“One More Time to Kill”

Friday night, Aaron got me out to pick up some protein for my smoothies from the Vitamin Shop downstairs. I was so worn out, but he knew I was on a roll of days going outside, so that was very nice of him. He’s awesome.

Saturday (May 30) I went with Aaron to the Stonewall Chorale cabaret that was actually inside the Stonewall Inn. I feel increasingly close with the members of the choir and those who work with them. It’s really nice having all these people to look forward to seeing. Aaron was the MC, and he was amazing, as always. He also performed, which is always great. It was fun to see so many people having so much fun.

My stomach was dreadful again on Sunday, but I just chilled. I watched the first episode of the final season of “Euphoria” and picked up where I left off on “Grace & Frankie”; I have 2.5 seasons left of that series. I have a whole lists of series that I’ve begun but never finished and it would be nice to knock a few of those out this summer. I did get myself to go outside for a few minutes to keep my streak up.

On Monday (June 1) I felt like if I didn’t get out for a walk it might not ever happen. So I made sure that it did. I wasn’t sure if it was smart to walk 2 miles so I took the A Train to Fort Tryon Park and sat at my usual spot at Linden Terrace. I spoke to my grandmother, as I often do, but I let her go when squirrels approached me. I had brought some nuts to feed them this time which was really fun! I’ve become the old guy in the park feeding the squirrels and pigeons, as several variety of birds joined in the meal. It was very relaxing, breathing in the fresh air, feeding the animals and not having a care in the world.

I walked the full mile (and then some) home. And that felt great too! My stomach mostly behaved and later Aaron (who was at pool) had me take the elevator down to pick up a package, which the deliverer hadn’t left in the Amazon Lockers – which is always annoying because when they leave them out they often get stolen. I didn’t tell Aaron I was already in bed, I just went and got it. lol I did sleep really well that night though!

On Tuesday I felt more like myself. I walked to and from the park (so over 2 miles). I fed the squirrels again, he stayed closer to me this time. I also spoke to my friend Paul on the phone, who I hadn’t spoken to in a long time. And I later got a call from Michael Slaughter.

I helped Aaron take some donations into a gay donation center then stopped in with him to see the choir before I wandered the West Village and took in some of the PRIDE. Then I headed home, snapped a few photos, read the news and got ready for bed. I slept pretty well. Cuddled with Aaron this morning. And got up, knowing I needed to catch up on my blog, and so here we are…

So today is June 3, 2026. I ordered a bunch of things from a wishlist of mine, which I’ve been waiting to see if I had the money for and I did. I also ordered some of Aaron’s birthday presents. And if I can get outside today, that will mark 32 days in a row that I’ve been outside the apartment. That’s fucking amazing. I feel really good about this.

I have therapy in an hour so I should eat or dress or whatever else I need to do before then. If I eat then I’ll have an hour for my stomach to calm down before I need to do anything else.

Oh. And “The Vampire Lestat” starts streaming on Sunday. I loved the first 2 seasons, which adapted “Interview with the Vampire” so I’m really excited about this – and so far, it has a 100% on Rotten Tomatoes! Hopefully it’s good. So I’m looking forward to that!

Okay. I should go.


But…today’s journal song quote is from “Never Enough” by The Cure, from their 1990 remix album “Mixed Up” – which was the first CD that I ever bought!

Broken Beauty

I remember you,
the you before now,
the you from back then.

You were older than me
but you were young when I was,
glistening nakedly
as you ran in for water
after yearly mile run.

I didn’t know you well,
though we smiled for one another;
we drank and frequented
the same bars…
you, weaving in and out
of my existence…
you wrote letters from prison
to my dearest of friends,
and I thought perhaps you had died.

I drove you home once;
but I doubt you’d remember it;
you were drunk and clinging
to that night’s latest trick.

I was jealous of him
as I made sure you both arrived at your home safely,
as I ensured your survival and my own cuckoldry…
even as you stumbled from my car
at gas station to vomit on the sidewalk
and on my left rear tire.

You told me you were sorry
and you sounded miserable…
and that night’s lover looked embarrassed
if no less interested in sharing your bed,
not that I blamed him…
you were beautiful in your blindness
and completely unsuspecting.

You were already broken then,
but the glinting light
from those shards of self
shone like diamonds
in a world filled with pebbles.

That same night,
I drove home alone
to my little village farm house,
where I sprayed the vomit off my car
with a garden hose
in the far too bright, sunlit morning.

I never saw you again.

Written by Jason Wright
April 13, 2019

For Dale Lipke

The Party That Wasn’t

Four of us there;
though it’s hard to believe:
Bald Jason, Paul
and Darla and Steve.

The latter I stripped
in Ann Arbor fountain
before baring flesh
pressing into his bottom;
concealing our pact
(which they labeled obscene)
and that this healing act
had in fact made us clean.

The nerve that in public
made time seem to end:

Perving the lovesick
with crime through the lense
of twenty-one years
flashing by in a blur…

The party that wasn’t
for the people we were.

A moment of lust
that had built beyond reason,
Momentous trust
in the shadow of treason,
A moment of courage
acknowledged and shared,
Encouraged by touch
though we weren’t prepared
for the judgment of strangers
and friends left outside,
as we puzzled through riddles
with longing our guide,
But licentious struggles
are seldom rewarded,
For all our successes
we may have been thwarted…
For the world gazed in fear
as if love were contagious…
Our fumbled premiere
saw us stumble toward greatness.

Written by Jason Wright
September 20, 2017

Northbound (NSFW)

On the one train in Manhattan a song,
a lyric makes me think of San Francisco.

I’m shaving in Paul’s bathroom
while man I met at Radical Fairy drag party is watching me.

I’m nervous.
He’s so beautiful
and several years older than me;
he’s 30 & I’m 26.

It seemed like a lot then.
Maybe because the last guy I loved
was 9 years younger than him;
they had the same name.

I cut myself as I often did back then.
A tear of blood dripping down my face
and before I can react
blonde ken doll man moves in
and purposefully licks me clean.
Sacrament.

I remember wondering if he was crazy.
Blood. San Francisco.
I want to throw him against the wall
so I can penetrate him and understand.
Is there pain in his eyes or lust?
Possibly both.

I don’t remember what happened next
but the next song is beginning
and I imagine kissing him,
shaking him…

“Are you crazy?”
“Do you want to die?”

A side thought where I’m less sympathetic
and I give him the degradation I imagine him craving.
Strip. Kneel. Baptism in piss and cum.
Fucking him mercilessly.

The thought passes and I wonder at his state of mind.

He was newly out then and haunted by his past;
“But I’m a Cheerleader” was the wrong movie to watch;
it filled him with memories that made him sad.
I think he was reading “The Vampire Armand”;
I was reading “Merrick”.
His parent was seemingly gravely ill.
They called during our first sexual encounter
to request his presence at the hospital.
He talked them out of it.
I tried to talk him into it,
but instead he said “Damn” while I bit his nipple.
I remember telling him that his asshole tasted amazing
and then him asking if there were any that didn’t…
and I wonder if he ever found out?
A taste test with naked men all standing in a row.

He fucked me in that livingroom.
It was days later.
After he’d taken me to a leather bar and spoke of dangerous sex,
but nothing about the boyfriend he’d confess to later.
Devastating at the time.
I wanted to be his.
Just a crazy dream I guess.
Lies and dreams and strange encounters that I still cherish.

We’re friends on Facebook.
I don’t think of him often
and I’ve not seen him in person in over 14 years.

I’m 40 now and I’ve been fucked at least 6 times in the last week.
My partner is curious about why I’m so frenzied of late and I honestly don’t know;
I’m sure it’s nothing to do with this…
but past sexual encounters fill my thoughts of late.
This is but the latest example.

Walking from the train I ran up to my place to write this down.
I don’t know why.
It seems less important now.
I need to get groceries.

Written by Jason Wright
January 8, 2015

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