Seek and Ye Shall Find

Hide and Seek at the Legion of Honor will rank up there as one of the best days ever.

So. Much. Fun.

Long-time readers will know that I am a big fan of Improv Everywhere, and that I have threatened to launch something similar in SF. And I'm almost willing to fly to NYC for No Pants! 2008.

It turns out there are several small, cooperative and competing, groups in the Bay Area who organize and sponsor missions, activities, and general adventure; each to varying degrees of success. Herbie Hatman organized this even via SF0 (ess eff zero), which hosts several "teams," and teams and members earn points for completed tasks. The SFZero community is pretty active, but I do not yet identify with any of their teams descriptions, and I may have to create one of my own. The SFZero members also have alternate identities to their real lives, so I have to think a bit about who I might be on SFZero.

So here's the set up:

Alert Readers Shilpa Patel and Jeff Javits met me, Stephen Handorf, and Skot Land at my place at 1:00 Sunday afternoon. We had some pre-nibbles, wardrobe adjustments, and running starts then made our whore's coffees and our way to the Legion of Honor.


There was already a small crowd gathered at the fountain, and I was surprised to see more folks in Dickensian attire than formal wear, but they looked very cool doing it. Herbie Hatman, the organizer, set out the rules of the game:

Pick a team, and it is more fun if you and your friends are on different teams. each team has a color, and you wear that color ribbon on your left arm. The first It is identified by a round of yelling "Not it!" and then it's a matter of who gets tagged next by It.

Team IJS entering the museum

It has to begin/return to the foyer and the naked Rodin sculpture (who is so clearly gay), cover their eyes, and count, out loud, to 23, instering an audible Mississippi or Alligator between the numbers. Then It has to say, loudly, "Ready or not, here I come!"

Jeff Javits, yellow team, counts as It.

That is much more fun than you might imagine. As it turns out, being It is the most fun.

Teams scatter throughout the museum. And of course, being a museum, you must obey certain rule of behavior, such as no (well, limited) running, no rough-housing, and such.

It looks for people on their color team to tag. The goal is hide or to blend in with others in the museum. In my sequined dinner jacket, I sort of stood out. And clearly, I was on the blue team. (And yes, I know sequins are not wise for Hide and Seek, but I have lost so much weight my black blazer, tux jacket, and other formal wear did not wear well.)

The real trick to this game working is (1) unless you got a really good look before play started, you don't necessarily know who is on your team; and (2) after the first It tags someone, you don't know who is actively It unless you witnessed the tagging.

Clark, the handsome man in the morning suit and large top hat, was the blue team's first It.


Stealthily entering and leaving chambers of the museum felt very Thomas Crown Affair, and was amazingly fun, and made the security people so incredibly uneasy. But this is a public place, half of us had Member's badges, we were well-dressed, and while we were acting somewhat cagey, we weren't doing anything particularly wrong. This was hilarious, and only one old guard was upset at the whole "pesky kids" thing and actively gave dirty looks or would intervene with a scolding.

Having your friends on other teams meant you could walk around and dodge and weave together, being pursued by different Its and not game for one another. I had successfully avoided Clark, until I carefully turned one corner and almost directly into him. It was a very stoic, "well, there's nothing I can do but sprint and that's a little out of the question in this room so, you got me." So I was the second It for the blue team, and it was much more fun being the hunter than the hunted.

Javits tags another player.

And we certainly got to know the museum in intimate detail.

It's all "game." Get it?

Over the course of the afternoon, I would say we had 70 or so players.


And I will say this, the participants were awesome. I expect putting out a call for a game of hide and seek in formal wear in a public museum on a busy Sunday during a holiday season attracts a non-random sample of San Franciscans. These were fun people. And quite lovely. Although I do suspect that Team IJS pushed the average age up another bracket.

Oh yeah, participants were also invited to bring a teacup and a flask. A tea party was scheduled on the lawn for after the game. It turns out, tea time was 5:00. With a start time of 2:00, that was a bit late. As much exhilarating fun as the game was (the fun of the game combined with the thrill of doing something you know you are not supposed to be doing in a fine arts museum, and the distinct feeling you are getting away with something) ran strong for a good hour, and abated for most by 90 minutes. And we were all done by 4:00. By then, most of the original participants had congregated in the café with food and wine.


Some had been there since 3:00, needing to replenish their sugar and/or wine levels. (I did cringe at paying more for a glass of wine at the café than I would for a bottle of the same label at the grocery.)


Spending time around a table instead of chasing each other about gave us a better chance to get to know each other, and I'm hoping to run into some of these folks again.

Natalie and Wilson

Wilson and Abby

One player had a particular prophetic cap to her soda:

Click to embiggen.

All the way around, getting dressed-up, enjoying a museum, and having a good game of Hide and Seek was a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon. I am going to have to craft my own group at SFZero, and sponsor some I'm Just Sayin' style adventures.

The core group

My friends and I had had our fun and we ready for the next event by 4:00. The sun was setting, it was getting cold, and we had other places to be. By 4:15 we were on the lawn where Herbie was unloading the large containers of hot water, which would sometime later become tea. We expressed our thanks and piled back into the car.

Jeff invited us to join him at David and Sean's holiday party. Shilpa and I loved the last party of theirs that we went to, but we felt a little bit like we were crashing. I had a Christmas mix CD I had meant to drop by earlier in the week, but we didn't think to bring a bottle of anything until after we had found parting at the top of the hill. Luckily for me, I had something still in the car bar I could bring. Having missed the opportunity to use our teacups at the event, we brought those in as well.

When we found David inside, he said immediately, "I know where you've been! You've been playing Hide and Seek at the Legion of Honor!" I had forgotten that David was a daily devotee of the blog. I feel so pretty!

Also inside were family favorites Jim (Jimbo) Myers and Darien & Timothy (see also).

And Lo and Behold, what should I see across a crowded room, but Eyes Met Across a Crowded Room. Last time I saw him was at the Rodeo, when he told me he was moving to Arizona in short order. In our e-mail exchanges, I had joking referred to his imminent departure as a clever ruse—a morning remorse to not calling me back. Now it was feeling less clever and more ruse.

Knowing what am Alert Reader David is, I started telling him this story, "Remember back at the Rodeo, the guy I referred to as Eyes Met Across a Crowded Room? Well, that's him."

Eyes Met Across a Crowded Room, who was opposite to me talking to Shilpa, turned and said, "You know I can hear you..."

Eyes Met and I talked for a while. I told him that I had mentioned him by code name in the blog, and that David is a daily reader, hence the kismet. It seems that the relocation is still a consideration but just under consideration. He was sweet and sexy, genuine and genuinely contrite. Although I didn't ask, he appeared to still be single, and as an apology he promised that he would be the one to follow up with me this time.


While that has not yet come to pass, it's just as well as the acid reflux thing and the cough thing have completely robbed me of my voice this week, and I wouldn't have been able to talk anyway. He's away for the holidays this week, and he'll be in Palm Springs (of course he will) for New Year's, so he won't be available for the Black-Eyed Pea Chili Party.

David and Sean's party was as lovely as could be, and great fun. We sort of "brought it" with our teacups and formal wear, but friends are not shy and were in the spirit and immensely entertaining. As was Sean's mom. Loved her.


We departed David and Sean's in time to make a late arrival at Sundance Saloon for their holiday party and a long night of merry making and yuletide dancing.

An exhausting and exhilarating Sunday, which, literally, left me speechless.

I'm off to the airport in the morning, and will likely only lightly post from Nashville.

Love and Joy come to you, and to you your Wilson too.

Photos:
Wilson's Flickr set of Hide and Seek
Jeff's Picassa album of Hide and Seek
Shilpa's Flickr set of Hide and Seek
Wilson's Flickr set of David and Sean's (only six photos)
Shilpa's Flickr set of David and Sean's Holiday Party

this litle piggy went to (south of) market

Okay, so I mentioned a while back that Will was hosting his annual Pig! roast.

This year was Pig III!

And remember, the roman numerals are arbitrary. Next year is PIG XXI!

The Pig III! event was a huge success, and I am sorry to have missed it (but not sorry to have stayed for the Rodeo).

Some photos from Will:

firing up the pit

omg!

Pig on the grill

Turning the pig

James and his meat

There are also some really gross preparation photos, such as this one,

which I am sure will make another appearance when I need to make some sort of relationship with James, meat, and rubber gloves.

Also present was Will's brother, whom Will describes in IM alternatively as "the Most Physically Fit 45 Year Old Ever" and "the You-So-Wish-He-Was-Gay Brother."

Dude, c/o those arms.



Here's a photo of the brother during last week's "Linda" CrossFit workout.

Even as total CrossFit junkies, this year they were a little lighter on the Pig Games than originally planned. The Beer Mile event was well attended and many reveled in its regurgitatory theater. (See the practice Beer Mile: Will, Will's wife Cindy, and James running on a hot summer night, several margaritas down.)

You may also recall, that Will designed shirts for the event. One shirt designed for the crew (seen here and another designed for the sole Pig III Champion. I ordered both.

One thing led to another and Will never got around to ordering shirts for his own event, so I, the one who didn't go, am the only one with Pig III shirts.

However when they arrived, they were huge.


Luckily, even printed on "pre-shrunk" cotton, they resized considerably after washing. (That' and I am a little on the pig size myself these days.)

Which leads me to Part II of this post:

The HAIRrison Street Fair.

The sort of hairy step-child to Folsom and Dore, the HAIRrison Street Fair is the frisky SoMa street fair for hirsute and burly gay men. Also known as: The Bear Fair.

And "pig" has an entirely different meaning South of Market.

So the "Pig Champion" shirt was perfect.



I got a lot of attention. However, about 70% pleasant / 30% Dear-God-get-off-of-me.

I tried to send Will photos of me in the shirt paired with wild men via the iPhone, but the passers by I gave the phone to could not figure out how to take a photo. It's one button. These guys may have been pretty, but not pretty smart.

I really wanted to get a shot with the newly titled Mr. San Francisco Leather Boy (the lovely and talented Carl Anderson), but no one could seem to get the idea that I wanted the t-shirt logo and his bare ass in the same frame.



Beau, Carl, Steve
Basically, I just wanted to taunt Will with photos of his shirt way, way out of his intended context. And he's totally the kind of guy who would (1) find that funny and (2) root for it.

Pigs on parade:






And of course a shout to my favorite wing man and personal cheering section Robert Michael Joseph, who made the afternoon and the Eagle that much fun.

Very small Flickr set.

And now to Part III.

Eyes Across a Crowded Room appeared again.

Now this is a fairly "frisky" bear fair and I was enjoying the boost to my self esteem. Plenty of attention from fun and furry quarters. Now Eyes was back playing nice. I fell for him once, or rather twice, was cast aside, and had been pretty much just playing nice if not giving the cold shoulder (and apparently, acting like a dick sometimes) at shared functions. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me five or six times and I'm just a pushover.

I fell for it again. At least this time, it was with some reluctance.

But I can't help but feel that there is some there there. But Hot Tony is advising me this is all my own psychological issue and i need to examine why I like Eyes Across a Crowded Room, and why I find myself saying the things I say to him. Things that are more often lines I expect to hear rather than honest expressions.

Of course, the boatloads of bourbon on both our parts may have had something to do with it.

I did have to laugh at one observation. Here I am all impressed by him, and he's intimidated/dismayed that I know so many people and am at ease working a room.

He also knows I can dance and asked me to take him out to the last hour of Sundance.

Taking me to Sundance is NOT the remedy for me knowing too many people.

Please don't throw me in that briar patch.

I had to make a bee-line for the bathroom and he asked me if I wanted a drink and if so what. I "Just tell them you're with me. It'll be taken care of." "But I don't understand?" Rushing into the loo before I wet myself, "Just give the bartender my name and you'll be taken care of."

He met met outside the bathroom with two Mandarin and sodas.

"How do you do that?"

I/we danced for the final hour that they were open (forced to close early on a Labor Day Sunday), and then we had a long talk and hang out at his place. And we danced some more.

We made a date for dinner and dancing on Thursday. He really does want to learn to two-step.

But of course, come Monday, he canceled. I should have seen that one coming. ("Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." and all of that.)

I don't know what to think. Of him or of me.

I try not to play games. The whole come here/go away thing. The being a dick thing. The being unavailable thing.

In the past I have gotten grief for being too unavailable--I don't have any time in my social schedule for dating. But what I am realizing now, at least with Eyes, is that I am unavailable chronologically, and too available emotionally.

Hot Tony thinks I need to examine the whole nature of this attraction much more closely. He got into the psychology if it all. It will be deeply revealing about myself. I don't know if I am ready for that level of self-awareness.

But I suppose I'm due.

Those who cannot be aware of the past mistakes will be condemned to repeat them. And all of that.

all about me, continued

Yes, it's a birthday week here at I'm Just Sayin', and a good one at that.

Friday was a looong night-- farewell/expensive drinks at the Metro, followed by the two-for-one goodness at the Badlands. The regulars were out in force, and started on the birthday-drink buying early, which was nice.

We also courted Amy Day's college friends Amy and Kevin. Amy is married and lives in Seattle. Kevin is single living in comparatively rural Kent, Washington. Apologies, Kevin, if you are reading this, but we really think you are a lovely man, and just need to deal already. Come on out, the water's fine. We'd love to have you.

After weeks of brutally offensive customer dis-service from Circuit City, Shilpa finally got her camera replaced. The Flickr Whore is back, and photos will be shared once she uploads them.

After a cheap and non-diet-friendly dinner of pizza and a shower and a wardrobe change, I made it in time for Winnie Bago's performance at Marlena's.

And I am glad I did. Not only was the show/benefit very entertaining, there were a lot of my gay rodeo buddies in attendance/performing and it made for a really fun atmosphere.

That, and the whole eyes-met-across-a-crowded-room thing with Richard. Very John Hughes. To the extent that I expected an Eric Stoltz or Molly Ringwald cameo.

I am memorializing the meeting here for future reference, but am no longer quite so expectant as I have not heard back from him. Alas. Regardless, it was a nice meeting.

And shouts to Rodeo royalty/title holders and stage performers Eric Hanson and his partner Miss Trout. Eric is an engineer at Apple and works primarily on iPhoto and the iPhone. The marketing people have used his name, deliberately misspelled, in many of the iPhone ads. So it really cracks us up to see the whole "Hansen Family Photos" and "incoming call: Eric Hansen" on the television spots.

Saturday was "Wilson's Birthday (Observed)," I spent the morning sleeping in, cleaning, and managing projects at home. I am still putting away costume crap.

One or two years ago, Alert Reader Paul Day and his bon ami Fred gave me a gift card to Always Tan, and I finally cashed it in towards a deep-tissue massage. Unfortunately, their prices had risen by about $50 since I got the GC. But all in all, it was a great treat on a self-indulgent sunny Saturday.

Before getting ready to head over the Barney's/Club Jackson, Barney asked me to load an iPod with a playlist, which I love to do. I found some delicious new mashups over at the BootieBlog-- my favorites of this batch are Amy Winehouse's Rehab mashed with the Four Top's Can't Help Myself, and the very danceable mashup Boogie Woogie Candyman, featuring Christina Aguilera vs. The Andrews Sisters. Sweet.

Considering we had a full schedule, things turned out to be a little rushed. We enjoyed pre-drinks at Club Jackson with T. Verde and Ing, the Gorgeous Jenny, Kevin, Jeff & Bill, PeeDee & Fred, RMJ, Javits, and Jimbo. Having been confined to a wine-country-touring limo all day, Shilpa came stumbling after.

Dinner followed at Thai Spice, which is quite tasty and moderately priced. Highly recommended.

We managed to get to the Plush Room in time for pretty good seating, even though there was a big ta-do over seating us as they would seat a party if there were three of the four present, but not in our case which was four of the seven present.

Okay, this post is more factual than entertaining so I'll wrap it up.

The Joan Rivers show was bo-ring. Her act was just a jumble of bits from her Bravo special, and she messed much of it up. A lot of the room didn't laugh much because we had heard it all before. She seemed lost and repetitive at times, and in some cases was just mean without following up something cruel with a punchline. But still, she's Joan Rivers, a comedy legend, and she was only fifteen feet away. And let me tell you, wow with the surgery.

We finished the night with an unexpected pirate theme at the Cinch, and many thanks our always lovely host Oscar.

And yeah, I don't know what the deal is, but I am keeping the beard.

Sunday the all-about-me continued—

The coffee date never materialized, but I had a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and made it to the Rodeo beer bust at the Eagle. Much, much fun. Although beer is so not SB-friendly. No particularly ribald tales, but it was nice to visit with old friends with whom I have not had much party or quality time as of late. And hanging out with the rodeo guys is always a pleasure. And as Doug was MC'ing the event, my name was called over the din more than once, which gave me an odd feeling of notoriety at the Eagle.

I had a nice chat with Matt, who is no longer with Dana, through whom I met Treat Williams (and wonder if I'll see again), and Matt's friend Chris. And again, there was much incentive to keep the beard.

As the beer bust wound down, it was time to move over to Sundance Saloon, which was surprisingly packed for most of the night. There is a clique of new guys who are becoming regulars, and it's been great fun getting to know them and teaching some of them to dance.

And a shout out to newcomer Bryan P. who turned out to be both graceful and charming on the dance floor. I heard from him this morning and I expect we'll be dancing together again soon.

Tomorrow, the All About Me continues with an intimate dinner, on my actual birthday, Chez Shilpa. I expect the recap of that will have lots of photos to accompany the post.

And then I can go off on how I liked turning 30, thought turning 35 was fine, but am really not happy with this whole "now in his late 30's" turning 37 idea.

But as they say, it is better than the alternative.

When family/friends ask me what I want for my birthday, I tell them I want a portrait in the attic that ages instead of me.

So get on that won't you?

Happy Pride 2008

There was lots to be proud about this year.

I don't have any particularly saucy tales from Saturday and Sunday— it was just a long weekend of intense fun.

First off, the annual best pride party ever: Pink Saturday with David and Sean.

Shilpa and Sean



David and Wilson

Shilpa and I love these guys, and were so excited about this party we spent Friday afternoon (after the zoo and before debauchery) shopping for a big basket of pink fun to bring our hosts. Prizes included a pink martini glass beach towel, pink tea towels, a flashing pink rubber duck that spent most of the party swimming in my cocktail, a set of HoMo a Go-Go CDs and special edition Pink Saturday Be Pink and Be Proud CD, soda, red wine remover (I recalled an incident from last year), and best of all, pink vodka (pink lemonade flavored) I ordered just for the occasion.

As always, the people and the party were much fun. New friends and old. I'm Just Sayin' regulars included Jim Myers, Jeff Javits, Coco Flores, Brendan Geary and RMJ.

David, Brendan and Jim

RMJ, never one to date domestic, arrived with the lovely Juan Carlos.

Always playful fare, but painful to bid farewell, were Darien and Matthew (you may remember them from such posts as Two out of three ain't bad). They moved to D.C. on Monday. Sigh.

Darien, Shilpa and Wilson



Shilpa and Matty

New friends were fun too. Particularly this guy (on the right):

We've talked several times in bars around town and it was nice to see him in a more intimate social setting. I think his name is Matt, but we were pretty well in the bag by then so I'm not sure. Any advice or biographical information from readers would be welcome. And oh yeah, speaking of intimate settings, Eyes Across a Crowded Room was there, but entirely cordial, if not clinical.

I had known he was coming (saw it on the evite) but did not comment on the blog in case he and/or david were checking on on that front. Hot Tony, who is called Hot Tony for a reason, offered to be my pretend boyfriend and paw all over me. I almost accepted, if not just to be pawed for hours by Hot Tony. But I really know him too well to pull off amorous. Slutty I might be able to do though. Maybe I should have taken him up on that...

And on the right in this one is Richard.

He was exceptionally entertaining, and I hear he had an adventure after the party. If it's fit to blog, I will. With his permission of course. Or perhaps someone (you know who) would like to tell that tale in the comments?

Pink Saturday Flickr set

Pride Sunday

I was missed the parade for sleeping in and recovering from Pink Saturday, but got to Civic Center in time to check my boots before my shift at the Sundance Saloon stage and mill about for a couple of hours visiting with all my faggy friends.

Missing from this revelry was Ian Hall, friend of Shawn Case (who is BF to blog regular Kevin) visiting from Ohio and whom I would have loved to play Pride with. Shouts to Ian, who was lost in the throng.

Again, no particular narrative to impart, just photos of the day:



Me and Jimbo



My Pride Boys



My lovin'



My Cow-Pokes



And thank God, not my tan line.
This was just a fellow reveler taking the N-Judah home. That's gonna hurt.

Pink Sunday indeed.

Pride Flickr set.

Cowboy UP!

As usual, when I have the most to blog about I am too busy to blog. That, and work work work work work this weekend.

However I did find time this weekend to have a blast at the rodeo parties. Apparently I was in form on Saturday night at the Buckin' Ball. At one point I had to take a cab to Walgreen's to get an ankle brace so I could continue dancing. Benefits of cabbing to the ball include no hassle of parking and confidence in a sober ride home. However, confident in that I was not driving home, I drank enough to loosen my lips and seriously embarrass myself was overserved.

Hey Chris, seriously, I am not creepy stalker guy. (What? Two background checks and go through someone's garbage a couple of times and right away you're a stalker? Whatev'.)

Skot Land invited me to join him for the Sunday rodeo festivities and awards dinner. I usually just do the Saturday events, and Sunday's events tend to be more low key and less-attended than Saturday's. But wow did I have a good time. I met some really cool people and got to talk to "eyes met across a crowded room" again. Who, unfortunately, is now moving to Arizona for his career.

Sure, I meet guys and date and flirt and live my life, but that one—there was a connection with him that was different. Something that felt, I don't know really, honest might be the word for it. And honest, bullshit-devoid mutual attraction is rare. At least for me. The moment with EMAACR had the strange duality of both promise and finality. And I am disappointed I will not get a chance to explore that feeling with him.

Not that I am looking for Love, but I certinaly should answer the door if it knocks. Opportunity had to leave one of those Post-It notes. My spider-sense was telling me that Love might have just crossed my path, or at least joined the party already in progress, and I should pay attention.

Maybe, maybe not. Maybe that one evening of nothing that hinted at everything was it unto itself. Whatever it was, it was, and it was nice as it was. And now the Could Have Been is moving to AZ.

Moving on.

And rather efficiently actually.

Let me just say, hanging out with Skot Land (Having a time!) was awesome. He was a leading organizer of the event and on the rodeo grounds he was a freaking Rock Star! It was so much fun to see him shine in his element. And, of course, it made me popular by proxy. I have a much better understanding as to why they call them ranch hands.

I didn't take many photos, but I got some good action shots to use as banners/stock photos.

And I am loving my new MacBook Pro—I'm still tinkering, but this is fun.



Flickr photoset

Two steps forward, one step back

I was at the Lookout and in the Castro last night for the election. The feeling was electric, and incredibly exciting. And of course, with all the hope in my heart, I was feeling patriotic for America, and dressed accordingly.

As were the Sisters.

I wasn't expecting the election to be called until much later, but arrived to meet my friends only about ten minutes before they called it for Obama.

Whom I will now probably be calling "The Big O."



Me and Jimbo



Me, Juan Carlos and Stephen
OMG it was exciting. The crowd went wild. And so did people in the streets. By this point I hadn't seen the throngs filling the Castro street behind a giant screen which had been set up for the block. I was confident in an Obama victory, but was completely unprepared for the emotional impact the actual election would have on me.

At first we were all cheering. And kissing. And kissing strangers. There was an enormous rush of endorphins and relief and hope and joy. Everyone was cheering and toasting and hollering. It felt very much like midnight on New Year's Eve. Stephen even turned to me and said, "Why do I feel like I should be making out with someone right now?"

And then came the speeches. It was nice to see McCain capitulate. Especially after such a dirty, despicably, repugnant campaign. They tried every dirty trick in the book, and in the book of politics that is saying something. And Obama held his head high through it all. I wanted to say, "Sling as much shit as you like. It won't stick." And the American people, well, those in the Real America, and not the America of ignorance and fear, could see through the slime. The quality of the McCain supporters was shown in their boos and their slurs (and entirely white faces). Someone remarked to me last week that when McCain supporters were interviewed at rallies, none said anything nice about McCain, just nastiness about Obama (terrorist, socialist, Muslim and often racial slurs). McCain himself was eloquent and gracious in his concession speech. Where was this McCain during the campaign?

And then Obama spoke.

I have never been more proud to be an American.

Earlier I hadn't expect the euphoria of his election announcement. Listening to Obama's acceptance speech—even with the expected references from Lincoln to King—I had not expected I would have such a visceral emotional response.

I wept. As did most of those around me. We held each other in solidarity and hope, and looked to our President-Elect to lead us to the promised land.

And then we had news of Prop 8.

I looked at our new leader and felt some hope. Now, finally, I can cry to my government to respect its own principles. Please, Mr. President: Set my people free.

But sadly, the exuberance of the Obama victory was marred by the Prop 8 returns. Only a fraction of the polls were reporting, but people were calling it for Prop 8. Today, the SF Chronicle called it official, but it is far from over. There are millions of ballots yet to be counted, and the legal fight has just begun. And at 52% in favor to 48% opposed, the vote to discriminate against gays and lesbians is hardly a mandate from the people. (And there will be more on this math later.) But still, the Prop 8 returns cast a pall onto the victory. The presidential victory was not a Pyrrhic one, but it felt empty by the failure of the same voters to say no to the bigotry against the gays. Ironically, witnessing the passing of Prop 8, and the cheering of the haters on television, I felt like a black man witnessing a lynching.

After the speeches, we left the Lookout and joined the dancing in the streets.






We made our way to 440, which had the cautious revelry of Obama Yes and gay equality No. Wonderfully, 440 had a good, strong vibe, was easier to navigate than the street, and had the volume up on the television rather than the asinine house music being cranked outside. Most of the crowd was paying rapt attention to the television, with only a percentage of their attention diverted to drinking and cavorting. A pretty good mix there.



View behind the 440 window
The local news cut to a live shot of the Castro, and they focused on Eyes Met Across a Crowded Room, also a friend of Stephen's in the window of Twin Peaks.

Basically I had come straight from work and so the cocktails and celebratory drinks were on an empty stomach. The exhaustion of the weekend, the mixture of beverages, and the stress over Prop 8 sent me into a downward spiral of not quite despair, but certainly maudlin depression. How could Californians vote to hate me so? I felt abused in my own house.

I take heart today that this is far, far from over. Andy and Joe have that coverage. And see today's Mercury News article on the pending legalities.

Dan Savage made a good if not controversial point in his blog today too. Race did have a major factor against the gays in this election. He's looking into the exit polling statistics, and basically all the gays voted for the black guy for president, but the black vote was overwhelmingly against the gays. MLK Jr. didn't want to leave us behind, but it feels that way today. Interviews and statistics are indicating that now that African Americans can sit at the front of the bus, they feel entitled to throw us under it.

I had more hope than that.

One final note. I thought it was just being in a gay bar that this was a major topic last night, but it was revisited vocally in a meeting at work today: Michelle Obama is super cool, but WTF with that dress?

Flickr set.