Jason Rimbaud

Me too...even with GPS I'll make a wrong turn and go for miles before realizing I made an error. So thats a stupid quote, not inspirational at all. J

Seventy? Oh fuck no...I need to hear some better news. I smoke and everything...doctors says that smoking reduces your hard on. Well fuck them! J

"Not all those that wander are lost"

It’s Thursday, September 21st, 2017 and I’m in Daly City California. It’s my day off, nothing special about that except that “N” is working the morning shift and I have the whole day off to do whatever I want. If I want to stay in bed all day naked, watching YouTube videos, I can. Or if I want to do a marathon of jerking off to free porn on the whole interwebs, I can and no one can say anything about it. And don’t think I didn’t contemplate that last one this morning after waking up with a full on robot chubby that wouldn’t go away that defies all logic for a forty-two year old man. One of the reasons I was so happy with growing older was the mistaken thinking that my libido would diminish with the onset of old age. And yes, I know that forty-two isn’t old compared to some of the other humans that populate this planet nor am I saying that forty-two is old. All I’m saying is that I was really hoping that I wouldn’t be the horny man I was in my twenties. The man/boy that slept with the butt-crack of dawn for no other reason then I couldn’t think straight the moment things became erect. And to be truthful, that was the only reason I slept with a little person when I was 22. And because I wondered if his cock looked like a normal sized cock, for the record it did. Nor was it because I wanted to see how massive my cock would look like going in and out of his little butt. For the record he was a top…but that’s another story. Why at my age do I still wake up with a hard-on? And even more curiously, why am I still horny the moment my boyfriend walks into the room? When will I get the dreaded EDS the TV tells me happens to every man over forty? For Christ sakes, I’m in my forties, do I still have to contend with my cock boning up with every stiff breeze that comes along? My boyfriend left at 7:15 this morning to go to work. Apparently he had a few private parties and several larger groups for breakfast and needed to make sure he was there in plenty of time to oversee this madness. And right after he left, I lay in bed with my other head ready for some fun. So I did what every man/boy does when his penis is taking over…that’s right, I got up and turned on my X-Box 360 and started playing Assassins Creed 3. And if you are wondering, I did not feel like a pervert playing games at 7:30am with a boner. Nor did I have a brief/thirty minute fantasy what it would be like to have sex with Conner from the game. And I am talking about a full thirty minutes of constructing a complicated story of what point in the game we would meet, the details of our first awkward encounter that slowly builds over time until we climax on the grass overlooking the manor with Achilles somewhat reluctant approval as he looks on. Besides my raging hard-on, the only thing I wanted to do today on this glorious day off, was to get hot wings from Buffalo Wild Wings in Daly City, Ca in the Serramonte Centre. I believe that everyone who has been reading my Blog for any amount of time…mostly a few years ago when I actually updated my Blog more than once every few years, would know that I am quite addictive to all things hot…exclusively hot wings. I will go to any amount of trouble to acquire those artery clogging morsels of ecstasy. Lie to policeman, check, leave work early on a faulty pretense, check. I’m not saying I would kill a human for those tasty treats, but don’t be the asshole that makes my life difficult at work and then stand in between me and those chickens that are fried in fat and then tossed in hot deliciousness. Seriously, don’t do that because I’m not sure what or who I would choose. Better to error on the side of caution then test my morals when it comes to hot wings. When “N” left for work, I was horny and really needed to release but I started playing video games instead of taking things in hand as it were. Then after driving myself to the brink of madness wondering what it would be like to have sex with a 3-D construct, I really needed to curb my horniness with something tangible. I played Assassins Creed 3 until 11am. I know, that’s like three and half hours playing a game. But all I was doing was waiting until Buffalo Wild Wings opened so I could indulge in man’s simplest pleasures. Okay, seeing as I was talking about jerking off, I wanted to indulge in man’s second simplest pleasure, the consumption of Hot Wings. At 11:25, I called in my order to Buffalo Wild Wings. May I have a medium traditional wings, all hot BBQ extra extra extra extra wet, with a side of Blazing sauce, a Chili Queso Dip with no pico de guillo. I don’t really give a shit if I spelled that wrong. I’ve lived in the Bay Area for thirteen years. I started going to Buffalo Wild Wings sometime in the last three years. Just so I can give you full disclosure, I’ve ordered the exact same order at least once a week for the last three years. It might have been longer/shorter, but I’ve spent way too much fucking money on this addiction that will probably put me in an early grave. I arrived at Buffalo Wild Wings at 12:30pm, because I stopped at the grocery store to buy Fosters beer and Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey. But before I talk about my Buffalo Wild Wings experience, I stopped at the local Lucky Grocery Store to do two things. First, I wanted to exchange my bag full of coins, they have a coin star that you can exchange your coins into money. When I first walked into the store, can you believe there was a line to use the coin star machine. Three people in front of me and I joined the line as I was listening to Penn’s Sunday School Podcast and really not in a hurry. After about five minutes, the guy leaves and the next guy goes to the machine and places a paper bag on the counter. His actions was hidden with his body, but after a few minutes and I didn’t here the sounds of the machine counting the coins to convert into money, I peered to my left and noticed that he had a paper bag filled with already rolled and packaged coins. The type of packaging that looks like when you get coins from a bank. And he was slowly breaking open the rolled coins and putting them into the counting thingy. “Fuck this” I thought and walked back to my car to place my oversized container in my trunk. All I wanted to do was cash in my coins, it wasn’t like I needed the coins to buy my groceries. I then walked back into the store and grabbed two bottles of diet coke, three 24 ounces of Fosters beer, and a 750ml of Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey whiskey. I walked to the front of the store, and they only had two registers open, and they had to have at least ten people in each line. Of course, the self check-out lines was completely empty, but seeing as you can’t buy alcohol in the self check-out lines, that really didn’t help me. “Fuck this” I thought as I dropped my basket and walked out of the grocery store. After all, I had lots of places I could buy beer and whiskey without waiting in line on my day off. I drove to Serramonte Mall, where Buffalo Wild Wings opened a massive store. When I walked into the store, it was 12:30, almost forty minutes from the time I called in my order. I walked up to the counter and there was three younger girls behind it talking amongst themselves. It felt like five minutes before I was even greeted but it was probably less than a minute. But sixty seconds is a long fucking time to stand somewhere where three different people can see you and no one even says hello. Seriously, right now, just start counting to sixty in your head and imagine you standing at a counter with someone standing behind it yet not saying a single word to you. It feels like forever right. That’s how I felt. Finally after three hours/thirty seconds, someone says hello. I give my name, they read my order back to me, medium traditional wings, all hot BBQ extra extra extra wet, side of blazing sauce, chile queso dip no pico de guillo, that will be 30.92. I give them my card, I total it 35.00 dollars and she says, your order isn’t ready it will be another five minutes. I sit down on the bench and continue listening to Penn’s Sunday School podcast. After eight minutes, I walk back to the counter and inquire about the status of my order. This is when the girl behind the counter decided to tell me, “There was a mix up of your order and they are re-making it, it’s not that busy so it should only be another 15 minutes.” I’m not mad that they lost my order, I’ve worked in the restaurant industry for more than twenty years, I understand that mistakes happen and orders get lost. If they would have said something to me when I paid for my order, I would’ve sat there quietly while they figured it out. But they didn’t tell me that when I paid, what they said was it would be another five minutes. And yes, I was really enjoying Penn’s Sunday School podcast, but I was also watching them. It’s a habit I’ve picked up over my years of running restaurants, I always watch the staff members. And in my watching, I saw that they were talking amongst themselves, pointing at me, and pointing back at the kitchen. Then I also observed them getting on the phone, gesturing towards me again, and then a minute or two later, a manager walked up to the front and started looking at the computer while looking at me everyone moment or two. But I understand that things happen and though I knew deep down in my heart that something happened to my order, I was waiting patiently. But after waiting eight mintues, knowing that something was wrong, and rightly/wrongly waiting for them to explain what happened to my order, I walked up to the front only to be told off-handedly, that they were re-making the order and that something happened. No apology, no saying they are doing everything they can to fix it, no offering a soda while I wait for the order to be corrected, nothing from the manager at all. And I will be the first to admit, I was pissed. From 7:30 in the morning, all I could think about was getting Buffalo Wild Wings, getting beer and whiskey and watching the remake of Magnificent Seven. And once again, Buffalo Wild Wings fucks up my plans. Earlier I told you that I have been ordering from Buffalo Wild Wings for longer than I can remember. What I never admitted too, was that they screw up my order at least 1 out of 5 times. Now before you ask me why I continue to go back to the place that fucks up my order that often, I will point out that I have an addiction and I will always need hot wings in my life. Always. I am rather proud that I didn’t yell, or demand some kind of free stuff, all I said was I’ve been waiting for almost 50 minutes and I want my money back. I want to say again, that Buffalo Wild Wings have screwed up my order so many times that I am immune to their incompetency and always check my order before leaving the restaurant. Over the years, I’ve gotten to know the front of house staff, and have seen lots of staff and managers come and go. And usually all I do is smile and take whatever bad experience they throw at me because in the end I get what I need, Hot Wings. I’ve seen great FOH staff, who cares but mess up continually, bad FOH staff that can’t get an order right if there was a gun to their head. And everything in between. And before you say, the FOH staff can’t control the kitchen, I know that. But Buffalo Wild Wings put the ticket on the bag, and I’ve seen the ticket never mention that I want no pico de guillo in my Chili Queso Dip. I’ve seen tickets that never says extra extra extra wet on my Hot BBQ wings. That is not a kitchen error, that is a FOH mistake. And what really pissed me off today, when the manager told me they lost my ticket and was remaking the order, what pissed me off, she turned away and started talking to the girl next to her about the date she had the night before. And I will be the first to admit, I’m not a nice guy sometimes. I have a sharp wit and sometimes it can be extremely harsh when I’m not at work. That didn’t happen today. I was calm, and politely asked for my money back. The manager looked at me, and said okay. She processed my order, gave me the slip that said my order was voided and that my card would be credited for the amount. She then turned away from me again and resumed her story about the night before. For the first time in my life, and it has already been established that I am forty-two, I looked up the corporate office and sent an email detailing my experience. I didn’t demand my money back, nor did I swear and lose my mind which is what I would normally do. Instead I detailed my experience today, and asked for them to try and fix the issues that seem to happen at each and every Buffalo Wild Wing I have ever frequented. I said, “I wish I could quit you, because after giving you so much money over the years and having so many issues with your staff, I wish I could quit you, but I probably won’t because I love hot wings so much”. It’s been five hours and I haven’t heard anything back from their website complaint department and I wasn’t really surprised. When you are such a huge corporation, people are going to give you money no matter what and that they believe that with all the new guests they get each week, they really don’t care about existing guests. But that logic is flawed, and what they don’t seem to understand, sooner or later they are going to run out of new guests and there will be no one left to try their restaurant. I spend so much of my energy making sure that all my guests are taken care of, I sometimes have nothing left to give to my boyfriend after a long day at work. I left Buffalo Wild Wings with the idea that I would go to my local Hot Wing place that doesn’t really have spicy hot wings but have decent hot wings that I could purchase and then add my ghost pepper sauce to kick them to another level. But when I arrived at their establishment, they were closed for remodel. And then went to another hot wing place in Daly City and they were out of hot wings until 1pm because there shipment didn’t arrive on time. It’s now 5pm and I’m at home. I did get my beer, and my whiskey, and I’m rather drunk, which is why if this Blog entry has mistakes or a rambling feel to it, it’s not my fault I’m on an empty stomach and rather drunk. I still have a hard-on, I have no hot wings, and my boyfriend isn’t home yet from work. Sometimes life just sucks no matter how hard you try and maintain positivity.

Thank you. It was a very hard point in my life when I wrote this. Seems miles away from the place I live in now. Thank you j

I have the day off, first one in a pretty long time that the Boyfriend is working. Not saying he isn't the cleanest person on the planet, but he's messy as fuck. So I really needed to clean the house while he's not around so he won't distract me by dancing around the house in his undies. Though that does make me feel like fuzzy bunny slippers when he does. So I needed some motivation to clean this filthy house. I searched through my almost one thousand movies and decided on re-watching Season 5 of 24. I made myself some tuna salad, toasted my artisan sweet batard bread, thinly sliced some sharp cheddar cheese, salt and vinagear chips on the side, sat down in my kitchen and switched on Hour number one. Five hours later, the house is not only still dirty, I haven't cleared the dishes from breakfast, so in fact, it is actually dirtier than it was when i started. And to make it even more upsetting, I think I fell in love with Keifer Sutherland's ass. So much for cleaning motivation. Though to be honest, I do have the urge to...err..polish something else entirely, thus making the house dirtier still. Having a great day off. J

I have played Mass Effect so many times I actually know where all the enemies arrive. I've also played the entire Assassins Creed games multiple times from start to finish. Though Black Flag and Rogue tend to be my favorites. Red dead redemption is also a favorite. Open world games with puzzles and different choices are what really keeps me coming back. J

I sit back and put my feet up on the bed And try to get as comfy as I can I write our name on the condensated window But he quickly wipes it away with the back of his hand He sighs as if he’s going to speak Like maybe something’s on his mind But he rolls over and faces the wall And I realize that our loves not blind So I open the window and let the cold air rush in It’s easy to be sleepy with this silence all night I rub my eyes and

Ecstasy was never my drug of choice. I had a love/hate relationship with cocaine and a straight boy named Mark. That being said, one of the reasons I love poetry so much that the reader can relate to it on a level that the author never intended. Thank you by the way, I had forgotten that I posted these two pieces here. All of my work is posted on the now defunct Author's Haunt. I think this link works if you are interested in checking them out. JasonLanc

It's been a long time coming but I am finally writing again. I have several more chapters complete and having a blast creating this world. It's like a comfortable old blanket and I wrapped myself tightly with it. Hope you like it. The sun had long set behind the mountains of the town of Glacier Bay. The moon bathed the town in a soft light with a backdrop of twinkling stars in the October sky. The trees gently swayed in the offshore breeze that hinted at the bone chilling weather that was to come but for now, the air was crisp and refreshing. The leaves had changed giving the streets and parks a colorful facelift that brought in visitors from all around. The last influx of outsiders bringing their pocketbooks before the long winter brought snow and ice and all the winter games along with it. Some folks said that winter was gods way of testing the human spirit. Much like the grass and trees, humans tended to go into a hibernation mode throughout the winter. Surviving on the nutrients they had gathered in the spring and summer to get them through the harsh starving months of winter. The world seemed a bit sadder in the winter months, most of the habitants of Glacier Bay walked with their head down, their faces covered by scarves and bundled up in colorful hats, gloves, and bulky winter coats. In the summer, they would wave and shout out to their neighbors, most times stopping for moment to ask about families and goings on. But with the onset of winter, one was lucky to get a polite wave as they rushed by seeking indoors over the blistering cold. On this particular night, Scott Taylor was staring out at the glacier that gave the town its name. The glacier, brightly lit by the moon, reflected across the bay giving off the illusion the water was ice, calm and still. This illusion was ruined every few minutes when a gentle wave would crash into the bottom of the glacier echoing off the mountainside. Scott tucked his long blonde hair behind his ears and looked towards the town he had lived in all his life. Glacier Bay, nestled at the base of a range of mountains that almost saw snow on the peaks all year round. The glacier snaked its way down the mountain until it spilled out in the bay that was protected by a natural seawall. When the town was first settled in the late 1800’s, the townsfolk had carved a deep channel for boats to enter the bay safely in the natural wall. This was once upon time to protect the fishing vessels that were moored at the docks during the winter months. Nowadays there was not much commercial fishing anymore. All the boats moored at the dock were built more for pleasure and unused for most of the year except when their rich owners could get away from the city for a few short weeks and enjoy all the town had to offer. Many local boys like Scott, made really good money taking care of the boats for their absentee owners throughout the year as well as maintaining the carefully manicured lawns and removing the snow from their vacation homes throughout the year. It always amazed Scott how much someone was willing to pay to keep a house they would visit once or twice a year. It seemed like a waste of money that could be better spent in other ways. But Scott was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As he peered across the bay, he eyes drifted to the lighthouse. There was no need for a lighthouse since the 1950’s and it had long been turned into a tourist destination with daily tours during the summer months. A small gift shop in the base of the lighthouse offered those who had the need to buy souvenirs and keepsakes to remember their trip to Glacier Bay. It had been closed for weeks now, abandoned until the spring. Too many things in Glacier Bay seemed to be dormant for his liking. Scott glanced at his watch and wondered again what was keeping his friend. His eyes drifted back to the high school. Thirty minute ago the lights had all but been turned off, signaling the end of the play and the participants headed home for the night. Even if there was traffic leaving the parking lot, his friend should have arrived twenty minutes ago. He pulled his coat around him tighter, it wasn’t that cold yet. But sitting still on a bench for almost an hour had caused a chill to sink into his bones. For the hundredth time, he checked his phone to see if there were any texts. Since he had arrived, his sister had texted him three times about the ending of the play, his mom wanted to know what he was doing Saturday night and if he was free for dinner. And a few more from random friends, but there was nothing from Jake. Silent; much like the last week had been. The old saying was true; you almost never miss what you have until it is no longer there. And after a week of silence from his closest friend, he found that he missed him terribly. Scott reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. It was definitely a habit he was trying to quit but the craving was always worse when he was bored. He hadn’t so much taken his first drag when he heard footsteps on the gravel walkway below. Jake must have ridden his bike, otherwise he would have seen the headlights of his car as he drove around the lake. Though the moon was bright and the sky was clear, he couldn’t make out the face of the figure as it approached him. But he would have known that shape anywhere. He had seen that shape for eighteen years. He peered intently as the boy walked towards him. Once he was close enough to see, Scott could see his face was drawn, his eyes intent as he looked at the ground. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his breath steamed in the night with every exhale. He had ridden his bike. Jacob Rainer, his next door neighbor for most of his life. The one person that knew every secret, every prank, everything he had ever done in his life. They were together when Scott got the bright idea to jump off the roof with sheets tied around their necks; they were also together when Scott convinced his friend that crossing the bay in old man Thomas’s row boat was a good idea at 2am in the middle of winter. From the time they could walk, they had been inseparable. The two boys, both eighteen and heading into their final year of school, could not have been more different. Neither in looks nor in personality. Jake was average size, short cropped brown hair, and always seemed to ponder each decision carefully before acting. He was well liked by his peers and received mostly A’ and B’s in all of his classes. Being the middle child, at home he would disappear as his younger sister seemed to garnish all the attention and his older brother couldn’t keep from arguing with his parents about everything. Everyone who knew him would testify that out of all the kids, he was going to be the one that made it and made it in a big way. Scott took another drag from his cigarette and waited for his friend to sit down next to him on the bench. But that did not stop him from looking at his friend with an expectant look on his face. Jake moved his hand in front of his face, trying to avoid the cigarette smoke that lingered around Scott’s head like a halo. “I really wish you’d quit those.” Scott shrugged, “Everyone needs a bad habit.” Jake settled back into the bench, and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Nice night. Won’t be long until winter arrives though. I can smell the snow in the air.” Scott threw the cigarette on the ground and stamped it out with his foot. “It is almost November. Hell, Halloween is just around the corner.” Jake looked at his friend sideways. “What are you going as this year?” Scott turned his head and looked at his friend, “Are we really doing this? Small talk, like you haven’t said a word to me in a week, and you want to know what I’m dressing for Halloween.” Jake ignored the outburst, something he did often. “I’m going as a father,” he said quietly. Scott’s eyes widened at the declaration. “Well shit.” Jake stared at the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with Scott. Instead he dug his toe around in the dirt. “Remember the fall dance at the club back in August.” Scott couldn’t help but chuckle as he remembered that night. That was the night he dumped two bottles of whiskey in the punch, one hour before he puked on Mrs. Turners shoes. As much trouble as he received for ruining her shoes, it would have been worse if they would have known he was the culprit that spiked the punch. “What about it?” “Christine and I…” “Christine?” Scott interrupted. “Blankenship.” “Remember, Becky and I got into that fight. She was mad at you for spiking the punch,” Jake explained. “Becky went home with Julie and Christine was pretty drunk, so I offered to give her a ride.” “Yeah you did,” Scott said, laughing. Jake stood up, and spat out angrily, “This is why I can’t talk to you sometimes. Not everything is a joke.” Scott stared up at his friend for a moment. Then he said in a quiet tone, “You’re serious.” “I’m gonna be a father Scott. And I’m scared shitless.” Jake stated before turning around to face the glacier. “Wait a minute,” Scott said, shaking his head. “You slept with Christine the night of the dance and didn’t tell me?” Jake glared at his friend. “Not everything is about you. And no, I didn’t.” Scott pulled out another cigarette. “Okay, lets start at the beginning.” Jake rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Christine was hammered that night. I would never take advantage of someone like that. But she was all over me, and managed to kiss me before I kicked her out of the car.” Jake sat back down next to his friend and grabbed the cigarette and took a long drag before exhaling the smoke upwards. “That’s how you do it. Not in your friends face.” “Rodger,” Scott said with a grin. “Continue.” “Becky and I were having problems. She was so worried about what would happen at the end of the year when we go off to college. It was so frustrating, I mean, why couldn’t we just be happy now, and worry about next year, next year.” Jake stated with a sigh. “A few days later, Christine showed up at work, being all flirty. Wondering if I wanted to get coffee after I was finished. It was nice, hanging out with her, just being in the moment, not worried about college, and how many kids we needed to have, where we were going to live, you know. Just two people enjoying each other.” Jake stopped for a moment and eyeing the cigarette before taking it again. “So we hung out off and on for the next few weeks. And I swear, nothing happened. We were just talking.” “When did Becky find out?” Scott asked as he lit up another cigarette. Jake took a another drag, looked at the cigarette in his fingers, and threw it on the ground. He stated with a frown, “You sure seem to smoke a lot nowadays.” “What can I say, I’m an addict.” “Three weeks ago, Becky saw us at the coffee shop, she went crazy. She wouldn’t let me explain, she started accusing me of cheating on her with her best friend, calling us all sorts of names. It was in the middle of the coffee shop. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it.” Scott shrugged. “I’ve been busy.” “That was the night it happened. Right over there,” Jake gestured at the end of the walkway. He grabbed the cigarette again and took a long drag. “Look Jake, I don’t mind if you smoke my cigarettes but you have to stop putting them out after one drag, their expensive,” Scott said with a frown. “Are you sure she’s pregnant?” “She was pretty sure after a week because she missed her period. Three tests later, and I’m gonna be a father,” Jake sighed. “At eighteen, just like my father.” “That’s heavy,” Scott stated with a grimace. “And the really messed up thing,” Jake said quietly. “I don’t love her. I love Becky.” “Does she know?” Jake shook his head. “No one knows. Just Christine, me, and now you. Not even her parents.” “No wonder you’ve been avoiding me all week,” Scott said, his eyes wide in disbelief. Jake stared off into the distance as he said, “I told her. That I didn’t love her and that I wanted to be with Becky.” “How did she take that?” “She just starting crying,” Jake said, rubbing his hands through his hair. “I can’t seem to do anything right lately.” “There is one thing you did perfectly,” Scott blurted out. Jake stared at him flatly. “Don’t be an ass.” “I’m just saying maybe you should’ve tried for that ass and you wouldn’t be in this situation.” Jake couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m not a pervert like you.” Scott laughed. “I’m not a pervert anymore; it’s legal now in almost all fifty states. We can get married and everything.” Jake shoved his friend playfully. “What you do I wouldn’t call it legal in any state.” “They have all been consensual,” Scott said, pausing before adding with a grin, “except that one time but we won’t talk about him. He deserved what he got anyway.” “Gross,” Jake stated dryly. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” “Is she going to keep it?” Scott asked carefully. “I’m not sure. I didn’t know how to bring that up. Fuck, I already told her I don’t want to be with her, I didn’t think asking about abortion was appropriate.” Jake admitted. “I’m such an asshole aren’t I.” “Best thing to do is talk to your dad.” Scott offered. “He’s going to kill me,” Jake said with a frown. “He always told me not to do what he did.” “Look on the bright side,” Scott stated as he stood up. “You didn’t, you’re not going to marry the girl you knocked up.” “Oh, you are so dead,” Jake snorted and started chasing his friend who had starting running towards his truck parked in the lot down the path. “You could never catch me slowpoke,” Scott called out over his shoulder before really turning on the speed. His long legs made running seem effortlessly, and he had been running his entire life. On his best day, Jake couldn’t keep up with him unless he slowed to a jog and this time was no different. By the time Jake caught up to him, he was leaning against his truck and the motor was already warming up. He did notice that Jake’s bike was already in the bed of his blue pick-up. Riding out to the glacier in the middle of the night might be fun but no one wanted to make the long ride back. Jake half-jogged the last ten yards, his chest heaving as he took large gasps of air. He held his side and winced. “I don’t know how you run that fast and still smoke that many cigarettes.” “Genetics,” Scott said with a smile. He smoothed down his long blonde hair and jumped in the truck. “Get in before you fall over.” “I was built for short bursts,” Jake explained as he climbed inside the 4X4 truck with a grunt. “I’m much better on the wrestling floor.” Scott turned on the heat full blast as he spoke, “And yet, oddly enough, I turned out to be the gay one.” “That is true. I’ve probably had my face in more boy crotches than you have. If I’m not gay by now, I’ll never be,” Jake said proudly. “You are one of the few on the wrestling team that could honestly say that,” Scott said, moving his eyebrows up and down suggestively. “Those are my teammates, I don’t want to hear about what they might do with you behind closed doors,” Jake complained half-heartedly. Scott laughed, loud and deep. “Remember that time we went to that away game in Hillersville, now that was a wrestler that knew which end of a boy was what.” For the rest of the ride back to town, Scott told one outlandish tale after another about his many conquests and crazy exploits. Like most boys do of a certain age, there was a large amount of exaggeration and all out lies. Jake knew that Scott was far from being a virgin, and he did have a more active sex life than most boys in the school ever dared dream. Most times he just hoped that most of Scott’s stories were fanciful tales designed to get a rise out of his listeners. Scott was well known around the school at having the weirdest sense of humor. No matter what the circumstance, he could always be counted on to say the most offensive thing at any given time. It was something that Jake actually respected him for. It took a very confident person to say whatever and not care what everyone else thought. Scott truly marched to a different drum than anyone else. He was never sure which boy was the good influence on the other. All he knew, Scott was someone he could count on to always be there. No matter what. For his part, Scott was at a complete loss of words. He couldn’t even begin to understand what his friend was going through. So he did the only thing he could do, try to take Jake’s mind off his problem, even if it was only for twenty minutes on the ride home. Jake was almost smiling by the time the blue truck pulled up to 803 Campus Circle at 11:53pm. Scott put the truck in park and stared ahead. “Talk to your dad.” “I’d rather talk to your dad,” Jake stated with a grin. Scott laughed again. “He’d be so happy to talk about sex with girls with someone. You’d make his day.” “How’s he been the last few weeks?” Jake asked, looking at his friend intently. “He’s getting use to it,” Scott said with a shrug. “Mom said it was okay for me to come to dinner tomorrow night. So that’s a good thing.” Jake reached over and put his hand on Scott’s arm. “Look Scott, I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately. It’s not because…you’re gay. I don’t care about that. And truthfully, I kind of always suspected.” “Really?” Scott asked. “Why didn’t you say anything?” “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jake countered. Scott turned his head for a moment and looked out the drivers window. “I guess I was scared.” “Of what?” Scott turned to face his friend. “I think I knew that you wouldn’t care, deep down. But I didn’t want to lose you. You are one of the most important things in my life. And I was scared to take a chance that you wouldn’t accept me. Or worse.” “Or worse?” Jake asked. “Like, if you thought I was hitting on you on those times we would wrestle around. Or the showers, or sleeping together,” Scott said honestly. Jake made a face and said quickly, “That’s gross.” Scott’s eyes widened as Jake continued thoughtfully, “One of the reasons I always thought you were gay was when we wrestled and you’d get a boner.” “I so did not,” Scott denied laughing. Jake laughed, for the first time that night, a deep belly laugh. “Exactly my point. You are more like my brother than my own brother.” Scott stated through his laughter, “Truth.” “I didn’t know what to say about this Christine thing, I was avoiding you because it’s got my head all twisted,” Jake admitted. “But I realized that you might think it was because you came out. And it’s not. Honest.” Scott sighed. “Thank you. I will admit I was wondering if that was it. It was weird not being able to talk to you about this stuff.” “Hey, you can always talk to me, I might not understand it all, but I’ll listen,” Jake said with a small grin. “Thanks. And you’re not worried what everyone will say at school about you,” Scott asked. He had already heard some of the things that have been said. For the time being, nothing had been said to his face but he figured it was just a matter of time. Jake laughed again. “Scott, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I wasn’t the only one that suspected.” Scott was truly stunned. “Really.” “Becky and even Julie told me that years ago. Mike mentioned it in passing,” Jake said through his laughter. “I think everyone knew and probably no one really cares.” “Well shit, I could’ve saved all that stress,” Scott said thoughtfully. “If only my father would’ve suspected.” “He’ll come around,” Jake said confidently. “He just always wanted a grandson.” “Well, maybe he can adopt Christine’s baby,” Scott snorted out, not being able to stop himself. “You really are an asshole,” Jake said, shaking his head. “Really, a big asshole.” “You could come over and visit him, bring him presents,” Scott said more enthusiastically, gesturing wildly. “Take naps with me in my bed.” “Just keep laughing,” Jake warned, but the corner of his mouth was curling up in a grin. “Though, you are a great napping partner. You like to cuddle.” “One time,” Scott admonished. “Best nap I ever had,” Jake said laughing. “That’s when you’re father should’ve suspected. When he walked in on us that day, you had even drooled a bit on my shoulder.” “You’re laughing now,” Scott replied. “But Mom asked me if you were my boyfriend.” Jake stopped laughing and asked, “Seriously? What did you say?” Scott put his hands behind his head and said, “I told her it wasn’t my place to out other people and if she wanted to know she should ask you.” Jake smacked him right in the stomach, hard. Scott made a sound, and grabbed his stomach, though he didn’t stop laughing. “It doesn’t help that you stopped coming around these last few weeks. No telling what they are thinking.” “Well, I can bet they aren’t thinking I got some girl pregnant,” Jake said wistfully. “No, can’t say that they are,” Scott agreed. “Anything you need, just ask.” “Thanks. But it’s time for me to go inside,” Jake stated as he stared at his darkened house, a lone porch light shining a light on the walkway. “I’ll see you.” Jake opened the door and headed towards the front of the house. Scott stared at him until he disappeared inside and the door closed. Scott checked his phone and read a text that brought a grin to his face. He replied, “I’m on my way.” He started up his truck and headed across town whistling. He had wanted to tell Jake about the reason he came out but didn’t think it was the right time. Not when Jake was worried about being a father to a girl he didn’t want to be with. Not to mention that when Becky found out she would probably break up with him. No seventeen year old girl wants to be a girlfriend of an eighteen year old that is having a baby with her best friend. But that was for a later time to worry about. For now, he was going to see the reason he came out. And for now, that was all that mattered.

I have always been a reader and tend to gravitate towards Sci-Fi/Fantasy though as I get older I've noticed I read most anything, fiction or non-fiction if the topic is interesting. I have actually never read any of the LOTR books and read the Hobbit only once. As much as I love Fantasy/Middle Earth, (definately a fan of the LOTR movies VS the Hobbit installments but that is another post), I always found Tolkien writing to be pretty boring and not enough story progression to keep my mind interested. I guess when I was younger Sci-Fi was captured my imagination more, Heinlein was a favorite along with Jules Verne, its wasn't until I was 15 when I first fell in love with Fantasy. Much like you James, I was always getting in trouble in my English class, mostly due to the fact that I always finished my work long before the other students and I was bored. After countless trips to the office and serving detention, my teacher gave me a book to read one day in class to keep me from distracting the other the students. It was Pawn of Prophecy by David Eddings. From the opening line, "The first thing the boy Garion remembered was the kitchens at Faldor's Farm." I was hooked. It was book one of the Belgariad and it started my journey of fantasy. Filled with magic and centuries long war with gods and men, and love, love between family and friends. It has one of my all time favorite characters, Silk, a prince that is also an assassin and spy, befriending a young boy. It was amazing, so much so that once class was finished, I begged her to let me bring home the book, she said I would have to wait until the next class to continue the story. I was rather upset upon reaching the end of that book to find out that it was only one book in a series that would eventually grow into 12 books starring the young Garion as he learns his destiny. Not sure what this post means, but this reminded me of a great memory that I figured to share. J

I have never commented on your Blog before, though I have read every entry. I tend to be shy, unless I am writing my own blog, and rarely think I have anything to offer but ramblings about days that I no longer want to relive. The reason I am commenting now, is because of the clarity that rings true in the words above. The realization that no one in that scenario is special, due to the fact that that scenario only brings "O" faces and stories to tell your friends over dinner. Lasting relationships are more fulfilling and breeds the special-ness that deep down inside I believe most humans need, strive for, even through endless one night stands and drug/alcohol fueled release into willing receptacle. It means nothing if you are the receptacle or the depositor into said receptacle. The end result is the same. I don't have sage advice as I continue to make mistakes over and over again. All I can say, is realization brings us all to crossroads...continue down the same shallow path, or look inward and allow maturity to reign. I like your life and your words regarding your life. J

Sometimes it's easy in that situation to be bitter, looking back its rose colored tints and a bunch of what-ifs and supposes. But deep inside you know that looking backwards only causes pain and blurry could've been so. Today you are strong, secure in your place in life gay man with a partner and that is only because of your past experiences. Don't look to trade your past for a rosy present...that accomplishes nothing and more than likely hinders future you from growing. Each generation builds upon the previous, give a helping hand to those after you, knowing in two generations, even your struggle will be regulated to myths. We are winning, and in lots of instances, we have won.

Thanks! I think I'm out of practice though. It did make me miss sitting down and writing. I might jump back in a tie at a time. Thanks for reading. Some of my older posts are definitely better.

I’m back...and this blog entry is sponsored by “wingtip shoes” and candy apple cigarettes. I could look this up but I’m a bit too much on the lazy side to figure out how long it’s been since I last posted a blog entry. But I’m sure it’s so long ago that even my one loyal reader has given up on checking my outdated blog and has disappeared into the ether. Unfortunately I am regulated to posting to those that have no idea who I am or realize the sheer boredom the next few minutes will bring them as they read this blog entry called Bottom(less) Tales in Vegas 2016. So let me be the first to apologize to all of you for wasting your time. But I am a gentleman so just to avoid all the confusion, let me tell you who I use to be a long time ago, twenty-pounds smaller, and a few thousand hair follicles ago. I was a rather prolific poet, blogger, and part-time storyteller known as Jason Rimbaud. That was a long time ago when I was still messed up on pills, alcohol and a straight boy named Mark. Do you remember now? Just in case you were wondering, I have put all three of those things firmly in my rear-view view. And if I were to be honest, the main reason I stopped blogging all those years ago , I really didn’t have much drama in my life and what little drama I had was a bit on the boring side to share with my loyal reader. Trust me, no one wants to read anything remotely about me getting up to work, working all day, going home and sleeping only to rise and repeat. That should be the title of my life, Rise and Repeat (trademark pending). Literally nothing was going on in my life. Okay, so judging from the title of this blog post, I’m sure a few of you are expecting something interesting happened to me one blistering hot day in Las Vegas. I met a boy. Not really a boy, more like an amazing wonderful guy that from here on out, I will call “G” to preserve his identity. “G” is an Indian, his family comes from Goa but he was born here in San Francisco. Lets go back to the beginning, a perfect place to start for this fuzzy bunny slippers kind of a tale. I am currently sitting at the Luxor Casino in the quaint little dessert town of Nevada known as “Sin City”. This town is aptly named because I definitely found some sin in that city. Well, two sins to be precise. It has been just over a year since I broke up with “G”. Matter of fact, almost in the exact spot I was when I first realized that we were no longer an “us”. Have you ever been in a relationship and one day you wake up and realize that what you think was perfect was actually flawed and nowhere near the vicinity of perfect? “G” and I were together for well over two years and I must say, it was the most adult relationship I have had to date. It’s been long enough that I can look back and see it for what it was…perfect for me and just average for him. Before you go and think we had epic battles and tears were shed and bodily fluids were shared with other partners, you would be wrong. In the weeks before the break-up, we went about our daily lives in a comfortable routine. A routine that I guess worked for me but left him wanting something else. I don’t believe there was another boy that took him away. I believed he came to the same conclusion I did on that fateful day in Vegas, but he came to that much sooner than I. I went to Vegas in March, last year, after a long stretch of long hours and missed days off. I had been texting him off and on all day, sharing with him my wins and my losses, when I started getting the sinking feeling that something was extremely wrong. Have you had the moment via text, when you can feel the mood shift? That’s what I felt from him that day. I could almost feel he was just replying back to me because we were together and not because he really was enjoying talking to me. We always had the most fun together, we enjoyed each other and spent most of our time laughing and joking and referencing all the inside jokes we had developed. Our texts were playful and flirty and were seldom one word replies. But that day, the replies were coming slower and slower and the words became fewer and fewer. I remember vividly sitting there at the slot machine, staring at the screen and then down to my phone, and the sudden clarity moment when I knew we were over. Matter of fact, six days later, we would be over and my life would be forever changed. I’ll be honest, mainly because he will never read this and partly because I have always been honest in these blog posts, I was lucky to have him in my life for as long as I did. “G” is a great guy and though I believe I am over him, I still think about him often and wonder how he’s doing. I am currently, as I type this, sitting at the Luxor Casino in a bar called Aura trying to get my head around the events that happened just a few minutes ago. I’m exhausted, and not in I need to pass out for twelve hours kind of way, but more like a contented exhaustion. I awoke this morning and decided I needed to clear my head and work out the memories that have been haunting me for a year. While it had been a year since “G” and I broke up, I had yet to throw my ass into the dating world. I might have been a bit too glib earlier when I acted like it was a mutual thing. It was the saddest break-up of my life. And that hurt, for a long time, and I was devastated. I couldn’t even as much look at another penis without a crippling feeling of loss. Don’t get me wrong, I joined Jacked and Grindr but no one I met even came close to “G” nor did I really feel like getting someone else fluids anywhere near me. But that was then, and this is very much right now. This morning I woke up and felt a horniness that I haven’t felt in a long time. So intense was this mental erection, I jumped on a plane and headed to my favorite vacation destination. And I did it right. I flew first class, I booked a two bedroom suite that came with a hot tub in front of the window so I could look out on the Vegas strip while soaking naked. So here I was, freshly mended heart, looking out across the dessert in one of the greatest cities in the world and I needed human contact. It was so overwhelming, I knew it was an itch only a guy could feel. What was a boy to do? Damn right! I opened Grindr. Twenty minutes later I’m sitting at the very bar I’m sitting now, chatting up this guy from Wisconsin. One drink after that, we were back in my room. He was a bit younger than me, late thirties, tall and rail thin. His name was Adam. A fitting name I thought as I was about to be partaking of the forbidden fruit for the first time in a year. I believe Adam was married and only played with men on his business outing. But he was horned up and for some reason, I was the reason. He kissed like a straight man. So like a true reformed slut, I put a condom on his peen and sat down. When I first met “G”, he was in a tragic relationship with a guy I really believe broke his heart. So much so, I don’t think there was ever a chance for us to work. He was coming off a relationship he thought was going to last forever, there was a ring and everything. Moving into my little world of craziness, he never really had the time to heal from that. I’m not the most emotional guy in the world and with just a hint of clarity in my pretty bald head, we were probably doomed from the start. But fuck me did I try, more than I ever tried before. At least I know when I do meet the right guy, I will have no trouble diving head first and doubling down. Adam had a great body, smooth and a perfect sized penis. You know the kind I mean, not so big that you can’t fit it in anywhere but not so small that makes you looked down and go “no thanks”. Looking out over the Vegas strip, pressed up against the window, I realized that was something I had been missing for a long time. As I gazed out at the twinkling lights of Mandalay Bay, I actually let out a sigh. I won’t describe the sex I had with “G”, that is for me and I won’t cheapen the memory by sharing it with you. But he was little, and I’m not talking about his down there parts, that was as close to perfect as you could get, but it had been a while since I was with someone that could really manhandle me around. I was so horned up and ready for Adam to stop kissing me, I didn’t even use lube, I just pushed back and took the pain. One, two, three, maybe five thrusts and he collapses against my back, shaking. As we kind of stood there, his weird breath on my back, silent for a moment before I said, “That was disappointing.” Think about it, it had been over a year since I had any action and fifteen seconds into it, right when it just started to feel amazing, he finishes with a grunt. I’m not sure what he was expecting nor the look that must have crossed his face when I said that. All I know is I felt him tense up, and he pushed off me and started walking over to his clothes. The condom dropped to the floor and without a word, he got dressed and left the room. I was still standing by the window, still excited and wondering what the fuck just happened and what the fuck was I going to do now. I could have taken it in hand as it were, but now I was like a man possessed. When you’ve gone a year without sex, fifteen seconds is nowhere near long enough to come close to satisfying me. No hand job in a poorly lit movie theatre, no wink wink nudge nudge, not even boom goes the dynamite. I needed dick, and for longer than fifteen seconds. I stood there kind of confused, all my blood still pooling far away from my bald head, when I heard that magic sound every Grindr user recognizes. I opened the APP, and the first thing I see is a bare stomach, two brown nipples winking at me, no face but that wasn’t what sent my stomach doing back flips. “G” was probably the first guy I ever took without a condom. And I can remember that first time we did it, like we were connected in ways that all homophobes will never understand. I don’t want to get too graphic, but fuck me, it’s an amazing feeling. Remember, it has been a year since I bottomed for anyone. An entire year, needless to say, it was a really tight fit. So maybe I can’t blame Adam for shooting so quick…maybe! So I open Grindr, and under ethnicity, I see Native American, Navaho to be precise. He was hot, 6 foot tall, runner build, amazing smile and let’s not even mention the glasses, because fuck I do like my men in glasses. What was a guy to do? I had never been with a Native American, the excitement was there, and that need to be fulfilled was still there, pounding in my brain. I told him my room number and promptly jumped into the shower to wash off Adam’s stink. After all it has been only ten minutes since Adam was all up in my business. I really hoped that Sonni, yes his name is Sonni, couldn’t tell that I just had someone else ten minutes earlier, but I really didn’t care. I was definitely seeing red at this point. Sonni was completely opposite of Adam. He was shy, so much so I also wondered how much experience he had with guys. That fear was quickly put to rest at the expert way he handled certain parts of my anatomy. But I am getting ahead of myself. While Sonni and I were chatting by the window, he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to have sex, he was a bit more interested in oral pleasure at first. But luckily for me, he took one look at my willingness and threw those plans out of the window. We made out for a while, doing a little bit of this and some dirty that, and I get another condom and in no time I am ready to go. He was bigger than Adam, one of the biggest I have been with on that end of things. But I was up for the challenge and slowly sat down. One, two, three, eight and wammo, his toes curl and he lets out a whimper and I’m back right where I started. Horned up and still not properly topped. The first time “G” topped me, the same thing happened. It was over long before it really began and after these two guys tonight, I am starting to believe I just might have a magic ass. Which might be quite difficult to accomplish at forty-one years old? But I am sitting here in this bar, a bit sore back there, but content that I was still attractive enough that two different guys in a matter of an hour, shot off because of the sensations I caused them. And for those of you that say that isn’t me as much as it has to do with them, don’t rain on my parade. I needed a confidence booster. The real difference between Adam and Sonni, Sonni isn’t leaving until Friday, that’s three days away. Who knows, maybe I can get him in my bed again for round one and half. I think I would take “G” back if he would offer. I still love him. But I also know that we grew apart in ways that neither of us can recover the distance. And just because my track record is being the king of looking back and diving headfirst into past boyfriends and all that tangled shit over and over again doesn’t mean I have to wash rinse and repeat. I miss “G” in certain moments, the fun we had, the times we shared, and all the moments that we created as an “us”. But then, for the first time in years, I was with two different guys in a matter of an hour. And yes I understand what that might make me, but after a year I think I deserved a bit of safe fun. Me and my magic ass deserve it. I’ve been in town seven hours and I already used up all my towels. What will the maid think of me when she cleans my room tomorrow? As usual, I’ve rambled on for too long to disclose the remainder of my Bottom(less) Tales in Vegas or the time when Sonni came to San Francisco and we spent nine amazing hours in bed for his birthday. But those tales are for another time and some other when.

Thank you, it was the first thing I've written in years. J

Tell me about it...my BF is constantly telling me that I am a Straight guy trapped in a gay mans mouth J

“It’s not that I didn’t like the gift…” “You don’t,” Ron interrupted while flipping through a magazine. “Right, but he doesn’t have to know that.” “He will figure it out when you never wear it and it goes the way the rest of his gifts have gone, “Ron said gesturing towards the closet. “It’s our fifth year anniversary, that deserves something more romantic than a brown coat and an even plainer brown scarf,” Daniel exclaimed, pushing his hair off his forehead. “It could have been worse you know.” “Really. How?” “Remember the animal print top he bought you two years ago,” Ron said, putting the magazine down on his lap. “What kind of animal was that again?” “Zebra.” “See, that would have been worse. A zebra printed coat.” “Sometimes I have a hard time believing he is gay.” “I doubt that,” Ron said as he rolled his eyes and looked down at the pages again. “I see how you walk into the kitchen after date night.” “That’s what I mean,” Daniel stood up angrily. “You shouldn’t be privy to our love making sessions.” “And you shouldn’t be calling it ‘our love making sessions’ either.” “We use to stay out all night just talking. We’d go out for long walks on the beach under the moonlight. We’d hold hands and make out until the sun came up over the city.” “And I remember when you thought turtle necks hid your tremendously long neck.” Daniel ignored him and continued, “Now I cook dinner, he opens a bottle of wine. We snuggle on the couch while watching Alien Encounters before shuffling off to our bed promptly at nine pm where our love making sessions start and we are asleep by nine-thirty.” “Sounds pretty bad to me,” Ron said as he stood and looked at his watch. “You have a man that puts up with your craziness, you family issues, loves you so much there are times I get physically sick being in the same room with you two. It’s horrible.” “You know what I mean,” Daniel threw up his hands in frustration. “I think it’s over.” Ron rolled his eyes. He loved his brother more than anything but there were times it was exhausting listening to his insecurities. “Come on drama queen, we have to go. The movie starts at seven.” “I can’t believe he has to work late on our anniversary,” “Damn,” Ron stated as he looked at his shoe. “I think I have a broken shoelace. Why don’t you go get the car and I’ll change shoes and meet you down in a minute. “Okay.” The moment the door closed behind Daniel, Ron pulled out his phone and waited for the connection. “Is it set?” The voice on the other end asked. “Little miss drama queen is heading down as we speak.” “How mad is he?” “You know my brother, he doesn’t even know how he feels moment to moment.” “Thanks again for watching the house this week-end, you are my favorite brother in law.” “I’m your only brother in law weirdo,” Ron said with a laugh. “Have fun in Bermuda.” Ron returned his phone to his pocket and kicked off his shoes. He sat down on the sofa and put his hands behind his head and sighed loudly. “Finally some peace and quiet.”

I've always hated the terminology, gay book, gay actor, I'm gay, I don't live a gay lifestyle, I am human who happens to find gentleman of the same sex attractive. I am human. That being said, it is nice to be able to find characters that are the main plot focus that resemble the man I see when I look in the mirror. Luckily, in the last fifteen years or so, the talent of those writing gay themed stories have improved ten fold. It used to be ninety percent stroke stories, and now its more like sixty percent are written solely to stroke one out. I am looking forward to the day when I find an author that can capture my imagination like Jordan, Eddings, Brooks, Rimbaud, Thomas, Poe, just to name a few. So for now, I keep searching. J

Thank you. I sometimes wonder what I did to get so lucky with a great job and an amazing boyfriend. Then it hits me, I'm gay, I deserve it. Haha Jason

I should be here more often but my career ( what a weird thing to come from my mouth ) has me full up the last year. As it is, in a weeks time, I'll be leaving San Francisco to open the second restaurant in what I hope is the start of a national brand. And though I'm not the owner or investor ( yet ) I am quickly moving up in the new company. Can you believe they put me in charge of a multi-million dollar restaurant? And a celebrity Chef too boot. How my life has changed in the last five years. I guess sobriety has its uses after all Jason ( the happy one ) PS. I also have a great boyfriend

In a forum somewhere on that one site, there was a discussion topic that asked a simple question…Top or Bottom. And after reading all the comments in that thread, and believe me you should read them because they are extremely amusing, I decided to reply to that thread and offer up my perspective. And then, as one or two of you might know by now, I noticed my reply was getting rather long winded so I decided to answer this question in my blog where there is less of a chance that something I might say would get me in trouble. Besides, if you’re reading this blog than you are quite accustom to my long meandering rants that always seem to end before I get to the juicy parts. Before I get to the meat of the problem, I want t ask a survey question…Can you make a good top if you’ve never bottomed before? I would love to hear your comments about this subject since a few of my friends and I have a long standing argument about this very topic. I do know that I will always be grateful to a little punk bottom twink by the name of John for teaching me the difference between a straight top and a gay top. But then I’m getting ahead of myself again. If you’re straight, sex with a girl, even anal sex, is vastly different than having sex with a gay bottom. For one, it takes loads more preparation to get the guy ready which always leads to hot foreplay. And two, different positions adds a variety of sensations that changes the dynamic of just lying there on your stomach. Now before I go further, I am not a woman so please don’t tell me where I’m wrong with the above sentence. Thanks. The absence or presence of lube also changes the feelings for both top and bottom. I guess it depends on the need at the moment of penetration. And maybe the size of the penis that is entering me. In my late teens and early twenties, it was usually decided, and almost always in an unspoken action, who would top depending on our respective penis sizes as well as physical size. It was almost like the larger penis meant more of dominance in the bedroom. This is probably why my early forays into gay sex, while exciting and orgasmic for me, were usually ones I tended to forget the moment I left the room, or car, or park, or once a bus. This lack of memorable sex was also due to my lack of experience with a talented top that knew how to make it pleasurable for the bottom. I also observed back then that depending on my mood, whether I wanted to top or bottom, or to be completely truthful whether I was lazy or not, that I was drawn to a certain type of guy for each position. If I wanted to throw my legs over my head I was drawn to a more masculine guy, most of the time older than myself, and one that was more aggressive. If I wanted to have someone’s legs on my shoulders, I looked for a more feminine guy, usually smaller than myself as well as younger. Remember this isn’t a broad statement about all guys but my experience. And I am quite experienced in that arena. Some would say I was/am a slut but that’s not what this blog is about now is it? Why is it that younger guys tend to love bottoming? I’d love to hear some comments from some younger guys to see if they could shed some light on this subject. I know there are loads of younger guys that love to top and have never bottomed before but I found that they were always lackluster in their technique. Though they did make up for this by their sheer exuberance and recharge abilities. When I first experienced sex with a guy, and I’m not talking about mutual wanking, dry humping, or oral, it was with an older boy. I was fifteen and he was nineteen. In my early teens, I “experimented” with another boy that went to my church. Quite harmless really, games of I’ll show you mine if you show me yours type of thing. There were loads of dry humping, no pun intended but gladly accepted. And then, a year later or so, I was working at this trailer park cutting grass, I had my first touch of another boys privates. And this exploration, wanking off one another, lasted the summer. We had two glorious months of shooting in the great outdoors, and in the tool shed, in the pool, and anywhere we could get away with having our privates exposed. But once summer was over, we both with back to our respective schools and never saw each other again. My fifteenth year was a year that I will never forget. Caleb, the nineteen year old boy that took my virginity, was the older brother of this boy I met from the public swimming pool. And being the walking boner machine I was back at that age, the moment I saw him in his cut off Levi shorts and his long blonde hair, it was lust at first sight. Looking back I now can see he was a total predator but since I was a willing piece of prey, I bear him no ill wishes. I think I pursued him just as strongly as he pursued/seduced me. But that’s a tale for another time as I am currently writing about Top versus Bottom. Caleb was that typical “straight” guy that plays around with other guys but never identified with being gay and probably had some reason for rationalizing his gay activities. He never once let me put my cock anywhere near any orifice of his body and only touched it once in all the times we played around. But since I was a horny little boy and didn’t know any better, I pretty much let him do anything he wanted to do to my awakening body. His favorite position for fucking me was me lying on my stomach with a pillow under my midsection. After barely any preparation, he’d shove it in and thrust away. I’m sure he was ashamed of what we were doing because he never wanted to look at my face and he wouldn’t make a sound except for his ragged breathing. And he was the quietest guy ever when he came. He’d hold his breath, which was rather loud and always smelled of cigarettes, and he’d do this…half thrusting motion before pulling out and getting off the bed rather quickly. He’d always get dressed right away and then watch me as I finished myself off. One time while we were thusly engaged, he kissed the back of my neck but most times the only part of his body that was actually touching me was his cock. I do remember the look on his face as he watched me jerk off. It was like he was in pain but he couldn’t take his eyes off me. I once asked him to help me out but he refused very angrily. I was good enough for him to stick his cock inside me but anything else caused him to shut down emotionally. Looking back I think he was molested as a child and was relieving some kind of trauma but I’ll never know as I lost track of him a long time ago. And I’m not even going to go into penis size because I never really measured Caleb’s cock but I now know it was well below average. I’m sure this is why I didn’t need a lot of preparation and never really had an orgasm when he was topping me. I also can deduce that he wasn’t very experienced sexually with either girls or guys but that’s not the point. All I can say was my first sexual intercourse wasn’t very fulfilling and for a time it actually turned me off guys all together. The next year I turned sixteen and my next sexual partner was a girl named Christine and she was a demon in the bedroom. Sex with her was downright amazing and in her I found someone who wanted to touch me, kiss me, anywhere and everywhere and demanded that I do the same to her. And for those two months I can honestly say I was happy. But sadly it was a summer fling and once she moved away I never saw her again. Oh the summer of my sixteenth year. But I wonder what she’d say if she knew the year before I was letting her best friend’s brother fuck me into straightdom/boredom. My next partner was a guy named Brandon, and let me tell you, he was sex on wheels. He was so hot I didn’t care that my first go round with a guy was unfulfilling. I now know that the sex with him wasn’t that good but he made up for it in so many ways. Not only did he love shoving his cock inside me and touched me and kissed me into delirum, he also loved it when I returned the favor. Oh the memories of my first sixty-nine. He was also the first boy that fucked me when I was lying on my back. And after that little bit of magic, I realized that bottoming can be very enjoyable if you have the right partner. It feels different, sex with girls as opposed to having sex with guys. And it’s not just about the different bodies, some softer and some harder, hairy or smooth. Guys smell different than girls and I found that most of the time I am attracted to the ways guys smell and turned off by the smell from girls. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always enjoyed my forays into straight sex. And when I have sex with a girl I go all the way, I do oral as well as penetration. Though I must admit I’ve never really figured out the female breasts, most of the time I just leave them alone and focus on the other parts. And not to put down any of my female readers, but guys just give better oral. And there is something about giving oral pleasure to a guy that is always exciting and guys seem to just be tighter, on average, than girls and they grip you in a different way. Maybe because with each thrust there is a bit of resistance or maybe it’s just because I’m a gay guy that likes to have sex with other gay guys. One of my friends believes that topping is harder work than bottoming and for a long time I tended to disagree. I thought a good bottom was actually the one who controls the speed, angles, and does…or should…do a majority of the work. And then I’ve come to realize in my later years that it takes two talented people to have amazing sex. I know when I’m bottoming I am giving just as much as whoever I allow to penetrate me. Sex to me is like a partnership where everything is split down the middle. I’ve grown from my early years when I just laid there like a cold fish and let someone fuck me to an aggressive top that didn’t care about giving pleasure to my partner to where I am today. Am I a top or a bottom? That depends on your definition of each term and if there is truly such a distinction. I know I won’t be with a partner that is exclusively one or the other.

I guess I should first say that anyone reading my Blog should know that I write all entries with my tongue pressed firmly against my cheek. Y_B, yes, you deserve a prize...let's see...your prize is one million space bucks. This coupon is redeamable at any Yogart shop across the universe. Just tell them that Jason sent ya. PS: I'm sure somewhere on the net is a picture of my penis in all of it's glory as it were. Nephylim: as it was my intention to make you laugh, I'm stoked. But as in all of our lifes journey there is always a bit of bittersweet sadness. At times my life has loads of sadness but that is what has made me into the man I am today. But do know that I am mostly happy just like everyone else. PS: I've always enjoyed reading your Blog entries and your stories strike a chord with my EMO self. Anya: Believe me, I am more interesting online than I am in person. But thanks for taking the time to respond, most don't. Cia: I can never read anything you post without first chuckling at your name. Not because it's funny but because it's also the name for our intelligence agency, Central Intelligence Agency. Anyway... I'm not sure how much of my Blog entries you've read, but if you read my Blog over at Awesome Dude, you'll see that I've always been honest in my Blog. Being honest online is easy, I'll probably never meet any of you in person and plus I hide behind a penname...my real name is Joshua but everyone calls me Josh... When I said honesty scares me, I probably should've said sharing an honest moment with someone I care about is the most scary thing for me. I don't have many friends and I have less real realationships. I have issues with letting someone close enough to get pass the walls I have so carefully constructed. So to answer your question, all my answers were completely honest except the ones where I lied. As for including you in my blanket statement of "them", don't ever think that being a part of them is a bad thing. Anyone that has kids and tries their best to love them and be there for them has all my love and support. From what I've seen of your posts on this forum, you are the best parts of "them" and I have nothing but respect for you. Thanks to you... Jason

A boring look into the existence of Jason Rimbaud In the forums of GayAuthors, in the Games and Humor thread, there is an entry called Personal Questions. Basically it’s a forum game where each person asks a personal question and the next person answers the question before asking his own personal question. As I read through all the questions and the replies, I realized that there was numerous questions I would have love to have answered. So I thought it would be a good idea if I took some of those questions and answered them in my Blog for my one loyal reader who might want to know a bit more about me then I have shared thus far in my Blog. Basically, I’m out of ideas for Blog Entries so I’m going to pretend that people want to read my answers to these questions they asked other more interesting people. So without further interruptions or pointless digressions that go nowhere except to boredom. I give you personal questions as asked by lots of more interesting people to other interesting people. What is your favorite item of clothing? You might think this is embarrassing but I have an underwear fetish. And before you get to thinking that I’m some kind of freak and that your laundry isn’t safe in the dryer while you run across the street to get a bagel and a chocofrapalatta. You see, I don’t perv on your underwear, no, I perv on my own stash of underwear. And not my dirty underwear either, I like to buy all sorts of underwear. So for the moment, my favorite article of clothing is a pair of Batman boxer briefs, so comfortable against my dangling bits. Where was your first kiss? On the lips Where was your first kiss? My first kiss happened on a park bench during a summer rain storm with a girl named Michelle. She was also the first person other than me to touch my no-no parts above the jeans. What is the one gift you got that you cherish and why? Three years ago for my birthday, “M” bought me an orange fleece Hoodie that is as soft as baby’s tears and as warm as fuzzy bunny slippers. And though “M” is long gone and nothing but a memory, on cold nights I still like putting on that Hoodie and cuddling up in front of the TV. What was the last date you went on and how did it go? It was this last Christmas Eve and this great guy took me out to one of my favorite restaurants. We had a great bottle of wine, awesome conversation and then later, because he paid for dinner, I gave it up to him. What’s the story behind the worst scar you have? It was the summer I turned twelve and I came up with this brilliant idea that my friend and I should pretend that we were knights of the round table and go on a quest like King Arthur and his Knights. After a few hours of being knights, I decided that I should switch sides. Everything was going great until he swung Excalibur and I forgot to duck. His sword hit my face in a downward slashing motion that started at the top of my right eye, my eyelid, eyeball, and my right cheek. After I got out of the hospital, I realized that I would have to wear corrective lenses for the rest of my life. Luckily, the scar is barely visible. What is the one thing you are most proud of accomplishing? My sobriety. I haven’t done as much as a taste of cocaine in five years, three months and six days. And it feels surreal, I can remember telling my therapist all those years ago that I would never do cocaine again and I wouldn’t need a rehab program to do it either. She was very supportive of me but she felt that a rehab program would be something I would need to continue onwards. I don’t recommend that other addicts tackle sobriety the same way I did. I’m just relaying the story how I reached the lowest point in my life and I knew I had to make a change. Everyone must work on their sobriety in their own way. What would you say is your sexiest body part and why? Hmm, I guess my one loyal reader might guess that I would say my perfectly shaped cock or maybe I’d describe my prowess of lying on my back. Well, you would be wrong if you thought that my loyal reader. Because the sexiest part of my body is my blue eyes, the only good thing my fuck face father ever gave me. How did you imagine your life to be now when you thought about it ten years ago? Ten years ago I probably thought I’d be dead long before I’d make it ten years in the future. What is your favorite part of the day? Whenever I make it back to my apartment and close the door behind me and the madness that is humanity is locked out. What is something that you do that everyone else thinks is weird? I never sleep with my head against the headboard of any bed. Matter of fact, my own bed is in the center of my room where I can walk around the entire thing. In hotels, I sleep with my head on the foot of the bed with my feet pointed at the headboard. What is something that you do that everyone else thinks is weird? Whenever I first try on a pair of shoes I must try the left one on first. I find it very bad luck to put on shoes using your right foot first. What is something that you do that everyone else thinks is weird? When doing laundry, if anyone, even my boyfriend, touches my clothes before they are folded and put away and then taken out and put on my body, I have to re-wash them. “M” use to mess with me all the time; he’d open one of my drawers and pretend to touch my clothes. If there was one thing about yourself you could change, what would it be? It would definitely be to change my anal retentive behavior. Seriously, do I really have to make sure that all the rooms in my apartment are vacuumed in straight lines in sync with magnetic north? Does it? If you had a free pass to have sex with any person in the world, no strings attached and your spouse/significant other was okay with it...who would it be? Considering this question doesn’t specify any person living or dead, I have to go with Elvis. There is just something erotic about the thought of fucking the King of Rock-n-Roll. If we were in a relationship and I was breaking up with you what’s the worst possible thing I could do to hurt you...other than physical violence? Share my secrets that I trusted to you with your friends. Have you ever been in trouble with the law and if so, what for? I have to just choose one instance. Let’s see, I was once arrested for being drunk in public. I also received a ticket for drinking in public years ago. What is the biggest lie you ever told? I once told this really Hot Guy (who I actually quit my job and got a job at his restaurant just so I could be close to him) that his boyfriend was cheating on him. Though now that I think about it, that lie actually came true a few weeks later when I got the boyfriend drunk and had my way with him at a party. Hot Guy and boyfriend broke up a few weeks later and it took me another six months to get Hot Guy to sleep with me. Sadly, a few weeks later I realized that now that I had Hot Guy I didn’t really like him very much so I left him, drunk and passed out at a New Year’s Eve party one of my friends threw and went home with another guy. Where was the strangest place you have ever been taken on a date? When I was twenty-one, and trying to be more “normal”, I agreed to go out on a date with a guy instead of just fucking him after too many shots behind the local gay bar. He was a really nice guy and ended up taking me to a Church game night. After the shock of not getting struck by lightning, and using all my willpower not to spill the beans that there was two queers in the middle of “gods house”, I vowed to never try to be “normal” again. If you could physically change one part of your body to your complete liking what would it be? My cock, it has just the slightest bend to the right and I would love to be able to make it completely straight. What’s the worst nickname you’ve had? Gutter Pants, you can imagine why I’d be named as such. If you could go anywhere, where would it be? If I could go anywhere, again no one specified a real place or a fictitious place, so I’d like to go to Heaven and ask god why he’s such a fuck face. What’s the biggest secret you’ve ever kept for a friend? That the night before his wedding he came over to my house and the two of us had sex for the last time. Do you have parents that stayed together or are you a part of a single or blended family? Hm, a question about my family; I think I’ll pass on this. Well, they were never divorced so I guess I can say they stayed together. What’s one thing that you wanna try but too embarrassed to tell anyone about? I’m not embarrassed to tell anyone anything that pops into my little head. Who did you look up to growing up? Arthur Rimbaud...if you don’t know who this brilliant writer is, look him up. What is your earliest memory? I was around eight years old and the neighbor boy and I use to sneak under my bed and dry hump each other. I have other memories but what fun are they compared to this. What is the worst thing you hate/hated about your current/last boyfriend or girlfriend? “M” had the annoying habit of getting food to-go and then leaving it in my refrigerator. I don’t know if he even had the intention of ever eating the bits of crap he left for me to find weeks later. How big is your...? Considering who ever asked this question never finished saying how big my “what” is...I’m going to finish it for them. How big is your cock? Big enough to make any guy go gay, if only for a few hours while he is with me. What is something that is considered a social norm that you’ve never done? Cry at a funeral. What’s your favorite sexual position? It depends if I’m topping or bottoming. Shall I go into details? What makes you most nervous? Sitting down one on one with another human being and dropping the walls that keep me safe. What type of things do you find funny? Really, that’s a question you want to know. Watching a baby running down the sidewalk before taking a header into the pavement, watching a bicyclist ran into the side of a car, Bill Maher, Tosh.O, any George Carlin CD. I could go on but then I’d start offending you politically correct humans. When was the last time you did a random act of kindness and what was it? It was a few months ago, I went to Taco Bell and bought fifty taco’s and passed them out to all the homeless people I saw on my way to work. What is the number one thing on your bucket list? I don’t believe in writing bucket lists, I firmly believe that you should never put off something you want to do for a later date. Live like today is your last, always. Which is the shortest time it took you to like somebody? Again, this question is open for interpretation. Is it like somebody or like like somebody? So I’ll answer however I want. His name was Jason, some of you might recognize the name, and I remember the first day I met him. I looked at him, he smiled, and I asked if he wanted to smoke a cigarette with me, we went outside and by the time we came back inside, we were fast friends. What is your favorite comfort food? Now, remember, comfort food could take whatever form brings you comfort. And my comfort food is sautéed asparagus. It brings me back to when I was a kid, before the devil gay inside me came out to play, when my parents still loved me. We use to sit around the dinner table, laughing and talking, just being a family. Where is the craziest place you’ve had sex? I wonder if you’d believe me if I actually told you the craziest place...this guy named John and I once had sex on a public bus around 1am one night. We had just left the bar and were both extremely horny, had a thirty minute bus ride home, we couldn’t wait. He undid my pants, crawled up on my lap and rode my bent dick all the way home. Where is the craziest place you’ve had sex? This guy named John and I, a devout but twisted Catholic, once did the dirty in a confessional booth. And I can honestly say that was the most intense sex I’ve ever had, it was amazing. What is the happiest moment in your life? I’m still searching for that moment. Because each time I think I achieved that moment, something else that is equally brilliant happens and takes it place. What’s the worst thing anyone could do to you? Make me fall in love and then turn their back on me. That would crush me in ways that would destroy even someone as jaded as I. When it comes down to it, what is your ultimate dream life? My dream life is one that I cannot recognize or achieve so it’s best not to think about it. Do you have a good relationship with your parents? Laughing, I’m laughing at this question. Have you ever smoked marijuana? Exactly three times I smoked pot and ate brownies three times. I am not a fan of cannabis. But I’m not against anyone smoking it. What’s the worst thing that has happened to you? Sobriety...it has given me the means to look back at a life filled with regrets with none of the tools to medicate the memories. If you could murder someone and get away with it, would you? Yes, without even thinking about it. I’d kill my father. Sometimes I wish tombstones could talk back. What do you consider your biggest failing? That even after all these years, my fuck face dead father still affects me. Would you ever trust your online boyfriend with money? Never. Mainly because I’d never have an online boyfriend because I’m not delusional and can get a guy in real life. If you could have one wish (for yourself alone) what would it be? I’d wish my family didn’t hate the fact that the person I love has a cock just like me. Are you happy with your life now? Mostly. Do you like peanut butter? Not on sandwiches but peanut butter is always fun to have lying around the bedroom if you get my drift. Have you ever stolen anything? Yes, and let’s leave it at that shall we. What is the one thing you wish people to remember you for? That I was honest...well almost. Have you ever shaved “down there”? I’ve shaved down there, up there, around there, pretty much anywhere, not a fan of body hair. When was the last time you questioned your own motives for doing something and why? I don’t question my motives; I usually just go with the flow. Why question things I’m going to do anyway? What is the one thing you wish you had said to someone, but couldn’t bring yourself too? “M”, I’m sorry. What is your favorite color? Blue if its shirts and such...black if it’s coats and pants, and red if it’s underwears. Where are you ticklish? Why don’t you come over and I’ll let you find out. What other windows do you have open right now? Awesomedude.com, AuthorsHaunt.com, GayAuthors.org, and HomoEmo.com. I really hope further down they don’t ask what I’m doing right now. Do you sing in the shower? Yes, in the shower, on the toilet, in the car, on the train, on the street, on stage, pretty much anywhere except work. Though I guess I sing at work sometimes as well. What time of the day do you usually get the most done? After midnight usually, I love the quiet time of the night after the weirdo’s go to bed. How many sex toys do you have? Three, not sure if I should disclose which type of toys I own...fleshlight, vibrator, and duel headed dildo. What’s the most creative thing you do? Answer these questions. What is your favorite meal to make for someone else? Chinese food, it always leaves them wanting more in a few hours. When was the last time you said, “I’m sorry” and why? Christmas Day, after getting an amazing blowjob and I couldn’t return the favor due to consuming too much egg nog that had my insides running in circles. Matter of fact, after several I’m sorry’s, I ran out of his apartment and straight into my bathroom for twenty minutes. Not fun. Would you rather be the best looking guy in the world or date the best looking guy in the world? After careful thought, I decided I’d rather be the best looking guy in the world. I think dating the best looking guy in the world would drive me crazy wondering if he was going to go out with someone better than me. Yes, much better to be the one cheating on the uggo than the other way around. What one trait can you not do without in someone? A sense of humor...because they are going to need it to date me. Do you have any songs that remind you of certain people/places/times? Runaway Train by Soul Asylum...several years ago, an ex-boyfriend of mine accused me of always running away whenever I’d get close to someone. He was as usual, right. What is the most vivid dream you’ve ever had, and why is it so memorable? I had a very erotic dream about my ex-boyfriend (one that I really wished never got away) and when I woke up, for a few minutes, I thought we were still together and I almost expected him to walk into my room and jump into bed with me. It was rather disappointing when reality came back and I realized it was only a dream. Will you be willing to be a surrogate for my baby if I asked you nicely? Never in a million years will I use my baby gravy for anything other than for dripping down someone’s cheek/cheeks. One of the best things about being gay is we never have to have those sick, loud, pooping machines. Why would any gay guy in his right mind ever want to have a family like “them” is beyond me? Have you ever wrecked your car? Nope, I’m a good driver. What is your favorite movie character and why? It varies depending on my mood. Lately my favorite character is Eric Draven from the movie The Crow. What is more romantic than coming back from the dead to avenge your girlfriend’s murder? I know. When did you break your heart the last time and why? I have never broken my heart, I leave that to the men I fall in love with. Speaking of punishment, what is the cruelest punishment you’ve received by a mate? One of my ex-boyfriend made me go to his family Christmas dinner one year, sober, because I had promised to go to his nephew’s christening and while he was waiting for me to pick him up I was half-way to Atlantic City to go gambling with my friend, Jason, who was my secret fuck buddy for five years. When was the last time you pooped? About seven hours ago. And it was a good one too. What was the last dream you had about? Aliens had attacked the earth and my boyfriend and I was driving in the dessert trying to outrun the invaders in a Chevy truck. It was so good I didn’t want to wake up. Have you ever tasted your own cum? Really...do I have to answer that? I’m sure my loyal reader could guess the answer to this question. What is your biggest regret in life to this point? That I let Jason go without telling him how I felt about him. What would you do for $1,000,000.00? Whatever it took. Where would you never want to live and why? Texas, because everything and everyone in Texas is fucking crazy. What is your favorite sex act? It kind of depends on if I’m a top or a bottom in said sex act. Who is your best friend? Daniel, he’s the one person that always makes me feel safe no matter what craziness is encompassing my life. What’s the worst thing your parents have ever caught you doing? I was sixteen, and my father caught me bent over the couch getting fucked by a nineteen year old guy. It was also the last thing my parents ever caught me doing. What is the last book you bought? Nikki Sixx’s This is Gonna Hurt. Who was/is your last crush? Again this question doesn’t specify online, real life, or fantasy so I’m going to answer with my online crush. Though I’ve never seen a picture of him, I have the hugest crush on the author known as Julian. Yummy yummy he is. If you could choose to have one superpower, which one would it be? I’d like to be able to fly...then I could chase the sun. What scares you? Honesty...the scariest thing on earth. What are you wearing right now (underwear too)? A pair of slim fit black jeans, red boxer briefs, and black tank top. I know, boring right. Have you ever had sexual intercourse with a female? Yes, more than one time. Every once in a while I feel like sleeping with a girl. Where’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex? On top of a fire truck with a paramedic. If you could throw everything away, what would it be for? Happiness, true happiness without faking it. Which is the shortest time it took you to have an orgasm? It was the day after I first had sex with Jason, he was at work and I was thinking about the time we had. I went to the bathroom and in less than a minute I was rinsing out the sink. It was the most intense I’ve had by myself. And I still remember it though it was years ago. Who do you think about when masturbating? It’s always the guy I’m on the prowl for, and never the guy I just fucked. What is your ideal man/woman like? Preferably he’s a brunet, around my age, a nerd star that wears glasses, has a sense of humor, and likes me for who I am and not what I project to be.

A New and Improved Blog Experience Brought to you by the one and only Jason Rimbaud The other day or maybe it was the other week, life has a habit of going by faster than the speed of light and sometimes I feel like I’m being left behind, I was at work and all I could think about was grubbing on some 4 Alarm Hot Wings from my favorite place in the world, SmokeEaters, in downtown San Jose. For those of you that watch the Food Network Channel, and more importantly, Man Vs Food Nation, you might have watched the episode where SmokeEaters was featured due to their “world” famous Hot Wing Challenge. If you did watch that episode, then you’ll also know that Man defeated Food in a big way. But that really has nothing to do with this new and improved Blog experience I’m bringing you on this day so I’ll continue on my fairy way. Well, I will say, briefly, that if you live in the San Francisco Bay Area and enjoy a good hot wing experience then I urge you to go to San Jose’s SmokeEaters and try them out. Tell them Jason sent you. Though to be truthful, that won’t really do you any good as I have absolutely no pull whatsoever there but maybe if enough people go there saying my name I’ll get a discount. Or better yet, maybe because I’m doing all this “free” advertising they’ll give me free wings for life or something like that. Two years ago when I first started my new job in San Francisco, the very first person I hired was a twenty-three year old kid fresh out of culinary school. He was from a wealthy family and much to their chagrin; he was dead set on becoming a Chef with a dream of one day having his own restaurant. He was fresh from school and had zero experience but I saw something in him I liked so I took a chance. Now before you say that I hired him based solely on his nerd star looks…I want to set the record straight right now and say that I hired him half on his looks and half on my gut feeling. And over the last two years, my gut proved me right once again and he’s turning into a talented line cook and a future that looks mighty promising. I’ll forgo the fact that a few months ago he quit to take a better job with a greater chance at advancement but that’s how life in the service industry goes, you stay only long enough to learn everything you can before moving on to bigger and better things. Six months into his tenure, he started dating one of my hostesses. I know it’s never a good idea to date someone where you work but I couldn’t tell him or her that and I knew they’d have to figure that out on their own. So I set back and waited for the inevitable clusterfuck that was sure to ensue. For more than a while things between the two of them were proceeding at somewhat of a boring pace and if I were to be truthful, they lasted way longer than I ever thought they would. But once he left our restaurant to pursue his new opportunity with one of his old teachers from culinary school, things started heading south quickly. And much to my dismay, she feels like I’m the one person at work she can trust enough to tell her relationship woes too. I know more about their relationship then I’d care to and some of it is quite disturbing in a dysfunctional kind of way. Oh really, what’s so disturbing about it, you might ask. For an instance, they had a three-some with one of the other line cooks after a hard nights drinking. Apparently one of her turn-ons is to watch two dudes getting it on. Though on the other side of that coin, one of her turn-off’s is coming home from work early and catching her boyfriend and this same line cook in bed without her. I guess it’s only sexy if she’s there to watch and I guess participate in some way. Though I must admit I’d be pretty pissed if I came home and saw my boyfriend on his back with his legs in the air screaming out, ‘fuck me, fuck me harder you son of a bitch’. But then I might join in, it all depends on my frame of mind on that day. So I’m busy at work, busy running around in my new shoes that aren’t quite broken in as of yet and starvin like a marvin. For ten hours straight all I can think or focus on is leaving my restaurant and rushing down to SmokeEaters in San Jose to purchase my favorite flavor 4 Alarm Hot Wings. Of course I pretend to pay attention to the eight hundred guests I saw that day. You bet your ass I pretend to care about my employee’s and their numerous personal problems that always seem to crop throughout any given day at our very busy eating establishment in downtown San Francisco. But it’s all a show, my mind is firmly fixated on that burning sensation that is the only thing that can calm the ache that I harbor deep down my insides. If the above paragraph seems like a cry for help for a very unhealthy addiction…it’s not. I am fully aware that 4 Alarm Hot Wings from SmokeEaters isn’t necessarily the healthiest of choices when it comes to nutrition but none of that matters. I fully realize that I have this addiction and I actually control it through moderation. This practice of moderation is why I am so fixated on 4 Alarm Hot Wings from SmokeEaters on this particular day. At the time of this writing, it had been over two weeks since I had last indulged my addiction and I was starting to get the itch. I’m not quite to the point where I’ll blow some random stranger to get the time to head towards San Jose but I am at the place where I’ll give a Handy J to some random stranger to get the time to go to San Jose. Don’t judge me until you ate a million 4 Alarm Hot Wings in my shoes! I have been working more than a few hours over the last few weeks, though to be truthful; it’s been over a month since I started writing this Blog Entry. And even now I’m sitting at a bar in the beautiful Luxor Casino in Vegas drinking Absinthe and wondering why I’m sitting alone typing on my laptop. It’s 11:00 pm on Thanksgiving Eve and I’m feeling particularly lonely. Maybe it’s because I found one of my ex-friends on FaceBook earlier today and I realized I missed him. Or maybe it’s because I’ve been connecting less and less with real people and withdrawing behind the walls I’ve created over the years. But enough of my pity party, let’s resume the Blog. Let’s go back a few weeks. A day that I had decided the time was right to drive the forty minutes to San Jose for several reasons. Reason One: we had no late reservations so I figured that I’d leave San Francisco around 10:30PM giving me over an hour and half before SmokeEaters closed. And that was more than enough time to get there and back to my apartment at a decant time before going to bed. Reason Two: we have a new Chef and he swears by all that is holy that if I get him some of the 4 Alarm sauce he’ll be able to reproduce it so I can it so I can make it myself alleviating the need to drive to San Jose twice a month. And Reason Three (and probably the most important): I’m a full blown junkie and I needed my fix. And this is where things get fucked…because I only wanted my 4 Alarm Hot Wings but from the very beginning anything that could go wrong started to go wrong. A couple who were on a first blind date just would not take the hint that we were closed and I had to practically pick them up by the scruff of their necks and throw them out into the street much like you would a cat. And my bartender, beautiful but not very bright, somehow entered the wrong amount for one of his transactions that took me almost an hour to find and correct. Small unrelated instances but I didn’t get to leave the restaurant until 11:25PM. By this time I’m frustrated at all straight people and yes, I was judging the whole based on a few, pissed off at my bartender for not taking the time to enter the numbers correctly and seriously thinking that I’d blow Satan himself if there was a way to go back in time so I could go to SmokeEaters in San Jose. I arrive at my car at 11:30PM and start the engine. I am at war with myself as I stare into the mirror. Should I point my car south and drive like a bat out of hell or should I admit defeat and make plans to go to SmokeEaters in San Jose another time? I know the next day’s reservations are such that leaving before midnight is a pipe dream that only a Republican could believe. So the question is; should I wait three more days to head out at a leisurely pace on my next day off and really take the time to enjoy my 4 Alarm Hot Wings from SmokeEaters? I pointed my car south and floored the fucking thing. Over the course of my life, I’ve had numerous liaisons with guys that their first names start with the letter J. I don’t know if there is significance or just un-luck. But remember that guy I hired right out of Culinary School, his name was James. And since his girlfriend, my hostess, caught him getting fucked in the ass he is now newly single. And a few weeks ago (as of right now it’s been six weeks) I met him out for a few drinks after work. It started out harmless enough, he was bitching about losing his girl and yet excited about the new possibilities of exploring his newfound “bisexualism”. Apparently, with the exception of some mutual wanking in his youth, that was his first time with a guy. And newsflash, he loved it. Normally I’m a very defensive driver; I give others the right of way, I use my blinkers, I never tailgate and I always drive the speed limit. So I figured I was due for some more aggressive style of driving than usual. And since I always respect the law of the road, what are the odds of me getting caught driving like some kind of lunatic on a werewolf bender? Anybody care to give me the odds on this thinking? Anyone, anyone, Bueller, Bueller? So a few other days ago, I’m at my local gas station and I see this large red machine with Coke plastered all over the side of it in the place where the usual fountain soda machine normally sits. I walked over and peered at the screen. You read right, I said peered at the screen. In the top portion of this Coke machine was a touch screen menu that gave you the options of what type of drink you’d like to purchase in a cup, Coke, Diet Coke, Cherry Coke, etc etc. It was the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Well, it was until I watched this twink getting fisted at a sex club in Vegas last night but that’s another story for another Blog. I actually bought a Dr Pepper just so I could play around with this amazing machine. But then it got me thinking, we can’t fix the budget, our homeless rate is growing faster than a Republican’s debt, our banking system is on the verge of collapse but hey everyone, we have a touch screen soda machine. I’m glad to see that we have our fucking priorities well in hand. I mean, really, do we have to have a touch screen soda machine? There is a restaurant in San Francisco that has an I-Pad on every table. The I-Pad is the menu and you scroll through the food, wine, and cocktail options. When you find what you want, you order it and then someone brings it to your table. What’s fucking next? We already have less and less human contact via the internet, now we don’t even have to talk to servers. In ten years, are we even going to remember how to communicate face to face anymore? And while I’m on the subject, doesn’t anyone use a fucking phone anymore? Think about it, when’s the last time you actually made a call on your smart device. We use texting (sexting) emails and FaceBook, Twitter, and all the other social media so we don’t have to actually speak to anyone. Have you ever felt that the world is just out to get you? That’s how I felt that lonely night driving ninety miles an hour down 101 Southbound. I think every stupid driver was on the freeway that night. From the grandma’s doing forty miles an hour in the fast lane, to drivers hitting their breaks and slowing down to a crawl to gaze at the accident on the other side of the freeway, to road construction that didn’t seem to be constructing anything other than traffic problems and didn’t seem to have a purpose except to narrow down four lanes into one. The traffic was so bad I actually contemplated believing in a god just so I could lament that he/she hates me. Even with these crazy road conditions, I was actually making really good time. I’ll admit that I had to drive on the shoulder for a few miles but that’s not really illegal…right? At one point in my hyper-motivated journey, I zoomed down an off ramp only to shoot through the intersection and back onto the entrance ramp to get around a large moving van and three buses who thought it was a good idea to drive so slow I could have sworn in open court that they were moving backwards. At 11:40PM I call SmokeEaters and place my food order. I promised that I would be there in twenty minutes and to please not close until I get arrive. The young girl said she’d do her best but they lock the doors promptly at midnight. My poor little car is purring/growling as I push it to speeds that it was never built to achieve. I’m nearing a hundred miles an hour and it’s starting to shake but I don’t care. Nothing is going to keep me from getting my 4 Alarm Hot Wings from SmokeEaters in San Jose. Nothing. Three days ago, I started a fourteen day in a row stretch. I get to the restaurant at 7AM (to get there that early I have to get up at 5AM) and I’ve been leaving the restaurant around 10:30PM while arriving home after midnight. I’m tired, my shoes are now broken in but I’m getting a little bit grumpy. The good news, we hired a new manager that starts on Monday (but by the time you actually read this Blog Entry it could be tomorrow or it could have been two weeks ago) and I couldn’t be happier. I think he’s going to be a great addition to our team but since he’s brand new, he can’t be left on his own which is way I have to work forever in a row. Now the reason I have to work these crazy hours is our General Manager has taken a much needed vacation for two weeks. And I don’t begrudge him the time off but I am however grumpy as a withdrawing Meth addict that I have to work a hundred hours a day so he can get his freak on with all those Spanish hotties. A few weeks ago, I’m pretty sure someone used one of my own poems to tell me to go fuck myself. And if they did, I think that’s pretty fucking cool. So you all remember “A”, my friend with benefits that wanted to take it to the next level. Notice I didn’t type that sentence as a question because I know that everyone is fascinated with my life and they hang on my every word. Apparently the new and improved Jason is an egomaniac and should be punished for his arrogance. Any takers? Anyway, “A” grew tired of my lack of commitment and my neurotic behavior or maybe it was my lack of making time for him and after the both of us were silent for a couple of days, he sends me a text message something to the affect, ‘your poem un-remembered is my favorite one you wrote’. Then he never texted me again. If my supposes are correct, he told me he would be better off when I become un-remembered. Can you believe that? He used my own words against me. A part of me wants to contact him again just to see if I’m right in my assumptions. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. Update: “A” and I are fucking again. I have enough shit going on in my life at the moment that doesn’t include my heavy work load or friends with benefits being mad at me due to my stupidity. What do you mean? Are you speaking of trying to get to San Jose? Or are you referring to your ex-employee that just found out the pleasures of being a big ole Mo? James and I are at the bar, doing shots and truly having a blast. I’ve gotten him to stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, not for any reason except that I had to hear about their breakup from her and I didn’t want to hear about it again from him. Plus the more I drank the hornier I was getting. James and his Ex had a common problem, they still lived together even though they broke up because neither one could afford to move out alone. I’m not sure if I could do that but they are pretty young and broke as a joke. Throughout the course of the night, James had made the statement it was hard to hook up with anyone because he didn’t have a place to go. And apparently, he was randy as a goat and looking to open up his experiences with guys. The bar closes, we’re drunk, and James starts complaining that he doesn’t want to go home to face her at this moment. So being the nice guy I am, I offer him my couch. And believe it or not, I typed that sentence without cracking a smile once. My car is whining and groaning but I’m not letting up as I fly off the San Jose Airport exit. My car’s up on two wheels as I careen down the exit ramp passing other vehicles as if they’re standing still. I’ve got Breaking Benjamin blasting in my ear buds and I’m chain smoking cigarettes like they are my lifeline to normalcy and I’m speeding like Charlie Sheen on a two week bender. Off in the distance I can see the St James exit looming ahead like a beacon in the wilderness. I glance at the dashboard clock and see I have about eight minutes to make it to SmokeEaters. I grin wildly and step on the accelerator trying to coax every last ounce of speed from my poor little four cylinder car. I’m so close I can taste the sweet taste of victory. Straight people who wouldn’t leave and stupid beautiful bartenders, zero, and Jason the crazy obsessive addict, one. And then I see it, or rather I see a blur…parked on the side of the road like some vengeful angel out of a Clint Eastwood movie. My dreaded nemesis, a CHP officer better known as a California Highway Patrol fuck face. I blow past him at 91 miles an hour in a 65 mile an hour zone. And for a moment I imagine that I’m driving so fast that he can’t see me. Or maybe he was looking down when I screeched by him driving like a man possessed. Or even better, maybe he was one of those lazy CHP officers and he was sleeping off a donut induced high. I mean, really, my exit is just right there, I think maybe if I can get off the exit before he starts chasing me I can lose him in the streets of downtown San Jose. Then I see the lights on top of his car light up and I imagine I can hear the powerful roar of his engine as he lurches forward after me. I know I’m busted. I’m such an addict there is no way that I’d risk going to jail for trying to evade a police officer…or maybe I’m such an addict that I won’t risk going to jail and not being able to have my 4 Alarm Hot Wings ever again. Even as I start slowing down, I refuse to admit defeat when I am this close to achieving my goal. I am forming a plan in my stupid head as I pull off the road and stare longingly at my exit which is only fifty yards away. Surely there is something I can say or do, to or for; this CHP officer that will get me out of what I am sure is a hefty fine and maybe even a loss of my driving privileges. I can hear some of you right now saying, ‘you’ll get what you deserve, driving like some insane person on the shoulder of the road, darting on and off exit ramps just to pass cars, speeding past police officers’. Don’t you worry, I hear you loud and clear, you think I deserve a ticket. Well, fuck you, I don’t. I’m a good person on the inside. It’s the fucking 4 Alarm Hot Wings I tell you. The CHP fuck face pulls up behind my stopped car and I’m frantically trying to come with something, anything to tell this guy when he asks why I was driving so recklessly. ‘Really officer, I didn’t know how fast I was going’, ‘I’m sorry I was speeding but I have to go to the bathroom so bad I’m afraid I’ll soil myself any moment,’ ‘I heading for the hospital, my uncle was in a bad accident and he wants to see me one last time before he passes,’ ‘I’ll do anything if you let me go…and I mean anything’. These are just a few of the better scenarios that flashed in y feeble head as fuck face slowly approaches the passenger side of my car (who by the way is quite happy that I finally stopped pushing it so hard I imagine I can hear my car breathing heavily). “Good evening sir, where are you headed tonight in such a hurry?” If I ever needed to be quick on my feet, now was that time. I look over at him, squinting because he’s shining a flashlight (that’s not fleshlight you pervs) on what could only be a dumbfounded look on my face. I open my mouth and this is what fell out… “I know I was speeding and believe me I’m really really sorry. I’ve never even had so much as a single speeding ticket in all my years driving but my wife is pregnant and she had this stupid late night craving for hot wings from SmokeEaters. I tried to tell her that they close at midnight and there was no way I could drive from San Francisco in thirty minutes.” Now as I’m blurting this out in short strangled gasping breaths, I am getting my registration and insurance card from my glove box to give to the fuck face. But I’m not done; I continue spewing forth this shit… “But then she started saying that I didn’t love her because I wouldn’t drive to San Jose and how bad of a husband I am because it was really all my fault that she is now fat and that her ankles have swollen up to the size of grapefruits and no one is going to find her attractive again. And that if I really loved her I would do whatever it took to get her hot wings from SmokeEaters. After all it was my sperms fault that she’s pregnant, right? Like I’m the one that forgot to take her birth control pills? Does this look like it’s my idea?” “Um…” “I know I was speeding but I only have four minutes to make it to SmokeEaters before they close and I’m afraid if I go home without these hot wings my wife is going to hate me for the rest of my life. Is there any way possible that you could follow me to SmokeEaters so I can get her hot wings? Afterwards you can take me to jail or give me a ticket? And believe me, right now I’m not sure which one of those options is more attractive at this moment but anything you could do would be amazing and I’m so sorry but she’s driving me fucking crazy.” I finally take a breath and stare at fuck face with what I hope is a broken face. No we all know the internet is no place for truth but I swear this CHP officer stare at me for a good minute before he asks this question, ‘how much of what you just told me is true?’ I grin, “not very much.” James and I ended up back at my apartment watching American Dad on Adult Swim. And me being the good host, I offered him a beverage. We settled on cognac and cigars on the patio. I was regaling him with some of my funnier stories from my past exploits and he was filling me in on growing up with a silver spoon in his mouth. Who would’ve known he was so much more than a pretty face. Don’t get me wrong, his face is more than pretty enough but he was easy to talk too. I’m not sure when we decided to call it a night but I do know sometime before the sun came up we were standing in my living room staring at my couch. Apparently my leather couch would give him a rash if he slept on it, and there was no way in hell I was going to sleep on my couch when I have a comfy bed to sleep on/in. So I made him a deal… “You can sleep in my bed but you have to shower first, you stink like last year’s garbage and tonight’s kitchen grease.” Seriously, I didn’t have an ulterior motive for getting him all wet and naked in my room. There really was no freaking way in hell he was sleeping in my bed before scrubbing away the kitchen smell and ball sweat from his working ten hours in a hot kitchen. So we took turns showering and after we were fresh faced scrubbed I turned off the lights and crawled into bed next to him. I’m not sure why he asked for a pair of shorts to sleep in, the lights weren’t turned off for more than a minute before those shorts flew across the room and we got all sweaty again. But after hearing about the time she caught him in bed with another guy so many times, I thought it was pretty ironic that it wasn’t long before his legs were resting on my shoulders and he was screaming out, ‘fuck me, fuck me harder you son of a bitch’.