jeanpaulbelmond

1. My uncle once:
- did time in prison

2. Never in my life Have I:
- prayed

3. The one person who can drive me nuts, but then can always manage to make me smile:
- sake

4. High School is:
- not for me

5. When I'm nervous:
- its because of you

6. The last time I cried was:
- when they shot King Kong

7. If I were to get married right now my bridesmaids/groomsmen would be:
- late

9. My hair:
- looks like a dirty penny

10. When I was 5:
- everyone left

11. Last Christmas I:
- checked my girlfriend's math

12. When I turn my head left, I see:
- trees, cut down, taped together, ink blots, zeros, ones, hot air

13. When I turn my head right, I see:
- the future.

14. When I look down I see:
- my insides

15. The craziest recent event was:
- drinking a bottle and a half with myself

16. If I was a character on Friends I'd be:
- a nice pair of tits

17. By this time next year:
- it will be January 20th, 2007.

18. My favorite Aunt is:
- A Jerry Springer episode

19. I have a hard time understanding:
- me

20. One time at a family gathering:
- My brother started in on my dad, my nana flew off the handle, my mom was nuts, my dad drank and told stories, my sister was annoying, half my family didn't show up, my oldest brother was in the mental ward, I disappeared. Oh, wait, this was every family gathering.

21. You know I "like" you if:
- I tell you.

22. If I won an award, the first person(people) I'd thank is:
- the key grip

23. Take my advice:
- my advice only works for me, and not most of the time

24. My ideal breakfast is:
- to eat one

25. If you visit my hometown:
- you have visited my hometown

26. Where do you plan to visit anytime soon:
- the bathroom, then Puerto Rico, and probably a few bathrooms in Puerto Rico

27. If you spend the night at my house:
- you'll end up drinking.

28. I'd stop my wedding if:
- Etta James started singing

29. The world could do without:
- questions like this

30. I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than:
- lick his balls

31. Most recent thing you've bought yourself:
- Our sound is now fully surround

32. Most recent thing someone else bought for you:
- my freedom

33. My favorite blonde is:
- my mother

34. My favorite brunette is:
- Christine

35. And by the way:
- I heard you the first time, I understand, I saw that, I don't believe you, you told that one already, I know what you're doing, I had a crush on you, I never liked this song, I will take no for an answer, no, those don't look good on you, yes, I will always love you, thank you for listening.

36. The last time I was high:
- Oh, every goddamn day, I'm 6'3".

37. The animals I would like to see flying besides birds are:
- tiger mice

38. I shouldn't have been:
- in that place at that time.

39. Once, at a bar:
- I told a story about what happened once at a bar

40. Last night:
- I made a mix on the computer. It starts with The Real Kids.

41. There's this girl I know who:
- I used to love her but I had to kill her.

42. This guy I know:
- is me, and I don't know him very well sometimes.

43. A better name for me would be:
- Diabetic

44. If I ever go back to school I'll:
- go to class

real update will come some day... thanks to kate1109 for this.

childhood trauma survey... here's your chance to bring up those incredibly painful repressed memories even your therapist couldn't weasel out with the voltage on max.

1. What was the first car your family had?:
I don't understand. The first one I remember? A Green Dodge Colt, 4 speed. The car I grew up with was a brown '72 Dodge Dart that we called the 'nun-mobile'.

2. What was the name of your first pet and why?
Francis the Cat. Why did I name it? So it will come when you call it.

4. What was the name of your elementary school?
Morse St.

5. Who was your first best friend?
Sammy Wagner

6. Are you still friends today, and if not, what happened?
No, but if I saw him, it would be on.

7. What was your favorite board game?
Dart board.

8. Did you play house or other make believe games?
Yes. We made up all our own games, went on missions, played ball with new, made up rules.

9. Were you a Dungeons and Dragons geek?
No, but I threw Ritz crackers at this smart ass kid who was playing D+D with my friend. I couldn't sit still, and I wanted to go outside. So, this kid got pissed and took a swipe at me. I flipped him on his ass in the middle of my friends living room. My version of role playing.

10. Did you sleep with stuffed animals as a kid?
No, instead I slept with a pillow on my head, which I still do.

11. Do you still sleep with stuffed animals?
Well there is Toby, but he only makes guest apperances with my girl.

12. Who was the first person you looked up to when you were younger?
My older brother Kevin. He gave me my first LP, Echo and the Bunnymen "Porcupine," when I was ten.

13. Who was your favorite relative?
Gramp was the best because he was so different than everyone else I knew. He would hide all the silverware after my nana had set the table and then when she set it all over again, confused, he would steal it again, so she would think she was flipping her shit. He taught me about fixing things, things that my father didn't know about.

14. Were you short or tall in elementary school?
Short.

15. Were you teased in school?
Yes, unmercifully. I fought a lot when I was younger.

16. What was the name of your favorite teacher?
Ms. Caldwell, high school art. She let me get away with murder, but she also got me into college.

17. What was the name of your least favorite teacher?
Mrs. Smith, 2nd grade. She thought that I had issues. I had to sit away from the rest of the class facing the wall.

18. What was your best subject in school?
Art and English. I taught myself a lot by reading and I recommend you do the same.

19. What was your worst subject in school?
Math. But, I figured I might as well get Ds in upper level math rather than Cs in lower, so I cheated my way in.

20. Did you do well in Physical Education?
Straight As.

21. Were you clumsy when you were younger?
Nope. I was small and fast--though I had a tough time around age 14 cause I shot up in height so fast.

22. Who was your favorite band as a kid?
Elvis Costello, (my older sister dressed me up like him for Halloween), rag time, and Motown, Motown, Motown.

23. What was your favorite movie as a kid?
Anything with tits in it.

24. Did your parents read to you?
My ma read "Treasure Island" to me when I was real little, you know, pirates and what have you.

25. Did you have a favorite book?
"The Tomten" about winter troll that snuck around at night and "Hester's Halloween," which was about an alligator who went trick-or-treatin'.

26. What was your favorite restaurant as a kid?
Bonanza. We never went there, though. Pat's Pizza and Red's Eats were great, and I always liked going to the fish stand in Cundy's Harbor.

27. On what TV or movie star did you have a crush?
Didn't. I stayed local.

28. Do you now wonder what you were thinking?
I knew exactly what I was thinking.

29. Who was your first crush in school?
Becky Knight, Ist grade. She invited me over to her house. She had a swing set in her basement; you could kick the ceiling. Her little sister died a year or so later so I think she always liked that I remembered her sister. (Becky grew up to be really pretty and published a book. Also, her mom was my high school English teacher--I had a crush on her, too.)

30. As a child, what kind of car did you want when you grew up?


31. Did your parents spank you?
Have you been reading this?

32. Did your parents fight a lot when you were a kid?
Uh, yep. For a time there it was bad.

33. Did your parents get divorced or stay married?
Still married.

34. If they got divorced, how old were you when it happened?
It happended in my head several times ages 10-14.

35. Did you ever run away from home?
Still running, ha-ha.

36. How old were you when/if you first got glasses?
We just drank right out of the bottle.

37. Did you need braces or a retainer?
Yes, from drinking right out if the bottle.

38. If you're male, how old were you when you had your first wet dream?
Didn't or don't remember, but if the question is when was first the first sign of swimmers, then around 11 or 12.

49. Both sexes when did you start shaving?
Shaving what?

50. Girls when did you start wearing a bra?
Ohhhhh.

51. What was your first kiss like?
It was like the last 2 minutes of "Stairway to Heaven," a long build-up to really predictable.

52. What did you do on your first date?
I thought we went over this, the swingset in the basement. Or, meeting girls uptown after school, in eighth grade.

53. How old were you when you first drank?
First drink, on a dare, age 12. First drunk, 13, New Years Eve at Stevie Doran's place. The power went out, his dog bit me, and his little sister told on us.

54. Where was your first house?
I grew up in a medium size house at the end of a dirt road cul-de-sac, in Freeport, ME.

Hi there kittens. Its been a while since you've had the privilege of my lurid prose.

Here is the drop on Boston and New York. We all know about baseball and the tale of two cities, and all about the dickheads at parties you have overheard suggesting that it is reasonable to lip off about how much Boston would be better if it was only like New York. So I'm gonna put it down for you and it's not gonna be what you think.

NIGHTLIFE

New York- Yes there seems to be quite a bit to do here, doesn't there? I can order a drink that I don't need well after 4 A.M. and I can support one of the charming local businesses by buying a plastic bag full of 40's for me and my friends for the walk home, but does that remunerate me for the concept of $7 Buds and the six-thousand extra dollars I spent to meet Maggie Gyllenhaal at bar?

Boston- We're a bunch of rednecks! If we're in Back Bay, we're college rednecks. This is a college, sports, drinking problem town. What to do about the rube problem? Go into any bar you want, in any neighborhood, and realize that many of the people in there ARE FROM THERE. Ask any Prada sluts in Boston, and they'll be able to tell you that Johnny D is #18, and then drive drunk back to Quincy.

Winner: New York. Its close here. I've had a great time on the cheap in NY, but folks don't hang with the locals enough. Still, the southern city tips this category in its favor with all night transportation, no concern for anyone's alcohol level, and no frat-boys in life size hot wheels cars.

DAYTIME

New York- I had a great time during the day. There was so much flavor, so many nooks and cuts, Hasidic Jews in cool hats, people smoking, drinking and dancing to Meringue in the corner bodega, tits everywhere. I went and bought beers at 7 A.M. in the middle of Brooklyn and almost stepped on a box of dead chickens. Outstanding. But does this really count for daytime?

Boston- Please. Boston's in the goddamn country. In ten minutes you can go from the Heath-Bromley bricks to getting lost in the fucking woods, and you can still see tits everywhere.

Winner: Boston. I still hate the Head of the Charles, how J.V. Newbury Street is and most of the bootleg directors of marketing out for a jog element, but lets not live in a cage here. There was a coyote in JP last week, and all NY has is Coyote Ugly. Wait a minute...

FASHION

New York- Oh, I bet you think you've got this all figured out, don't you? Everyone walks through this city like the fashion vice squad is gonna make a neighborhood sweep if they don't got their emo blazer in check or their Jimmy Choo's scuffed like Chloe's. But lets get something straight-- NYC is a locus for fashion models from around the world, bootleg celebrities, and desperate NYU kids, and this makes the whole fashion concept suspect to begin with.

Boston- Well, shit, at least you can tell what's going on in Beantown. The investment kids still dress from catalogs, the punkers still stink, the mods are still mods, the rockers are still rockers, and people that generally look like they will kick your ass, will. And there's something that we all love about boston ghetto, and you goddamn know what that is.

Winner: Boston. Surprise. Bostonians dress like shit, and I like it. At least its real. I'd rather see gleaming white sneakers come struttin' down the way and know the folks are from Old Colony. In New York, I think I'm talking to someone important, and it turns out to be a desperate NYU kid. And Chloe's from Connecticut.

HOT FACTOR

New York- Every two seconds, someone is hot. Hot latinos, hot hipsters, hot pockets, hot dogs, and as I previously mentioned, hot models, are all well conceived and well received. Kangols, pink panties, hot-death-shoes and spooky eyes are all reasons that god invented boners, and I am sure there is a guy version of this as well.

Boston- I said I liked the fashion realism here better, but that does not always mean it is more flattering. Although seeing packs of BU girls dressed entirely the same, as well as what a suprise it is for fifty thousand dudes to be chasing said birds with hair gel can be really inspiring, its the relative lack of numbers that leave your neck in good shape by the time the weekend is over.

Winner: New York. I don't even want to talk about it. My girlfriend is really hot. She should read the part about the Kangols and panties though.

MUSIC

New York- Where, wait, what? Seriously, what the fuck? I have no idea. Now, how many more times do I need to see that Interpol video?
Boston- OK, OK, word. Now break it off.

Winner: Boston. Can you please explain to me why the music here in Boston is so good, and why all the musician kids in New York are actually installation artists or video assistants? Where is Puffy when we need some fucking sense shit-talked into these kids? Sean? Anyone?

X-FACTOR

I'll tell you straight up, they both got it. No question, playas and rhyme sayaz. I couldn't get enough of the little galleries all over Williamsburg, the Jewish Neighborhoods where you might end up tied to a chair in someone's basement, and the fact that there are still plenty of folks who have never left Flatbush. And Boston, god love this little place that can be bigger than you ever want it-- and find a cabbie that has mastered it, or, try to talk shit about it yourself, and you'll find yourself writing one of these lists when you should be helping kids or doing an installation . . .

I think this is how ai do it, es it is.

Feb 16- Seaport Hotel. L'hotel du champs. Invited to the gala benefit with 8 lovely kiddos from the 'Ville. Walked in amoungst the Rotary Club white folks charity finalists and the sports connect auction items that covered the long linen tables that lined the lobby. We left the kids eating salad. I went with Mr. James and Haydu up to the 16th floor suite where the party's ringleaders and honorees where sifting through free drinks, small talks and large sized former athletes. I met Big Sal, talked with Hall of Fame and fan favorite absentee John Hannah and tried to figure out where the money was coming from and where it was headed. And I didn't get a good feeling about it.

I think they were glad I was there. I might be a connection between these kids, who are ages 14-18, and the mass of official adults that were the major presence at the event. My privledge of accessing the elder world through cocktails and grant proposals came whilst the younger element waited, poised and curious, for the translation. They trusting the translator? I'm not so sure they need one, they say it better than I can half the time. Nonetheless, is truly my privlege.

By the end, I had heard from a locally famous TV arts reviwer, Tony V the comedian, a lawyer, the BU hockey coach, and the fucking guy who started Bertucci's and Red Sauce Restaurants. In the end, it was the last guy's humble oration that proved to be most satisfying. Even though he hails from Chelsea, John Ruiz trained in Somerville for most of his life, and let everyone know how important that was to him. Shit, Stepanie even bought a big red Everlast training glove bearing his Sharpie scrawl for a throw-around price of seven C's. I can think of about 150 things I'd rather spend $700 on, so I opted for the free autograph to my girl and quick conversation with the heavyweight champion of the world, and that's how my evening dropped down.

Men, and photos and ink and frames and white linens, jack and cokes, semi-political banter and coughing and nice ties and shitty ties, Mai Tais and commemorative keepsakes, and the mayor sitting all the way to the back--

men photos ink. And this is how we raise money for our children.

an aside:

goodnight sweet papillon you're very close by and you were that night as well...

and goodnight to the rest of all y'all as well.

7 Febrero- Played hookey with La Madmoiselle. Fixed place, felt warm, hung lights. Watched "Million Dollar Baby." I want it to win movie of year.

8 Febrero- Legal Seafood. Wanted to make a scene. Well-to-do Cambridge richies with a flair for pat on the backery. I wished that I could bring my Drop-In Center kids to an event like this. I could just picture them, all dressed clippy, trying new foods, probably hating them. By the end, I was faded and told a famous food reviewer that I loved her. We ended up at Drea's, on the couch, talking about drinking. There's still some tequila left over. I used to drink that shit every night. God bless my older brother.

11 Febrero- actually got sick. Face pouring, all jammed up. Ro told me we were invited to attend a benefit gala next week with slots for ten kids to dress all clippy, try new foods they won't like, and enjoy the fan fare of all the nice white folks from the Rotary Club. I was excited. Here's the chance to get these kids to one of these events, and without having to pay the cool C-note a plate going rate, they'd get a top shelf event and a chance to look pretty. More on this.

11 Febrero- Same day. Fleet Center. Took 13 kids to see Celts v. Knicks. We sat courtside and watched the warmups. I was impressed with Mark Blount, that Tony Allen kid, and Juri Welsch. The girls were all howling at the players by the end of the game. La Papi met me to chaperone, and we sat amoungst all the screaming young ladies as they seemed to put on as much of a show as the players, dissing Knicks fans and Tanacious D professing her love for Marcus Banks every time he touched the ball. Dude said he would give her his headband, but we never made it back down there.

Me and Girl gave the kiddos a ride back to their doors in Somerville. I was hoping my lady would get to see what I do best, but felt yet again that I was just sort of an underappreciated night. The whole night my face poured and Lisette kept banging on me for everything. I'm giving kids rides home and they're telling me I'm ghetto this and that and that my hair is greasy. I didn't like high school the first time, and this time around I can't take a swipe at anyone, ha-ha. I really like these kids though, and I think they are pretty comfortable around me.

Saturday, January 29 2005

La Papillon made those homemade scratch brownies again for the dinner party on Mass. Ave. (yeah, it happened on Mass. Ave...) This lady is so sweet you don't even know it. So, Son of a Wolf, the butterfly and I rolled in to the same tight crowd that gave me the brush in the past. My mood swings aside, I feel like even through my own ups and downs, I tough shit out so that my approach to people is consistent; I like to hit 'em up the same way, every time, if I can.

I mean, none of these kids have picked a fight with me, so why should I change my channel? It's not like it used to be, back when I was hanging out with Bunnicula and her kids. I'd step into the scene and have one hand out for high fives and the other ready to jack somebody. It ain't like that anymore, it's not like I'm gonna get crashed for liking someone's ex-girl like back then.

So I've always tried to be straight-up and patient, and well, that night on Mass. Ave., they came to me for once. They unhooked the velvet rope and broke their shit down for me, and it was real nice. While picking at crab cakes and carrots, I talked to these kids for the first real time, and wondered what the fuck the problem was the whole time. Tall Tara gave me new beer, The Belle of the Midwest gave me a few stories with the accent it required, and Il Maestro and I realized we could talk music for hours, if we wanted.

Son of a Wolf fell asleep in a chair, some kids rolled out, and I had a fun time with The Girl from the North Country, Ms. Foodie and of course, the girl I've known the longest from that crew, Rooftop Amy.

Sunday, January 30, 2005

Same shit, man! Oh alright, same crew at the Middle East. L'Actress and I busted out the clean socks and ate with her folks. After that we hit up the place at Jett Rosa's age defying soiree. The Spitzz killed me. I mean, not a super outstanding sound, but the show was fun and the girl who plays bass is a pediatritian on the side. I know where her heart is. Fuck that! She gets to look after kids and get paid, son! Then she's got time to play bass in a punk band. Awesome. I think her man/husband is the guitar player. All in the family. I wonder if band members get the discount HMO.

So, all the while Pirate Bunny is making the rounds, I'm getting us free drinks the whole night from Charlie, this kid who used to pop into where I used to work. I watched Runner with my girl, and Son of a Wolf was at it again nearby with some blondie from work, dancing away.

By the end, I was told in a round about way how some folks used think about me. Someone was like, hey, that day where some folks gave you some shit, that was wrong!" And you're just now realizing this? Ok, I gave it time, and here we are. You wanna be friends? Looks like we already are. So let me get you a free drink. I also keep running into another blondie scenester that must have one hell of a fake ID. Last up, Lot 6. You can't tell what the fuck is going on with their songs, but it will be one of the most fun shows you go to, sucker. Amy and I were in the mix right up front. It was a blast.

But of all, Monday was the strangest day. Up next...

Well hello there you little eye bleeders. Here's so I won't forget:

Friday 01-28-05

After the nap time rendez-vous, the evening broke open like a pipe on Green St. After momentarily parting ways, I drove to the show with Drea, Vermont Steve and the lovely Ms. Brooks. We watched Mittens up front/speaker level, next to the drummers folks, speaker level, and son of a Wolf was wailing front and center with a pretty young thing in an orange dress. I listened to the next band, leaning at the bar by myself, watching this bootleg afterwork crowd mouthing words to songs they don't even know.

Kids there were playing around still-- like they still don't know someone they've met five times and are acting all high post around you. The guitarist gave some rockitude, to me at least, I appreciated that! A few sentances in he came around like a champ. But why do I keep ending up standin by myself? It makes me feel like dropping a left on someone when I've got my own back again and again.

It was a fun ride home, though, screaming along to the radio. Drea was readyyy to dip into the next bottle but instead just I said high to E-la and went to sleep in my hut.

She is different, every time I see her, isn't she?

A new woman, a new idea, yet remearkably the same, as a vehicle, a muse , a bandit, and the truth. She's the daily news. New story, same pages, same ink that you won't wash from your finger tips.

Well, we had a date! I'll pick you up at 7. I'll bring you to my old neighborhood, we'll dance. In the back of bar, a place I had sat a thousand times before with all manner of relations, and there I was with her. Her's was the only name that didn't need to be scratched into the table tops with a key, or etched into walls wet with beer splash and scratch tickets. Three dollars down, trading licks on Lucky 8's, 7-11's and all for the pictures of presidents. I won because I still see her smile.

You feel like bowling?
Sure!
Let's go.

One string, low score. A tiny blond boy walked halfway down the lane next to ours to deposit his ball in the right direction, and turned away before his effort nudged over two pins. Happy to do, not to score. She had watched, too, and I could quote her from her own story: "Pleasure is still a cheap commodity, multiplied by its smallest and least expensive form when opportunity allows." I forgot the way it felt to roll the ball. Smooth, instant, dramatic.

I listened to the movie later that night. We had arrived so early that the theatre was vacant except for a man passed out on the far side, waiting out the weather. I'm still waiting it out, too, I thought. It's winter, after all. I've been here before. All the familiar places.

I threw popcorn and knocked over the whiskey bottle that was at our feet. We grew tired of the movie, despite all the beautiful music. I was catching her shiny eyes in the dark, her right eye in profile. I wanted to kiss her. I love wanting to kiss her. I wan't to make out in the dark movies with you. You little badit, my french actress, my biker! All the familiar places, and I've never seen them again.

nice meeting me.

It's time for this. This is new for me. My life's record has been loosely parceled thus far, compiled by collecting torn pages, drawings on receipts, and loose photos piled in a brown box. My memory serves my identity, and it is taxed. That is why I am here.

Growing up, I always kept binders filled with sketches, fucked-up cartoons, and caricatures of friends and teachers. Through a constant self-editing process, I would wind up with just the bare minimum of what I thought I couldn't leave behind.

Though, it's not like I didn't try to keep a record of my goings on. I had sketchbooks. Journals with two pages filled and the rest blank. Sketchbooks that were crammed full, lost, torn up or left behind. Anonymous legacy. Fucking chalk drawings.

When I was in New York I wrote graffiti everywhere I could. A further extension of how famous the anonymous get. Relentless pursuit of a shadow puppet art. I wrote on everything, and it nearly cost me my life, and its never permanent.

Walls get buffed, writers come and go. There's not much left. My collection of flix, beautiful photos of local graffiti, and my number one black book, in which every writer practices his style, made a eerily surreptitious exit from my possession one night when we were out painting a rooftop. When we returned, our car had been jacked into, and the record of my sacrifice was traded for a cd player and some Pumas.

We rolled around the ghetto with a baseball bat for hours, scanning for kids tooling with cars, looking over shoulders. After trolling the neighborhood, I realized that I would go to my next appointment in life with a full head and nearly empty hands.

Then there was the flood in the basement. The ruminations and careful drawings of my last college experience had been stashed in a rough cut basement of an old railroad flat apartment that I shared with a girl. Developed drawings, letterings, logos, and assemblages were found floating in the murk months after I returned to the place. I salvaged, sighed, and left quickly, still reeling from the break-up that happened in the apartment above. This was the last time.

Did I let things go on purpose? Did I need to trade my paintings for rent? Should I build a boat? Should I build a fire? Am I a personal arsonist? How am I?

thanks for welcoming me here. God help the servers from crashing down with all your lovely words.

-Jean Paul

por la madmoiselle bonhomme

naitre une etoile

bon chance

je t'adore

va savior

jusque julliet

merci

Bonjour mon ami....


my girlfriend has an eiffel tower tattoo... she is hot