From: Mom
Help….too
much
testosterone!!
Mar 16, 5:32 pm

I had finally convinced my mom to go to the Korean spa with me. We walked into the women’s changing room and I started undressing. My mom whispered to me that she wasn’t comfortable getting naked. I told her it was ok, there were only women - but she gestured out at the room and I realized that was not the case. It was a unisex locker room, and no one seemed to be getting naked at all. I was very annoyed and confused. “Let’s go to the main area,” I said, “we’ll ask about what the hell is going on.”
We went to where I thought all the poultice rooms should have been, but it brought us to an outdoor water park. It was very crowded and loud. I tried to find out why the spa had suddenly become a stupid water park, but I couldn’t find anyone who worked there.
I ended up talking to this group of middle-aged rich men sitting in a jacuzzi. They kept making me think they knew what was going on, but wouldn’t tell me anything, and then would laugh at me when I got frustrated.
“I think white people just must have taken it over or something,” I said to my mom, shaking my head, “it sucks.” She tried to act like she wasn’t disappointed, but she was pretty bummed.
Later, I was driving in a hilly area in slushy snow. I was driving Andrew Pisacane to a house. He looked completely different, but kind of the same. I did a bad job driving and parking, but it was really hard to control the vehicle with the road conditions. We went inside and I asked if he wanted anything to eat. He said, “yeah, I want a quesadilla.” I made him a quesadilla, and he fell asleep before he finished eating it. I realized I had no idea where I was or why I was there.

My brother Ryan and I were in a waiting room. We were on our way out, and they asked us if we’d like to get tested for HIV - it was a really quick, free test. We said sure, why not.
We were waiting for the results and I suddenly became incredibly nervous. I thought about what it would mean for me if I was positive. I got so freaked out about it. I was near tears, but my brother didn’t notice. It felt like we were waiting forever.
A nurse took out a little device and put whatever samples we had given her into it. She did Ryan’s first, and the device rapidly beeped five times. Then she did mine, and it did the same thing. She told us we were both negative for HIV. I started to sob uncontrollably, I was so relieved.

From: Pat Larkin
Pad thai? More
like Sad Sigh
Mar 19, 6:35 pm

Melted abuelo is blind but can actually see, under the right circumstances.
Witch hunt.

Peggy can’t go to Africa with Colin because she found out she has been exposed to turtle radiation. I have difficulty grasping the gravity of the situation.

Two men in a car somehow hurt a bunch of infants over a brief period of time. They dent their malleable little skulls.

I write something down on a lined notepad. The building is big with high ceilings and fluorescent lighting. People are quietly milling about. I approach a woman who has her straight blonde hair up in a ponytail and as what her name is. She responds, robotically but nonthreateningly, with her full name. I recognize it and tell her so. “Are you involved with the case?” I ask. She is. We make small talk. 

A group of people need to study how the brain changes in its language centers when you lose both of your parents in a traumatic way. They contact this girl, but she is hesitant. One of the representatives is named Adrian.

Finally, she agrees. She goes to let them in, but another man - a man with the same interest - is there instead. There is something very scary about who he is - something about baseball, and a book. She doesn’t really know what’s going on, but he shoves her upstairs and restrains her. He begins to say upsetting things to her as he sticks long needles into her head and face.

She says, “I don’t want to hear this from you!” The man stops talking, and across the room a TV turns on. It had a blue screen and what he would be saying out loud flashes in red letters. I can’t remember the words. She begins to scream.

The other men show up to conduct their study and realize she is in trouble.

Max.

I’m someone else. There’s a dim yellow light in the grimy complex. I know the man, and he is chasing me through the turnstiles. He is white and wears a long khaki trenchcoat. It’s sort of a flirtatious chase, and we’re laughing. Then I realize he is going to harvest my organs once he catches me. He cuts me off and corners me. A black man with very dark skin appears, running towards us from down a hallway. He is waving a flashlight and shouting in French.

“He’s so wrong,” she said. She was explaining the situation too loudly. “He’s just so wrong. In no other situation am I ever certain that I am absolutely, undeniably correct, and someone else is inarguably incorrect. I’m grateful he is so consistently wrong. It gives me something.” Her friend continued typing an e-mail, acknowledging the assertion silently and without eye contact.
“I sound like an idiot,” she thought to herself.