So another Pridefest has come and gone Good times, good times.
I went down to the grounds on Friday to help set up the Bella Caffe booth and ended up on the channel 4 news. That was cool, although I didn't see it. Saturday, I spent time early on walking around by myself and browsing the booths. I'm not sure how many organizations I'm going to be getting e-mails from, but I'm sure I'll actually follow through this year and volunteer somewhere. I miss volunteering...feeling like I'm actually doing something, instead of just working in a restaurant, cleaning, reading and writing.
I also decided that I'm going to sack up and start going to church. I'm more than a little hesitant about organized religion. My entire family is Buddhist and I grew up with a lot of meditating (although I never knew what I was supposed to be meditating about), chanting (in Japanese that I never really understood) and listening to sermons about 'right conduct' and 'pure thoughts.' Then I went to Illinois and almost got sucked into a cult. Well, maybe they weren't a cult. But, they all did have the same haircuts, wore the same clothes, spoke in the same subdued intimidating tones...oh wait, that was my fraternity. :) But yeah, I decided it wasn't for me when i was told I was signing my ticket for hell and eternal damnation because I wanted to go to a volleyball team party instead of the all-night Bible study. What's next? If I miss church the oceans will dry up and man will cease to exist? That's too much responsibility. I passed. But, now I'm seriously thinking about going to MCC...even though everyone I told about my revelation laughed in my face and several spit food.
Speaking of hell and eternal damnation. Where were all the protesters? Where's the commitment? Where's the resolve? I spent a whole $6 at Outwords buying bumper stickers that read "God, save me from your followers" and all I got when I arrived at the grande ole gay time were three guys...two holding signs and one with a bullhorn. Now, I'm not a genius nor do I possess literary flourish, but there's something ironic/symbolic/metaphoric about the guy with the bullhorn yelling "Renounce or burn in the depths of hell" to a large line of people donating food to the needy. I had to chuckle nervously...pointedly even. I popped the bumper sticker on my back and walked past two of the three guys and got...nothing. No comment. No laugh. No, "may God sever your hand and slap you with it." Nothing. Inside the grounds, some friend of friends told me I was just egging them on...that my bumper sticker and I were the reason they can maintain their anger...that I should engage them in rational conversation. I guess I should have handed out copies of the Supreme Court's Lawrence v Texas decision and excerpts from the Rev. Mel White's book. But, let's face it, they're a long read. And, in the end, isn't the message, "God, save me from your followers" anyway? I'll take the cheap shtick, thank you.
So, I had to work at Buca's at 5, so I headed out pretty early and missed the fireworks and almost missed...RuPaul. At one point I declared I was clearing plates at 9:45 whether people were done eating or not. So I got out around 10:45, changed and sped down to the grounds where I found...a BFC...big f-cking crowd....a menagerie even. Well, maybe not. But I ended up watching from way off to the side which was still a pretty good show. It was a lot shorter than I thought it would be...20 minutes of on-stage time, someone told me later. And the message was...Live...Love...and Take Care of the Kids.
The kids. Before the festivities began, I re-read Dan Savage's Skipping Toward Gomorrah section on Pride. Savage went to L.A. for their Pride with an uber-couple--rich, young, high-status, gorgeous, ripped--and their friends, trying to indulge in the deadly sin of pride. What did he find? It's all for the kids. The kids? The kids. So I guess the butt-plugs (which I found out you insert a Pride Butt Plug, not wear one), the thongs, the drinking, the drugs, the 48-hour sidewalk sale are for the kids, he gathered. Then comes the revelation...
"Oh stop it, you two," said Jake, shirtless sweaty, and fresh from the dance tent. "Blah blah blah. Enough with the gay youth already. Pride parades are like slings. Tell people you've got a sling, and they're clutching their pearls. 'Oh, my God, you've got a sling!' But f-cking in a sling is fun. Same with the pride parade. Tell people you're going and they can't believe you would even want to. But once they get their asses to the parade they have a great f-cking time. And having fun is important. It's the whole point."
The whole point?
"Sure. When we were young, everyone said that the gays were unhappy and no one likes us and that our lives would be miserable. What better way to disprove all of that crap than having fun? With thousands of other 'miserable' gay people? In public? The party is the purpose of all of this. Pleasure is the whole point."
Well, although I didn't get in a sling this weekend, I had a good f-cking time. With more than 19,000 people...the Great Wisconsin Homo Migration. I got the point. Thanks for some perspective Dan.
On deck: Pridefest Part 2 --the long lost ex frat pledge brother, more about the kids and Sophie B. Hawkins.
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