Mayer

Those are dumpy jeans. He has dumpy-butt. I ask “Do you like music?” and then “What music do you like?”

He likes the song “Beautiful.” He says he can’t listen to that song. I take this to mean it makes him sad. I say I cannot listen to “beautiful” either because I dislike the song. I can’t really remember the words…well. It’s not really that kind of song.

I look at the man next to me, and then at his hands. The left hand is average, but the right is strange. His fingernails seem to have grown into his fingers. They look yellow and dry. There is no separation. The nail and finger are one. I feel a little like passing out, but don’t. Brook told me about a man she saw on the bus. She said he had blood under his fingernails, but she had this feeling it was not his blood. She said she thinks it was the blood of innocents. We then talked about evil, or the lack thereof. The whiteness is evil. But not the man. Whiteness is like the devil, and you don’t have to be white to have it, and just because you are white does not mean you have it. Evil people have it, whoever they are.

The light blinks red on and off. I once cut through a church to get away from him and then I got stuck in a stairwell and had to jump a fence. I’m not sure why he scares me. He’s probably a nice guy. You can live through anything if Magic made it. I remember learning about AIDS in 3^rd grade and my teacher used Magic Johnson as an example.

I had that dream about the Vagina Monologues, again. What if it were Vagine? Va-jean. I was selected by an actor to follow this hooded character backstage, and we disappeared behind a wall. He took off his mask and was bald. The play began with these strange gothic characters/monsters pacing in the ocean. One looked like Oscar Wilde. There was a sing along portion of the play, but we had to learn it in groups during intermission.