More like relief; Pride this year sucked. No one told me that Gay Inc. had merged with Polar Ice Vodka Inc., to produce Gay Corporate Yawn Ltd., which now controls everything, from your of-course-i-was-born-this-way brows to your pecs to your cole haan berigged toes. There was a consistent surfeit of G, bad tans, silicone and "gee your car is shiny" smugness - as well as 2hourlineups to get into converted parking lots, which were optimistically referred to as "beer gardens". Why the dykes get their own parade? Isn't one enough? Why all the gay men crying everywhere - easy on the Tina, Girls, it's a bitch in the heat - and must you do that in public? Why all the pseudo-hard-ons? I keep my porn at home. Everyone was cruisin', but no-one was choosin'. This wasn't gay - it was gone.
Anyways - here's a message-y tune, all appropos 'n all ::
So get this - yesterday I'm helping my brother-in-law move into my sister's house - because you better believe I'm a skinny-but-strong motherfucker - when don't I, outta the blue, fall into the 6x8 glass table top (which I had managed to unload - along with 2 tons of other scary heavy furniture - unscathed), break it, and end up cutting my ass, deeply, such that I had to go to emerg - bleeding de la butt - and get stitches & a tetanus shot....
....a week before Pride. And I repeat - my ass will be outta comission for gay xmas.
Obviously, God's trying to tell me something.
Friday, June 16
Prideful Thought #6
If I hear one more Project Parking Lot wannabe scream "work it girl" in my general vicinity - let's keep it simple - this hemisphere - I will get very ugly, very quickly.
A day without House, is like a day without sunshine. But a gay without House (on Friday night, freshly buzzed, buzzing, all fashioned-up) can be an unmitigated disaster ::
All I can remember from last year's Pride was sitting with Brodie and Chuck on a stoop on Church street, across from the Beer Garden, incandescent with bitterness, shovelling key-fulls of Kate Moss into each other's noses at 15 second intervals. Chuck had spiked his 3 gallon slushie with rubbing alcohol or compari or something, and shared freely. We were wearing alot of neon. Walking was kinda touch 'n go. And no-one even noticed.
So this year, I'm going, au drag, as Oprah - and everyone is gonna feel it.
Saturday, June 3
Cuz I Care Even More
I don't usually do this - but musical pride dictates that I offer a facelifted version of my last mix ::
Yes - the first minute of this next tune is supposed to sound that way - it renders what follows much much more pleasant. Call it the Stalin school of house music production. Hammer-on-finger, sunshine after rain, paper-beats-rock, etc. etc ::