i don’t experience pride at this late stage in our collective game, at this late stage in my own individual game, as political in any societally transformative sense of the word. it’s a place where i go to encounter other outsider folk who flame fiercely. pride is my special walking through the world as i’d prefer to be, robed as i’d like to be, laughing out loud, roaring, jumping, playing and interacting as i be, rather than as tiny, scared, uncomfortable people would like me to be. it’s a family reunion plus, plus.
we were mostly four not three as we all seem to have made a new friend who the whole family likes.
friday night. nine year old slept out. five year old hung out with one of his good friends. we had a dinner party on our front verandah. pics to come.
saturday evening/night. children with caring people. adult time. drunk as a skunk. cruised a lot. got rained on. danced under the night time sky. ate and fucked.
red outfit.
sunday evening/night. papi stayed for a bit but eventually went home to be with the little people. it’s understood that this is more a special occasion for me and buttertart, as people who actually define as queer. not drinking but very tired from two previous nights of partying and human-to-human interaction overload. met a man, well actually two, who might be good date material for buttertart. ran into and reconnected someone i met on okc who i’ve been out with.
blue outfit.
woke up the next morning.washed off make-up residue. put on clothes that scream: i’m somebody’s mommy. watered my gardens and sent the little people off to camp.
if what you’re reading here grips you, holds you, fascinates you, provokes you, emboldens you, pushes you, galvanizes you, discomfits you, tickles you, enrages you so much that you find yourself returning again and again…then link me.
