BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG
A Work in Progress…Welcome Back!
I dream about you
and the way that you taste.
You are the MONSTER
who I can’t replace.
A minister fired
for dealing desire.
Sinister plyer
of feelings inspired.
The singular choir
who sings and then shoves me.
You are the spire
that towers above me.
You are the fire
which quells and then gloves me.
You are the liar
who tells me he loves me.
Written by Jason Wright
September 30, 2026
For Michael
On Thursday, July 9, I got out for another walk. I ended up at Starbucks again, with another unsweetened black iced tea. I think this will be my new drink for awhile. It has zero sugar, an improvement on my signature drink order, which is nice, but also reminds me of my mom. Oh. And I got a chocolate chip cookie, which was delicious.
I stayed up late. I got some work done. And I finally watched Scream 7, which wasn’t horrible, but also wasn’t one of the better entries, IMO. It successfully brings Neve Campbell’s Sydney back into the mix with a creative way to bring back deceased characters with lots of fun callbacks to previous entries, but it also felt a bit empty. Also, one of the issues I tend to have with these movies are the motives of the assorted Ghostface killers, which vary from inventive and creepy, to ridiculous and pointless, with the new entry leaning more into the latter camp. My ranking of the films is as follows, best to worst:
01 Scream (5)
02 Scream VI
03 Scream 2
04 Scream (1)
05 Scream 7
06 Scream 4
07 Scream 3
I mostly like Scream 3 more than 4, but it features a plot hole that annoys me to this day. I also think of Scream 5 & 6 as being basically equal, but again, I like the killers in Scream 5 more than 6 – and 5 feels like the most balanced of the films IMO. I wouldn’t say that any of them are horrible, but the bottom 3 are markedly less enjoyable for me than the top 4.
Additionally, Scream 4 filmed in Ann Arbor, Michigan when I lived there. And Scream 5 moves events to New York, after I moved there. So, it kinda feels like the movies are stalking me. lol
Today I watched another episode of TNG with Aaron: S03E09 “The Vengeance Factor”, which features Lisa Wilcox in a guest role. She played the main protagonist, Alice, in Nightmare on Elm Street 4 & 5; I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in anything else. Of course Wes Craven was the creative force behind original Nightmare on Elm Street, and he also directed Scream 1-4. Wacky.
I also got out for another short walk. I got some more Starbucks. And I’ve eaten well today too. I had my now usual pita with lettuce and hummus and Italian salad dressing, plus the unsweetened black iced tea, and also had 2 cherry smoothies. It feels like I’m kicking ass with the getting outside more and the improved eating habits.
And I had sex. 🙂
I gave up on the dark romantic fiction for now. I wanted a change. A few years ago I was re-reading the Wicked Years, with the goal of reading the follow-up trilogy, which I’d never read before, but as I was re-reading “Out of Oz”, it was announced that the author would be releasing 2 more tie-in books, set during “Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West”, which sort of took the wind out of my sails. The first of these volumes is mine now, and the latter will be out in september. But I started reading “Elphie: A Wicked Childhood” last night, and so far I’m enjoying it.
Today’s journal entry title song quote is from “I’m Not That Girl” from the Wicked Soundtrack. I prefer the film soundtrack to the stage musical. Oddly, I was barely able to tolerate the stage musical and its soundtrack, but I loved the film and its soundtrack, which was as much a surprise to me as it was to anyone else who knows me. I didn’t love the second film, but I also felt it was a huge improvement on the second act of the stage musical.
I didn’t realize this but Aaron will be staying in Philly tonight and then he has stuff tomorrow too, so he won’t be home until tomorrow afternoon. This might be good for me because I can try my less effective night medication with no pressure to be asleep. And I’ll get plenty of work done on my website, which I already have. I got several pages of my Star Trek viewing order up, which I’ve been struggling with for weeks.
I’m having an interesting conversation with this guy named Emanuel. He lives in the Bronx and we’re discussing the value of sex in culture and in relationships. His views are not quite the same as mine, fascinating, but also kindly expressed. I wish more people discussed such things so openly and without rudeness as a cover. It’s refreshing.
I ate a salad and later a smoothie. I had a few olives too. All fruits and veggies today it seems. Oh, I had some bread this morning, before the sun came up. Anyways, I’m sitting still while I try to calm my stomach down. Then we’ll see where the day takes me.
Seeing these men
who never find themselves,
save in these sacred gay spaces,
who often actually lose themselves
in the overwhelming tide of acceptance…
That story, often read, was never truly mine;
a disconnect, which likely saved my life…
but perhaps, although I did the smartest things,
memorizing all of the rules
to this deathly game of life…
perhaps after all that I’ve done (or not)
I simply have survivor’s guilt?
I found my Fire Island / Castro,
found my Stonewall / found my Eagle,
found my Saugatuck and Folsom,
found my Pride in my reflection.
In the after wrath of AIDS
amidst the slaughter of my peers.
In the aftermath crusades
I came of age and faced my fears.
A generation’s gurney
closure fighting to be free.
A journey overwriting
what my story yearned to be.
Free to live a lonely man;
this glut tricked out obsession.
Free to be the homo man;
the slut without protection.
Free to be the ones in hell
about to hearse to college.
Free to be the ones who fell
without the curse of knowledge.
Free to pluck the pain from hearts
of seedy sly arrivals.
Free to fuck the pain apart
with no need for survival.
Written by Jason Wright
July 24, 2018
Unseen / unheard
they’re exposed
fully frontal…
I have observed
them in shadows
and jungle…
Witnessed
invisible men
in the park…
Stiffness
is critical then
in the dark…
Compliance
in riders in pairs
as they writhe…
Liars
and tigers and bears
then goodbye.
Written by Jason Wright
December 3, 2017
I thought it quite hopeless:
the sinking of sailors
this future of men
historical failures
regardless of numbers
of men you’ve seen naked
when love is your goal
then truth is what’s sacred.
You find what is right
divided your vanity
profound and forthright
provided profanity
your life can be balanced
to challenge insanity
your strife can be silenced
by licensed humanity.
Confession is destined
to threaten the legend
with ill timing rhymes
keeping time with suggestions
of paradigms mined
which cheapen perfection:
to deepen my crimes
I ask myself questions…
Can vintaged affliction
for starters be shagged?
Are satisfied victims
just martyrs in drag?
Yes what of those sailors
you suckled in waves?
That fleet of men cuddled
then left to their graves?
Each master troubled
by freedom from slaves…
Beneath the sheets struggled
bereft of enclaves.
Can seamen be free men
unshackled from lust?
Can jocks with the cocks
that tackled love, trust?
What tax unleashed
by men so deceived?
Can climax be reached
before they’re conceived?
Can we release
when these stakes seem too much?
or will we repeat
these mistakes when we touch?
Written by Jason Wright
August 6, 2017
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