Gait theme, entrance song…

  1. It’s more than a walk.
  2. It’s bigger than a stride.
  3. It’s a stomp –
  4. a grounded pounce.

“$h*! My Mom Says.” (Other than: “I knew you were gay when I saw you play football.”)

“They don’t want you. They’ve made that abundantly clear, Dewey. They choose everyone else but you. They refuse to have chemistry with you. And you’re mad – thinking different results and doing the same things with the same people who aren’t like you and who only solipsistically care about their own base basic needs. You’re not bigoted because you can’t get along with snooty, bitter, opportunistic, loose, depraved assholes. It’s not self-hatred, no matter what they condemn you and categorize you as, because you refuse to drink the Kool-Aid.”

“I’m open to the world, Mommy – but is it open to me? Meanwhile, everyone’s in their relationships, and I can’t get a date. I know, Mommy, I’m impatient, per usual. But when – when does it get better? I wish I could just take off. Step out, new planet. I want to experience everything. I want to settle down, but I want everything life has to offer. I don’t want to be held back, left back, left out. Will it ever get any easier? Will it always be this hard?”

“You were saner and more stable and safer before you came out – into this. Your bad luck with guys is the universe telling you you’re not gay.”

“I hate losing. And every day, I find out about someone else who should be with me and is only not for dumb, bullshit, unexplainable, faggot reasons, and then, if everyone I want is taken and spoken for and fulfilled, whatever, and no one wants me, then, Mommy, what the fuck am I to do? I’m unchosen. Does this mean I’m not one of the good ones? I don’t believe that for a second – but they don’t seem to think so. They don’t care. And I want to destroy them. I owe them pain. Payback ain’t a bitch – it’s a faggot. I hate losing. My soul burns and weeps when I don’t win or move forward. You gain confidence, not by being lucky sometimes – but by winning.”

“Well, I don’t know, Dewey, where you were supposed to learn that or self-esteem. You need to get a vibrator – just like everybody else.”

“Rosebud, Mommy…”