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Stories from a man who fails to meet media expectations of what it means to be gay:
white, frivolous, over sexed yet sexless, shrill, single, stylish, a clown, unimportant, et al.
Tue 05/21/2002
Rock goddesses, wheelbarrows, mean plants, evil looking toys, and angst
Lately I have been having a recurring dream in which a rather large Samoan woman sits in a chair in front of me slowly pulling on her frizzy hair with a pick while she stares at me with a half smile on her face. I think I am waiting for her to tell me something, but so far she hasn't.
Anyway, here�s the past week:
After a very long and angsty week at work, and a very long and angsty lunch with my parents, I treated myself to an afternoon matinee of Spiderman last Friday (05/17/02). I had forgotten how Spiderman's entire shtick is that his life is a total and complete mess. Angsty even.
The animation was nice and the story was not as boring as I had heard, although I have a feeling that I won't really remember much of it by next week. My only other comment is that I thought that Peter and his best friend made a much better looking couple than Peter and Mary Jane.
The next day (Saturday, 05/18/02) was spent working on the olive/walnut planting area. After weeding, I've managed to clear out roughly half of the wild vinca. I left some of it, because it is one of the few things that does well there, so I'm hoping to tame rather than destroy it.
My long term plans for the area are to get rid of a "weed" orange tree that barely manages to produce one or two bland, pulpy fruits each year and replace it a better variety. In the short term, I've stuck in some cheap geraniums to fill in the space between sun and shade.
Since there's a concrete bench built into the retaining wall at the bottom of the area, I really should put something
That was my work filled day, my night was a bit different. John, Barb, and I went over to Long Beach Pride to see Pat Benatar perform. We arrived a little early, and spent an hour wandering around the festival. I think that hour may have fulfilled my Pride festival quota for the year. Despite not having been there in quite a while, everything looked remarkably the same. Except that last time I was at Pride, Harley Davidson wasn�t a corporate sponsor. Their booth was filled with lots of leather wearing women and bearish looking men. No surprise there.
While we were wandering around, a fourtyish, Latino guy with a full bushy mustache, and wearing Western duds stared at me. It was the first �hey, you�re cute� look I�ve gotten in months. Oddly, he was hanging at a Women�s football info booth.
Originally, the plan was for more of us go, but someone didn't come because of a migraine and another bailed because he didn't want to take the risk of bumping into his now exboyfriend, so it was just the three of us. Well, we three and tons and tons of other people. I'm not sure what the official count for people attending that night was, but it had to been very high. It was crowded.
Maybe too crowded. Being not so tall man, I could barely see the stage. Not so fun. Additionally, fumes from the two pot smoking, "we look so much alike we might as well be the same person," hygiene challenged lovers behind me were starting to give me a headache.
Despite this, It was a very good show and I did enjoy myself, because hey, it was Pat Benatar and as the very excited guy to the left of us kept repeating over and over again before the set started, "She's a rock goddess!!"
John and I got to bed late that night, which sucked, because we had plans to go the annual plant sale at the Huntington Sunday Morning (05/19/02). We arrived early enough to wait in line with the first rush of people. Standing there, you could tell who expected to do serious shopping. While some folks arrived empty handed, others carried boxes, or pulled wagons. Some, including the two gay guys in front of us who had come from the West side had wheelbarrows.
John and I were box people.
My normal innate sense of cheapness failed that morning, meaning that I went a bit overboard in the succulents section and bought several different kinds of echevias, euphobias, hechtias, and one rather mean spiked aloe that went out of it's way to jab me every time my hand got anywhere near it.
It was crowded that morning and people were paying so much attention to the plants that we all kept bumping into each other and apologizing profusely. It was raining as well, but very lightly, more of gentle mist. It was a pleasant way to spend the morning.
Which seems like a perfect set up for how the rest of the day wasn't pleasant. I spent the afternoon and part of the evening helping my friend K carry boxes and furniture down from her second story apartment to pack into a truck, just so we could spend hours unpacking the truck and carrying furniture and boxes up into her new second story place.
I have got to think of a good excuse to get out of helping friends move. I spent a lot of time joking that she should hang out with the women's football crowd, so that she could have dragged her team into doing all the work. All it would have cost her was a few six packs of beer.
A much better price to pay than my now sore back. Actually, I did get compensated for my labor. In exchange for the use of my near to nonexistent muscleage, I got a free meal, a little seven of nine action figure, a used piece of electronic merchandize, a couple of books, and a demented looking little trick or treating playmobil kid dressed as a devil.
Dang, I'm cheap.
more later,
nico
Music:
None at the moment. Instead I�m listening to the noise of the neighborhood. A dog barking somewhere in the distance, light traffic, people chatting as they stroll up the hill, etc...
Want:
bbb
Elsewhere:
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