Jason Rimbaud

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?

Current Music Selection: Breaking Benjamin?Phobia Current State: Hungry Current Mood: Exhausted So I?ve had a long week. After taking three months off, I?ve recently begun working at an up-scale restaurant in Palo Alto as a server. Not only has this new job interfered with my writing but has contributed to my depressed state as of late. Let me explain. Have you ever heard of the theory of doppelganger? Basically it?s the theory that everyone has a twin somewhere out there. Like maybe two people with the same soul separated somehow in the cosmos. The bad part, they say one is evil and one is good. If you?ve read my poetry then maybe you?ve read about a boy named John that dominates my thoughts. Well, I met his doppelganger. Not that Brandon is the evil one, far from it actually. If anything John was the evil one and Brandon is like this brilliant light shining in the darkness. But it still sucks, because now I have to see John on a daily basis. Like I need more reminders about that fucked up relationship and that olive skinned boy that mind fucked me. It?s really uncanny, their similarities don?t end at looks, though I swear they could be twins. Both are slight of build and short, same dark hair filled with product in a mess of spikes. Both have intense green eyes that are filled with mystery and hint at unknown passions. They speak alike; enunciating the same, drawing out the vowels in an accent that can only be Northern California?s mix of culture. They have the same tastes in music, movies and both have addictions. John fucked up my world and now, I have to work with his other self. The first time I saw Brandon, I actually said, ?John.? And even now, I still at times call him John, much to Brandon?s amusement. Though I?ve never told Brandon about his resemblance to John, I don?t think the twenty-year-old could handle it. In the last ten days, I?ve thought a lot about John and our summer of sex and drugs. And the reasons I seem to attract such disturbing relationships. I know my past haunts me and dictates my behavior. I know if I can?t find some way to lay these demons to rest, I?ll never find peace. So with advice from my roommate, Daniel, I?m going to voluntarily seek help. I?ve made an appointment with a therapist and Tuesday I?ll have my first session. I don?t know how much help she can offer but I don?t want to feel this way anymore. So one last time, I?ll let John dominate my thoughts. Below is a piece I wrote three years ago called Nothing Like Human. It shows my state of mind and despair. One last time I will share it before putting it away forever. Cheers until we meet again, Jason R. Nothing like Human By: Jason R. I?m afraid of my own mental state I believe you know it?s a tenuous grip on reality at best And I can not stand to face my fears The longer I wrap myself with lies The longer I can deny my fear I am nothing like human No?not I Humans have a desire to be happy To know love and to be loved At least I know where my fear began, do you I understand my webs of deceit even as I deny them My life has been one long secret Love hidden in shadows Scared to let the sun penetrate the darkness of my love Joy realized only in the embrace of the night Scattered illusions when the sun crested the dawn Pretty ironic for the boy who only wanted to find the sun I need some blue skies Maybe I am Hemmingway Tortured you once claimed Not quite right in the head Honesty is the enemy and I hated you for that I hated your clarity and intuition I hated your knife that cut through my delusion And forced me to reflect with the truth I hated your manipulations Your icy silences I hated your volume I hated the calm before the storm I hated your coercion And I hated your intimidation And I hated your complete disregard for me I hated your explosions and your casualness of coldness I hated your alcohol breath And I hated your seduction Even as I was consumed by your words And torn between fear and lust Even though I was uncomfortable I allowed it to happen Your manipulations were as deft as mine Neither were harmless yet maybe Both were unintentional I hated your temper The drama that surrounds you Pushes you to end things noisily But mainly I was afraid of rejection Nothing started on a fabricated destiny will last My own web of bullshit returns to haunt me again And there was fear I feared you And to a point?I still do But now for different reasons But only to a point Since I now understand you You were easy to understand When I took the time to look I no longer hate you Hate is an emotion I can no longer afford Could it be we two are alike Stolen innocence long before toys were put to rest Long before we should have ever had to choose like adults I was a child Innocence taken by a priest Forced to grow up With scratches on my back And bite marks on my ear I wonder what was your instrument of damnation An Uncle perhaps Or some other relative I had to be close to you For to this day prompts you to be wary even in slumber Shallow and scared you still run from the dark I know, I wake up in sweats still reliving those months of torture Sleep eludes me Even without stimulates I sleep in stolen moments between nightmares Maybe the drugs ingested are a substitute For the nightmares that haunt us Or you may be right That my own perverse mentality leads me Drives me?Controls me Until my jaded outlook on life destroys all things good and pure around me Until happiness eludes me Jaded Looking back on the mess of shit I spewed around you Can I blame you for the reception I received When all you have are the lies to piece together the puzzle Then the distorted picture that emerges could only frighten you Push you away Force you to make that decision Maybe not the decision you wished But the only decision I gave you Realistically a choice was never made One avenue of escape was presented You took that step I pushed you And it was easy You wanted that push I fulfilled it I can not be trusted Those words ring in my head like a mantra Repeating over and over until even I believe them But for every lie I entrusted to you I received two in return I lied to you And you lied to me About me Against me Hatred fueling your words till perceptions were skewed And for a time You won A brief season of celebration you enjoyed I know I heard the clapping I felt the jubilation in your words And I smiled My greatest strength is I truly don?t care what others think I always said the greatest joke in the world is the joke no knew you played For through this all You?ve amused me I sit back and wonder how badly I must have crept under your skin To cause those feelings inside you After all Hate without love is powerless And your hate was strong Again I laugh at the perfect hatred emanating from you My manipulation was deft My target destroyed For my life is a jumbled mess of misconceptions Interpreted by those that saw through my bullshit And called me on it I respect those that see me for the liar I am I respect you though I hate to be around you No one likes to be reminded of the failure they?ve become But respect is there An unspoken fondness for you Yet you seem to struggle with this fondness Unsure of how to proceed I like to believe you only wished to help me Change me somehow Or maybe you only wanted to understand Understanding is the key to change And can I change Not in your eyes And I really can?t blame you for that Nor will I try to make you understand For I have no cause to explain myself Right or wrong Past is past And I?ll live for today And sometimes Some people just aren?t worth the effort But how long can you try to understand Before the struggle becomes more than you can bear Will it drain you Change you Alter your meager threshold of pain Will it break you mentally Until there is no gesture of goodwill left in your already fragile mind You lasted longer than I thought possible Longer than anyone else The respect grows So does the un-comfortableness I sat there in the dark Plotting Night after night Wondering what it would take to finally push you to the limit What could I do to break whatever feeling you had left for me Hatred Now that?s something I understand all to well Seeing the avenue before us was life changing For it was wide and straight Opposite of the twisted subversive alley you accuse me of dwelling in Telling our friends I walk in shadow Jaded I saw my way out and made you make the decision For if anyone couldn?t handle us It was me You were right about a lot of things Your intuition astounds me Even when your motivation is in question After all Your motives were never clear I know Mine mirrored yours Manipulation is my weapon I?ll give you that one But sex is yours Your body the knife that cuts deeper than any sword Your smile that destroys Mirroring a hurricane ripping and tearing the shore But who is affected most The victim Or you When I couldn?t make myself over Into your distorted vision of what we should be I manipulated you into hating us It was easy One conversation One fight One word Goodbye Marionette on wires You danced to my tune The puppet master The piped piper And if I made you uncomfortable All the better Self-preservation is paramount A lesson you know well You perfected it even as I have But you have nothing to fear from me Only those I hate need fear me And I don?t hate you These words may not reach you I know you You?ll walk around them Ignore them Wishing them away will be your game And though on the outside you will discount them On the inside you?ll be grateful to have read them To understand the right side of my mind This part of me I hold close Close like a junkie holding his syringe For these words are alive Brought forth by my own desperate need to understand myself Given breath by every keystroke of my hand I will affect you Complicate And erect you with these words This spoken question in written form Will confuse you But also wrap you tightly in a kind of tangled hope That I am not the man I was Or the man you thought me to be just a few weeks ago In a fit of anger You once told me to write down what I wanted to say to you Accusing me of being unable to convey my emotions in spoken words I hope I made myself clear in these words Though I believe it will not matter Scar tissue erodes my soul and suffers me a fate of loneliness My life is one long scar I wear it proudly Invent reasons to stay hard Unfeeling And when I begin to feel I create situations to destroy that feeling Why A question that will never be answered For no one will try long enough to receive the answer I will not allow it anyway Just as you weren?t allowed inside Seeing anger Hate Indifference in your eyes Is easier than seeing any form of love Surrounded by my fantasy My delusions accept me like no human will Looking back on my life I can blame no one for the choices I?ve made I can hate no one for any reactions I receive Though maybe someday I?ll prove I?m something like human Until then Don?t think of me in anger Hate These emotions will ruin your life Instead Think of me in pity It?s more than I deserve And all I ever receive Wednesday, April 15th, 2003 7:08 PM

I need more time to fully let this piece sink in. But I like it, I just can't tell you why. Jason

Reason's I haven't read Laika before today #1: I couldn't pronounce the title But after I read James' post earlier today, the bit about Jesus coming back to save everyone like Robocop peeked my interest. And then after I read Blue's post, I figured this might be something I have to check out. In a way I was lucky, I had ten chapters to read all at once, unlike the rest of you that had to wait between posts. I've been a bit depressed lately but after reading Laika, I couldn't help but laugh. It's bloody brilliant. I don't see myself in the story though, I could never be that witty or funny. What an incredible story you have Elecivil, I don't care that I can't pronounce the title. From the opening paragraph you've balanced internal monologue with crisp, witty, entertaining narrative that flows from the page right into my brain. I haven't laughed this hard in weeks. The whole lion thing...damn. I guess like the rest of Awesome Dude, I am now a Ele'unatic. Jason R.

Hey Trab, Having a few things posted online. My feelings are as follows Number 1: Do not reproduce my work on any website without obtaining my permission. Number 2: Do not download with the intention of "pirating" my work and claiming it for your own. Number 3: Please do whatever it takes for you to enjoy reading my work. If that includes downloading and printing a copy for your own enjoyment, and to save your bum from hurting, I say go for it. Though I'm not sure I agree with the shredding part, I don't know about you but I re-read my favorite books several times. Save some trees and keep the copy, you never know when you might want to re-visit a particular story. Cheers, Jason R.

H.R.S.A. By: Jason R. Let me take you to this place inside my mind Broken feelings angry thoughts I?ve kept inside No sugar coating here just visions of denial Come to this place and let it go and stay awhile Come with me Ecstasy Stupidity Colors line the sky like red and darkest black Look deep inside and see the reasons I held back If all the hate I have are answers that I lack Know this pain is true I?m always on attack Come with me Ecstasy Stupidity See the mirror there covered with rails of white Like absinthe it?s the drug to achieve second sight Eyes of red mixed with blue haunting me each night Nothing here but this tattered boy pale in moonlight Come with me Ecstasy Stupidity Memories of twelve-year-olds are ones I never face Trace my scars drink the tears time can not erase I was put here by my father and left in this place Recalling bite marks with visions of a dick I still taste Come with me Ecstasy Stupidity On second thought stay away from my broken mind I don?t want you here any more why did I let you inside I think I?d rather stay alone and feed my life denial It might be cold and lonely but I know I?ll stay awhile Go away from me Ecstasy Stupidity

Current Music Selection: Five For Fighting?World from the album Two Lights Current State: Dis-jointed Current Mood: Depressed ?What kind of world do you want? Think Anything Let's start at the start Build a masterpiece Be careful what you wish for History starts now..? Five for Fighting If you?ve read any of my poetry hosted here at Awesome Dude or have ever been bored enough to visit my website, then you probably have an idea that my childhood was less than perfect. And before you ask, most of my poetry chronicles my life and the demons I face on every level of my existence. Add into the mix my BI-polar tendencies and dependence on altered states of reality, I wonder why I don?t let the pain slide. Maybe it?s a stubborn refusal to let ?him? win. He?s already taken my first from me and inadvertently gave me this sickness and fear of front seats and single beds. Squeezing the trigger now would be like saying the last ten years of struggling to find the sun was pointless. Maybe John was right, my life really was over at twelve. That I?m dead and just haven't fallen over yet. But giving up has never been part of my genetic make-up. I also got that from ?him? as well as his predatory nature and life denial. I?ve always been good at smiling at those who pretend to care about my well being. You know the types I mean, well-intentioned do-gooders who spit platitudes and rhetoric claiming truth from a book they use to bludgeon others into sameness. Or ?caring? therapists who attach blame but offer no solutions. Who takes poetry as absolute and recommends institutional care and gives you labels like, HRSA. I tend to roll my eyes and go off into my own world as they try to convert me, analyze me, or commit me, while alternately scratching my nuts and winking at the cute ones. Once, I even stripped off my clothes in the middle of her office and described in vivid detail that first time. That didn?t help me but it was the first time I was held overnight for observation. Have you ever wondered why christians are filled with such hatred for anyone who differs from their idyllic belief system? I was raised on the good book, I?ve read it ten or eleven times and for a brief period, I could quote dozens of scriptures and talk down to others with the best of them. But that was before front seats of cars and someone who used his position to further his own demons. Being taken advantage of puts you in a place, mentally and physically, that you never truly leave. Having one?s innocence taken by a man, who swore before god and the world that he would lead the faithful to the promised land, is something that can never be understood by someone who has never experienced such action. Molestation is an act of aggression against God. Christians hate others for one reason, stupidity. I?ve been there, I have the scoop and let me tell you, they begin brainwashing at the time of conception. Once a week, a man walks to the front of a building and for an hour, he pretends to speak the words of god. And the faithful sit there with raptured faces and rabid expressions as their own prejudice and fears are given validation. How can you fight christians? They tend to think in absolutes. There is no compromise with absolutes. Denial is the new black. My father had it, my mother has it, and my family embraces it. And I?m left alone. Can?t they see I?m hurting? It?s not about what I smoke, what I snort, what I inject, who I fuck. It?s not about whether or not I?ll go to hell. I?ve been in hell since cotton candy and broken heaters. It?s about this scared little boy who still sleeps in the closet at times clutching stuffed animals with ripped seams. It?s about a boy forever trapped inside a man?s body with no clear path on how to proceed. Just once, I wish they?d see me. Why can?t they see me? Mother (the reality) By: Jason R. Mother I can?t forgive you You were there all those times I know you know what he did You turned away Sheltered your eyes Belief in your god Could not save your boy What you couldn?t do Was protect me I?ve been dying Day by day Mother I tried to forgive you Because the bruises Speak of pain I heard the yelling I heard the praying But what good is god If a man can do that It?s your duty To your child Laid down in that book By your side Mother I won?t forgive you Because the laundry Was your domain You saw the blood there Where it never Should be From a boy of twelve You cleaned the sheets Saw the tear stains Mixed with fuck pains How could you let him touch me Mother I think I hate you Not as much As I hate that man Should I tell them All your good friends Just what kind of mother you are You hold your head straight During service They look to you For guidance now But if they only knew Mother I can?t forgive you I won?t forgive you I can?t? But I love you Help me Please Hold me Like a child Wipe the tears From my face Like I was twelve again

Interesting images you have painted TR. I think I like """where frightful fishes flee frantic from things that slither-slink those shadowed seas,""" the best. Though I'm partial to anything dealing with water. Must be the Aquarius in me. And I don't mean my boyfriend. Jason R.

Hey Camy, and just what is on your mind huh? Erotic thoughts from an EMU I think. Good poem, makes me what to touch my own situation. Jason R.

Current Music Selection: Awesome Dude Radio (make sure to check it out) Current State: Undressed Current Mood: Irritable (49?ers shut out by KC) So last night was exciting, Daniel and I met a few friends in the city. (San Francisco) The night started off shaky. We met at Estia, billed as the house of lamb, for some traditional Greek fare. Since moving to the City by the Bay, I?ve been attempting to expand my culinary experiences by trying different ethnic foods and the wine that goes with each culture. Whether it?s Italian, Mexican, Mediterranean, Turkish, Indian, French, German, or Greek fare, I?ve realized I don?t care for other races interpretation of food. Though I must admit I like all Asian prepared foods, especially Korean. But I digress from the topic at hand. A few weeks ago, I?m sure everyone remembers Fredricko, the boy with the extra skin attachment. If you remember him, then you?d probably remember my new nickname, dubbed by one Connie Chung. Get it out of your system, I know, it?s funny. I was in the mood for some drinkie poos to wash the taste of that awful Greek wine away, so we stopped at Twin Peaks for cocktails. I was gulping my third Bombay Sapphire Martini when over the noise of the bar, I hear in a loud campy voice, ?Look, everyone, its Hoody/Hoodie.? My nemesis, the Kryptonite to my superman, the very old and bitter queen, otherwise known as Connie Chung. It was to be expected really. I just had a horrible dinner; wine that I wouldn?t serve my worst enemy, and my hair was too busy doing whatever it is that unruly hair does. Can we say that my reaction was inevitable? I?m not a mean boy, I respect my elders, I open the door for cute guys, I give out pity fucks for christ sakes. But this has been going on for almost three weeks and I was ready to put a stop to this madness. Oh yeah, and I was bored and slightly drunk. Downing the rest of my Martini, I turned and faced Connie Chung. Much like two gunfighters from days of old, we stood there, silently measuring one another?s resolve. The DJ dove under his mixing table, the dancing boys stopped and huddled together in a mass of Lycra and smeared make-up, tears falling down their faces. A hush fell on the crowd as they instinctively backed away from the threat of violence that hung in the air, thick and euphoric. Like vultures they could sense someone was about to get schooled. They waited with baited breath. The bartender called out that he wanted a fair fight and made sure none of the other?s gang got involved. A bull dyke with arms bigger than mine, spat out encouragement to Connie Chung, calling me a twink. Oh, it was so on. Connie Chung drew first blood, his shot grazing my neck, regaling the tale of my nickname and the circumstances surrounding such a name. Ooo?s and Ah?s rumbled through crowd, supporters of keeping one?s junk natural screamed for my head. I was momentarily stunned; I fell back, swaying on my feet. I tried to counterattack but my shot went wide, saying I had never seen one before and it shocked me. But Connie Chung wasn't fazed by my attack and sent another shot my way. By now, my neck and left arm was bleeding, my vision was a blur and I wasn?t sure I could go on. Sensing victory, Connie Chung continued relentlessly, saying how beautiful an uncircumcised dick is in its natural environment and how petty and superficial I was not to appreciate such a sight. Through the jeers and screams, I saw my opponent; eyes shining brightly with a feral look on its old face. I fell to my knees, seconds away from going down for the count. But instinctively, I reached down into my reserves and mustered up strength enough for one last shot. I took aim and growled out that this twink wasn?t going down without a fight. I did the only thing I could think of? I jumped up on the bar and dropped my pants. I pulled out my cock for the whole bar to see and said, ?How can any one of you say an uncircumcised cock is prettier and more enjoyable to look at then this All-American dick.? My aim was true, the bullet found its mark and Connie Chung stared at me, shock on its wrinkled face. The patrons began screaming and clapping; a few shoved dollars in my direction and one went as far as to inspect my dick up close. And as I raised my hands in victory, I watched Connie Chung teetered back and forth for a moment before falling dead at my feet. In my mind, Queen?s ?We are the Champions? started playing and for a moment I was the victor. Then the bouncers came and hauled me from the bar and threw me out on my naked ass. Apparently, it?s illegal to expose one?s self in public, even in the middle of the Castro District. My friends joined me on the sidewalk as I pulled up my pants, making sure to gather the eleven dollars I made. As we walked down the street heading for the next bar, I felt confident that would be the last time I was ever called Hoody/Hoodie again. Several of the patrons from Twin Peaks followed us, or rather followed me, probably hoping for another glimpse at my All-American dick. I got three phone numbers and a blowjob last night. I guess what I?m trying to say, the next time someone calls you out, don?t hesitant to put it all on the line. You could make eleven dollars and even go as far as meeting Mr. Right. Okay, at least Mr. Right now. Until next time, cheers everyone. Jason R.

I think you pretty much summed up my life at fifteen. Great turn of phrase TR. They say age brings wisdom, I disagree, I say age only brings wrinkles. Mother keeps asking why I?m so clean Yet my showers take hours unseen, Fusses because of Kleenex I?ve used Whole boxes wadded leave her confused. My favorite stanza. Great imagery. Jason R.

I had to double check for a moment, I thought the guy in the middle was me for a moment. Thanks TR, great video clip. By the way, I love your voice on the radio promo's. From your picture on your site, you sound exactly like I imagined. Very sexy. What do you always say, oh yeah, kisses. Jason R.

Hey TR, Interesting video. Being a male who talks in bathrooms, I never knew the consequences of these actions. Plus I always check out the guy next to me. I've picked up a few guys in bathrooms as well. I just never knew how dangerous these actions were. But I've learned my lesson, from now on I will follow these guidlines and become just like all the homophobes that dominate our world. Cheers Jason R.

Probably the best advice I'll ever get, Writebymyself. I wish I could forget my family but sometimes I think I need to get to know this masochist thats stolen my first name. Then there are times my life is perfect. Being gay is difficult but being a liar is worse. So I'll stand up proudand tall. God is the ultimate judge and I have more than enough trouble taking care of myself to worry about those that hate me. Cheers you cuddly raccoon.Jason R.

So I was going through some of my stuff and found several old notebooks that were filled with my earliest writings. After laughing for over an hour, I realize that though I am no where near a great writer, I am a million miles away from the geeky four-eyed boy that filled those notebooks with high hopes of becoming the greatest writer the world has ever seen. While most of the things I hope will never be seen by anyone, but I have decided to post a piece that brings back great memories of my youth. So, here is something that might brighten up your day. That Smokey Bar By: Jason R. Standing all alone in that smokey bar The way you?re drinking you shouldn?t drive a car I asked where you lived and you said it wasn?t far So we left that smokey bar You and I in my car To your place that wasn?t far We got to your door You fell on the floor You asked for a drink and I asked, ?More?? So I shut the door Picked you up off the floor And tried to stop you from drinking more You walked upstairs with sex on your mind I didn?t really want you and I to grind You smiled and said I was in a bind So I went with your mind Decided to do the grind And I awoke in a bind You didn?t remember that smokey bar You wondered where you left your car I assured you it wasn?t far So we went back to that bar You and I in my car And I was lucky it wasn?t far Written April 5th, 1995 I hope you've enjoyed this horrible piece of poetry. Cheers until next we meet. Jason R.