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viedmawell, it's either that, or "I went to DC Pride and all i got was this lousy t-shirt", except that it's not lousy at all. it's pretty neat, actually-- it's got little marching red lambdas banging on drums. Just like Peeps marching into battle, but not quite as scary.
Last weekend when i was smack dab in the middle of final paper hell, one of the things that kept me going was thinking about how this weekend was going to be as fun as working on the paper is hell on Earth. The relief was that the weekend lived up to all my expectations.
It was wonderful. Saturday afternoon i went to see C-S down in DC. Have i mentioned the fact that i don't want her to go? I DON'T WANT HER TO GO!!! WAAAAA!!! I want the world to revolve around me, Me, ME! I want her to stay until i do, dammit!
Okay, random moment of selfishness is over. We ate lunch, caught up on gossip, and went over to the Grandma Moses exhibit downtown. i have to confess that i knew almost nothing about her, so i wasn't quite sure what to expect when i saw her artwork, but i'm pretty sure i was expecting something more. Not that i need art to be look nice or be incredibly profound or gut-wrenchingly angsty, but there was something missing. it was just landscapes, piles and piles of them, with teeeeeeny tiny misshapen little figures with crooked smiles that make them look faintly creepy. I know this is going to sound horrible, but the teeny little people made me think of Hitler's paintings. He painted unspectacular scenery with these little peopledots. NOT trying to equate Grandma Moses with Hitler (i'm going to be working off the karma points forever for this one), but the little specks of people made me think of him unbidden. C-S and I played "Spot the Crackwhore" and attributed scandalous deeds to the little people before chastizing ourselves for our own cynicism.
Then we watched a couple of short films of Grandma Moses talking about the good old days that didn't sound all that great to me. Edward R. Murrow asked her about soap making and other crafts and C-S made the mistake of asking me what the hell any of this had to do with painting. Like i knew, for god's sake.
And Ed was smoking during the interview-- i had a weird protective vibe thinking Hey Ed! Do ya mind? This is a little old lady! She could get sick! and let's not even talk about the scene where she was walking up a hill, a relatively little one, but for a ninety-something woman must've been hell, esp wading through tall grass to get to the top. That whole film was prime MST material-- i was turning purple trying not to laugh amongst the more serious patrons and thinking of how badly i wish Vali could've been there to see it.
There was s'thing good in the interview-- at one point Grandma Moses made Murrow try his hand at painting. She wasn't having nothing to do with his protests-- Sonny, you're going to paint a person, and you're going to do it because i'm goddamned old, goddammit. I loved it. I also liked what she said about being self-taught; she didn't want to study under anyone because she didn't want it to be influenced by the teacher, and i could totally respect that. I may not have liked the end product, but she did, and that's the most important thing. the paintings weren't about me or anyone else who saw them-- she did them for herself and to make a buck. She knew exactly what she wanted and didn't care what anyone else thought about it. I like that in a person.
After that, i bid C-S bye bye to go to work and headed off to T's house to go to a party held by one of her few hundred close friends. I swear to god that woman knows half of DC on a first name basis-- it's awesome. I squozed the limes for one of the most amazing margaritas i've ever had the pleasure to drink, she whipped together a mess o' baked beans for the potluck, and we hailed a cab to Arlington.
Tips for people getting cabs to Arlington: Know exactly where you need to go, because Arlington streets adhere to no logic known to ordinary humans. we asked three random passersby for directions. by the time we got there most of my buzz had worn off and the cab driver was thoroughly pissed at us and very glad to be rid of our company. T gave him a big tip to compensate.
Had a great time at the party. I was led to believe that swimming was going to take place, but saw no pool in sight. Will have to break in the bathing suit at the post pool, a fine place to pop swimsuit cherry.
But like i said, it was fun. I talked to the bandmembers and we sort of had an impromptu therapy session revolving around finding out you're gay, coming out, different degrees of outness in your daily lives, and differences in gay scenes. It was cool-- everyone had a different story, of course.
I asked the rest of the gang how they handle being out at work, or if they even are. I'm curious-- right now, it's a nonissue because of my job, but for others there's a lot of gray area that can make it kind of risky.
in the end i stayed with my original blueprint: if i feel the atmosphere's not hostile, i'll handle it the same way i do when i tell people i'm a pagan. I don't say, Hi, I'm Mary and I'm a Witch. How are you? but if it comes up in conversation i won't hide it.
I've been pretty lucky on the job with my religion. most people don't see it as a big deal, and i've had some pretty interesting stories about people in my unit standing up for me about being a Witch. it makes me happy. one guy in our unit was a Mormon, and we had a great conversation about paganism and Wicca initiated by him because he was honestly curious about religions different from his own. It was really cool. The atmosphere's the key though-- i won't jeopardize my job over what's my personal business in the first place, but i don't like to be secretive about something i don't find shameful or a big deal. Sometimes i get goofy and want to shout from the mountaintops I'm going to Chicago to be with MY WOMAN! but rein it in just in time. I'm short, and i'm not going to fuck anything up.
Had the world's best drive back to T's in the convertible. Data Ranger asked me if riding a motorcycle is different from being in a convertible. There's a little difference-- for one, you don't feel that scariness of immediacy you do with motorcycles. you don't feel that one wrong move will leave you a grease spot on the pavement, but you still feel closer to the road because part of the covering's off the car. it's hard to explain. it makes you feel that you can reach out and touch other people in their cars, and that the sky seems a lot nearer and you can smell the oil and gasoline and the air a lot better. Plus the wind blows so hard it makes conversation impossible, so you get to sneak off into your own little world think happy thoughts, same as riding a bike. It's pretty amazing, really.
S had Stevie Nicks and disco playing in the car, and i was practically asleep in the back seat i was so relaxed. Give me a full tummy, some alcohol and some quiet time, and i can fall asleep anywhere.
We got back to T's, her husband showed up a few minutes later. i heard O saying Mary, you still have your glasses on, and the last two things i remember doing were throwing my hands to my face to whip the glasses off, and thinking hmm, if Vali was here she'd've pulled my glasses off my face because i'm too lazy and tired to do it myself most of the time, and that's it. I was gone.
This is getting way too long, and i haven't even gotten to DC Pride yet. Will finish tomorrow once i get some shuteye.
Last weekend when i was smack dab in the middle of final paper hell, one of the things that kept me going was thinking about how this weekend was going to be as fun as working on the paper is hell on Earth. The relief was that the weekend lived up to all my expectations.
It was wonderful. Saturday afternoon i went to see C-S down in DC. Have i mentioned the fact that i don't want her to go? I DON'T WANT HER TO GO!!! WAAAAA!!! I want the world to revolve around me, Me, ME! I want her to stay until i do, dammit!
Okay, random moment of selfishness is over. We ate lunch, caught up on gossip, and went over to the Grandma Moses exhibit downtown. i have to confess that i knew almost nothing about her, so i wasn't quite sure what to expect when i saw her artwork, but i'm pretty sure i was expecting something more. Not that i need art to be look nice or be incredibly profound or gut-wrenchingly angsty, but there was something missing. it was just landscapes, piles and piles of them, with teeeeeeny tiny misshapen little figures with crooked smiles that make them look faintly creepy. I know this is going to sound horrible, but the teeny little people made me think of Hitler's paintings. He painted unspectacular scenery with these little peopledots. NOT trying to equate Grandma Moses with Hitler (i'm going to be working off the karma points forever for this one), but the little specks of people made me think of him unbidden. C-S and I played "Spot the Crackwhore" and attributed scandalous deeds to the little people before chastizing ourselves for our own cynicism.
Then we watched a couple of short films of Grandma Moses talking about the good old days that didn't sound all that great to me. Edward R. Murrow asked her about soap making and other crafts and C-S made the mistake of asking me what the hell any of this had to do with painting. Like i knew, for god's sake.
And Ed was smoking during the interview-- i had a weird protective vibe thinking Hey Ed! Do ya mind? This is a little old lady! She could get sick! and let's not even talk about the scene where she was walking up a hill, a relatively little one, but for a ninety-something woman must've been hell, esp wading through tall grass to get to the top. That whole film was prime MST material-- i was turning purple trying not to laugh amongst the more serious patrons and thinking of how badly i wish Vali could've been there to see it.
There was s'thing good in the interview-- at one point Grandma Moses made Murrow try his hand at painting. She wasn't having nothing to do with his protests-- Sonny, you're going to paint a person, and you're going to do it because i'm goddamned old, goddammit. I loved it. I also liked what she said about being self-taught; she didn't want to study under anyone because she didn't want it to be influenced by the teacher, and i could totally respect that. I may not have liked the end product, but she did, and that's the most important thing. the paintings weren't about me or anyone else who saw them-- she did them for herself and to make a buck. She knew exactly what she wanted and didn't care what anyone else thought about it. I like that in a person.
After that, i bid C-S bye bye to go to work and headed off to T's house to go to a party held by one of her few hundred close friends. I swear to god that woman knows half of DC on a first name basis-- it's awesome. I squozed the limes for one of the most amazing margaritas i've ever had the pleasure to drink, she whipped together a mess o' baked beans for the potluck, and we hailed a cab to Arlington.
Tips for people getting cabs to Arlington: Know exactly where you need to go, because Arlington streets adhere to no logic known to ordinary humans. we asked three random passersby for directions. by the time we got there most of my buzz had worn off and the cab driver was thoroughly pissed at us and very glad to be rid of our company. T gave him a big tip to compensate.
Had a great time at the party. I was led to believe that swimming was going to take place, but saw no pool in sight. Will have to break in the bathing suit at the post pool, a fine place to pop swimsuit cherry.
But like i said, it was fun. I talked to the bandmembers and we sort of had an impromptu therapy session revolving around finding out you're gay, coming out, different degrees of outness in your daily lives, and differences in gay scenes. It was cool-- everyone had a different story, of course.
I asked the rest of the gang how they handle being out at work, or if they even are. I'm curious-- right now, it's a nonissue because of my job, but for others there's a lot of gray area that can make it kind of risky.
in the end i stayed with my original blueprint: if i feel the atmosphere's not hostile, i'll handle it the same way i do when i tell people i'm a pagan. I don't say, Hi, I'm Mary and I'm a Witch. How are you? but if it comes up in conversation i won't hide it.
I've been pretty lucky on the job with my religion. most people don't see it as a big deal, and i've had some pretty interesting stories about people in my unit standing up for me about being a Witch. it makes me happy. one guy in our unit was a Mormon, and we had a great conversation about paganism and Wicca initiated by him because he was honestly curious about religions different from his own. It was really cool. The atmosphere's the key though-- i won't jeopardize my job over what's my personal business in the first place, but i don't like to be secretive about something i don't find shameful or a big deal. Sometimes i get goofy and want to shout from the mountaintops I'm going to Chicago to be with MY WOMAN! but rein it in just in time. I'm short, and i'm not going to fuck anything up.
Had the world's best drive back to T's in the convertible. Data Ranger asked me if riding a motorcycle is different from being in a convertible. There's a little difference-- for one, you don't feel that scariness of immediacy you do with motorcycles. you don't feel that one wrong move will leave you a grease spot on the pavement, but you still feel closer to the road because part of the covering's off the car. it's hard to explain. it makes you feel that you can reach out and touch other people in their cars, and that the sky seems a lot nearer and you can smell the oil and gasoline and the air a lot better. Plus the wind blows so hard it makes conversation impossible, so you get to sneak off into your own little world think happy thoughts, same as riding a bike. It's pretty amazing, really.
S had Stevie Nicks and disco playing in the car, and i was practically asleep in the back seat i was so relaxed. Give me a full tummy, some alcohol and some quiet time, and i can fall asleep anywhere.
We got back to T's, her husband showed up a few minutes later. i heard O saying Mary, you still have your glasses on, and the last two things i remember doing were throwing my hands to my face to whip the glasses off, and thinking hmm, if Vali was here she'd've pulled my glasses off my face because i'm too lazy and tired to do it myself most of the time, and that's it. I was gone.
This is getting way too long, and i haven't even gotten to DC Pride yet. Will finish tomorrow once i get some shuteye.
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Date: 2001-06-10 10:57 pm (UTC)My friend works for a newspaper here in DC and covered the gay pride rally. She said she got all kinds of free trinkets. I thought she should have just said 'Hey, I don't want a pink pen.. and these t-shirts are gay!'.
Ok.. so it's just funny to me.
Nice Shirt
Date: 2001-06-10 11:04 pm (UTC)I hear you about Grandma Moses - I never could understand people's appreciation for those daubs. Oh well, it is a matter of taste, I guess. Me, I'll look somewhere else.