June

It is Gay Pride Month.  The month includes Flag Day and Juneteenth.  But those are days and not a month.  June was declared Gay Pride Month in 1999 by President Bill Clinton in honor of his wife.  Oh. . . I'm kidding.  Get over yourself.  It is a republican meme, like Michelle Obama's penis.  They are a stupid and viscous lot.  

I missed Day 1.  I should have posted this photo yesterday.  It IS the most downloaded photo on the blog.  S.F., 2019.  I tried to explain to a man in the crowd that my own hometown had a larger gay population than did San Fran, but it was a different kind of gay where people don unicorn hats and rainbow shirts instead of walking around naked in ass chaps.  It is Disney Gay.  

I think this man looks regal. . I just noticed the shadow of my head on his right foot.  I am, in some way, part of the most popular picture I have ever taken. . 

I love people, really.  All persuasions, all kinds.  There are ways to connect with just about anybody.  To wit. . . yesterday I was in the 10 items or less line at the grocery store.  The man in front of me was putting his few items on the conveyor belt, and I began putting mine on behind him.  He was a working man, I'd guess, a drinker and a smoker if his voice was an indication, dressed in solid, unassuming clothes and a red ball cap.  As I put my things on the belt, he turned, looked at me, and said, 

"There isn't enough room here for both of us."  

I assumed it was a joke as I wasn't crowding him, so I said, "Then I guess you're going to have to get the hell out of here, aren't you?" with a grin. 

 He didn't laugh, though, and I felt bad.  I looked at his few items, hot dogs, two cans of chili, and some hotdog buns, and I said, "Hey--I just made chili dogs last week for my mother."  

He turned to me and said in a gravelly voice, "I asked my son if he wanted chili dogs or grilled cheese tonight."  

"Well, Sundays are a grilled cheese night, but chili dogs will work, too."

When the cash register lady finished ringing him up, she said, "Thirty dollars and six cents."

I looked at the two of them and said, "Holy smokes. . . next time you should just take him to Hot Dog Heaven.  That's pretty expensive for some hot dogs."

He said something, but I didn't quite hear him and I didn't want to start in about the Trump economy for I was pretty certain he leaned MAGA, so I just wished him well as he headed for the door.  The cash register lady grinned at me like I was a good guy.  It goes unsaid, I think, that we are all going to suffer under Trump 2.0.  

My point is. . . I get along with people.  I don't think I have a gay bone in my body.  To find this photo, I had to Google "Cafeselavy photo of a gay man."  This was the first image to come up, but there were a lot more of gay men doing some pretty clever things, I'd say. . . and I wasn't interested at all.  But that doesn't mean I don't like gay men.  

"Why some of my best friends. . . . ."  

It is true.  I don't even mind their sex stories, but it doesn't make Little Willy excited at all.  

"I think the Lady doth protest too much."  Yea, I know what you are thinking,  It doesn't matter to me.  Twenty bucks is twenty bucks, etc. 

My dead ex-friend Brando was a homophobe until his grandson from a daughter he didn't raise showed up out of the blue.  He was young and a bit of a flamer.  Brando hired him to work for his crooked travel company and changed his attitude about gay men and women.  

Speaking of Brando, last night after dinner and drinks, I was watching a YouTube channel by a man who sails a dinghy sailboat on weekend trips.  Oh, man. . . it makes me want to have a small weekend sailboat again.  I no longer wish to sail around the world or even cross an ocean, but day sailing and camping on the boat overnight, yea, that is something quite good for the soul.  Mine, at least.  

When that was over, this popped up.  

I love that video.  And then this. 

And I thought about all the times I've said adamantly that men should not dance, but I was laughing to myself as I thought, "O.K.  Those gay guys are pretty good dancers, too."  

Yes, yes. . . I was assuming.  

Then this.

And now you are getting insight as to how my nights might go.  But as I almost said, I thought of a story Brando told me about being young in Miami where he grew up.  Well, he grew up in Coral Gables, but the story took place in Miami.  One night, he was walking down the street and he cut back into an alleyway to take a pee, but a backdoor opened and a young guy walked out.  Brando said hello and the two began talking.  Brando told the fellow he was going to the next bar and invited the fellow to come along.  

"Man, I'd love to, but I've got to get on stage in a few minutes."

It was Elvis, Brando said, at the very start of his career.  Brando and Elvis were just about the same age, and this would have been in the 50's.  Brando exaggerated every story he told, but I don't think he lied about much until he stole my money.  

I'll end this post with a fairly surprising video that popped up next.  I spent the rest of the evening watching the YouTube videos that my clever algorithm gave me.  I fell asleep on the couch at some point and woke up to Sierra Ferrel.  It was nearly one.  

I'm going to feel a little bit shitty today, I think.  I won't feel like dancing.