Last Voicemail Message from SpaceDog Transcribed by Les Sober

Welcome

It was an autumn night. The year 1994. I was 16. I remember this night for it was my first introduction to the ‘gay community’. It was my first night at a gay bar. The people I was with told I was at the ‘Little Roxy’ (in New Brunswick, NJ maybe?).

As I walked in, I took in the room. The first thing I noticed were the stares. The first thing I felt was the hand of an intoxicated man grabbing my ass. It was immediate uncomfortablity. I was offered a drink but I just wanted to get out. I did eventually.

We proceeded to go to Roxy in New York. I was in awe. At first I loved it, then it struck me as odd, then it struck me as love again. I noticed everybody being really gropey to one another. Then the people I was with (a much older sampling of men probably mostly over 40) all started kissing together in a circle. I, being in the city on their pursestrings, joined. It was all odd in the long run, then I was taken home, snuck in my window, and went on with my regular life.

Looking back at this specifically it just strikes me as odd how this group of friends would all get tongue twisted like that. I shouldn’t judge really, I’ve hooked up with a friend or two in my days but it was basically my first impression.

On my eighteenth birthday, I was ostracized by my closest gay friend for not wanting to go out to a club. I wanted to be around my straight friends and for this I was condemned and condoned.

‘Why would you want to be around straight people?’ You can’t get any cock with them!’, he viciously barked at me.

My simple reply was,’Life is not just about sex. It is about being around people that I enjoy the company of whether they are straight or gay.’ Sadly this wasn’t the only time I heard this from a fellow gay.

Prelude to a F*** OFF

Before I begin this section I just want to state that I have had fun at gay bars and clubs in the past. I have also had fun while being stranded in snow storms along the side of the road and have had fun while being searched by the police. I even have had fun with someone after suicide attempt. Does this make me sick and twisted? More then likely yes. I adapt to the cards I am dealt on a given occasion and try to make the best of things. We aren’t always dealt a great hand and even when we are there are infinite ways we can screw it up (and vice versa).

F*** OFF!!!!!!!!!!

I am completely tired of how gay people act as a whole. Sure as a ‘community’ we can band together and protest things like prop 8 which I am proud of, yet the remander of the time we tear one another apart.

I choose not to part of a ‘community’ wear all that is praised is vanity, clothing labels, and how many cocks we can suck. I choose not to be a part of something where self centeredness reigns queen supreme. Where narcassism is considered a positive attribute and altruism is a red flag for let’s take advantage of him. Where people not conforming to the majority are made to feel like a right wing nut job at an Obama rally.

And nearly fifteen years after my first experience with the ‘community’ I have realized nothing has changed. It is all just still a big meat market, devoid of morals, devoid of much more then what can you do for me now. I don’t really expect more and never have or will. It is what it is.

On a personal note, I have noticed that things such as honesty, whether about yourself or someone else is chopped down to an unacceptable level.

Nine times out of ten when I tell someone that I have epilepsy they suddenly look at me differently like I have eight legs or they want me to have a seizure like, ‘HERE SPARKY BARK SPARKY’ F*** SPARKY!!!

I tell them I think Britney Spears, Ashley Simpson, Miley Cyrus and their legion of doom can all go suck my cock and that I like a lot more rock music and that the music playing in this club makes me to shoot myself in the head, they are either personally affronted or think I literally want to shoot myself in the head. Like I’m gonna go out like Kurt Cobain or Layne Staley and off myself just because I listen to their music.

 

When someone asks my opinion, I do not sugar coat it. I tell it like it is. I do not hang in close surroundings with people I detest. People are so offended by bluntness and honesty because the truth hurts.

Would you rather be lied to all your life by people you think are your friends or would you rather be told the truth by your enemies? Lest we forget the old saying:, ‘Keep your friends close but your enemies even closer.’

A lot of people who portray themselves as genuine will stab you in the back in front of their friends. Some people will simply reveal their true colors over time.

Which is why I simply say F*** OFF to the ‘gay community’ and for those of you fed up as well, welcome to my gay revolution.

Hmmmm What That Smell?! By Spacedog

MARIJUANA!!!!!

When times are tough and times are dull, I think back to the life I once led in the south of Columbia. Sure it was difficult. I mean there was enough cocaine to help me stay awake for weeks upon end. That was always fun. Even just chillin with Pablo and Juan Valdez made for some good times I’ll never forget. There is one person though I will never forget. Her name was Mary Jane.

My own personal Mary Jane was a big, tall strong woman. Sure I don’t have much of a proclivity towards women but she was twelve feet tall and smelled like no other woman I have met since. I even liked her seed and well that’s not the kind of seed that ole Jeffy usually takes a likin too.

She kept me safe and warm. Whenever I got home from a night at the theatron de pelicula and had bad things squirt in my eye, she was there to heal my infection.

The night I saw all of Pablo’s men get mowed down in a rain of gunfire, Mary Jane was there. I just put her in my bong and smoked her down and off I went to the club. I could already taste the rainbow even though well that was for later. Shhhhh…… And she never told any of my secrets.

She was my mother, my sister, my dominatrix, my bulldyke, and my fag hag all rolled up into one great big, bright ass spliff.  She let me tolerate more Britney Spears then any human could just so I could bring the next Juan or Carlos or Juan Carlos or fuck why not all of them back to my humble mud hut.

Eventually though we grew apart. My funds in Colombia were confiscated and back off to New Jersey I so went. That was in 1980. Oh how I miss 1980. Those were the days.

Mary Jane?

So then I was walking down the street yesterday and saw this midget girl (aptly named Midge) I knew from the club. She was a fun one to know, I mean anyone who smokes out of a bong taller then them is alright with me.

Midge introduced me to her friend. His name was Kyle. He smelled of dirt, he smelled of mud, he smelled of naughty things. So he smelled like Mary Jane. So then we smoked and then we went back to my place and Midge took pictures. She wanted to join in but I have a moral code up in this bitch. If I can teabag you standing up it’s a no go. That is my number one moral in life.

You may say I’m a dreamer. I’m not the only one. I hope someday you’ll join us. And the world will live as one.