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    Two non-memorable dreams from july 19th

    by , 07-20-2010 at 11:50 AM (750 Views)

    Come across news article about 'Roy Spencer', older gay gentleman, now dead, victim of a hate crime. I write an angry article about how if only anyone gave a fuck, maybe this sort of thing wouldn't happen. (The gays can't even get a leg up, this is a huge fking problem, how's a tranny even supposed to deal when a gay man can't even live without being beaten into a casket.) 'We can all sit around and whine and bitch to other gays within our closed social circles about this, but that doesn't solve the real problem- the fucking problem is Out There, in the REAL WORLD, not in the stagnant, 'safe' homosexual microcosms we create for ourselves in big cities! The only reason these exist is to keep us from remembering the truth- that out there, we're fucking sideshow oddities and second class citizens! Did you know his name? Did you? Yeah, if you did, maybe this never would've happened, right? Because no one fucks with the gays in YOUR social circle. So what, we have to know a shit ton of other gays, be part of a buttfking gang in order to be safe, be respected? What about all of the other gays you don't know, the ones you can't protect because you *aren't* sleeping with each other? No matter how big the homo microcosm in San Fran gets, guess what! Roy Spencer is still in bumfk Egypt, Georgia, getting pillaged to death! THINK about that!' I talk to Justin about this within the dream, as we go for a walk through China town on the way to my old home on Kukui Street. He thinks this is all hilarious, and feigns anger to 'get me all riled up', but the only thing that comes of it is I mouth off to him, too, for being white, male, 'straight', cisgendered and middle class, and to top it off, indignant. END.


    Had a birthday celebration marathon that included many of the students from my middle school, years and years back. Part of the fun was driving racecars around on the ice, which was incredibly dangerous, but we didn't care. This was a race we held every year, but this time it was setup so that it would take place on my birthday. Ambi often won, so she was talking smack about how she was the best, 'because my mom's a racecar driver! And quite frankly, I know how to drive!' But one of the blonde girls from my intermediate school, who played the part of 'the new student' showed up on a Kawasaki Ninja and when it came to the race, left Ambi in the dust. She whined incessantly about this. At the end of the race, her and a Bruiser(from Borderlands) had ended up in a draw, so they had a rematch with just the two of them on a track. We had to ride a trailer to a new track since the cars had turned the road on the previous one to slush.

    While we were in the motorhome on the way to the new track I was admiring 'the new girl's skin, which was flawless, and I was thinking about telling her to take good care of it, since she looked like she had the potential to age beautifully, but I didn't have the nerve to even talk to her. She seemed to think I was creepy. I was afraid she'd make fun of me. We decided to stop by the side of the frozen desert at a little roadside restaurant, where it was now Scott's(another kid back from middle school) birthday instead of mine. When I turned a dial, all of the seats rotated so that everyone was sitting in a new formation. I arranged everything so that it would be 'perfect'.

    Someone had tacked a note above the table I was sitting at, that had UV reactive ink on it that you could only read with a special flashlight. I found the flashlight in my pocket and me, the new girl, and two other guys, one who wasn't me, but looked like I do in WL, read it: 'The people assigned to sit here, Scott actually has huge crushes on. If any of you would be so kind as to strip or at least get topless once he has his seat next to you, well- that would be quite a present now, wouldn't it?' I remember being surprised that this implied Scott was at least bisexual, possibly more into dudes than girls (wtf?) seeing as to how the fraction was 3:1. I was embarrassed, because I'd stripped my wifebeater off before I'd even read the note, since for some reason it was ungodly humid within the diner.

    One of the girls across the restaurant whistled and yelled something like, 'Well, he sure is quick to fulfill wishes, isn't he!?' I heard another girl yell, 'God, he's so skinny! You could eat from the depression under his ribs!' I started to turn red and, stuttering, insisted that it wasn't my intent to 'make a show' out of taking my shirt off. I started trying to scramble back into it before anyone else catcalled me, but Scott was already having a seat. The boy who had my face said, 'Aww c'mon dude, don't fuck it up right when he shows up. At least let him get a look at'cha, Skeletor.' Scott overheard this and was mortified, and said, 'Did... did someone tell you something about me that you AREN'T SUPPOSED TO KNOW?' He started to panic.

    I didn't want to lie, but I didn't want to give him the impression I was 'undressed for him', either, but I was also afraid my full explanation would seem like a rejection, not to mention being paired with revealing that people had been gossiping about him. I hated the drama and wished I never knew, and that I wasn't here. END.

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