now with 100% more pride
Sunday was the Pride Parade and it was, unfortunately, kinda lame. SK and I were in great spirits, but the weather didn't much cooperate. I foolishly left my hoodie in the car (far, far away from the parade) and ended up chilly all day in my tight T-shirt which had seemed like a good choice when the sun was actually out. The sun went away between SK's house and our parade-watching spot near Pioneer Square and it didn't really come back for the rest of the afternoon.
Besides the weather, the next sign of an ill-fated day was the lone, Christian heckler who dared stand in front of an emcee booth (not to mention hundreds of queer parade-watchers in the streets) and heckle the emcees with his bull-horn. Fortunately, I couldn't hear anything he was saying (though I could read his shirt which said something like "Don't be swayed by your vile desires"), I could only hear the "witty" comebacks from the emcees. At first it was mildy amusing as the emcees trounced him in front of a cheering crowd. However, he was only fueled by his own, hopeless situation, and instead of recognizing himself as outnumbered and outvoiced, he valiently persisted and the emcees just kept harassing him back. It was pretty tedious and pretty sad. SK, always the process worker, bemoaned the one-sidedness of it all. I shared her sinking feeling about it, if not for exactly the same reasons. It was painful, all around, and I was glad when the parade finally started and that guy moved along.
The parade was ok, but the gloomy weather (chilly and gray in late June is one of Portland's shittiest potential attributes) really did put a damper on our moods. How "gay" can you feel when a cold breeze is whipping up Broadway and chilling your little bones as you're trying to enjoy the bright colors and loud music? How sad is it that you find yourself fantasizing about curling up under a blanket with the Sunday Times instead of dancing topless later at the festival?? What kind of pride weekend is that?? Ugh.
SK and I lasted about halfway through the parade and then decided to wander down to the festival area a little early to get some food. We bumped into Sunshine and a couple of other friends along the way, and that was nice. Then, once we made it to the festival, we wandered around, picked up some freebies, signed a petition or two, then hopped in a long line for yakisoba noodles, and had an interesting conversation about lesbian culture and attraction. (I was drooling, as usual, over all the leather daddies and SK was keeping her eyes open for the slightly atheletic/bookish dykes... at least we won't be fighting over fantasy material...) Then, next thing you know, we'd eaten our noodles and were ready to get the heck out of dodge.
We walked all the way back to the car, which took a good half an hour, and by then we'd raised our core body temperatures back to normal. Then we drove to my house to pick up the waiting Sunday Times, *then* we ran up to Bonita Taqueria on Alberta for SK's weekend burrito fix. Yum. After all that, SK (lovely and talented as she is) took me to her house and gave me another accupuncture treatment for my stuck chi and for my allergies, which have been pretty rough. All totalled, I had nine needles quivvering in my body for about twenty minutes, two from the bridge of my nose and one between my eyes, I felt like an antennaed space robot, but once it was over I felt great. That SK -- she's got skills.
Besides the weather, the next sign of an ill-fated day was the lone, Christian heckler who dared stand in front of an emcee booth (not to mention hundreds of queer parade-watchers in the streets) and heckle the emcees with his bull-horn. Fortunately, I couldn't hear anything he was saying (though I could read his shirt which said something like "Don't be swayed by your vile desires"), I could only hear the "witty" comebacks from the emcees. At first it was mildy amusing as the emcees trounced him in front of a cheering crowd. However, he was only fueled by his own, hopeless situation, and instead of recognizing himself as outnumbered and outvoiced, he valiently persisted and the emcees just kept harassing him back. It was pretty tedious and pretty sad. SK, always the process worker, bemoaned the one-sidedness of it all. I shared her sinking feeling about it, if not for exactly the same reasons. It was painful, all around, and I was glad when the parade finally started and that guy moved along.
The parade was ok, but the gloomy weather (chilly and gray in late June is one of Portland's shittiest potential attributes) really did put a damper on our moods. How "gay" can you feel when a cold breeze is whipping up Broadway and chilling your little bones as you're trying to enjoy the bright colors and loud music? How sad is it that you find yourself fantasizing about curling up under a blanket with the Sunday Times instead of dancing topless later at the festival?? What kind of pride weekend is that?? Ugh.
SK and I lasted about halfway through the parade and then decided to wander down to the festival area a little early to get some food. We bumped into Sunshine and a couple of other friends along the way, and that was nice. Then, once we made it to the festival, we wandered around, picked up some freebies, signed a petition or two, then hopped in a long line for yakisoba noodles, and had an interesting conversation about lesbian culture and attraction. (I was drooling, as usual, over all the leather daddies and SK was keeping her eyes open for the slightly atheletic/bookish dykes... at least we won't be fighting over fantasy material...) Then, next thing you know, we'd eaten our noodles and were ready to get the heck out of dodge.
We walked all the way back to the car, which took a good half an hour, and by then we'd raised our core body temperatures back to normal. Then we drove to my house to pick up the waiting Sunday Times, *then* we ran up to Bonita Taqueria on Alberta for SK's weekend burrito fix. Yum. After all that, SK (lovely and talented as she is) took me to her house and gave me another accupuncture treatment for my stuck chi and for my allergies, which have been pretty rough. All totalled, I had nine needles quivvering in my body for about twenty minutes, two from the bridge of my nose and one between my eyes, I felt like an antennaed space robot, but once it was over I felt great. That SK -- she's got skills.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 10:44 AM
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