I'm completely wrecked from Pride Weekend. It got to the point last night where it felt like every.single.capillary in my eyeballs were on the verge of bursting. The fact that I feel this wrecked without a drop of alcohol in my system has me feeling a great deal of sympathy for those who do. Seriously, how do their bodies handle it?!
All of mine is from a few days of sleep deprivation, where I was determined to milk Pride Weekend for every little drop it had to offer. "Oh, fueled on just a few hours of sleep, a cup of coffee and one soda pop, you say there's stuff going on at this or that club tonight? And I need to be down to the Pride Parade tomorrow morning by 9am? Okay! Great plan! Wee pride!?"
By Sunday morning it was clear that most everyone else had been operating via similar logic. The bloodshot eyes and zombie-like shuffling along made it clear. Pride...must... keep....going...
Some of us, cracked out on adrenalin, were able to GO GO GO amongst the shuffling, whimpering proud.
From my own wrecked posse, the whining and whimpering was abundant. During the parade, "ooo it's raining! wah!", and once it stopped raining, "Can't see, so many people!", and after the parade, "So hungry.. whimper..", and once brunch was found, "Whimper whimper line why do other people need to eat!", and after brunch, back at the Pride Festival, "ooooh, it's so overcast and gray... cold... wah...", and when the sun came out, "it's so bright and hot!"
My two so-heterosexual-it-hurts roommates went with me down to the parade. After circling around trying to desperately find parking, my brother released Steph and I to the parade wolves and resumed his mission to find parking. The rain fell hard, but thousands of people were there and the parade resumed, no matter what. Nothing keeps us away from our pride!
45 minutes + driving home to just walk downtown later, my brother found us along the parade route, sopping wet, with umbrellas in hand. The rain had stopped at that point, however. So close.
During brunch my parents showed up and my mom wore a little Pride hat and proudly pointed to it, "This is from Pride 2005!". That was the year that I remember volunteering AT the festival serving soda pop with ice in a little red steel trailer with a neon green volunteer shirt. While I was trapped in that steel box serving soda, I saw numerous dots with flags and signs approaching the entrance of the festival in the distance. As the dots got closer, I saw that it was the Dyke March - and, right near the front, I saw my mom, dad, and brother waving and smiling, holding hands.
It was an adorable, loving sight I'll never forget.
Fast forward to 2009: despite the whimpering and physically wrecked agony, this weekend was so.much.fun. This was my first Pride as an out n' proud tranny! In some ways, it was like my first Pride - at least, as an awkward, puberty-ridden trans guy. I would attempt to hoot and holler during the parade, but the noise that emanated from my throat sounded like some kind of garbling chicken. Heads around me would plug their ears or turn their heads .
My one friend, in particular (the trans babe / doppelganger I met at Mister Trans Sister), stood right next to me and, by far, suffered the most.
So I stopped hollering and instead opted to clap. Yet, every once in a while I'd get excited and noise would start to crack out of my throat... and I'd stop myself. Which was difficult, given how excited I was.
I mean, we had Cleve Jones come speak, for pete's sake! How exciting is that!?
He's amazing.
Ugh... even my apartment is wrecked. I don't know how it even happened, exactly. It's like some kind of excited faggly hurricane hit it.
There was another interesting byproduct of this particular Pride Weekend, my first as an out trans guy and my first after starting testosterone. I garnered gay boy attention galore in unprecedented ways. And, for the first time ever, I played along with it. Just a little bit. But I wonder, is it just a trans guy ego boost? May I end up actually reciprocating attraction? Is it just the libidinous side effects mindlessly piloting me along?
I'm trying to keep an open mind, despite how bizarre it feels for me. It's astounding, because the me I've always known has been very clearly and firmly attracted to women. However, this weekend, I found myself feeling potentially attracted to some pretty boys, a transgender girl, and cisgender women.
Oh how I underestimated testosterone - you tricky, terrible, libido and brain-liquefying hormone you.
All of mine is from a few days of sleep deprivation, where I was determined to milk Pride Weekend for every little drop it had to offer. "Oh, fueled on just a few hours of sleep, a cup of coffee and one soda pop, you say there's stuff going on at this or that club tonight? And I need to be down to the Pride Parade tomorrow morning by 9am? Okay! Great plan! Wee pride!?"
By Sunday morning it was clear that most everyone else had been operating via similar logic. The bloodshot eyes and zombie-like shuffling along made it clear. Pride...must... keep....going...
Some of us, cracked out on adrenalin, were able to GO GO GO amongst the shuffling, whimpering proud.
From my own wrecked posse, the whining and whimpering was abundant. During the parade, "ooo it's raining! wah!", and once it stopped raining, "Can't see, so many people!", and after the parade, "So hungry.. whimper..", and once brunch was found, "Whimper whimper line why do other people need to eat!", and after brunch, back at the Pride Festival, "ooooh, it's so overcast and gray... cold... wah...", and when the sun came out, "it's so bright and hot!"
My two so-heterosexual-it-hurts roommates went with me down to the parade. After circling around trying to desperately find parking, my brother released Steph and I to the parade wolves and resumed his mission to find parking. The rain fell hard, but thousands of people were there and the parade resumed, no matter what. Nothing keeps us away from our pride!
45 minutes + driving home to just walk downtown later, my brother found us along the parade route, sopping wet, with umbrellas in hand. The rain had stopped at that point, however. So close.
During brunch my parents showed up and my mom wore a little Pride hat and proudly pointed to it, "This is from Pride 2005!". That was the year that I remember volunteering AT the festival serving soda pop with ice in a little red steel trailer with a neon green volunteer shirt. While I was trapped in that steel box serving soda, I saw numerous dots with flags and signs approaching the entrance of the festival in the distance. As the dots got closer, I saw that it was the Dyke March - and, right near the front, I saw my mom, dad, and brother waving and smiling, holding hands.
It was an adorable, loving sight I'll never forget.
Fast forward to 2009: despite the whimpering and physically wrecked agony, this weekend was so.much.fun. This was my first Pride as an out n' proud tranny! In some ways, it was like my first Pride - at least, as an awkward, puberty-ridden trans guy. I would attempt to hoot and holler during the parade, but the noise that emanated from my throat sounded like some kind of garbling chicken. Heads around me would plug their ears or turn their heads .
My one friend, in particular (the trans babe / doppelganger I met at Mister Trans Sister), stood right next to me and, by far, suffered the most.
So I stopped hollering and instead opted to clap. Yet, every once in a while I'd get excited and noise would start to crack out of my throat... and I'd stop myself. Which was difficult, given how excited I was.
I mean, we had Cleve Jones come speak, for pete's sake! How exciting is that!?
He's amazing.
Ugh... even my apartment is wrecked. I don't know how it even happened, exactly. It's like some kind of excited faggly hurricane hit it.
There was another interesting byproduct of this particular Pride Weekend, my first as an out trans guy and my first after starting testosterone. I garnered gay boy attention galore in unprecedented ways. And, for the first time ever, I played along with it. Just a little bit. But I wonder, is it just a trans guy ego boost? May I end up actually reciprocating attraction? Is it just the libidinous side effects mindlessly piloting me along?
I'm trying to keep an open mind, despite how bizarre it feels for me. It's astounding, because the me I've always known has been very clearly and firmly attracted to women. However, this weekend, I found myself feeling potentially attracted to some pretty boys, a transgender girl, and cisgender women.
Oh how I underestimated testosterone - you tricky, terrible, libido and brain-liquefying hormone you.
Gay rights activist calls for march on Washington
SALT LAKE CITY -- An activist who worked alongside slain gay rights leader Harvey Milk announced plans Sunday for a march on Washington this fall to demand that Congress establish equality and marriage rights for the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender community. Read more >
I was wrecked too! Next year... I will ask for Monday and Friday off. This way I can spend all of Friday sleeping, be gay from Friday eve till Sunday eve, then recover on Monday. Its the perfect plan!
ReplyDeleteMy tactic is to pack food wherever I go and sleep at the parties. It definitely works.
ReplyDelete