(no subject)
Yesterday, I walked to the dumpster. I had my headphones on so, I could not hear anything. While I was placing the trash in the dumpster, a man popped out and looked at me. He scared me shitless. I said, "Oh shit...Excuse me." Then I put the trash beside him.
He had the eyes of a scared animal. I do not judge him, but I know I can't help him. I wasn't going to patronize him with useless sympathy. That really got to me. Later that night when I got back home from my friend's house, I ran up the stairs past the dumpster. Like he was going to jump out and remind me that everyone is poor. Remind me of poorness.
I applied at the 99 Cent store. The woman who gave me the application was dead. "Application?" It made me think about North Hills, Panorama City, and other forgotten areas of LA. My friend told me that the city put garish chandeliers or Christmas lights all across Beverly Hills. I guess where the Mexicans live, we don't need to repair a streetlight or sweep the street. If you leave your friendly non-secular, white, conservative operated public school, you will see the truth. That woman at the 99 cent store reminded me how depressed everyone is. Deny it all you want, but you feel it. You feel it in the scratchy surface of money passing hands, you feel it when you order at McDonald's, you feel it when you walk into Wal-Mart, you see it in the eyes of a homeless person and in the smile of the businessman tossing coins at that homeless person.
I don't dream, but I had two recently. The first was right after I saw my ex (if I can even call her that), Yuki, at some shitty bar in San Jose. That was the night I thought I had a date with Irene and I came home drunk and held myself in my arms and cried myself to sleep. That night I dreamed that Yuki was at my house. The house was exactly like my friend Ling's house, which, actually, my family and I lived in before we were forced to move out because we could not afford it anymore. Everything was like Ling's house, except my Mom's current living room with hardwood floors replaced the original carpeted livingroom. A big TV like ours was there, too.
Yuki is getting ready to go. She's putting on her coat and gathering her things. I walk down the hall to my room. On my way back, I look down at my shirt and there are Japanese characters on it. I would never wear such a tourist-y shirt. When I get back to the living room, Yuki is settled down, watching TV. I guess she decided to stay. Then my mom comes enters the house from the front door. She is a little frantic and tells me that there is a maniac woman on the loose. I am scared as I close the blinds in the kitchen. Just like in Ling's house.
I walk to my room to wake up Zack. He doesn't wake up. I grab my coat from the closet and walk out. I hear a child humming, "Na na na na na," a cheerful song for walking. As I'm walking out, I look through the doorway, through the window at the side of a house next door. Two figures walk up a step going towards me. As they move along the side of the house to the left, I realize it is an older woman holding the hand of Jeremiah, my youngest brother. Then they calmly walk out of the window frame.
Fear shocked through me from my heart to my limbs. I rushed to find Mom and tell her. She freaks out. I wake up. When I wake up, I see a dark figure with tentacles on Mom's dresser. The sun shone from behind so it was only a silhouette. Another pang of fear shocks my heart until I realize that it is an angel figurine with waving hair and dress and scarves.
I had another dream two days later. This time I was in LA when I dreamed it. It is set at the old cottage where I used to live in Indiana. It has the same structure and the same old futon, but the bathroom has now become someone's room. A chubby woman with brown skin, probably Latina, comes out of the room. We start talking and somehow casually reach the decision to fuck on the futon. I have anal sex with this woman, doggy style. I flip her over, and move her flacid dick out of the way so I can sodomize her. I am enjoying it. The penis does not phase me.
A person (possibly Josh) walks from behind the futon, around to the right, and into the kitchen to the left-front of us. Josh comes back out with a drink (I think he had a drink). He comments how he was suprised she had a dick. Josh opens the door. Through the screen door, I see there is a small party of people in the dark holding drinks. There is a fucking coctail party outside the door. Noticing this, I get scared and pull out. They never looked at me or had any idea I was inside, but I was within line of sight. The dream ends there.
For some reason, I call this person a hermaphrodite. She had a full penis, but for some reason I felt that it was a woman. It was very feminine and did not have big hands or feet or unchangeable masculine features. I think I would be okay enough to admit if it was just a guy who looked like a girl. I don't think it was a Tranny, though. This dream isn't about homosexuality. I know it is about me.
Mind you, I never dream. Then suddenly I had a surge of two powerful dreams. Something must be going on inside of me. Probably, the extreme loneliness and repression helped the vinegar-bomb cork bursts of sexuality.
Where is Armageddon? Bring me the comet, Lord. Oh lord, swing low Elijah's sweet, fiery chariot to bring me back to heaven.
He had the eyes of a scared animal. I do not judge him, but I know I can't help him. I wasn't going to patronize him with useless sympathy. That really got to me. Later that night when I got back home from my friend's house, I ran up the stairs past the dumpster. Like he was going to jump out and remind me that everyone is poor. Remind me of poorness.
I applied at the 99 Cent store. The woman who gave me the application was dead. "Application?" It made me think about North Hills, Panorama City, and other forgotten areas of LA. My friend told me that the city put garish chandeliers or Christmas lights all across Beverly Hills. I guess where the Mexicans live, we don't need to repair a streetlight or sweep the street. If you leave your friendly non-secular, white, conservative operated public school, you will see the truth. That woman at the 99 cent store reminded me how depressed everyone is. Deny it all you want, but you feel it. You feel it in the scratchy surface of money passing hands, you feel it when you order at McDonald's, you feel it when you walk into Wal-Mart, you see it in the eyes of a homeless person and in the smile of the businessman tossing coins at that homeless person.
I don't dream, but I had two recently. The first was right after I saw my ex (if I can even call her that), Yuki, at some shitty bar in San Jose. That was the night I thought I had a date with Irene and I came home drunk and held myself in my arms and cried myself to sleep. That night I dreamed that Yuki was at my house. The house was exactly like my friend Ling's house, which, actually, my family and I lived in before we were forced to move out because we could not afford it anymore. Everything was like Ling's house, except my Mom's current living room with hardwood floors replaced the original carpeted livingroom. A big TV like ours was there, too.
Yuki is getting ready to go. She's putting on her coat and gathering her things. I walk down the hall to my room. On my way back, I look down at my shirt and there are Japanese characters on it. I would never wear such a tourist-y shirt. When I get back to the living room, Yuki is settled down, watching TV. I guess she decided to stay. Then my mom comes enters the house from the front door. She is a little frantic and tells me that there is a maniac woman on the loose. I am scared as I close the blinds in the kitchen. Just like in Ling's house.
I walk to my room to wake up Zack. He doesn't wake up. I grab my coat from the closet and walk out. I hear a child humming, "Na na na na na," a cheerful song for walking. As I'm walking out, I look through the doorway, through the window at the side of a house next door. Two figures walk up a step going towards me. As they move along the side of the house to the left, I realize it is an older woman holding the hand of Jeremiah, my youngest brother. Then they calmly walk out of the window frame.
Fear shocked through me from my heart to my limbs. I rushed to find Mom and tell her. She freaks out. I wake up. When I wake up, I see a dark figure with tentacles on Mom's dresser. The sun shone from behind so it was only a silhouette. Another pang of fear shocks my heart until I realize that it is an angel figurine with waving hair and dress and scarves.
I had another dream two days later. This time I was in LA when I dreamed it. It is set at the old cottage where I used to live in Indiana. It has the same structure and the same old futon, but the bathroom has now become someone's room. A chubby woman with brown skin, probably Latina, comes out of the room. We start talking and somehow casually reach the decision to fuck on the futon. I have anal sex with this woman, doggy style. I flip her over, and move her flacid dick out of the way so I can sodomize her. I am enjoying it. The penis does not phase me.
A person (possibly Josh) walks from behind the futon, around to the right, and into the kitchen to the left-front of us. Josh comes back out with a drink (I think he had a drink). He comments how he was suprised she had a dick. Josh opens the door. Through the screen door, I see there is a small party of people in the dark holding drinks. There is a fucking coctail party outside the door. Noticing this, I get scared and pull out. They never looked at me or had any idea I was inside, but I was within line of sight. The dream ends there.
For some reason, I call this person a hermaphrodite. She had a full penis, but for some reason I felt that it was a woman. It was very feminine and did not have big hands or feet or unchangeable masculine features. I think I would be okay enough to admit if it was just a guy who looked like a girl. I don't think it was a Tranny, though. This dream isn't about homosexuality. I know it is about me.
Mind you, I never dream. Then suddenly I had a surge of two powerful dreams. Something must be going on inside of me. Probably, the extreme loneliness and repression helped the vinegar-bomb cork bursts of sexuality.
Where is Armageddon? Bring me the comet, Lord. Oh lord, swing low Elijah's sweet, fiery chariot to bring me back to heaven.