Monday, July 4, 2011

I am at something like the Kentucky Derby, I think it is an indoor arena and we are on a flat sort of plateaued section where there are dining tables. I'm here with John Maccallum's "brother" "Jimmy", John's real life brother Neil is also at the table. I have met Jimmy somehow outside of John being there and we are sort of on a date. He shows me how we are going to eat the shrimp with oatmeal. We are all going to have shrimp iin a bowl with either oatmeal or something richer and milkier. This is a big part of the event we are at. This seems to be a rich person kind of event. Alex Wilson is there. People seem to be just roaming around the stadium going from section to section. When John arrives he comes to the table and sees me sitting next to Jimmy and makes that half-suprised/ dissaproving face and sits down across from us. I guess maybe we are in New York. Jimmy seems very smooth and manipulative. I'm not sure why/if/how much I am into him.

At some other time I think Ricky is with me and we are going around moving or around south boston.

When I'm in the stadium there are a few people working there as waiters and servers and I know some of them. They are mostly kids around my age. There is one guy who is black and seems familiar but I can't quite place him. He seems like someone else. I think I am trying to smoke a joint or roll a joint inside the stadium and for some reason I'm doing it semi in secret away from the table. I go into the bathroom or something and come out with the joint and am trying to smoke it by the balcony but its loose and falling apart. One of the waiter people asks me for a hit and I am suprised he knows it is a joint. I remember talking to Alex Wilson and he was wearing suspenders.

When I leave the stadium I see the black guy waiter person and for some reason I don't remember that I know him and then he comes up to me and starts talking to me and I remember who he is. I think maybe I am smoking a joint then and he asks for a hit and I know that he knows its a joint because he doesn't smoke tobacco...He starts talking about how he fucked Cindy something in a little alley right near us (maybe he reminds me of Anson?) He talks about how he wants to fuck every girl he can because its sort of like tagging them and then you have that connection and either they'll help you later on or they won't but either way you fucked them so you own them a little bit and its like growing your wealth in a way, and I say I think there are some women who probably think like that too. His ideas about this are pretty offensive I guess but he is pleasant and mild and isn't trying to sleep with me so we just sort of sit there and talk and its nice. We are on a block of cement steps with hand rails in the middle of an empty parking lot and the street right in front of us is pretty deserted and looks sort of like Roxaboxen and then to the right there is what looks like the end of King street or King and Spring maybe but theres no one on the street and no one else comes out of the stadium.

My mom comes into the scene then and I think the waiter guy comes with us and some other people and we all go to Cole School with my Mom who I guess works there. I am struck by how it smells exactly the same and how I remember the smell. The walls are all salmony-pink and I am smelling them. I really need to use a bathroom and I start going from room to room looking for one. In lots of the rooms there are toilets cemented to the floors in the middle of the rooms but somehow I know or decide these aren't usable even though they are toilets. My mom is scooting around the rooms on what looks like and empty roll of masking tape. She puts one foot on the masking tape and then there is a long handle that comes up and she pushes off with her other foot and I guess this is what she does while she is working. She takes me to the bathroom which is dark like all the rooms because the school is closed. There are three little toilets all with a little piece of toilet paper in them.

When I wake up I realize I really have to pee.

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