I took some careful forethought before approaching Maggie with the subject of June 30th being the two year anniversary of Shane's death. Part of me wants a day to grieve my loss and experience that with others; part of me wants that day to be a celebration of living a vital existance. So yesterday afternoon, I sat down with Maggie and broached the subject as the day is nearing. My original idea for a picnic at Flat Rock has been nixed in favor of something considerably more energetic and happy. Instead of that, Maggie wants to go to Atlanta and take part in the closing day of Gay Pride
weekend. We're going to be there for the Pride March from the Civic Center down Peachtree Street and into Piedmont Park. And, as fate would have it, being that at some point or other the universe has
to smile on us now and then, I come to find out who is headlining the concert for closing day of Pride Week... none other than my dear friend Jennifer Nettles
. This is definitely a good idea. Great energy, complete inhibition, freedom to do pretty much ANYTHING you want to do, and the opportunity to see some of the most completely fucking outlandish shit you've N E V E R
seen before I'd venture to guess. Imagine Mardi Gras with 70% less drunk people and 85% less garbage, and beautiful bodies in various stages of drag and undress, leather, rubber, feathers, you name it - and it's all free. You gotta figure that 300,000+ queers know how to get together and throw a party that completely stops the fucking city... Hell, who wouldn't want to see them all marching on foot and parade float in front of the First Baptist Church of Atlanta when Sunday morning services let out? Every cookie-baker within miles is shielding their kids eyes, the kids are like "Whoa! What is THAT
all about?", and the fags and dykes are chanting in unison "2-4-6-8, how do you know your kids are straight?".
I went many, many years ago for no other reason than I had to see it all for myself. That year the Indigo Girls headlined and I found myself a week later on the cover of Etcetera Magazine
standing there in the front row, surrounded by every variety of dyke & lesbian imaginable. It was incredible. There was an adrenaline there you could smell.
Anyone who was originally interested in going to the park for a picnic, the plans have changed - and I'd love for any and/or all of you to come instead to Atlanta for this most unusual of days where you can have an opportunity to have your senses overloaded and leave thinking "THAT was just insane... when is the next one?".
Hmmm... Now if only I believed in any of that horse shit...