Not much to report today, I think the motivational issues must be in my mind, I could be getting a lot more done each day. Still no shopping, and although I had milk and cereal, I did not have breakfast- the milk expires in two days. I’ll need a fresh gallon. I did convince myself to go outside and attack the backyard yard, though I think that was after lunch.
I cut away enough brush to see the cause of it, a six-inch trunk coming up just inside my corner of the fence. The machete had quickly felled the branches, it was woefully unprepared to chop a whole tree. I have one saw, yet not the ambition for that today. Each morning, once I stretch through and medicate through the tightness, my steps have been getting a lot better. Forcing my leg down and knee back with each step.
I did get out for lunch. Earlier this week, my friend Gary invited me to attend the Pride celebration in downtown Jackson today. Our timing was off and we missed each other, yet I’m glad I was able to attend. I saw another friend of mine, Shannon, and her now-grown child. I thought there would have been more food vendors, I was really hoping for some BBQ. After a full lap, I stopped at the Junk Yard Dog’s hot dog stand, a couple of dogs, and a bag of chips for seven bucks.
Shannon had relayed a few stories about the size of years past and said she expected more vendors too. Otherwise, it was set up the same as many on the Ave events downtown. The street was blocked off, there were tents, awnings, and booths for a dozen or two community organizations lining both sides of the street. Music was provided in the amphitheater with DJ with a decent sound kit. I am not sure if there was a drag show though I did see several apparent drag queens.
ARPA was there, the recovery community was there, several colleges, a credit union, and a free condom booth. I saw one gentleman with a really cool face tattoo- tribal markings around one eye and cheek and around his skull a bit on his right side. We chatted for a minute while I admired it to his satisfaction, while I told him about my friend Charlie that recently posted about his constant consideration to get one. The man was pretty pumped for my friend and said he had thought about his design for two or three months five or six years ago when he got it, since then, no regerts.
I think it would be kind of cool to live in some tribal community where I grew up with face tattoos, yet for myself at least, I just couldn’t see myself getting my face inked. In my first few jobs, I would have to wear a bandaid to cover my eyebrow ring. Now, there is wide acceptance of nearly every physical and mental lifestyle and, at the same time, I am not sure how far that goes. Could an attorney at the top of his class be hired with a face or neck tattoo? I’m sure there are more than a few attorneys sporting ink out there, yet the majority might keep it hidden under their suit.
Public office? I “broke ground” by being the first person with facial jewelry, to the best of my knowledge with my prior lip ring. Would a majority of people vote for a person with a face tattoo? Would a majority of people with face tattoos vote for a person with face tattoos? Maybe not today and they will tomorrow. Soon (depending on your relative scope of time,) it will be time, time to elect our first face tattooed Mayor. Or have our Council hire the first surgically split-tongued attorney (in contrast to our current naturally-tongued attorney,) or my friend Charlie and his flying rainbow mohawk as the city’s official skydiving stuntman.
Not yet, it takes time, I think it is supposed to. Rebelling against something might not be any fun if it didn’t push back for a while before giving in. If every battle was a sit-in victory, would we even need the forces to accumulate? What will become in twenty years? Most, many attendees it felt were half my age or less, easily twenty my junior at least. What festivals will be held in downtown Jackson in the not-too-distant future? What people will need their liberties defended then? What new group of people will need to be shown how to love?
Cleaned the kitchen, emptied the trash and took it out. Cooked a batch of spaghetti and bagged away the leftovers in the fridge. Read a bit tonight, that is a habit I’m going to have to bring back. Before my time on council, for maybe four or five years I would describe myself as an avid reader, anything with a nihil obstat and imprimatur. Many, many dozens if not hundreds of books on theology and the saints, just to fill my time and occupy my mind. Once I was on council, my mind was occupied with a fresh agenda every two weeks.
Now, as a liberal arts student, I think I had better find a comfortable reading position and get used to it for another year or two. Especially, being an author, shouldn’t I naturally be a reader of works other than my own? I wonder, how far into my own future will I need to go before I can go back and psycho-analyze my own books. Tomorrow is Sunday, usually a day of rest yet I feel a sense of preparation. This could be the last seven days of a book- I want to end with a crescendo.
The first story I ever learned from the bible was told to me orally as read from a small picture book. I was four or five years old, the story of Daniel and the Lion’s Den. With the name of the celebration today, I ponder. The play on words is just that, as today I saw no violent threats. I saw my friends and neighbors, gathered downtown. Children playing with the musical instruments, vendors selling t-shirts, and people everywhere co-mingling with a particular sense of openness, a known public display of mutual support of each other.
And yes, people dressed for the occasion. One might say, there was a wide deviation from the mean standard. Self-expression of uniqueness amid the similarities. Sure it would be easy enough to sort “them” into groups (do you hear the pink floyd?) yet that would be ignoring the commonality, the humanity of each and every person. If it would not have been a spectacle to do so, I might have found a place to sit and watch everyone walk by for an hour or two, to see the fullest variety of individuals.
I saw one woman there, an attractive, tall brunette wearing a dark dress and heels. Overdressed for the occasion I thought, with the temperature most people were in jeans or shorts and t-shirts or flowing blouses. I looked again, examining her facial structure and for a moment tried the glint my eyes to see if I could see the hint of an adam’s apple or not from 200 feet away. I saw her again as I was taking my final lap after I ate, a bit closer and I think she may be a woman.
How am I supposed to know? Does one check genitals before offering an invite to coffee? I felt she expressed feminine characteristics- her dress revealed the body of a woman, and her makeup seemed to indicate the same. Not much makeup though, I’d noticed that as I’d walked by at a distance of 15 feet the second time I saw her, just a bit of soft lipstick and a light blush on her cheeks. If this was a trans person, she wasn’t going very ‘hard’ at it- without the dress drawing a bit of attention, almost a ‘girl next door’ look.
Is it usual to consider the sex or status of the people we see in a social context? Are we always looking for the next person to fill our dance card with? Generally, if I see a smile or sometimes if I don’t, I smile and nod to just about anyone, wishing someone good morning or good day is just second nature. With almost any response to that and a conversation sparks up more often than not- and as far as conversations go, I believe every human person has at least a few good stories.
Time to rest.