Giants mania everywhere. Orange and black and orange and black. Can I even wear black anymore, or will someone ask me if I’m a Giants fans? Well, I do like big dicks, maybe even orange and black ones. I guess I’m just pissed because I bought this hoodie in Hayes Valley (it was only eighteen dollars, okay?), and I thought it was red while I was in the store, but when I get home it’s obviously orange. So now I’ll dye it red because I cannot walk around town looking like a Giants fan.
The thing with being consumed by library school is, one, I do superior work, and, two, everything else that’s important to me gets pushed aside. Now I’m free, and the other things that are important to me are piled up and I’m frantic trying to do it all. Oh, there are not enough hours in the day, especially when you factor in my new xTube addiction. Like making that zine which keeps getting pushed to the end of the day and then not getting done at all. But I do go to the vintage zine store, yes there is one, they have a few “gay” ones, some porn ones, too, lots of music ones, some really tiny ones, political ones, “female” ones, and some other wacky ones. I look at two “gay” ones although they’re both about being queer. Holy Titclamps is one of them, I think it’s from 1994, but it seems so current. Larry-bob writes that he came here for queer culture while most of the gays came to dance. Or do people still come to San Francisco for queer culture? I came because I needed to get the fuck out of where I was, and to a city with tall buildings to walk between and public transportation to zoom around on and gays because then I could blend in, I don’t think I had thought of the concept of queer culture. When Gordon asked me if I identified with the term queer sitting at his kitchen table in his cute little Bernal Heights house in 1997, I said no smugly. I rejected the term “queer” back then because I thought it was rich white kids who had gone to good schools and who wanted to reject their families while looking all crusty and arty that were the ones who were queer. I guess queer seemed intellectualized and inaccessible, and I knew I didn’t want to be a part of that, or couldn’t be. I mean, yes, I rejected my family and I wanted something radically different, but queer just seemed like another clique. And I was bitter, and shy, and generally a special case, but getting to gay was a struggle, okay? And people who go to good schools are gross! But now I get queer. I mean I always felt like an outsider although I’ve only recently come to the point where this label is something to be proud of and to flaunt like crazy. But at the same time it’s becoming so ubiquitous, at least in San Francisco, that it’s a catch all term for all kinds of gay shit. Queer performance art is having its moment, or I guess it was having its moment in 1994, so maybe this is just one of many moments of queer art in San Francisco. Or maybe it’s just that I’m only paying attention to it now. What am I trying to say? I missed everything important, and now I don’t care. Maybe. Or, I am my own revolution. This queer moment in San Francisco is being supported by Giants mania that’s for sure.
Sanfrancisco-ish 