Had to take a batch of brownies out of the oven, they were starting to burn. Why am I making brownies? Answer: because I can. It's nice being able to exercise whatever freedoms you have. My friend, Gary, has to go to court today to defend himself against trespassing charges, since he was caught visiting a waterfall, even though people go there constantly, like Fallbrook, another secluded place with a waterfall in Geneseo. Well, the cantankerous geezerly judge is the type that loves to throw the book at people, so it is conceivable that he will send my friend to jail for ten days. Technically, he didn't really have the freedom to visit that place, since it is private property,although not fenced in apparently, and someone died there after getting very drunk. Well, without revealing the exact location of this place, being that this is public domain, I will admit that I've been there myself, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I just have this nasty fear of being arrested when it is actually my fault, though. I had a recent experience in the bureau of parking violations, where I was contesting some tickets that I thought were very unfair. Sitting in front of the hearing examiner was a lot nicer than an actual courtroom experience, but the interrogation made me so nervous that my voice trembled. I wonder what they do with the recordings of those hearings. Anyway, I pleaded temporary insanity or something like that, and won. Well, I sure hope Gary doesn't end up in jail, I'll have to help break him out of there if that happens. Anyone got any ideas? Well, I'll find out tomorrow. Last night, some friends from my co-ed fraternity showed up at my job ( in a supermarket) to tease me, and say hi. I got to talk to Eunuch briefly-- he is such an interesting person; I wish I could bring myself to hitchhike without any fear. I'll have to write him for advice -maybe there are some guidebooks out there. Oh, wait, that's illegal, too isnt it?
posted by Jason Gomez 4/12/2000 4:24:27 PM
I have a cold, just a run-of-the mill sort this time , I think. i also , inmy dilapidated state , feel like writing with harsh honesty for a little bit. It's funny, there's such disparity between what we want everyone to see of us and what sometimes actually takes place. Well, today I got up real late and didnt feel guilty, looked at a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, washed a few, looked at myself in the mirror, hello, fool, how are you with hair standing up about a foot off your scalp? Glad I madly scrubbed up the cat pee off the bathroom floor the other day so I wouldnt have to today--yeechhh!! Bad kitties, mental note to make sure I keep litter box fresh if A.J. won't. Can't all be beautiful colors, heavenly poses and other such pleasantry now, can it? Lots of Kleenex, watching too many episodes of my soap opera, "Passions", for which I have an addiction. Some of the characters are head over heels for people they cant have. So am I, and this makes me cry, eyes getting puffy and nose runnier, heart heavy and arms goosebumped. What a fool I am to be so in love with someone I know to already have a boyfriend. I dont even care, though, feelings can't always be replaced. And if i have to be an insignificant other, and hug my empty bed at night, then so be it. it's a cruel joke, though how fate can keep throwing some people together. Downed some cold medicine that keeps me comfy groggy, and remember that I will be just fine, unlike a friend of mine who has HIV. Such a friendly, vivacious guy, too, you wouldn teven know he had it, he just get really nauseous sometime from all the drugs he has to take to help stay healthy. He has a different attitude toward life, too, doesn't let things bother him too much at all. He didnt' deserve to get that virus, no matter what wild behaviors he indulged in years ago. It's not fair, dammit!! I looked at him in his car the other night, and saw his soul, a pure and angelic spirit which I try to look for in everyone, and it was there, and I fought hard to keep from crying before I hugged him goodbye for the night.
posted by Jason Gomez 4/12/2000 3:48:24 PM
Morning and the day beginning to get me set off on antoher ratrace- - oh, shit! I really just want to stay and write all day, and read in between when my hands get all tired. I spent many hours reading the poetry of Robert Hunter, who is an amazing writer! He wrote much of the lyrics for Grateful Dead songs, so I thought he might not be all that impressive at first, given my ignorance. But, his writing brought tears out of me, and the feeling of a deep intimate connection. It's always a great thing when you can connect to an artist like that. Had some coffee, so I feel like I can think clearly ,but so much emotion is welled up inside of me that I get agitated with all that I feel and think,like I am almost tempted to knock myself completely senseless and start all over-- can't do that, though, of course. I hope my friends are all doing okay, I should really make an attempt to see them soon. I've been thinking about how my friend Jason and his wife will soon be having a child in there lives, at the beginning of June, in fact, and how I was not meant for such experiences, I guess. I won't be anyone's parent, but don't necessarily want to be someone's child always, either. My pet theory du jour is that homosexuals do use the creative drive not to literally create human beings sexually but to make sculptures, songs, books, fashions, houses, whatever you can think of, and that takes the place of a child. I feel like a pregnant mother often, myself, about to give birth to something that comes from very deep inside. I also realize that there is an ancestry of sorts with the world of ideas, in that all of us can inspire each other, and influence others to go on to make their own creations which in turn can then influence someone else, in an endless procession. That is what happens when I look at books to learn about Aristotle and Plato and then go off down the city streets and go , "Hey, that really makes sense. Let's try it out here on this person in a real-life situation, and then go sit down somewhere and meld some of so-and-sos concepts into a little prose poem", etc. Wow, I'm rambling on ; I do feel I have a touched on something that I wanted to express. One more note before I leave to fly out of this apartment-- my friends frank and sarah, who are constantly writing, and doing many other things, have helped influence me to do more of the same. Thanks, guys!
posted by Jason Gomez 4/8/2000 11:23:18 AM
"I cling to my imperfection, as the very essence of my being"- Anatole France, The Garden of Epicurus "Anyone who paints a sky green and pastures blue ought to be sterilized." - Adolf Hitler They groaned with delight at the opening of the night, which poured its stars and the eyelet of Mars to bid them hello as it started to snow. The were so excited to begin their evening play, that the eager young couple tripped on the flagstones, and Salina caught her dress on the edge of the fencegate. They were visions in blue, a brightly glowing blue, the theme of the party they were about to attend being "Compositions in Color", with music to be served in the key of G. HooRAY! Salina's hair was drawn up and out at the top like a vase, strung with real wild flowers and ribbon. Her gossamer dress opened up at the sleeves like a pair of daffodils, with a ruffled lacy collar. Ambrose wore shimmering tight velvet trousers and waistcoat and tophat. "Have you got your paintbrush, Ambrose, dear?" "Of course, my primrose petite. And you?" "But, of course!" And two buckets of paint, with which they began to decorate some of the little houses along the street. A little round window in one front door framed the face of an old wrinkled biddy with prying eyes and ill-tempered pussy in clutching bony hands. Salina filled in the window completely; no more spying for Mrs. Crenshaw! And, so off they went, dancing through the streets, painting the town turquoise and magenta. It really was a beautification project of sorts, but as with most things done in fun and with good intention, there will always be someone who opposes the idea. So, Ambrose and Salina were quick on their feet to elude anyone who might try to slow their progress. They ended up in Village Gate Park, to find some exquisitely tinted pink and yellow birches. They hadn't been the only ones inspired to liven things up. Their secret brethren were nowhere to be found, however. Ah! No wonder; on inspection of Ambrose's pocketwatch, it seemed they were running late for the party, so onward they pranced, swinging their empty buckets through the park and down a winding drive to an old estate house that appeared to have been carved out of stone and dipped in moss. The only eyes that followed them belonged to an owl which perched far above the path. This particular owl made it its business to watch and learn whatever it could, but it rarely did anything with its knowledge. Funny how secrets do travel! The invite to the splendid affair came by word of mouth only, a very hush-hush to-do. It was one of those gatherings where only those in the know would show their faces; if you were meant to be there, so it would happen. In other words, a somewhat spontaneous yet masterfully planned assortment of guests were at the estate of Mr. F____ when the amorous pair arrived. (more to follow soon)
posted by Jason Gomez 4/7/2000 5:13:12 PM
Let me try writing that note again, since I had typed it pretty much as I wrote it on paper, so the words were stretched out over the page, forming patterns. The computer took all the spaces out , so I'm not gonna try to play around with it right now. alone no more > ME< hello there, God, it's me your loyal friend! alone no more > ^^ < goodbye, Mom and Dad, this is a treasured end! echo of release unhinged and unchained time boundaries dislodged and disintegrated sands spread o u t w a r d a grain at a time concealing and revealing hidden silver
posted by Jason Gomez 4/7/2000 4:37:59 PM
I sincerely apologize to those who have been trying to find something new on here; I didn't intend to be so neglectful about posting. However, I have been writing somewhat paper and can transfer some onto this site. I just got back from a whirlwind trip to Connecticut to see a Dead show-- which was actually Phil Lesh, the bassist and assorted friends. That was my first experience, since I never actually went to a Grateful Dead show, and I was overwhelmed by the love that emanated from so many of the people I encountered there. It was truly a religious experience for me, and yes, I did see God there. I saw Jerry too, above the stage, when the band performed "Wish You Were Here", and even afterwards. My friend, Jason, went with me, and we sort of acted as one unit through the whole experience, making a definitive closure (maybe?) to the ongoing pattern I've encountered of strange dualities and multiples. Well, he exposed to a hell of a lot of new music during the road trip, and that alone was quite medicinal. I am constantly amazed at how music can really help shape our realities and inspire us in our everyday lives. I can't imagine writing anymore without receiving my musical fix. I also cant imagine trying to sleep again in the front seat of a car at a noisy truck stop when its cold enough to see your breath. Man, I am feeling beat! This is a note I wrote to everyone, unfinished, and started while dancing to the incredible music last night, which an encore of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". I dedicate this to all of those wandering young souls out there (physical age irrelevant) who've been cast adrift and just can't bring themselves to get out of the water, and to a beautiful young guy who offered to get me some paper and a pen to write yesterday evening while sitting on top of a grassy hill. I left before he came back, b/c I was freezing my tail off. * sigh* yal friend! o l od r re G u e o h y t e m o ts l i l e h s enola a !erom on ME time n g boundaries ds s enola o dislodged and p r ! erom on o disintegrated ea d d b o ye ut w m ar o d a m grain a at a n time d concealing d and a revealing d hidden t his silver is a a t re as ur ed end
posted by Jason Gomez 4/7/2000 4:08:29 PM
And now, I guess rather than ramble on about myself, I'll introduce you to a couple friends of mine. It's the people I meet that give me a reason for being here, remember. Jack Babbilac was a rare and cheeky melloweck of a man, all squinty-eyed and bristly-faced. He gave me a taste of his sour and sanguine wine one night, the wine which he poured out into the waiting mouth of his over-eager and ugly mutt. Such a disgraceful scut of a man, getting that poochy wrinkled pug of an innocent beast stumbling and so addle-brained on the barroom floor. As if I cared to hear his creative playing around with what he called poetry, he leaned into my face so I could take in the musk of sweat and vin. "Heliocentric dogma--confabulate, digress-- egotistic fops mopping the floor with patched-on wigs to mask such hollow heads, and tinted windows on thier eyes can hide their sleeping soullessness. Don't try to do no thinkin', just go on with your drinkin' !" He then let out a hearty bellow of a laugh that progressed into a resonating and foul-winded belch, as if he was attempting to discorporate, and I was forced to take in his copious vapors. The overweight bugdog chose that moment to stumble under my foot, and my boot stamped heavily on one of his unfortunate paws. My punishment was swift, and Bugsy's jawtrap clamped tight on my ankle. My arms, they went aflutter, and I a blasphemer that moment became. "Dog nab you!" Out of Jack's hand went the mirth-filled glass, ashatter and askew against the wall and among the chatterbox mophead muppets spewing their disjointed philosophies with their vomit and spittle. The following day, I decided to atone for my sins by visiting the Faithful Temple of the Almighty Powers of His Most Holy Outstretched Hand Via the Kingdom of Israel. And, it was there that I realized I was the only white boy in the whole place! After a rousing burst of cosmic spiritual energy and organ chords that would make Bach and Handel hide their crimson faces, I had a splendid meal at the home of one of the choir members. "Lawd, it sho' is hot in this kitchen today, but day-amn! I'se SHO' got a good job now!" And what a job it was! All that dancing around and all those Hallejujahs and Amen to brothers and sisters and overcomin' by the Holy Ghost does give one a hell of an appetite. Fried chicken, chitlins, pigeon peas and rice, collard greens, chicken liver and onions, sweet potato pie-- break out that harmonica and banjo! After dinner, Miz Lorraine gathered her four children and hubby in the living room for an important announcement. "All right, chillun, pack yo' bags! We's all goin' to Disney World! The Good Lord done talked me to all day and night, givin' me his plan for the magical kingdom comin', and ain't no Jehovah jokin' 'bout 'dat! I seen the light, and it's takin' us South on Amtrak! " And so she went on about the plan-- they were going to preach the Gospel throughout the world's largest amusement park, with all the funds she'd saved up in her retirement account. "Mickey Mouse gon' hafta stop his evil ways, that it? Propose to his girl Minnie and give her a decent Christian home? I knew you was a little touched way back, but woman, you CRAZY!" Husband Sam just shook his head like he'd given up on her. If he really thought she was as crazy as all that, then he could just stay behind, Lorraine shouted, and before any of the larger and more deadly dishes or utensils were thrown about, I ducked through a doorway and into the night to make my way home.
posted by Jason Gomez 3/27/2000 11:59:15 PM
Greetings out there from the other side...my first entry on this journal begins my foray into cyberworld, and my voice will be READ by MILLIONS!! Or a few good friends , at least. Just as long as my shrink never gets a hold of this; I wouldnt want to make his job too easy with the rates they charge, you know. I think it's coming now. The new millenial breeze blowing thoughts of the seasonal change. Waves of blue-green and my odometer stuck at SEVEN; angel beings that can't and won't be ignored are flagging us down. All it takes is to go off through one prismatic tunnel, fluvial bliss, grinding my teeth like shifting gears, before the whole system blows. You're there and I'm there and together we make three, and the schematic layout of this new world comes through in a musical context. God speaks to us sometimes through music,and whatever we read, and the contacts we have with other people, and many, many other ways. We dont even realize we're being used as mediums for these messages. Tonight is the night of a concert of the music of Frank Zappa here in downtown Rochester with one of the musicians who played with Frank for 10 years, and since I decided not to go there tonight, I feel I should commemorate the event and pay homage to one of the most talented, vibrant, and free-spirited individuals I could ever hope to meet. May he inspire many souls with his work, of which I am only familiar with a small portion. The guy produced over 50 albums so I think it'll take a while. I know he's inspired me. Here's to you, Frank! And also to the other Frank in my life, my close friend without whom I would not be writing this tonight, and without whose love I would probably be feeling too close to lostness right now.
posted by Jason Gomez 3/27/2000 11:07:02 PM