'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,

slowly coming to today

I'm slowly coming to, and I'm slowing coming to the day. Either way it works.

If I get the pup, of course, the luxurious laziness will be gone for a long time. But I do without it most days of my life, and I ain't married to it.

Last night I went to the queer chorus's fundraiser Halloween dance party at the Zal Gaz Grotto. Getting inside that building, after driving by it hundreds of times, I found it disappointingly ordinary, compared to what I was imagining in the little lodge hall (exposed stone, altar-type spaces/constructions, ritual sacrifice equipment, etc.). But it was a decent place to throw a party, with a bar in a second room. A couple of jovial pirates were making it a party wherever they went. They even got a smile, eventually, out of the house bartender. And the one regular Grotto guy at the bar, an older fellow, sat calmly all night through various displays of queerness and conversational references to sexual practices outside the vanilla.

Many in the crowd had gone all-out with the costumes, doing the subculture proud, I'd say. It's our holiday, you know. Us and kids. I went as Less Than Top Chef. The one item I bought for the outfit was the haphazard hair net. Alas, finer details of the artfully placed stains on my chef's jacket were lost in the low lighting.

It's quite possible, I acknowledge, that one costume may have been designed at least partially as a nose-thumbing toward yours truly. Sounds paranoid, no? Well the theory did have to be suggested to me, though I'd immediately seen the connection to a less-than-glorious dating moment in my sorta recent past. But whatcha gonna do. I cop to the insensitivity of my faux pas, and have copped to it to her.

In general at the gathering, as far as I saw, the lesbian drama was sprinkled lightly, seasoning the event with an authentic taste true to the cuisine but not overwhelming to the palate, thereby not ruining the overall balance of flavors on the plate. Then afterwards bigfinedaddy and I hung out at the IHOP until we were both barely able to keep our eyes open.

Now I leave you with some former Zal Galz for your Sunday (or whenever) pleasure:

title card

Zaz Galz I Zaz Galz II

Zaz Galz III

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