Saturday the beautiful people of Lansing marched the streets in a Gay Pride Parade. Rainbow socks, roller derby babes, and interesting, colorful people roamed the streets.
Unfortunately my sister and I missed the whole thing. oooops. This is what comes of sleeping in on a Saturday. We were busy trying to caffeinize ourselves into some semblance of human being while the crowds waved their flags and danced on the square. Well, we’ve gone before, so what’s two less people this year?
We did get a chance to boogie down to the Capital and see the very tail end of things: people leaving holding hands or drinking iced beverages; dogs pulling their owners away from the scene, excited to finally get that walk in; and of course the Religious Right with many signs waving in the air. Interestingly it was the nay-saying-sign-wavers that were the last to leave the party. And as my SISTER and I walk the streets, a clump of nay-sayers walk by, and one man sticks his Bible in my face and says something about God sending me to hell.
ummmm…dude, I’m the LEAST gay woman you’ll ever meet. I love men so much, it’s become unquantifiable. I have the sex drive of a man, sure, but it’s all directed to the OPPOSITE sex, not my own. So if God is in the mood to send homosexuals to hell, well I’m not on that bus. I’d be on the cursing-pill-popping-liberal bus.
I can’t really understand why Christians want to go to a Gay Pride festival. But more on that later…
So as the sign-wavers cheered me on to hell, we took the street toward the Comic Book Shop! (hell bound for sure) On the way there we did happen across a few straggling homos who posed for the camera with enthusiasm. I got shots of these cute chicks who were very adorable.
I’m pretty sure they were early college age, but once you’re as old as I am, everyone starts to blend together. They could have been in high school.
I’m not sure if they are paying her for kisses, or for her fabulous vagina, or because she loves vagina. But any way, she’s pretty damn cute and worth spending a few bucks on, as the cute hat girl is clearly seeming to do. This rainbow smoking vagina loving sign holder must have run into the same Bible-wielding-send-you-off-to-hell guy that I ran into, cause check out her hand:
It’s ok if I go to hell, though I’m planning on re-incarnating myself. I’d like to be a courtesan in a next life. Or an assassin.
i’m a “collector”. have been since i was a wee thing. my sister and i collect comic books, regular books, old books, ephemera, toys, vintage finds, quirky odds and ends and broken crap we think we can fix or turn into art. it’s a fun hobby, but as of yet a disorganized one. i’m hoping to get my “poop in a group” and get more organized and stream lined so i don’t end up like this:
this is a horader. he lives down by where i walk every day. i think he owns two houses that are full of boxes, cat litter, plastic tubs, old game boards, and lots of plastic sheeting. it smells like cat piss when you walk by, and i can’t begin to imagine what it smells like INSIDE.
plus there’s this issue:
where fat, juicy groundhogs crawl up into the guys attic and run around. i saw two of them piling in there one day, but didn’t have my camera on me. so yeah…time to start cleaning house before i have zoo critters moving in!!
who invented this so-called “sanity”?
a mythical beast that eludes me.
an overachievement i cannot attain.
a certificate of accomplishment touted by the disillusioned.
what if the real world is
faerie portals at the bases of giant oak trees.
hidden messages in floating clouds.
secret agendas that i can only know when i have
gone the distance and reached the rendezvous site
where a stranger in hoof and fur offers me guidance
a cup of hot coffee.
a turn of my head and a different world is revealed,
hiding until now in the
periphery of my limited sight.
can the sane do that?
can the sane find a ripple in the cosmos
and climb through the hole to
and bring back ideas,
colorful imaginings that will fill
thousands of faerie tale books
and paint themselves into the rooms
sanity is a disappointment. a mirage.
my own twisted mind
is my best heavenly oasis.