Three twenty. I tried to sleep on a bed of nails tonight. I feared falling asleep and having nightmares, or strange dream thoughts that fuse religion and sexuality, pushing together and pulling apart. Definitions and descriptions are very difficult for love and sex, and the way religious culture impacts these. There was the dream I had the other night…

Quarter after four. Homosexuality is not a crime. I see why I clash with the Church, which has persecuted gay people for centuries. The local music community doesn’t like gay people either. But I can try networking through the gay bars in town, I suppose. Or go to a social group… Sheryl thought Oregon sucks, and I’m inclined to agree. But I’m stuck with this property in a once conservative neighborhood. For many years I’ve been watching the changes, biding my time, awaiting the auspicious moment to come out. The gods favor the bold and the brave. Everything is different now that my parents are twenty years gone and my family has deserted me. I stand alone with the world… until I meet others like me. The next door neighbors are probably a lesbian couple. Eugene may be adaptable and teachable, but I need a little more evidence of this.


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