We're heading downtown for Pride Weekend/Anniversary festivities. It's very warm and smoky and yet I have heart-shaped pasties of pale pink shiny sticker-tape, boys-size tighty-whities tie-dyed in pastel rainbow bursts, knee-high pink socks with bunny heads covering each knee, Ruth's Heelys, my own pink velvet backpack and enough glitter painted in my hair/on my skin to be seen from space. Daniel says I'm his masterpiece, as I finally relented to let him decorate me for this annual Vancouver holiday. Usually I go and watch. This year I'm going to dance.
No pictures. I have teenagers I'm not about to embarrass, but also friends I'm not about to let down.
This outfit is surprisingly comfortable.
(Lochlan packed my green docs in case the Heelys get the best of me. They will, probably before I make it to the truck.)
(You wouldn't BELIEVE the shit I'm getting away with now that Burning Man is off the table.)
(I don't actually mind nudity though I've never done it for free before. Lochlan says everyone will be brasher so...uh...okay. You should see him. I won't even describe him. You won't miss him if you're on Davie tonight though. Holy Christ. We all look weird and downright magnificent. Love is loud leaving this house tonight. Love is loud.)