Final week…I can do this, I think. Doug, God bless him, returned from Nashville with two boxes of Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. It is damn near impossible not to love him for that.

Break out the tank tops, the rainbow flags, the freedom rings, the pecs, and the drugs. Gay Day is coming to San Francisco. Market Street will be magically converted into a giant disco. This is the weekend every gay commercial institution in the city lives for. There will be dance clubs running pretty much twenty-four hours a day, gay pride massage specials, and attractive four-color flyers all over town showing the buff disco boys and rainbow colors (that’s ink…not skin…) which are the absolute definition of “Gay San Francisco”.

Big fuckin’ deal.

OK…I’ll admit that Pride Weekend is no more or less commercialized than any other major urban street fair. I can get past the fact that two of the biggest sponsors are breweries and a third is a distillery (although an email correspondent quips “don’t fags ever buy GROCERIES?”). I can ignore the bars and businesses along the parade route which suddenly sprout heretofore unseen rainbow flags for the weekend. They’re seizing an opportunity to make a quick buck, whic not a bad thing in itself.

I’m not even worried about the “freak show” the media will portray. Frankly, they usually showcase a level of humor and diversity of thought which is often sadly underplayed in the actual monotony of the parade. Contrary to popular belief, the parade is neither a celebration of perversion nor a demonstration of strength and diversity. It’s not really anything but a long and usually boring procession of bar floats, politicians, and “people with labels”.

So what is this “pride” thing anyway? I know it’s an unpopular notion, but is one’s sexual orientation anything to be proud of, per se? Granted, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, either. Nor to be hidden. But does “being gay” automatically confer a sense of community on those to whom it happens? I don’t think so. Frankly, I find that I have very little in common with my “community”; maybe I missed the ceremony…

Yes, it is true that gay people are discriminated against every day and in many ways. Equal rights legislation and a change in prejudiced attitudes are absolutely necessary. But, contrary to the “groupthink” inherent to the SF parade, gay white men are not the most oppressed group on the face of the planet. Especially not in San Francisco. And let’s face it: Pride Weekend here (and in New York and Los Angeles) is largely about professional gay white men.

Perhaps in some smaller cities and towns, there’s some validity to the notion of a gay parade to promote a sense of visibility and community. But in San Francisco, the whole event is about throwing a big party and showing off how beautiful and buff and out and gay we all are. And making a buck.

I’m in favor of partying, although Pride Weekend doesn’t provide a lot of opportunities which are to my liking. I’m usually in favor of making a buck too. But let’s not delude ourselves into thinking that this thing has anything much to do with “community”.

So celebrate on…just make sure you know WHAT you’re celebrating.

Tonight was fun…really…Worked all night completely alone. My help didn’t show up; we’re assuming miscommunication. I’m not really sure what day it is now. Or if I should be sleepy…

Then there was the intense yupster, who — upon being told that his order would take 45 minutes to complete — replied “Screw you. I’ll go some place else.” I thanked him profusely for this decision. As he left, I suggested a few places he might go. I don’t think he heard me. It’s probably best.

The day from hell (part one, I guess…) Fifteen hours of unloading boxes, moving heavy objects, and trying to piece together a schedule for the weekend. I hit double-time around 6PM. It’s amazing how much one group of people can accomplish when working in panic mode. Of course this is the theme most central to the success of the service inustry today: too few people doing too much work in an environment of constant interruptions and insane and unreasonable customers.

Having a job is cutting into my free time and I’m not at all happy about it! OK, I’m actually pretty happy to be doing some temp work which will allow me to continue my “sabbatical” for several more months. But I’d forgotten how much working nine or ten (or more) hours a day hampers the ability to do the really important things, like updating the site, responding to mail, downloading dirty pictures, etc. I haven’t had time to write one negative and cynical word about gay people, evil drugs, or San Francisco’s lack of reality in weeks…

No specifics on the temp gig yet; that’ll come later. You may be surprised (or somewhat horrified) to learn the source of my newfound income, but things are going well.

A few random words:

• San Francisco at 5AM (which I experienced this morning for the first time in recent memory) is as horrifying — and as strangely beautiful — as I remember. The crazy people sleeping in Carls Jr. at 7th and Market…the parking meter vandals on Clay Street…the career alcoholics waiting for the liquor stores to open at 6…the swarm of severely over-achieving yuppie scum already speeding down Bush Street toward the Financial District…I can’t honestly say that I’ve missed this, but it was a nice change of pace.
• How is it possible for EVERY street between Nob Hill and South of Market to be “under construction” at the same time?
• A nice 3AM romp in the fog of Ocean Beach with someone you really didn’t expect to be “romping” with is a wonderful antidote to the rare moment when Sodom-by-the-bay turns into Sauna-by-the-bay, as was the case this weekend. This is how I managed to be smiling Monday morning when I should’ve still been in bed. This would also explain the abundance of sand in my room.
• Even the Alice B. Toklas Gay and Lesbian Democratic Club (which should know better) has urged me to vote to allow the city to throw away $100 million on a new stadium and mall. The 49ers have threatened to relocate to Los Angeles if I don’t. Why am I so unconcerned?

It’s past my bedtime now…