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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.
Mon 09/02/2002
Summer in the city
Homes with tall hedges of jade plants and blooming geraniums.
Getting stuck in traffic on your nightly commute home by film crews not once, not twice, not even three or four, but five different times.
Days where the sun burns so hot, you can feel the heat in your bones.
Warm winds which dry the sweat from your skin, caress your body, and remind you that you are alive.
Passion fruit vines with ripening fruits tangled over the fences of back alleys in older neighborhoods.
Huddling close to the flames of a beach bonfire, warding off cold sea breezes.
The sweet/tart taste of a homegrown tomato fresh off the vine and so ripe, the juices flow over your chin.
Crowds of people walking through street fairs, watching, laughing, smiling.
Thunderheads looming just beyond the mountains, glowing gold and red in the setting sun.
Half bathtub shrines to the Virgin Mary shining brightly in the hot air.
Staring at row upon row of rich, heirloom produce at a farmers market.
Having to air out your car before you can get in when it is parked in the sun.
Opening windows to let in the cool of the night, hearing the hum of neighbor's air-conditioning.
Lying prostrate on the beach, the sound of surf dominating all.
Fireworks exploding over Disneyland at night, each night.
Possums rummaging through shrubbery for a midnight meal of snails.
Screams of terror and delight, as children race by you waging a water balloon war.
more later,
nico
Music:
The Flaming Lips Yoshimi battles the pink robots
Want:
sorbet. honeydew melon, lime, and maybe tunas.
Elsewhere:
some other folks I have been checking out lately (most of which are already far more popular than this little site):
bitch and moan
naked boy moving
Edwin Drood
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