BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
A Work in Progress…Welcome Back!
Cowering there
beneath the cold swell,
Violin swing;
bequeathing it’s spell,
Showering tears
grey has not faded…
Exists beyond years
in lives of the jaded
who stare at the sun
as pain washes clean…
The music that comes
when we each turn eight-teen.
Written by Jason Wright
October 28, 2017
For Carter Burwell
Here we are again
on the cold bathroom tile.
The green wild of summer
is fading between us,
as the young horned lord
smiles at our recognition.
The lilting, hissing piping
of ancient heating system.
We’ve been together
here before, haven’t we?
So strange at first,
that tremulous meeting
of strangers, only
we’re old friends now, aren’t we?
We know one another.
This place,
this collection of rooms
is more than what it was
when I first entered.
You were spotless…
though clearly brutalized,
hungry, lonely and welcoming.
You had known others,
just as I had;
no virgin blood would be spilt on our account.
I wasn’t sure how much I liked you then,
but I put on a brave face
and did my best
because as broken as we were,
we both had our needs
and the desire to satisfy them.
It was kind of you to select me,
despite my noncommittal attitude.
I’m not certain what quality
you saw in me…
I’ve no idea what ignited your interest
and we’ve never spoken of it.
Most of our time is spent silently,
if urgently.
In the moment of our joining
you were like a part of me that I’d yet to explore.
You gave me shelter
in your embrace
even as you fed off my desperation.
I understand that our relationship
has never truly been romantic
but I can appreciate you, can’t I?
I can miss you when I’m gone
and recognize how much you’ve helped bring me peace.
This solace, this sweetness
cannot truly be forever…
You know it as well as I.
This imbues our activity
with a delicate urgency;
bereft of permanence
we exist in a fleeting moment
of movement,
connection, separation
and acknowledgement
of all that we are,
which is somehow not diminished,
but is actually heightened by all that we lack.
Hold me.
Hold me here as we whisper
heated words between only the two of us,
Knowing one day I must walk away from you
and find the strength to never again return,
Knowing that I’ll never again be inside of you
though a part of me will remain here forever.
Hush now.
Don’t weep.
We will not end when we part,
you and I.
My silent echo will fill you,
completing the circuit between us;
never quite actualizing,
ghosting us forever until the end of our days.
No one will guess when they see us.
No one will sense the stain that we’ve left on one another.
Memory, our only souvenir
will be a secret we take to our graves.
But I will always hear you
in the piping sounds of autumn,
like Pan, greeting me
in the desiccated ruin of the green.
But come now,
come
and let us make the most of nights remaining,
when we may know one another
without fear, sadness or shame.
You have entered me,
as surely as I have penetrated,
you are inside of me,
and we will know one another
for as long as we can remember.
Written by Jason Wright
October 26, 2017
This is a love poem dedicated to our NYC apartment on Wadsworth Avenue in Washington Heights. It was written listening to the soundtrack to the 2015 Todd Haynes film “Carol” by Carter Burwell, after watching the movie at home for the first time after seeing it in theaters.
He’s uniquely shaped
like a patchwork of flesh…
Like Frankenstein’s monster
and love coalesced…
With a talent so bare
and a mood so enlightening,
A mixture so rare
that his beauty is frightening.
An eyes glazed insurgent
who’s wanted and lost…
With lazy gaze urgent;
still haunted by cost…
Who writes and performs
on a stage made of pain…
The ache in his eyes
borders on the insane.
And his music jingled
by others was lovely…
Though form never mingled;
if so it was roughly…
In show strung together;
so blissfully jumbled…
The best of intentions
by those that he’s humbled…
His powerful art
in a story so sparse…
Less than the sum
of it’s excellent parts.
Written by Jason Wright
October 25, 2017
For Ryan
These rambling skeletal nothings
prepare a Shakespeare on the Rocks
that will put you to sleep
faster than arsenic, absinthe, abstinence or Nyquil.
These holes where people once stood
are empty by choice:
“It makes for a better tango partner.” she twitters
as she looks at your palm,
smashes a fortune cookie
and calls it psychoanalysis.
These prickly amusements
are friendly Goddess daughters
when we smile and laugh and congratulate,
but let your drowsy mind betray the truth
and see them bare their fangs
to rip your throated poetry to shreds.
Unless of course you’re doing something
which requires respect or silence…
because then they’ll be making
far too much noise to have noticed.
Written by Jason Wright
October 24, 2017
I was just told
he’s amazing in bed.
“Amazing hung fuck.”
were the words that he said…
But I never doubted:
in fact always knew…
Perhaps I have always
denied what is true.
For back in the then
years before I was here…
Way before Gay
had become so damned queer…
He said the worst things
but his lust was the truth…
We traded in barbs
but escaped without proof.
“You remind me of Adam…”
(who was absent then, luckily)
“Does that mean you hate me
or that you want to fuck me?”
I thought he might hit me
for the spark in his eyes…
A predator wounded
behind his disguise.
And I was so righteous;
he’d angered the slut…
I should have kissed him
to keep his mouth shut…
Well maybe not shut
while adjusting our lungs…
With no lies between
the thrusting of tongues.
Secrets of youth stand
to leave me here taunted…
Seven-teen years and
still I am haunted…
Did I loathe that man?
Did he truly loathe me?
Subtexting lust
through so·lil·o·quy.
Written by Jason Wright
October 24, 2017
For Joel
Back in the late 90s, my friend Karen Edwards got me to chat with her in a gay chat room at “gay.com”, which at the time hosted various chat rooms. There were rooms devoted to countries, states, cities – and interests. In our local chat we made a wide assortment of friends and I dated and / or hooked up with several men from there. There were many people that I never met though, who I only knew as a screen name. I think I stopped chatting there around 2011?
Back in the early days I had a romantic entanglement with Adam Gram. His screen name was GoddessSexyBoi, or something like that. It was on and off again, that relationship. We were never a couple exactly, but we cared enough to cry and have emotional conversations – and though we didn’t end up together for various reason, I cared about him. He later hooked up with another patron named Joel, screen name “Freedom” (I think). And directly after, Freedom became openly hostile toward Adam, which offended me. I defended him.
I later crossed paths with Freedom / Joel at a party (in 2000) – a meet in person party for gay dot com peeps. He was handsome. Attractive. But I still found his behavior toward Adam to be horrible so I resisted. At the club (which I only went to that once, as it was a bit out of my way) I flirted with a boy / girl couple, kissing both, and they were going to follow us to the afterparty (at Joel’s home) to hook up with me, but they never arrived, so I was disappointed. Joel drove us there and there was a lot of weird energy between us, which was hot but tinged with something I couldn’t name. At one point he said loudly for everyone to hear that I reminded him of Adam, to which I notoriously responded: “Does that mean that you hate me or that you want to fuck me?” – which silenced him, and seemed to shake him. I don’t think he ever spoke to me again.
Years later, in 2016 or 2017, I spoke to Adam Gram on the phone and this came up in conversation and Adam said he didn’t really care about how Joel had behaved because he was amazing in bed. lol Which made me see things a bit differently. Not long after the party in 2000, the bi couple reached out to me through e-mail to tell me that he seemed to lose them on purpose – which I wasn’t aware of, but in retrospect, I think he may have done because he didn’t want me to have sex with them. Maybe he just didn’t want them at his house? Or maybe he wanted me for himself? Who knows? There was a lot of drama back then. It seems stupid now. I should have just said what I wanted. Oh well. I don’t know Joel’s last name or I’d share this with him – not because I think it would change anything, but because I feel like writing about someone and not sharing it with them is a little cowardly. I hope he’s happy.
I missed you today.
[Same Space / No Connection]
My fault, I know…
I hope my lurking
didn’t make you uncomfortable.
I hope tonight will give you
what my presence lacks.
Hope you can help w/ my phone and SNAP
without frustration or exhaustion
because I’m terrified of failure.
More than two months without therapy
and I continue to struggle
with simple exercises of balance and breath.
I’m losing Jennifer
and I could lose myself if I’m not careful.
Need to connect with you –
with him –
with myself more often…
Honest
Lust
Terrified of: Lost
in
LiesThe frightening power when you
stroke the keys –
to make me whimper, weep,
make me cum
with threatened / promised action!
I’m addicted.
Junkie grovelling for scraps
of a childhood seduction.
Breathe my dreams to life.
Because Honest
Lust
Lifted
in
Longing
may free me from this horrible freedom.
allow me to smile at my expensive joke.
to strip lust naked & make it my slave
until tricks rob me of your magic
and kneel me down
to worship all that I missed today.Written by Jason Wright
October 24, 2017
For Aaron
You feel younger
walking hand in hand
with new Christmas decorations
and ice cream fizzle;
turn the music up
but can’t block him out:
I might as well be at home…
this isn’t bad.
Keep it going.
(((((((SPIN)))))))
And out.
She is smiling
through raindrop curtain of music
like drug song.
“Drugs are quick.”
He is gay, young, not my type (w/ extra E),
but I support his artistry
singing in my ears on the train;
this Aaron reading Trek…
“Leave”
with sudden stop in crowded car.
“Driving me wild”
with sadness tremble of wanting
but not quite having.
Taste of man sitting next to me.
Fantasy haunts us.
He knows my thoughts (cuckold mind-meld):
a brave fool to play this game.
End this
to collapse into memory song
of stranger friend…
“No One Knows How It Will End.”
Movie quotes are an invasive comfort
and lonely with no one to recognize them.
Kiss him. Kiss him.
Let him recognize me.
Written by Jason Wright
October 23, 2017
He was here more than year;
he was here for so long.
He was queerly sincere
and shrouded in song.
He was there with despair
in mysterious scars…
He was blonde and absconded
from bright lights and bars.
But these words obscured
are like gospel from me…
My words are not heard
by apostle to thee…
Who worshiped and wept
though you never knew…
How he stayed where we played
as I fade into you.
Written by Jason Wright
October 1, 2017
For Mazzy Star, Saint Etienne & the boy (now a man),
who made them matter.
– ABOUT THE POEM –
The title springs from a word I saw (Delirante) at random when I wrote, which means delirious, which is how I felt at the time. “He’s Gone” are lyrics from the Saint Etienne song “Like a Motorway”. There’s a guy I met in early 1995 in Michigan, named Steve Rink. We were never close but we had several friends in common, went to some of the same bars, read some of the same books and listened to some of the same music. We also hooked up once in an odd sort of circle jerk in summer of 1996. I don’t know him well, but for whatever reason he’s popped up a lot in my poetry, or at least my perceptions of him pop up now and again; I don’t feel like I actually know him that well. I’ve always found him attractive, but I find lots of people attractive and there are many suck people that I never write about at all. So I don’t really know what that means.
When I moved to New York, or relatively soon after, Steve was living in NYC as well. We traded messages about possibly hanging out, but it took me years to adjust to being here. In many ways, I’m still adjusting. And I also struggle with connecting with people. If I’m at a place, talking to someone in person, I’m very good at this. But on the phone, via text or email or whatever, I really suck at making things happen. And so nothing ever did. We were friends on Facebook though and he’s always been tapped into music that I love since I first met him. I loved when he posted about this or that piece that I didn’t know, because I knew that it meant I would most likely love it as well.
Before Steve lived in NYC he lived overseas somewhere. I don’t even remember where. I only knew because before Facebook we were friends on Myspace. He married a man, whose name I don’t remember. There was a video of the wedding and them dancing to “Fade Into You” by Mazzy Star, which struck me as perfect. Years later, when he left New York, he posted a video of Saint Etienne’s “Like a Motorway”. And that’s where some of this springs from.
He doesn’t seem to be on Facebook anymore. He’s off being a serious whale watcher / conservationist / photographer. From a far, I’m happy for him. I’ve heard from several friends in Michigan that when he’s in our old stomping grounds that he’s on all the apps. Good for him. Good for them, I guess.
What I’m saying, I think, is that I wish I knew him better. And I miss having music cues from him, because he really did listen to the best shit! But I’m happy he’s out and about doing his thing and I hope he’s happy.
Washed out yesterday
feels distant as dreams
this morning of desperate
deceptive rape confessions.
Did loving / fearing them
make all the difference?
If so, I should
swallow all of
their sorrowful shame
to wake so
inspired and spritely.
Written by Jason Wright
September 30, 2017
Flash on subway
shooting by green / blue couple
and I know that moment
from years before – – is that me?
Is that watercolor smear
a glimpse of my past?
But I don’t know him
and I never looked like the other guy.
Smashing Pumpkins want to stand inside my love.
People have told me I look like Billy Corgan.
Might as well say I look like Humpty Dumpty.
I couldn’t ever be put together that way…
even if all the queen’s studs rode me
for 16 hours straight.
You, sitting next to me:
KEEP READING WHAT I WRITE!
IT AMUSES ME. 🙂
Other song was used
in video of my making,
much to the outrage of a certain Boy in Orange…
I don’t even know the title and it’s on my fucking playlist.
I’d had a nightmare about concentration camps
with this for a soundtrack,
and I don’t even remember that dream anymore
so the song is free to be itself at last.
Drunk trans woman laughs at what I write;
you are no mystery to me and you need not
scream at the others, begging to be fisted.
Nice to meet you Billie. (I transcribe)
Do you only love yourself
when you drink?
Written by Jason Wright
September 27, 2017