So Queerific I Wanna Hurl

[On the way up to the friendly neighborhood cabaret to catch Sharon McKnight's closing performance, I suddenly became aware of sharp pain and harsh stiffness in my neck and shoulders. I carry my stress in my shoulders anyway, so even when I'm not aware of any tension, casual masseurs (you know, those acquaintances who suddenly come up and start to massage your shoulders, whether you're in the mood or not) comment on my immediate need to "get an adjustment." I've never sought the services of a chiropractor, and have enjoyed only one professional massage. I don't scorn those services at all, I just haven't been willing to shell out the money. Since the discomfort has faded only slightly as of this morning, I may reconsider.]

[It was a pleasant, relatively eventful weekend. I attended what I think of as the leftist-artistic-queer equivalent of a revival meeting on Friday: Alice Walker, Dorothy Allison, and Jewelle Gomez all read and spoke at the opening of this year's Queer Arts Festival. Afterward, my companion Violet and I discussed struggling with our reflexive sense of ironic detachment at events such as these. She was ashamed of not being able to take all of Ms. Walker's breathy pronouncements without a grain of salt. I told her not to worry: there were plenty of earnest New Age lesbians at this thing. I was riveted by la Gomez's reading, and Dorothy Allison had us all in stitches; people keep telling me I must read Bastard Out Of Carolina.]

[After a Saturday matinee of Moulin Rouge, I must have needed to de-gay, because John and I wandered over to the hyper-white and hyper-hetero Union Street Arts Festival. Who says San Francisco is diverse? How many white yuppies with strollers and plastic cups filled with Miller Lite can two hungover fags slam past to get to the food line? A lot.]

[Lots of cleaning around the house yesterday, and several casual visitors last night after the McKnight show. The last to arrive and leave was Gabriella, who ate leftover spaghetti with us while watching the season premiere of Sex and the City. Boy (or, Girl), I ran the homo entertainment gamut this weekend, didn't I? I feel almost...Queerific! Bleah!]

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