“All the Black Is Really White, If You Believe It”

The ways in which my diet has drastically changed in the last 5 months still astounds me, after smaller changes in the last 2 years. I used to have an ice cream shake every day. Sometimes (often) more than one. This is understandable, given that my stomach is partially paralyzed (and has been since August 13, 2001) and, well, that kind of cold, sweet desert, is helpful in such situations for all kinds of reasons that I don’t need to go into here. But I really don’t miss it at all. The smoothies I have instead, even though they’re quite basic compared to most people’s (I suspect), are packed with servings of fruit and vegetables. They’re also delicious and depending on my mood, often feature coffee. This morning I had a smoothie which contained cherries and zucchini. A short while later I snacked on a slice of Dave’s Killer Thin Sliced Good Seed bread (buttered and sprinkled with chia seeds), half a kiwi, a few pumpkin seeds, 3 or 4 plantain chips, a small sampling of nuts (peanuts, pecans, almonds, pistachios & cashews), roasted seaweed snacks (Seaweed, Sunflower Oil, Sea Salt), some green olives + 2 or 3 blue corn chips. That last item, which is very rare for me these days, would have been a main course in the past when I basically survived on chips, chocolate / candy and Boost protein drinks – oh, and lots of pizza. This morning, I drank water with these snacks. I liked fruit and veggies before, but I’ve never eaten them in such abundance or so consistently.

Also, my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is heavily tied to food, or the lack thereof. When I was a kid, I suffered horrible experiences and I stopped eating. I never again sat at the kitchen table with my family and had a meal with them. I was 4 or 5. When my step-father married my mother, not knowing what I had suffered, he insisted I eat with them and I refused. He told me I would eat with them or not at all. 3 weeks later he took me to McDonalds and I gladly wolfed down my fries there. My not eating was a silent cry for help, which nobody ever answered. And now I’m answering the call, for myself, for the child I was then, who is still very much alive inside of me. I’m doing much better at that now, but it is something I’ve been struggling to do for 20 years, realizing that I could feed him back in 2006, I did my best but there were a lot of failures along the way. I keep him in my thoughts and touch base with him, almost like he’s another person, because when I don’t, and that broken circuit connects at random, it can be so overwhelming. I used to black out and wake up other places, not knowing how I got there. I had a lot of memory loss. I used to self harm as a coping strategy, which I have mostly gotten rid of. I say mostly because the urge still sometimes returns, though I don’t actually remember the last time I cut myself. It used to be daily. When I moved to New York, the first goal I designated for myself with my new therapist was that I wanted to find other ways to cope. I’ve never liked the idea of removing cutting from the list of coping skills that I’ve acquired – because as damaging as it obviously is, it has also been effective at keeping me alive – but my goal was to find new ways to deal, so that cutting wasn’t my go-to-strategy. I wanted options. And I worked at it. And I found them. And those new skills became a kind of muscle memory that I do without even thinking about it most times. And the urge to cut is now so low on the list of things I can do that it seldom even enters my brain, for which I’m grateful. I’m proud of the work I’ve done on that over the years, and like the change in eating, it feels like something I’ve earned, so it’s very satisfying to see these changes bearing fruit – that I would probably put in a smoothie these days! lol

So after writing all that I wrote a new poem, which can hardly be a surprise. Which is actually a really good example of how I touch base with and assure Little Jason.

I worked on what will eventually be a Doctor Whoniverse order (featuring the various spin-offs and the Big Finish audios) but it’s got a long way to go, and I’m starting to yawn a lot, so I think I’m going to try to get that extra sleep in now.

This morning’s journal entry title song quote is from “In This Twilight” by Nine Inch Nails from the 2007 concept album “Year Zero”. I used to have lyrics from the song, which I found comforting and inspiring, on my bedroom ceiling.







IN MY EYES

LOOK IN MY EYES
AND KNOW YOURSELF.

YOU SHOOK THE SKIES
WITH WHAT YOU FELT.

FOR YOU ARE ALIVE
AND YOU BELONG.

YOU SURVIVED
BECAUSE YOU’RE STRONG.

AND YOU SUBVERT
WHAT CAME BEFORE.

SO HE CAN’T HURT
YOU ANYMORE.

Written by Jason Wright
August 18, 2026


For Katie and for Little Jason.

“There’s Promise in the Air”


When I saw my dietician on Wednesday, she gave me a mountain of new information to incorporate into my life. I was grateful. I told her I was, because although she communicated a lot of information that wasn’t always easy to hear, she did this with compassion and humor, with wit and with care. I have already tried several things she recommended, which have been emotionally complicated to say the least. But she gave me some worksheets with some notes and I sat down today to try to make sense of them. I asked Aaron questions as he’s quite educated on these topics and he loves me, so he’s very careful with what he says and how he presents things, but he’s also clearly excited to see that I’m considering these things in a healthier way than I ever have in the past.

We put in a grocery order, which features mostly healthy foods and several of which I’ve never tried before. And I’m thinking about meals in the day and what they need to accomplish, which isn’t really how I’ve done this sort of thing in the past. I did try a few times, in therapy, but figuring out this or that food and the ramifications of them really dragged me down. This feels different, but like an extension of the work I did there. I think I’m going to have an interesting conversation with my therapist this week.

I’m excited for the possibilities of my personal growth in these matters, but I also know that I’m going to need to practice what I’m learning. I don’t want to be complacent or to fail because I’m not paying enough attention. The part of me which has been trapped within the trauma of my childhood is paying attention and so far, he seems curious, even if he throws a tantrum now and again. I think he knows I’m trying to help him just much as I’m trying to help myself and that’s appreciated. It’s only when I ignore him that things get really bad.

I took care of some banking stuff. I’ve been handling my “banking stuff” for something like 10 years now? And off and on before that. But it used to be very stressful. And right now, it’s not. And that’s nice.

I bought a Xanadu shirt. It was on sale.

I also tried to write down what I need to accomplish at my doctor’s appointment tomorrow. My doctors are awesome, which is why I see them, but I can really struggle with talking to them about the things that matter. It’s like my brain falls out of my head every time I go into those places. I’ve worked to overcome that, with some positive effect, but it’s still a struggle. Part of that work has involved preparation, like I’m doing now. Hopefully I can avoid any real trouble tomorrow and pave the way for more positive experiences in the near future.

I would like to speak to Jessica A. Gerson, PhD, about possibly joining one of her groups. She’s a psychologist who does group work, sometimes involving hypnosis, to help people dealing with G.I. disorders. Both my therapist and my G.I. doctor have separately recommended Dr. Gerson to me, which is kind of funny, because my G.I. doctor and my therapist are friends also. I like that they all know one another. They can also all see each others notes in my file, which is how I feel all medical teams should be – as they’re all treating me, I’d rather they have all the information to work with. I can’t make an appointment (or broach the subject) with Dr. Gerson today though because of office hours. I’d like to try to do so before my therapy appointment later this week, just so I can tell my therapist I did. I mean, I want to do it for myself, but I’m also aware that I’ve been talking to my therapist about it, off and on, for at least a year – and I had totally forgotten about it in recent weeks, even with my other doctor also recommending the treatment. I don’t want to lose this chance because I can’t focus on it.

I need to reapply for my Snap Benefits which I could do today. It has to be done by August and I do want to do it today but I also need to find time to eat and spend time with Aaron, and I also want to go for a real walk, as I haven’t done so in days. Actually yesterday marked the first day I didn’t go outside at all after 41 consecutive days going out. I was exhausted yesterday, barely sleeping the night before and I wanted to push through and go out but then our elevator was down again and I just thought, fuck off. Instead I got ready for bed and I slept very well. But I want to get outside today. I don’t want there to be a habit of not going out.

Also, I need to remember that I want to try to get in touch with Alec on the second floor. And Isaiah. And Christopher. Actually, Christopher spoke about me going to a bar with him this Tuesday. Maybe I can do that? We’ll see.

Today’s journal entry song quote comes from “Magic” by Olivia Newton-John from the soundtrack to the 1980 movie musical, “Xanadu”. My sister had this record when I was a kid, the 45. I could read the word Xanadu and assumed it was the company logo of the record company, somewhat ironically, given some of the subject matter in the film. I also thought the song was about my sister. I later caught the TV premiere of the film, by accident, and was shocked to learn that this was where the music came from. A few years later, when we had a VCR, I recorded it of television and it became a favorite of mine. I owned the soundtrack on cassette and CD. I have a digital copy. And though it’s become a somewhat iconic gay favorite, it feels very personal to me, and while I’m happy that others enjoy it, I think I would hate to see it in a theater where everyone was singing along to the film. But I feel the same way about the Rocky Horror Picture Show – which I’ve seen with the audience participation multiple times, but I knew then, that aside from seeing friends perform, I’d much rather see the film at home. And that’s really how I am now with movies in general.

“I Don’t Know If the Dead Can Talk to Anyone”

A couple of nights ago, I woke up very early and I decided I needed to rewatch the mainline Marvel multiverse films which I’ve only seen once, which are all likely to be important come December when “Avengers: Doomsday” is released. So I watched “Thor: Love & Thunder”, the 4th Thor film, which I’d seen once, in the theater, but never saw again. I very nearly hated it in the theater and it’s easy to see why, as it adapts 2 popular comic stories that have very little to do with one another (which seldom goes well) while failing them both IMO. I loved Jane Foster’s Mighty Thor storyline in the books, but since it’s jammed together with the Gorr the God Butcher story, is left feeling like the better b-plot in a movie about something far less compelling. I didn’t like the God Butcher story in the comics but the film version is worse because it doesn’t actually take any risks. Gorr kills many Gods in the film, just NONE that we’ve actually met before, despite there being more than a handful of those over the years, so the stakes feel very low. All of that is still true on a second watch, but when you know that’s what you’re getting, it’s a lot less disappointing, and so I definitely enjoyed it more the second time around. It also helps that we know, or can intuit that we will soon have some consequences for this story rather than the somewhat standalone nature of the plot as is. We know because Thor’s new charge, the “Love” of the title, will be returning in the next Avengers film and the character will seemingly be a big part of what Thor is returning for, as revealed in a teaser trailer that isn’t (according to the directors) actually footage from the film? I don’t really understand it. But we’re still about 6 months away from that movie + we have 1 other movie before it (“Spider-Man: Brand New Day”) + several other Marvel projects with “X-Men ’97” Season 2, “VisionQuest” & “Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man” Season 2. Other Marvel Multiverse films I’ve only seen once include “Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3”, “Ant-Man & the Wasp: Quantumania”, “The Marvels”, “Captain America: Brave New World”, “The Fantastic Four: First Steps” & “Thunderbolts*”. I should also revisit “Venom: Let There Be Carnage” and I’ve never seen “Venom: The Last Dance” or “Kraven the Hunter” – but I doubt any of those Sony spin-offs will come into play in the next 2 Avengers films or even “Spider-Man: Beyond the Spider-Verse”.

Thursday was meant to be all about taking photos. And it was. And I had fun. But it was a lot, having taken over 300 photos and then taking the time to delete more than 100 of them and polishing the rest, even a little took hours, and is always my least favorite part of such projects. So I got a lot done and I had a good day, but it left me feeling empty and exhausted – partly because I also started struggling into my new diet. I have often made healthy changes to my diet but the ones that are being made now are far more extreme and involve me denying myself many of my staple foods, which Aaron assures me is normal, and I don’t doubt him, but it feels horrible. And anytime I’m dealing with food, I have to be cognizant of my fucked up psyche which tries to use food as example of something it can’t possibly be responsible for, and honestly, while I seem to be arguing that point really well, I’m not sure I’m convinced or that this might not explode in a few days or even less.

He should be dead or I should be him – the nature of PTSD. But he’s in here whispering his “truth” which stems from an uneducated mind and the horrors he was subjected to.

I got outside Thursday and Friday but both trips were to keep me going outside every day and not the fulfilling walks I’d been going down recently. I just got too busy on Thursday and then Friday when I went out it was crazy hot, and clearly about to rain – and on top of all that, the elevator in our building was stuck on the 5th floor, which meant taking the stairs down and then back up again. I did walk around the block, but the odd feeling of the storm coming in left everything looking strange and nothing feeling all that comforting.

I went to bed early. Around 9pm I think. But I woke up at 1:25am, unable to get back to sleep. I knew I needed to write something up so that’s what I’m doing. I may have a smoothie to help me cool down, as it’s HOT in the apartment. For power grid and money issues we don’t use the AC in rooms we are mostly not in at night (while the bedroom is chilled at the moment, I worry that being in there might rouse Aaron and he has an even he needs to be at this morning).

So what now? I don’t even feel like sharing the pictures that I took the other day. Some of them are quite nice and if I ever update the collages in the photos section, they’ll be very useful, but I’m sick of seeing my face, no matter how healing it can be for me to see how it changes or what I look like vs. how I see myself.

Today’s journal entry song quote is from “The High Road” by Broken Bells, from their eponymous 2010 debut studio album.

surficial

Knives on the slate
and discussion of death.

My lives of late
are now months bereft.

The veiled lure of cash –
(recitation complex)

A failure to crash –
(cessation of sex)

And all of it: meaningless –
(meaning too much?)

Is there any redeeming us
there where we touch?

Written by Jason Wright
February 6, 2020

Jason Disassembled

The shaking sweaty confrontation
with one’s own reflection
when memory is shattered,
fragmented,
splintered beyond recognition
and momentary awareness
is threatened
with mindless annihilation.

Will I remember this later…
or will an older Jason fight
through a therapist’s session
to recover the me he has lost?

Written by Jason Wright
June 26, 2018

Disconnect

There’s a space between me
and all that I’ve wanted…

Like my lust is a ghost
that has left my life haunted…

Devoid of the spark
that connects me to revery…

Like the life I am living
is only a memory…

A personal history
grown cold and impersonal…

A vacuous dream that had
once seemed so purposeful…

But I know I am there
buried under the sadness…

Married between her pain
and his madness…

They have stolen from me
what we were to ourselves…

My senses can’t deal
because they’re overwhelmed…

And part of me wants
to take time to sort out…

But mostly I want
to rip time inside out!

I want to take all
that has tied me to her…

Be it blood on my hands
or my unspoken words…

Or the things unremembered
that left me to die…

Want to shred that
and shed tears of goodbye…

As all of the pain
that trapped us in slaughter…

Travels back to the past
and then rescues our father.

Written by Jason Wright
April 10, 2018

Sean’s Junk

I’m wearing Sean’s Tori Amos shirt
which he gave me 16 years ago…
yet it always somehow remains his.

Maybe because he lost his mind
again
last year,

He tossed me to the proverbial curb
as if I were the junkie that he confessed to be,
though who the fuck really knows?

Not that it doesn’t make sense…

It actually explains a lot –
actually connects many dots –
solves so many mysteries
when combined with our own histories
only we’re all addicted to something, aren’t we?

Alcohol, as a drug, betrays you very quickly.
Anne Rice said something to that effect once,
which I’ve always remembered though I can’t find the exact quote.

I can’t tell if I’ve been addicted to food…but if I have,
then it is a drug that has betrayed me all too quickly.

Perhaps this is why he shivers inside me;
not “Long Gone Sean”,
but that child version of Jason Wright
who whispers always beneath my skin
and behind my eyes.

I struggle to feed him
but his pained and palsied
nearly lifeless form
rejects the medicine he both craves and abhors,
never knowing which decisive reaction is truly best
after our fucked up father ripped his world inside out…

Sean’s biological father (“Ted”) was rock solid awesome
while his step-father was less so;
addicted to pain pills, he gave me my first tab of Xanax
after I fucked his son in Sean’s gay, white trash,
St. Helen, Michigan bedroom.

I reached my hand up to cradle his head
to prevent it’s rhythmic bruising crash against the wall
and I felt his confusing reaction as it quivered down
from his brain, down along his spine, back through
his blissfully tight asshole around my hard and horny thrust.

Later he told me no one else he’d been with
would ever consider such a kindness…
his stories were always so wondrously sad.

That 2008 reunion was nearly 10 years ago
and apparently wouldn’t last the decade to come.

I wonder where he’d be today
when this shade of Jason will struggle
to jam a needle in his arm
and feed our craving
without judgment or rejection.

“We all have our junk and my junk is you.”

Junk: What William S. Burroughs was high on
until he woke from “The Sickness”,
when secretive Not-Dr.-Seward
was cavorting with his Mugwumps.

Junk: The so-called yards where I played
to escape the insanity of my own brutal
“Protoplasm Daddy” complex.

Junk: The word is now forever associated
with the 16yo boy at safe sex instructional
who was the first I’d ever heard equate cocks, dicks & pricks
with an addictive substance.

My so-called junk
relieved Sean of his unwanted virginity,
while his Naked Lunch variety
relieved us of our treasured friendship,
filled his veins with human immunodeficiency virus
and bubbled out of him in a hateful madness
which I will never allow to murder my love for him.

Written by Jason Wright
March 22, 2018

Prayer of the Post Traumatic

Hearing disappointment which matches
THE SICKNESS INSIDE ME
threatening to overtake me.

Breathe.

The train is already departing one six eight;
perhaps this panic is for nothing?

Why do the only loud people
in the car gravitate toward me?

Hungry. Terrified and hungry.
Some things never change…
but I can.

Relax. Breathe.

He cannot hurt me here.
She is safe.
And I will eat before long.

If the show has begun
I will eat without fear
and rest,
knowing I’ve seen this particular show
three times before,
and I will be there for Aaron
without compromising
sanity or the denial of self.

If I make it there in time I will be
collected and calm. I will take in
this special show with
no need of regret
for I have controlled my fear
and done my best to travel
especially on the
fucked up weekend transit.

Now relax. Breathe / Ground,
and be the Jason that you want to be.

Written by Jason Wright
October 29, 2017

Walking Away

Some days are harder than others.

Some days his voice is so loud
that I can’t hear or feel anything else
without turning myself inside out.

It never lasts for more than an hour or two
(often times less than that)
but in that time he makes sure
that I have his undivided attention.

This can be problematic
and disorienting
when I’m in public.

Our communication can never last for long
because I don’t have the reserves.
It’s too all consuming to sustain itself.

He doesn’t like to be ignored
and I don’t do it on purpose
but it takes a lot of energy
and skills that I’ve not yet completely developed.

And paying attention to him can be dangerous,
but so can ignoring him. Clearly.

Sometimes he wants me to throw all of my food away.
He’s jealous, I think.

Some weekends, everything I plan on
falls apart because of him.

The way that I’m falling apart,
but seldom admit.

Every day that I don’t cut is a victory.
I know this.
But it doesn’t feel like the truth.
It feels like cowardice.

If I could just cut him out of me…
I’d be dead.

That’s the problem.

I think I’m beginning to hate him.
Hate myself.
Because he’s keeping me prisoner.
I missed the party on Friday,
the opera on Saturday,
the walk in the park today
because of his need…
and my aversion.

These feel like failures or defeats,
but is it a failure if it keeps you alive?

I try to talk myself through it
but my feelings are complicated
and often contradictory.

I don’t think anyone around me understands
and why should they?
It hurts being so alone though.

It’s just him and me.
Like when she abandoned me. Us.

There are people that love me,
which is incredible really,
because there’s a big piece of myself that’s missing.

He’s completely disconnected from me
and when that connection is made
the spark of that moment is blinding…
but nobody gets to see it but me.

Or maybe I’m wrong and people do see him,
or the absence of him?

Maybe people love me because of him.

I don’t really know.

All I know is that he’s closer to me today
than he usually is
and I’m alone
and I don’t think that’s a good idea.

Time to go for a walk.

Written by Jason Wright
March 29, 2015

error: Content is protected !!