reX.'s poll:
wHat webcammers sHould wreastle?
go vote! .. and write in your own answer
also am looking for questions that you might haVe! if you want to
ask a question for the poll just email me! .. rex@rexsworld.com
toDay's fortune cooKie:
Do you really know how you spend your time? Try making a list of the
things you do today. Tonight look at your list and ask yourself which
things on it really mattered.
(uGGGGh! more lists?)
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tHank you...
ReX...
I have been a visitor to your site now for about a year and have never
taken the time to e-mail you. Well... this morning... I thought I
would. I would just like to say thank you for sharing your life with
everyone. I find it so interesting just to wonder around your website.
This morning I was checkin out the gallery for Feb.... any luck with the
construction guy and did you find that personal assistant????? I would
love to volunteer but being on the east coast.... I don't think I would
be of that much service.
Anyway.... Thanks for being YOU!!!!!
---------------------------------
hey bRo! ..
tHanks for emailin! .. nope .. no luck with the construction dude.. (yum!) his joB is done.. and gone.. eVil geNe says to go out there and rip up the job they did on the sidewalk to make hiM. come back.. heh! ..
pLus .. hey yah.. i did want an assistant didnt i? .. well personal or not.. i still need some help on work im developing on my site.. know html? ..heh! ..
tHanks again mann.. and have a gReat weekend! ..
xx
reX.
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'Fresh Fallen Snow'
I see the fresh fallen snow, blanket the ground,
lightly,
sunstruck blinding,
dazzle in its pure brilliance,
strikes me to my soul,
and yet there still linger,
shadows of deepest darkness. Alas, the darkness is born of my mind,
long and drawn out like a shadow at sunset,
looming bigger with each moment. I crave the light, but I huddle in the dark,
hoping this madness will end. Never knowing if today is a good day to die.
'To be, or not to be?', how easy a question to say. Nobility sucks, and
Shakespeare was a fool. 'Tis not nobler to suffer the slings and arrows and
to have never loved, and still be so lost. Right, ramble on, my wayward son...
Just close your eyes, I'll try not to breathe, just close my eyes, shut out
the piercing light, blinding, penetrating,
off the new fallen snow. Turn my head away, and scream inside,
hoping beyond hope that,
one day this pain too will end. Or is the eternal wheel or life,
punishing me for deeds done foul in the past? I know not... My sins are my
own, I own them all by myself, not one other person is to blame, and I will
always carry the shame, a self flagellation, of penultimate proportions. Heh,
this is my finest hour, admission is the first step in recovery, then why is
it so hard to take? admissions, admonitions, commission, rendition. Ramble on
my Wayward son... This one goes out to the one I love, do I truly love the
whole world, not every one can carry the weight of the world. And still the
prismatic illumination, glints and gleams off the fresh fallen snow, cold and
beautiful, life is so much like that. Many colors of the rainbow penetrate my
eye, the window to my soul, but can you truly see through the dirt and grime
covering the windows I fear to open? Can you guess my deeds of infamy? Never
ending screams resound at night, dare I sleep? not yet not for long the
nightmares come calling me back tot he darkness, the shadows cling to my soul
like a cheap tuxedo, long worn from to many washings. Hurray we are all free
now, free to be tied to our chains of our own making, chains of guilt and
fear, sorrow and regrets. Andy I never told you I loved you, and yet I still
do. My heart was yours, but you never knew. Tears fall on the crisp new snow,
and freeze dead, just like you are. Whiskey is water and water is wine, step
on a crack and break your spine, pollute the earth while we dine, forget the
consequences for tonight is devine. And still I want to turn away, to stop
the blindness from taking my sight, yet no matter how hard I fight, I seek
the light. Disturbed you might say, but then aren't we all a bit, those of us
that are gay, and what hypocrisy to try and pray, that tomorrow will be a
better day? Alas I am lost, and cannot find my way, the wind picks up, a
blizzard takes sway, I stumble and fall, the snow, soft, cushions my landing,
hands down, gravity pulls, as I hit the ground, my eye catches the light of
yellow, red, and green. Listen to the sound of a distant song, played out
loud, can you sing along?
All alone is where I'd rather be, on my back amidst the fresh fallen snow.
Ramble on my wayward son ... not to be reached, needs to be reached,
I am tired of singing trouble,
prepare yourself it will soon be double.and with the world at my back, I
think "attack!", yet my strength leaves me slack and limp covered by the
fresh fallen snow. I close my eyes, but the lights are still there, the pain
just grows day by day,
night by night, is just a fright,
a fight for air. 'To be or not to be,' 'tis but a simple question, fresh
fallen snow as numbing as it is, the shades in my mind are more numbing
still. Maybe if I love others enough, I can forgive myself the evil deeds I
have stained my soul with? The snow gets deeper, a silent chilling blanket
covers my face, I will try not to breathe, I will hold myself still, and lay
there watching the light filter down to my eyes on the world. Waiting for a
hand, that never comes to reach, into my being and kindle the spark, or
caring for more than those around me, surround me, confound me, resound me.
Echoes of light and life shimmer across my memories, each dimming, and taking
on a hue of ochre, times of play and of strip poker. The cold of the fresh
fallen snow, is core chilling, killing, willing, so I mote it so let it be.
Frozen ground is hard to dig, and my nails are bloody and raw, but there is
no pain in my hands, it all reserved for my inner being, no physical torture
can be as great, as that which I give myself ever hour ever minute, ever
second. Waking or asleep, walking or in deep, it keeps, keeps, ticking at my
brain, like a train on an endless loop of track, smack, whack, hit the road
Jack. Unrequited love sucks, I have heard, its been said, and then you're
dead, there but for the grace of God go I, Damn you God, You never answer my
prayers, at least not in a quick and timely fashion, and totally without
passion, or do you laugh at how you mete out your rations? Ramble on my
wayward son...can't get there from here, forever living as a queer, 'Never
more,' the raven said, I could use a little head. My teeth chatter against
one another, who are you, are you my brother? Smother, smother, smother in
the fresh fallen snow. What a pretty grave, that God hath gave, all pure and
white, and fluffy light. Sleepy is as sleepy does, I can't feel my toes, my
nose, my hose, this blows. And yet the snow is not pure, in each flake's
heart of it's hexagonal form, is a piece of dust, or dirt, or soot of black,
how apropos. Stiff and frozen, I'll be found, once the spring time comes
around, and the croci bloom in vain, hoping heaven will take me in again.
Green grow the rushes, but now the fresh fallen snow hushes, the sounds of
silence.
If silence is golden, then death is priceless, and now, form the nicest,
ices, making rigid the flesh and bone, that make up my home, and helped me
roam. Fresh fallen snow, like waves with foam, and dark down deep, the ocean
will keep, the salt from my tears, shed long and hard and for many years. If
you read this, and I am sure you will, forget the patter, and remember the
flow, though I have liked being here, I have got to go. Sleep of the ages,
rages, stages and mages, sleep beyond sleep, take flight from the light, will
take me deep beneath the rolling waves, to an icy and snow bound grave. Weep
not tears of sorrow, for I am still here, just not tomorrow, search not the
fields of gold, look not among the lilies cold, I meet my sweet surrender. So
cold I am feeling hot, but not, true heat.
My heart, slows, beat, beat, beat...powder white, with a black heart, colder
than stone, bone, and flesh, so too,
is the fresh fallen snow. In the arms of a snow angel, stranger still, is the
determination of my final will, no hesitation, reservations, consideration,
masturbation. I smile as I go, never more to be the cause of pain, rain,
stain, upon my soul. Here I stand, and here I fight,
for all my fallen heroes,
all my friends and fellow queeroes,
you too don't have to be a zero,
fight the good fight,
and remember the fresh fallen snow,
and shed a tear, oh.
-Shaden Lune (original 2/24/2001)
reX.'s
raMbles!
