left biblioblography: A WALK ON THE WILD SIDE: PARADES, PRIDE, AND POUNDING THE PAVEMENT

Monday, June 26, 2006

A WALK ON THE WILD SIDE: PARADES, PRIDE, AND POUNDING THE PAVEMENT

"Holly came from Miami, F.L.A.
Hitch-hiked her way across the USA
Plucked her eyebrows on the way
Shaved her legs and then he was a she
She says, Hey babe
Take a walk on the wild side
Hey honey
Take a walk on the wild side

Candy came from out on the Island
In the backroom she was everybody's darlin'
But she never lost her head
Even when she was giving head
She says, Hey babe
Take a walk on the wild side
I Said, Hey baby
Take a walk on the wild side
And the coloured girls go
doo do doo do doo do do doo."
- "Walk on the Wild Side" - Lou Reed.

I went Sunday morning out to the Gay Pride Parade. I went as la Tourista, playing looky-loo, and enjoyed my jaunt immensely.

It comes as no surprise to my readers, that I’m GBLT-friendly (how friendly? None o’ your beeswax, hehehehe).

I was filled with a deep sense of love (maybe there was some lust, but none directed at me: a small bit of me mourns the fact that I was unapproached in any way, shape or form by anyone, except a tall, lovely black woman who talked me into buying some Shea butter product, in a booth), light, and a general sense of happy.

There were costumes a-plenty (varying from sexy to kitsch), and the place was PACKED, eight (?) city blocks, clogged with human traffic. People broke into spontaneous dance, albeit I saw noone copulating in public (though some came close). A whole lotta nudity (and there were moments I was tempted to give some of these folks a few bucks, so they could buy some clothes).

It was a glut for my visual senses, a moveable feast in many ways.

I did get the occasional eyeball (one from a mascaraed young black fellow, dressed androgynously in black leather, bearing a banner that said ‘Miss something-or-other’, sorry, shot memory). I think I got the come-hither look, but I’m an old fart, what do I know? I ignored the men: I’m a skirt lifter, meself.

I came across a gaggle of she-males (who were for the most part drop dead gorgeous, tall and/or taller than me) posing for a camera op, struggled through one cross street where a group of BSDM adherents spontaneously erupted into a performance that drew many onlookers (I only got a few glimpses: the guy behind me kept pushing and carrying on about how heavy his acoustic guitar was getting). Two middle-aged women scantily dressed also erupted into a spontaneous dance number (interrupted by a mini ambulance honking through, some partier who’d overdone his partying, hope the guy’s all right). One of them, judging from her pencil-eraser nipples, had had kids at some points (signs of breast feeding), the other was very thin, and it was fun to watch.

I was there about six hours. I wandered to and fro, like a kid trying to swallow experience whole with his eyes alone.

A dimunitive vietnam vet struck up a conversation while I was listening to Shadowplay (good, solid rock ‘n roll, you could feel it in your ventricles, I kid you not), we chatted a bit, but most of it lost via the loud riffs of the band. He wandered off finally, too many hits from his bottle of Thunderbird clouding his senses.

I’m something of a voyeur, obviously, so I enjoyed it immensely.

This is my third or fourth time. I enjoy the gaudy costumry, the giddy sense of release (no, not that kind, so please), the general atmosphere of par-TAY.

The heat was offset by blasts of wind (hey, it’s S.F, no wonder there), and I stopped more than once, hoping for a modern version of the old Monroe performance. I actually started staring at this gorgeous woman in fishnet stockings as I walked, who was selling ‘Magic Fudge brownies’, so much so that I interrupted a gay couple by walking right through their hand-holding (I wonder what the latin phrase for that would be?).

I have this thought every time I go: if this were a St. Paddy’s day parade, there’d be chunks blown and fists a-flyin’.

The streets were clogged with trash, mind you, but as a rule, everyone left others alone.

I saw one aged black fellow, taciturn, carrying a big green sign that said ‘Jesus Christ Loves You.’ I let him be, as did everyone else.

On the outskirts, young white men with ties desperately tried to hand out religious literature. I told them, “No thanks, I’m an atheist,” but I think that got lost: no big whoopie. I got the distinct impression of starved vultures.

I like this crowd. They’re as a rule, outrageous, but kind: tolerant, well-behaved (usually), friendly (I had no dialogue with anyone Sunday, but I’ve had involved discussions with GLBT folks before). In short, lovely people.

Personally, I think they should be left to their own devices. Morality be damned: it ain’t none o’ MY business who sleeps with who. Adults who say yes, and all that.

I drank a sip of the wine of hedonism, and I admit, I rather like it. Of course, I always have: who doesn’t?

But I shan’t climb into the bottle: but that’s just me.

Be that as it may, it’s definitely a must-see event, no matter what your predilections. Old and young, beautiful and…not-so-much, all walks of life.

That, dear readers, was a moment I felt the need to share with you. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did experiencing it.

Till the next post, then.

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13 comments:

Jerret said...

Hah, I went to the Pride parade in Chicago Sunday. It was a blast. I didn't expect it to be the giant drunken semi-orgy that it was, but I had an amazing time. Never before have I seen (or participated in) so much public drinking, a good portion of it underage. And after that? Party on a yacht. Yeah, it was a good time.

Krystalline Apostate said...

jerret:
Hah, I went to the Pride parade in Chicago Sunday.
To quote Billy Jack: "It beats going to church.";)
I didn't expect it to be the giant drunken semi-orgy that it was, but I had an amazing time.
Well, I didn't see any of that over here, but I got back home before sunset.
Getting old sucks, it sure do.
Party on a yacht.
You must have some good connections. A yacht? Great Scott!
Good for you.

HairlessMonkeyDK said...

" "It beats going to church.";)".

Yes.
But that's a ridicously easy limit to beat.

karen said...

RA
Sounds like fun.
But I'm quite stuck on the image of the lady with the "pencil-eraser nipples".
"Signs of breastfeeding".
I looked inside my shirt and thought, "WTF?" The air hitting the nips made 'em look like pencil erasers, but it's the stretch-marks that I thought were the breast-feeding giveaways! ;)

Krystalline Apostate said...

HMDK:
But that's a ridicously easy limit to beat.
Yeah, I could do my sleeping at home, w/o bothering other folks w/my snoring.

karen:
I looked inside my shirt and thought, "WTF?" The air hitting the nips made 'em look like pencil erasers, but it's the stretch-marks that I thought were the breast-feeding giveaways! ;)
??? Stretch marks? Humor me: I'm a guy, so how are stretch marks indicative of breast feeding?
My ex-GF had those (nipples. Shhh! She'd shoot me for even saying this, mum's the word!), & that was the explanation I got for them.
Makes a sort of sense. Something that gets sucked on gets bigger, don't it? ;)

say no to christ said...

Ra

You lucky dog! I have been dying to go to gay pride day with my BF. I didnt go cuz my friend couldnt get the time off from work. I should have just gone myself or with my husband, but the weekend was full of other activaties involving sports and organizations.

The one thing I love most about the gay community is that there is very little violence to none, no racism, and they all wash there hands after using the potty.
My husband and I went to a drag show once and my husband said the peer pressure to wash his hands after peeing was so overwhelming he washes his hands every time now.

I love the costumes!


Karen

LMAO! So true!!


Ra

Women get stretchmarks from breast feeding due to breats becoming engourged and babies thinking they can just walk off with them still in their mouths.

Krystalline Apostate said...

SNTC:
You lucky dog! I have been dying to go to gay pride day with my BF. I didnt go cuz my friend couldnt get the time off from work. I should have just gone myself or with my husband, but the weekend was full of other activaties involving sports and organizations.
Waitaminnit: does BF mean boyfriend? & a husband?
Oh my.
The one thing I love most about the gay community is that there is very little violence to none, no racism, and they all wash there hands after using the potty.
I think the high level of tolerance comes from being discriminated against for so long.
Women get stretchmarks from breast feeding due to breats becoming engourged and babies thinking they can just walk off with them still in their mouths.
Yikes! What an image I got off that last 1!
I always thought stretch marks were on the torso area, that's why I found that odd.

Jerret said...

Heh, turns out the guy who let us use the boat (and actually threw the party) was the son of someone who used to play for the White Sox, one of their best players of all time, I guess. I don't follow baseball, and forgot his name. Either way, fun times. My friend ended up hooking up with him, actually, haha. I ended up finding roomates for September. Very, very good times.

say no to christ said...

Ra

That was meant to mean best friend, you can call him my boy friend, I guess, but I'm not equipt with the right tool for him. ;)

Krystalline Apostate said...

jerret:
Heh, turns out the guy who let us use the boat (and actually threw the party) was the son of someone who used to play for the White Sox, one of their best players of all time, I guess.
I just hope all the partiers had their sea legs.
I don't follow baseball, and forgot his name.
Hey, a more boring sport, I can't think of.
I prefer the mano-y-mano sports. If you lose, got no 1 else to blame.

SNTC:
That was meant to mean best friend, you can call him my boy friend, I guess, but I'm not equipt with the right tool for him. ;)
I gotcha.
Sorry, I hang w/all these hedonists, so the mind goes squalid once in a great moon.

karen said...

RA
I always thought stretch marks were on the torso area, that's why I found that odd.
The abdomen does get stretch marks, but the boobs get 'em too, especially if you breast feed. The nipples elongate during suckling, but revert afterwards. At least they did, in my case. And I nursed my last child for 18 months!

SNTC
...just walk off with them still in their mouths. LOL Ahhh....memories! Or should I say, mammaries?

farmgirl said...

Reluctant I might end up at gay pride out there next year with some people from the local glbt communtiy so just might run into you.

Krystalline Apostate said...

farmgirl:
Hey, that'd be great. I'll see if I'm going next year. Keep me posted.