Tuesday, November 01, 2005

The Day After

To look at the street today, one would never guess that a mere twelve hours ago it was packed with nearly half a million people. The heart of Boystown was our very own Potsdamer Platz, full of life and gaiety, and alive with the promise of forbidden pleasures, just around the next corner...

Now, SaMo Blvd has been tidied up and sanitized for your protection; no hint of the night before remaining. It's as if when the revelers groggily came to this morning, they wanted nothing to remind them of their excesses of the night before...

The Halloween Carnaval was great fun, even for all the breeders. It isn't all of the straights that have changed the festivities--after all, my brother and sister were there with their friends. It was the presence of those teenagers who were more than a little rough around the edges, and by all appearances spoiling for a little mayhem. Each year, the homogenization and heterosexualization of Halloween continues. And the moreso it becomes, the more the gay boys stay away. It wouldn't be hard to imagine the day when all the hets arrive to ogle and discover that the gays have all gone elsewhere en masse.

Not nearly as many topical costumes this year... and the circuit boys stayed away in droves in comparision to years past. The warm weather allowed for the comfortable baring of skin--of which there was precious little. Oh well, maybe next year. The pendulum could always swing back the other way.

One sweet little puppy wore a kissing booth... I'll bet he more than paid for next month's rent from the proceeds. The hottest puppy wasn't in costume at all, but wearing jeans and a tee shirt from some cafe advertising Cuban sandwiches. I'll let you think up your own pun to go with that! He was adorable, for sure. I sure as heck couldn't afford to keep him in the style to which I'm sure he'd like to become accustomed to.

Marlon was dazzling as an Inca costume. He's one of the sweetest little studpuppies in the WeHo meetings. I wonder if he met up with the conquistador of his dreams last night....

For some reason, I'm as dehydrated as all get-out. As nice as a day as it is, I've a mind to get a Red Bull, go to the market for dinner, and just head right on home. After staying out last night, I'm looking forward to watching the Gilmore Girls and my fix of Sex in the City.

Tomorrow, I have to speak at the meditation meeting at the Cafe Tropical, and I only have the barest idea what I'm going to say. I'm still mourning the loss of my new moleskin notebook, which I'd barely used yet. The first thing I put in it, as a matter of fact, was an excerpt from Anne Lamott's "Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith" that I thought a propos for a meditation meeting. As divine inspiration would have it, I just found a corresponding excerpt from Natalie Goldberg's new book. My take on meditation is probably a little unorthodox-- but hey, the meetings at the Cafe Tropical are nothing if not a little unorthodox.

I need my Red Bull, and I need it now!

Next Saturday, I'll make a point of going down to the Pearl Art Store and getting myself another moleskin... maybe that will undo the spell I'm under.

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