loltrespassing

"I told my friend that sadists frequently hurt themselves, that I sometimes cut myself, and that in my opinion this was normal behavior for us.  Sadists can have an erotic response to our own as well as others' pain.  We often become sadists because we couldn't find anybody who is trustworthy or severe enough to hurt us.  I know that my first and best-loved victim is myself; I am the only real top I will ever have.  Whom am I going to find who is any better?"

"Taking responsibility for your desire, wearing it where other people could see it, being defiant about your deviance - it was the kind of butch signal, like a shaved head, that Kat recognized and loved, that made her knees get weak.  You had to flaunt it.  You couldn't change it.  You didn't really want to.  Because even if you hardly ever get what you want, knowing what it would look like and trying to get it was so much less crazy than believing the lie that you wanted what everybody else wanted, that there was nothing else, no choice."

"...Kat would be damned if she could understand why she had an erotic appetite for being put to work, terrorized, tortured, and fucked until her ears bled.  But if we wait for things to make sense, she told herself, the closest we'll come to having sex is standing around with our thumbs up our asses."

"Arnold lay awake thinking: How...cruel!  Even if it is the most debilitating of conditions (which, were it anywhere near as common as Dr. Kinsey said, made it seem unlikely): how cruel, to take us as children and impose such isolating loneliness.  Tonight, Arnold thought, in Pittsfield and in Queens and in Appleton and in Fishtown and God-know-where-else, children are awake, in bed, as I am now, pondering their approaching deaths from this...disease, in the midst of a loneliness sharp enough to clog their ears and scatter their eyes and cloy their throat with grave dust.  And, as he had not in a while, Arnold began to cry.  Why, why, why lie to them as I was lied to?"

"In the dark, as if in response to Eric's uncertainty about what more to say or do, Jay laughed...quietly.  'Here I am, thirty-nine years old--and don't you know I'm still the same piss-in-his-jeans fuck I was when I was seven or eight?  It's funny, how you learn what really makes you happy so goddamn early.  Then, 'cause you spend so much time looking for someone who can share it with you, you get discouraged and forget it.  Then you learn it again.  And forget it again.  And learn it again...and maybe again.'"

"...We should use the space opened up by political organizing which is geared toward reformist objectives— like stopping police brutality and ending racist immigration policies—as an opportunity to explore problems for which there are no coherent solutions. Anti-Black violence is a paradigm of oppression for which there is no coherent form of redress, other than Frantz Fanon’s ‘the end of the world.’ Solidarity means not crowding out discussions of Black social death just because there is no coherent form of redress on the horizon."

"Is it just too damn bad for us transsexuals?  I'll forever be lacking, I'll always have to explain/excuse myself.  Yet it's been worth all these years just to be in this bar, here, now, with AIDS + to be a man among men.  To be included, however voyeuristically, however theoretically, in the society of men who can only openly proclaim their ardor for other men-- It may be the love that dare not speak its name but it is surely the love that endures, that persists against all condemnation, even through the threat of death, of "AIDS," a love that cannot die; to me, this is the only REAL love."

"I must keep remembering there are no rules for the kind of relationship we have + want to have."