"I'm so gay it hurts," or My Gay Pride Weekend

Gay Pride Weekend is a meaningful milestone for me, given the fact that it's the anniversary of my move to San Francisco. Last weekend marked 15 years for me here in SF, which I think is as long as I lived in beautiful South Euclid, Ohio with my parents.

Guess which 15 years I enjoyed more.

Anyway, I haven't actually gone to the parade for a number of years, even though it's very inspiring and campy. I don't really have to, when the Dyke March roars right past my building. Unfortunately, I stayed in the bathtub for way too long this year, and I missed the whole thing (though I did get to enjoy the milling about afterwards).



After the march passed me by, I headed out to meet T at the Kabuki to see Ocean's Thirteen, which I found enjoyably silly and T found way too silly. Afterwards, we hopped on the 22 Fillmore, which was packed to the gills.

A man on the bus met up with a compatriot, who seemed like someone he'd gotten to know in jail or a treatment facility. He told him a very long story, which I cannot do justice, for the whole ride. I was on the edge of my seat.

The fellow had been on probation and parole, when he was crossing the street and was hit by a taxi. He began an altercation with the taxi driver about this, which led to him smashing the window of the taxi with his skateboard (an act he said the taxi driver had deliberately driven him to commit.)

The police came and arrested him, and beat him up so badly that his jaw was messed up. He said he had pictures. Because he was on parole and probation, it seemed very likely that he would be going to jail for seven years, especially since the police had neglected to mention that he had been hit by the taxi in their report.

But he found a witness, and persuaded the man, who didn't really want to get involved, to explain what he had seen (he didn't even end up paying him, though he offered to). On top of that, the hearing was scheduled for the late afternoon, and everyone wanted to go home very badly. As a result, our hero lucked out, and was assigned to many months of anger management counseling and a couple of years at Walden House.

Something had happened which led to the protagonist not staying at Walden House anymore, and he was on his way to visit "a little girl who's dying to see me" in Crocker Park. At this, the man's friend laughed in disbelief, thinking the girl was actually living in the park, but no.

The final phase of the story concerned a lawsuit the man planned to file against the City because the police beat him up. He said that he was going to see Heather Fong, San Francisco's police chief, to talk to her about it. And, he said that he'd even claim to be gay when he did it. "I'm gay as fuck," he said. "I'm so gay it hurts. I'll wrap myself in that fucking rainbow flag."

His friend laughed and called him crazy, while the gay men next to him shrunk away.

His friend was squeezed in right next to me, and he was a very large, soft man. He was also an exceptionally kind and patient listener, and gave the story his full, but quiet attention. I was quite tired, and I had a strong urge to lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.

Weekend at the Russian River

I've been wanting to write a post about Ed Jew and the trouble he's gotten himself into. However, I've been rather busy with work and the story has been raging without me, so I'll write about my fun weekend at the Russian River instead.



T and I and a bunch of other folks rented two houses by the river and spent a long weekend eating, swimming off our dock, boating with small craft through very shallow water, and soaking in the hot tub. When you live in a one bedroom apartment, pretending (for a weekend) to live in two houses is really fun. Many things happened, including lots of margaritas, various mental breakdowns, talented musicians playing, and three sizes of dogs. Most of us also said goodbye to Adrienne and Fahr, which was sad.

I think I'll focus on just one story, though. T and I were canoeing down the river, our friends Sonya and Eric a ways behind us. In the middle of the river was standing a fully clothed teenage boy with a dirty blonde pageboy haircut. Because of the low water levels, he was about up to his waist. He was holding a piece of metal, and as we drew near, he said to us "Look at this. It's a car antenna. I found it in the water." He gestured towards the shore, where a large piece of metal sat. "And look at that," he said. "It's a (here I'm forgetting what he said, perhaps car chassis?) I dragged it out of the river myself." Then he gestured to his left: "And there's a washing machine down there. It's white." He appeared to be delivering this speech to every one of the considerable number of canoes that was passing by. I would have photographed him, but our camera had fallen into the river a few miles back.



Since we passed him by, I have been wondering why he did it. Was it out of concern for the environment? (I didn't otherwise notice a lot of debris along the river, but maybe I wasn't looking hard enough). Pride in his scavenging skills? A desire to share his acquaintance with this stretch of river? I guess I'll never know. T said it seemed like something out of Deliverance.

And for those who were there, and those who weren't, a truly excellent gazpacho recipe I had some requests for. I felt especially decadent just throwing away the sprig of thyme.

Linda Goes to Vegas

I'm here in Las Vegas for a work-related conference. It really is as overstimulating, phony and craven as I imagined. The potential for fun is an inch thick and a mile wide, in general.

However, I did do two amazingly fun things. One was hang out with Matt, Keith Matthew, and their cohort from New Orleans. We took a couple of very cool teens to an event called First Fridays, which is a gallery walk. It kind of reminded me of living in Columbus, where there wasn't a whole lot going on, and as a result, everyone came out for everything. One of the teens, Roque, has written a fantasy novel, and was very excited about discussing all of his favorite books, from Harry Potter to the Chronicles of Narnia to the Golden Compass.



Before the gallery event, we ate at the mall food court. Did you know that Hot Dog on a Stick sells tofu corndogs? Matt is eating one. Keith is not happy with the food selection.





The next day, I went on a bus tour called Vintage Las Vegas sponsored by our huge conference. Our tour guide, who works for the city, seemed to think it was cute that the mayor is a former mob lawyer and that the city is trying to build a stadium encroaching on one of the city's only culturally active neighborhoods. The heroes of the tour were the folks at the Neon Museum, which is currently a neon "boneyard"--cast off neon signs collected in a couple of lots in a somewhat sad-looking neighborhood. They're raising money to build an indoor/outdoor museum. Below are a few of the many photos I took. I was in heaven. (I also met Larry Harvey of Burning Man fame--he was on the tour too).