Archive for June, 2008

I headed out to the Pink Party in the gay ‘hood of Castro last night, and then swung by to catch the Pride parade and the ensuing Pride Festival afterwards.

Sure enough, this whole pride festival happening here in San Francisco had all the necessary components for a Pride weekend.  Rainbow flags everywhere.  All sorts of people wearing all sorts of outfits.  Some wearing almost none, or none.

However, it no longer seemed shocking, mystifying or unique.  It was me, my friends, both gay and straight, sharing the same street with thousands and thousands of other partygoers.  I saw all types..  gay, lesbian, transsexual, straight, threesomes, foursomes.  Any social circle you could think of, it was there.

The whole point of the night was to have a good time.  It wasn’t about getting together, like birds of a common feather getting together to affirm a basic sense of humanity, a sense of togetherness in a world that rejected them.

What once had been unthinkable had occured.  The world now no longer rejected us.

What had started over thirty years ago, when a group of outraged homosexuals fought back against the police that had conducted a raid on their own bar, their only place where they could have found solace and acceptance, and transformed itself into an annual affirmation of what it’s like to be gay.

Now in cities like San Francisco, we no longer fear for our lives.  We no longer worry about acceptance. It’s become just another facet of our lives.  Worrying about making next month’s rent has become a bigger issue for most of us than being gay.

What’d started out with a small group of bold, courageous men and women who dared show their faces to the public and say “yes.. we are gay”, has in essence become just another reason to get together and have a good time.  Not so different than dressing up for Halloween or or heading to your local Irish bar for St. Patrick’s Day.

The rapidity of this transformation has suprised me.   All night long, I ran into kids.  Kids who were in high school or barely out of high school, with what I suspect, hardly an inkling of how much of a changed world they live in as opposed to the ones that people lived in only ten, twenty years ago.

The Castro.  What once was a mecca of sanctuary and safety for gay people who left their cities seeking a more accepting place to live, now actually has become a tourist destination.

I’ve heard from many gay friends who tell me that they stay away from the Castro.  “It’s become too touristy”, and they have moved on to different neighborhoods in the city, where they feel more at home.

Any of those photographs above could have easily been taken at any common late-night destination in any major city.  Adams Morgan in Washington D.C.  East Village in New York City.  Nicollet Avenue in Minneapolis.

Then the Pride parade.  Float by float rolled by.   Politicans, who in general would never associate themselves with ‘homosexuals’ decades ago, how eagerly they worked the crowds today.  Votes are votes, huh?

And the marriage thing.  Gay people in California now can get married.  Who’d imagine?

And families.  Gay parents pushing child-scooters.

Don’t mistake this for cynicism.  I am deeply happy that gay people are able to marry now.  That they have started up families and undertaken many of the things that traditional America has done.

Instead, it is just with profound realization that with the ever increasing acceptance of being gay in America, it has also irreversibly transformed the culture, the mindset of what it means to be gay.  It has become less and less of a defininig aspect of a person, and more simply, just one facet of many facets that make up a person.

Pride used to be about getting together, putting on the most shocking outfits you could dare wear, and going out in public.  Safety in numbers and declaring to the world, “We’re here, we’re queer.  Get used to it!”

And that happened.  Not quite a fairy tale anymore, eh?

Last week and this week was a bit more low key.  Lot of stuff came up at work, so I didn’t get out to party as much or take as many pictures.

I met up with Chris Hamilton during the week.  We talked photos and stuff.  Went to eat at this delicious vegetarian chinese restaurant on the far end of the Richmond district.

Chris took this picture of me.  I’m not sure what I was saying or trying to envision.  (never mind the watermark, it’s really Chris’ picture).

The weather cooled off significantly after the first week in town.  The natives here all commented that we were returning to much more normal weather.  “Its usually freezing in July” was one of the more frequent comments I heard over the last few weeks.

Thing about this city.  People dump their crap all over the sidewalks.  Remnants of a lifestyle discarded when they move on…

Cleaning out teeth after all that delish veggie food.

Ralph.  The fat one.

Millie.  Somewhat eecentric.

#12 bus towards Embarcadero.  All the strip clubs are planted right in the middle of chinatown.

A sign of things to come this weekend, I’m sure.

I hit the city running.  As soon as Aunt and I rolled up to the house and we’d barely finished unpacking the car when I bid Aunt a good day and stepped on out to the climbing gym to meet up with friends.  After three days of driving and hotels with me, I’m sure Aunt was all for having some self-time.

After some last minute advice and directions from my aunt, I trekked out to the corner of Pacific and Leavenworth to catch the #12 bus towards Van Ness.  My first SF bus adventure!

I boarded a crowded #49 and found standing-room only.  I peered around in awe as the bus rumbled its way down the wide street, the stores and restaurants tumbling past the windows in a blur of color, signs and shapes.

The neighborhood became increasingly more diverse, grittier and dirtier when the bus passed Market Street and headed into the Mission District.  I hopped off at 19th and walked a few blocks over to the climbing gym and stood there for a moment, taking in the familiar smell of chalk, sweat and plastic.

I had not climbed since that day I broke my foot.  My mind had been on the recovery, learning how to walk again, and now that I was starting to walk almost normally, the urge to climb started to push up in my head.

It’s a powerful urge.  I’ve picked up, tried many hobbies and forms of recreation over the years, but I never really stuck with any of them.  Except for climbing.  I tried climbing for the first time over fifteen years ago and I’ve never stopped climbing since then.

That day, I didn’t climb.  I just hung out with Gabe and met some new friends there.  I decided that the next time I returned to the gym, I’d start climbing again.  That would turn out to be only two days later.

And man, I tell you… its GOOD to climb again.  The rough texture of plastic under the finger.  The precise play of balance, power and fitness.  The strain of muscles and tendons and bone.  I look forward to many more days of climbing ahead of me.

A friend came in town later the week.  We got together for dinner at a small hole-in-the wall sushi place over in the Richmond neighborhood.  With barely seating for nine people, we all had to show up a good half-hour before they opened to stand in line.   There were four people ahead of us already when we walked up to the spot.

But we were soon seated at the sushi bar and we began to relax, drinking back the sake and munching down on the delicious, yet delicately cooked vegetables that the owner’s wife cooked up for us.   We laughed and joked while the owner carved huge chunks of freshly caught fish and served them to us.  They were easily the largest, tenderest and tasty pieces of nigri we’d ever eaten.

Then we headed out to the bars in Mission District.  Beers and double shots of Grey Goose were aplenty.  I lost track of all the new people I met, but it seemed to me that every new person I met was a geninue, down-to-earth citizen of this earth.  There was none of the airs and attitudes of the East Coast to be found here in the City.

Its all about “be who you are”.  Be the real, geninue article and people here will respect you for it.  Whatever you like.  Whomever you like.  However you like it.  Nobody here to impress except yourself.

Not quite a suprise that San Francisco remains one of the most progressive-minded cities in the nation and that is becoming clearly apparent as the days go by here.

The next morning, we headed out on a little road trip out to Santa Cruz.  I brought along my camera.  I even took pictures, but when I was reviewing them, I hated them all, so I wont even bother you with the pictures.

We did pig out on some excellent mexican take out, then fish tacos at some little joint up the PCH, and explored the beaches.  Just a good mindless day of doing nothing more than wander around.

Oh, I sunburned my face too.

Sometime last year, when I was talking with a good friend of mine, he suggested I read Jack Kerouac’s On The Road and so when I embarked on my road trip this year, I started reading the book too.  I at first found the whole idea of going back and forth between New York and San Francisco several times to be outlandish.  Don’t you just want to head to your destination?  A purpose and goal in mind?

But then I found myself doing the same thing.  I drove back to Minneapolis.  Sure enough, I could have probably flew out to MSP from SFO, but I wanted to drive.  It’s actually fun to drive.  Then I drove back to SF with Aunt.  And now I’m thinking about another road trip later this year, even if gas tops $5 a gallon.

The road trips are just one part of the experience.  The transition between one place to another.  People don’t just disappear at point A and show up at point B.  There’s a whole context, a whole background that unrolls between A and B.  Or you might be heading to B, and find yourself at C.

I went looking for a bike.  I had my heart set on a lovely red-white C’dale Capo.  I put the money down on it and all that.  Today I got a email from the shop guy saying that they were possibly sold out for this year.  They’re looking around, they hope to find one at a different dealer, and I might still get it.  I’ll be a little sad if I dont get the Capo, but life just goes around and around.  Ain’t no getting off this ride until you’re good and ready to.

Its funny, I had this idea of what life would be like in SF before I got here.  And its actually turned out to be nothing like what I had in mind.  All those carefully envisioned scenarios and what might happen and who I might meet up with, who I might hang out with, actually have turned out to be completely different.

No complaint here though.  It’s been a fantastic first week.

A friend told me over IM the other day, ‘you’re really living out the whole “Tales of the City” thing‘.   Here’s yet another book analogy for my life.   But instead of living with my long lost mother, I’m living with Aunt, who I only met mabye twice in the first 33 years of my life.  And now in the last week I’ve interacted with her and her friends more than any other aunt I have, (Mary: you’ll probably read this, and I mean this in a different context than what we share – which by itself is irreplaceable :) ).

I have much more to share.  But I also have a lot of other things to finish tonight, so I’ll save it for another post.   Good night everyone!