He stared at the sign for a moment before shifting his gaze to the other. This sign was older looking and the words were a bit faded?it read: UNCERTAINTY?miles unknown. Underneath, like the other sign, were two words: RISK and FREEDOM. The boy became confused and distraught once again as his eyes began to swell with water. Most of his life he had been told that this day would come. They had all said for him to prepare himself and he now knew that this would be the biggest decision he would ever make. A resolution that would decide his life course. Those close assured him it would ultimately be his decision; but at the same time he felt the urge to get into the car, which would lead him to certainty. They had all been where he was now, and they would convince him that getting into the car would be the safest way to live his life. Most of them had chosen the path of certainty. They had all sat down in the comfort of the car, and like most before had all ended up secure and accepted. But were they happy? Were their hearts singing everyday when they awoke? The boy thought about this as he turned to let the setting sun dry his face. He watched the beautiful merging of the sun and ocean. The sight seemed to return a calmness that had been absent from his soul. He breathed deep, longing for the rays of light to enter his body, to maybe melt away his emotions. Then, after a while he closed his eyes and slowly turned to face the inevitable. The boy retracted his eyelids to let all perception enter. He glared at the first sign, trying to dismantle the words until they were naked, revealing their true meaning. CERTAINTY. ACCEPTANCE. SECURITY. He couldn?t figure out, why most of the world was obsessed with obtaining these things, why most deemed this path the safest for one?s life. He shifted his eyes to the other sign, looking deep into the words. UNCERTAINTY. RISK. FREEDOM. He repeated the words over and over as he read them. Then, slowly but suddenly, quietly but urgently, the revelation crawled into his head and rest upon his brain. The boy quickly looked up, beyond the sign to the trail disappearing into the lush green canopy. Then he glanced at the car. He felt his heart begin to beat harder. He looked back to the trail and the beautiful forest, which eventually enveloped it. The boy watched as a bird took flight from one tree to another. He noticed a squirrel run down the base of a tree and then disappear under a bush. He realized that animals are not concerned with security or acceptance. They are content with being who they are, and they are satisfied with what they have. His breath quickened as he looked back to the car and the looming city beyond. He pondered all the people scurrying around in the shadows of those towering buildings. He wondered if they were content with being who they were. He wondered if they were satisfied with the path they had chosen. The boy concluded that maybe some were, but most were trying to fill the void where their childhood hearts once sang. Most were trying to get somewhere the car would not take them because in this life, nothing is certain. He felt a wonderful burning in the center of his chest, as he finally turned his back to the car forever. As he moved to the head of the uncertain trail, he glanced at the sign, which pointed to it. A subtle smile crept across his face. For now he knew what the sign meant. The boy stood before the path of uncertainty, held his head high, and said these words aloud, ?This is the route for my life. I know because my heart has shown me the way. This passage will not be an easy one. There will be numerous obstacles blocking my way and many challenges to overcome; but by doing so I know that I will learn and grow from every experience, pleasant or unpleasant. I understand that by taking this uncertain path, I may risk acceptance and security, and at times life might be filled with suffering; but if the risk is taken out of life, then there will be no true living. Through the risk of the life I?m choosing, ultimately I will be free.? Tears of joy began to gather in the boy?s eyes as he took to the path of uncertainty, because he knew he was following his heart, and his heart had told him to stay true to the dreams of his youth. Just before the boy was consumed by the thicket of trees, he looked back over his shoulder to where the car was. He began laughing and singing lovely songs of freedom because the car had vanished.

In Absence of Reason Maybe Maybe we should get away Maybe we should cross these tracks Maybe we should leave and never look back There is a car we drive that?s stuck in second gear Despite ambitious plans we can never get away from here We waste our time and get no where We end up lost and we don?t really care There is a thought we have that?s never acted on We want to save the world and then the thought is gone We get so far but quit too soon We end up drunk howling at the moon We?re wasting our precious time and praying in vain And making the same mistakes again and again and again Maybe we should get away Maybe we should cross these tracks Maybe we should leave and never look back Satisfied Marcus doesn?t understand anything about this world He?s wasted most of childhood trying to be a man he lost to a boy He wanted to be all grown up in everything he did Now he waste?s his adulthood wishing he was still a kid Marcus likes to laugh a lot so everyone around him knows he?s having fun He?s fashionably late for dates and likes to keep his boyfriends on the run He likes to be the center of attention He loves it when you stop and stare He says he?s suffering from beauty and bad karma He loves to hate the fact that his life is just one long drama He?ll never be satisfied no matter how hard he tries He?ll never be satisfied till the day he dies M.L.G. Mother?s little genius is different from the other boys and girls She makes him stay home where he plays all alone in his closeted genius way And after so many years of seclusion being twisted and doted upon He started to feel like this world wasn?t real that he might be the chosen one Mother?s little genius is a self-serving son of a bitch Who?s emotionally bankrupt and addicted to Playboy And in love with himself and his satellite dish Mother?s little genius believed every word mother said A whole lot of praise through each genius phase has engraved itself inside his head And after so many years of umbilical chord he?s finally gonna be free But it looks like he?s losing because the worlds not the way mother promised it would be Shame My neighbor didn?t want to pay his taxes So he had to go away against his will Now he?s staying in the upstate penitentiary And a tax man sending you and I the bill Don?t you think it?s kind of crazy could someone possibly explain My cousin doesn?t vote because he doesn?t want to He says the world is too wicked and unfair So he sits at home conspiring against the government Embittered because they don?t know that he?s there He?s got paranoid delusions he thinks he?s under too much strain I believe that in the end It?s up to you and me my friend So we should all start thinking twice Why virtue never tempts us quite like vice The more we live the less we learn Don?t you think that it?s a shame It seems to me that throughout history The more we change the more we stay the same Everywhere I stood there in the open air at a quarter after three am Staring at the stars that chart the sky And right then it occurred to me beneath the deep blue canopy There?s more to all of this than meets the eye As I stood there in the night my eyes adjusted to the light I started seeing things a little clearer And while the silence sung to me in close nocturnal harmony The stars seemed to come a little nearer There are things we?ll never know there are answers all around us I can see it in the sun I can feel it in the earth And I can breathe it in the air I can sense it in the sky I can taste it when it rains I can feel it everywhere Breakaway Not that hard to understand the way that some things work We know that we can?t always have our way So I think I?m gonna stick around and see if anything turns up And I?ll pay the consequences come what may I guess the works okay at least it pays the bills But it?s not exactly what I had in mind I really like to make a move but I?m scared by the uncertainty Maybe I?m afraid of what I?ll find So I?ll make the most of what I?ve got the cards I have to play But I wish that I could find the nerve to somehow breakaway Am I ever gonna change should I leave or should I stay Am I making up my mind or just wasting away But how I?m gonna run if my legs won?t carry me And how I?m gonna fly if my wings won?t work And how I?m gonna find?how I?m gonna find Some kind of deliverance Crush And this time you?ve got me hook line and sinker You?ve got me real good and you?re really something I will work all day and then I?ll drive all night And give you everything I?ve got and make it all alright And up stands the reason that I come running Wide-eyed and reckless you?re my undoing I?ll tear open my shirt and hold your head against my chest And you can listen to my heart beating harder than the rest You can crush me if you wanted too You could wreck me and run me off the rails You can crush me if you wanted too But I?ll keep coming back when all light fades Riptide The big blue sky and the brand new day Has got me laughing out loud as the radio plays Coming to pick you up and I?m gonna take you away We?re gonna be two kings for just one day And I?m gonna love you like lighting And I?m gonna love you like thunder And I?m gonna love you like a riptide Pulling you under I?m gonna buy you new shoes with what?s left of my money And I?m gonna tell you bad jokes and I?m gonna call you honey I?m gonna bare my soul and I?m gonna make you laugh I?m gonna show you my scars and my passport photograph And when the day is over We?re gonna climb upon the hill We?re gonna try and spy Orion While the town below turns on its lights And our hearts stand still Yeah, Yeah, Yeah I guess its time to get away despite what friends and family say We can?t stay here another day my darling I?ve canceled the utilities the landlord says he?s not to please He?s coming ?round to collect the keys in the morning I forwarded the mail my motorcycles up for sale Its time for us to hit the trail and get away We?ve got the car all packed I can safely say we won?t be back I?m as serious as a heart attack this time around Because nothing ever changes here it stays the same from year to year Most folk live and die in fear of things that don?t exist It?s just the same old yeah yeah yeah The more we hang around the less we seem to care I?m sick of myself and I?m sick of this town And I?m sick of feeling like I?m on a ship that?s going down What?s the point of waiting if there?s nothing worth waiting for If you never push the boat out boy you?ll never leave the shore So Long Gone He sits back and puts his feet up on the dashboard And tries to get as comfy as he can And he writes our name on the condensated window Then quickly wipes it away with the back of his hand He sighs as if he?s gonna speak Like maybe something?s on his mind Maybe its what lies ahead Or maybe its what?s left behind So I wind down the window and let the air rush in It?s easy to be sleepy when you drive all night I rub my eyes and search for something on the radio And I realize we?re not moving out but letting go So as we slowly disappear into the distance Another day away from no-wheres-ville Anything is better than stranded here in no mans land Like a demon reaching down suck you in like sinking sand And we?re so long gone and we?re so glad That we?re so long gone and we can hardly wait Never coming back Never coming back

TR, I refuse to believe Midnight Chime isn't a vampire tale. *walks away into the night whistling blissfully ignorant* Jason

Current Music Selection: Papa Roach?the paramour sessions Current State: California Current Mood: Hungry In this fast paced life we live, the term ?being connected? has come to dominate our terminology. From the slow dial-up modem to the faster than light connection of DSL, Internet cafes, ?wired cities? and desktop PC?s, almost every human in America has a love affair with this Super Information Highway. (Write thank you note to Al Gore) I can get up-to-date scores on my cell phone, watch my Satellite TV right on my PDA (Sling-Box, the fourth greatest invention) send and receive dirty pictures of nameless ?internet? friends, keep in contact with my friends back in Pennsylvania, and thousands of other features we all take for granted. And yet sometime Wednesday morning, I lost my Internet connection. Okay, let me explain. Unlike his Dudeness, I don?t live in a third world country. I live in one of the most wired cities in America. How did I lose my Internet connection? I?ll explain. My roommate, Daniel, never bothered getting Internet access at his house. Mainly because he is one of the cheapest people I know and for four years he had been happy stealing access from one of his many neighbors. When I moved in, I bought a wireless card and enjoyed the same freedom. But Wednesday morning, okay more like afternoon, I got out of bed and turned on my computer to check email and to make my daily peruse of AD?s forums. ?NO INTERNET CONNECTION AVAILABLE? For a moment I sat there staring at the screen. My poor brain could not process the words. I didn?t know what to do; it was as if I reverted back to a child seeing the microwave work for the first time. Much like the scene in Zoolander, I reverted back to my primal self. I frantically tried to sign on again, like maybe I hit the wrong button the first time around. Or perhaps I had forgotten how to connect online. After failing six or seven times, I called Daniel and asked him for advice. I?m not sure what he was suppose to do but apparently I lost my mind. I felt naked, it was the first time I was ?not connected? and much like a junkie, I was in full-blown withdrawal mode. I even called my friend, Ann, in Pennsylvania, a tech-junkie that has forgotten more about computers than I?ll ever know, and asked her advice. Surely she?d know how to get my fix, wave her magic wand and say poof, may the fairy have Internet or some such shit. Well, I can tell you she did call me a fairy, but mainly because I interrupted her during an important meeting, and if she had the ?magic wand?, I?m not sure waving it would have been her first act with said wand. Undaunted, I continued my quest to get ?connected?. I grabbed my laptop and walked around my backyard, trying different spots to see if I could steal someone else?s access. No dice, why do all my neighbors have their modems set up for ?secured access only?? The nerve of some people, keeping all that porn to themselves. After screaming at random houses from my backyard, making sure my neighbors knew how I felt about them and their private access, I sat down and tried to conceive a plot to once again become connected. I considered breaking into random houses around my neighborhood and stealing the access code from the back of the modem or pretending to be a repair technician and steal the access code that way. I went as far as to look through my closet for any clothing that might resemble a repair technician?s uniform. I was in the process of combing my hair, you know parted on the left side to look more like ?them?, you know what I mean, straight, when Daniel came home. After listening patiently to my plan to steal the access code, he shook his head and said, ?Why don?t we just call ATT and hook up our own high-speed Internet.? Or we could do that, though my plan to steal it seemed more adventurous. Is it just me or is stolen Internet access somehow more fulfilling than the Internet access obtained legally? Like maybe you get access to better porn sites if you steal it or something. I guess the point of this post is this, for four days I went without Internet. Though I must admit the first two days were the hardest. By the time access was restored, I had stopped shaking and most of the craving has all but disappeared. Upon returning home from work Saturday night, Daniel had written me a note saying the Internet is now up and running. I ran, not kidding, I run full blown down the hall, my shoes echoing on the hardwood floor, waking up Daniel and causing his dogs to temporarily lose their minds. The two minutes it took my computer to turn on was the longest two minutes of my life. I sat there in my chair, staring at the screen, willing the programs to run faster, I hadn?t even bothered to take off my jacket. By the time my little computer in the bottom right of the screen started blinking, I was in a full-blown frenzy. My hands were shaking as I waited for Yahoo mail to open up. Who had emailed me in the four days I had been away? How many fan letters did I receive about So Called Chaos? Who did frame Roger Rabbit? I need answers to all these questions. Finally the page opened and my eyes found my in-box folder, there it was, big as life. ZERO. I had been gone four days and no one sent me a single email. Which brings me to my present state, how did this monster called ?Information Super Highway? ever get such control over our lives? I felt naked and lost during my four day absence yet I missed nothing. It was all there just as I left it, the same porn sites, Awesome Dude, Nifty, History Channel, youtube, they were all their just as I left them. Do I really need to be so connected I was willing to break into someone?s house? Have I forgotten how to talk to someone face to face? Why do I feel alone in a crowd yet feel accepted in a chat room filled with other lonely people looking for the same thing I search for? Maybe I need to ?disconnect? periodically and go out into the real world. Head off into the wild blue yonder and find my life instead of hiding behind profiles or screen names. Fuck that, bring on the porn and faceless tricks via cameras. I say fuck the world, or at least until the world has a place to maintain a constant connection. Until then, my ass will be planted firmly in my chair, a smoldering cigarette in the ashtray, an empty bottle of wine on the floor, and me wearing no pants. Cheers all you junkies out there, technically we aren?t alone. Remember, if everyone in the world would, at the same time, unzip their pants, it would be a sound that would echo across the world and out into space. Let the aliens know we all aren?t hell bent on destroying the world. That at least some of us, just want to stay connected. Jason R.

Camy, One of the reasons I have not recorded a promo for AD radio, my speaking voice sounds horrible. It is the same reason why I refuse to read my work aloud. I like to say I'm a writer not a performer, but my ego says something different. If I could record something that sounds good, you bet your tail feathers I would be recording everything. As for your own performance, I think Des hit the nail on the head. In my experience, every poet/performer has his own style and voice. Someone like Gabe, who I assume performs often, probably writes his pieces with the intention of performing, so the piece flows from conception. As well as his delivery reflects the "built in" rhyme and meter. Then you have someone like TR, listen to his piece called The Midnight Chime, he performs this piece with an actors flare. Lowering and raising his voice as the emotion dictates, I found myself caught up in this vampire tale. The delivery came off quite sexy and profoundly sad, my opinion. With your background in music, I should think performing a written piece would be more challenging. Take someone like Jim Morrison, I found his voice to be quite dramatic. If you listen to "The End" or "People Are Strange", his voice carries so much emotion and passion. Yet when I heard him read selected pieces of The Lizard, I found his delivery to be quite mundane. When I sit down to write, I'm thinking in written terms. From the beginning, I tend to write poetry that should be read, not performed. With the exception of a few pieces, I still loved what you did with HRSA. I guess you should look through your inventory of poetry, and try to find a piece that best suits a spoken performance. Then figure out what you are trying to say and the "way" to say it should flow naturally from your emotions. Remember, when you wrote the piece in the first place, you were trying to convey some sort of emotion to the reader. Use that feeling and the material should find its own voice. Anyhoo, I can't wait to hear what you decide to perform, I'm sure it will blow my lucky socks off. Jason PS: Just heard Camy perfrom Courage, that's two I've heard so far. Can I say, sexy?

Current Music Selection: Meat Loaf?Bat out of Hell II Back into Hell Current State: High Current Mood: Optimistic Okay I?ve had one of the worst days of my life. And not in, oh my god I just broke a nail and my favorite pair of jeans was ruined in the washer, kind of day. I?m talking about getting ass raped by a gorilla in a public setting with no lube and without the courtesy of the reach around. They have opposable thumbs, don?t they? It started out okay. I had made an appointment to see a head shrinker, let?s call her Susan, a few days ago and had been slowly going insane waiting for today to arrive. I mean, it?s different writing poetry about my past or posting my rants online in this blog for the Internet readers to peruse but now I was going to pay someone to listen to my deepest darkest secrets, face to face for fuck sake. I?ve been chain-smoking cigarettes for two days while trying to maintain my nerve to actually show up for the appointment. So this morning, Tuesday, I awoke at 7am, my eyes wide open and my heart pounding in my chest. I ran down the hall and into Daniel?s room, waking him out of a dead sleep. I jump into his bed and hid under the covers, declaring there was no way in hell I was going to go to a head shrinker. He held me like I was a child, whispering words in my ears, telling me that I should give her a chance before I make my mind up. In a matter of a few minutes he convinced me to go ahead and go. Whenever I feel nervous or scared, I have this habit of trying on every piece of clothing I own. If I was going to go to a head shrinker, I wanted to look my best. So for three hours I tried on a billion outfits before settling on a pair of Tommy jeans, a black turtleneck and my LA gear kicks. Spending another hour making damn sure my hair was carefully arranged in a ?I just got out of bed look?, I was ready to face this head shrinker. So much like a prisoner marching to the gallows, I climbed inside my car and headed into the city, San Francisco, for my date with destiny. I must?ve smoke half pack of Marlboro Lights on the forty-minute drive to her office. Side note, I have this piece of shit car with just an AM/FM radio with no CD player. Being a musical creature, I bought an adapter that plugs into my cigarette lighter, the other end plugs into my I-Pod, and with this adapter, I can listen to my I-Pod on my car speakers. The fifth greatest invention in the world, the I-Pod adapter. End side note. So while I?m smoking and driving, I?m listening to Orgy?s Candyass. Steeling my soul for this titanic confrontation between this head shrinker and one scared little boy. By the time I arrived, I was shaking from the nicotine and the three Red Bull?s I had sucked down in quick succession. I was ready, for anything. Susan was nothing like I expected. Not only did this petite woman calm me down just upon entering her presence but in no time I was not only comfortable but I realized I really needed someone to talk too. I made another appointment for next Tuesday and fully intend to complete my homework assignment. I rushed home and changed into my work uniform. By the time I arrived at the hip up-scale restaurant I serve at, I was feeling quite optimistic about my therapy. I parked my piece of shit car behind the restaurant like always, hid my I-Pod under my seat and walked across the street and bought another Red Bull. And then I went to work. Never conceiving what a difference six hours can make in your life. The hip up-scale restaurant where I work closes at ten PM. At nine-thirty, a party of six walked through the door. I had the most tables still consuming our award winning food so I was asked by my GM (general manager) if I would mind taking the table so the other servers, most of whom are in college, could call it an early night. Why the fuck not, a party of six could garnish me a sixty dollar tip. The party of six was heaven sent, all were friendly, polite, and very thirsty. Their tab jumped up to four hundred dollars in a matter of forty minutes. I was feeling indestructible. But then Loki decided to jump in and join the mess that is my life. It wasn?t the tables fault, I know they hung till midnight, enjoying their wine and our fabulous deserts. It wasn?t my GM?s fault, he was trying to relieve some of the pressure from the college students that work at this hip up-scale restaurant. And it wasn?t my fault, I like my co-workers and anything I can do to help, I would gladly do. Let me explain. After desert was served and my table was pleasantly letting the food digest, I snuck out back to grab a cigarette. Walking to my car, I noticed immediately something was wrong. I don?t know a lot about cars but I know a few things. Such as, once you shut your door and lock it, it?s not suppose to be open again until you return with the key. Apparently, I knew less about cars than I thought. Because when I walked out the back door my drivers door of my piece of shit car was wide open. Believe me, the fear I felt earlier that morning was nothing compared to the blood chilling feeling that shot through my nicotine crazed body. I ran over to my piece of shit car and looked inside. Shards of broken glass greeted me, shining in the glow of the streetlights. My half carton of cigarettes, missing, as well as my Sony Erickson phone, (the four hundred dollar video camera phone that I use only for answering the few people that call me but has my entire life inside its memory card) and the fifth greatest invention in the world, my I-Pod adapter. And then the fear sunk in, my baby, the one thing I love more than life, (except my laptop), my I-Pod Nano. The rage I?m feeling at this moment can not be put into words. The string of expletives that spewed forth from my lips would make a sailor blush. In one foul swoop, this low-life scum sucking yeast-infected cum bubble, effectively destroyed whatever progress I made during my session with the head shrinker. The things I plot to do to this low-life scum sucking yeast-infected cum bubble should the opportunity ever present itself, would land me in jail, no, under the jail. I ran back inside the hip up-scale restaurant, where I lamented loudly to my GM about this travesty that had befallen on me. Though he was sympathetic to my plight, there was nothing he could do about it. As many cameras as we have throughout our hip up-scale restaurant, not a single camera points out the back door. The good news, my party of six must?ve heard me bitching about this great injustice because once they finished, the party that paid for the bill, which totaled four-hundred and eleven dollars, handed the booklet containing the credit card receipt to me and said he was sorry about my loss. I smiled and thanked him and once they left the hip up-scale restaurant, I helped the 2nd servers clean up before heading into the office to turn in all the credit card slips I had accrued throughout the day. When I opened the booklet to see how much of a tip I received, I was shocked. There written in the space for the tip was a three, followed my two zero?s, a period, and then two more zero?s. This party left me a three hundred-dollar tip, with a hand written note to go out and purchase a new I-Pod. For a day that caused so much stress in my life, it ended pretty fucking cool. I met my head shrinker, Susan, and I think I?m really going to like talking to her. I get to buy a new I-Pod and though I still have to fix my driver side window, my life is looking up. I guess I?ll have something good to write about in my homework assignment. So what I?m trying, life sometimes gets fucked up. And sometimes a perfect stranger offers you kindness without expecting anything in return. And maybe, if you?re ever working in a hip up-scale restaurant, and your piece of shit car gets broken into and your I-Pod gets stolen, complain loudly. Maybe this stranger is eating dinner and you too, just like me, could get a new I-Pod. Cheers until next time. Jason R. PS: Is it okay to have a small crush on your head shrinker? Is it okay to be straight for a day?