by lynden with content contribution from alexander
i’m a packrat, or at least i fight packrat tendencies. i was raised to believe that if you saved anything long enough, it would have value at some point, whether monetary or sentimental. i admit it was interesting as a child to look at a sears xmas catalogue from 1970, but you can imagine what our house looked like if things like that were being saved.
my packrat tendencies even manifest in digital forms. i’ve deleted less than five emails since i opened my gmail account (i have a few thousand that are unread, which makes alexander crazy), and i’m constantly close to having the maximum number of text messages and voicemails that my service will allow. i mention this only to bring up the point that it took until this morning for me to receive all the text communication i am about to relate.
this is a prime example of how alexander and i communicate. whenever crazy times are happening or we just find ourselves in a bizarre situation, the phones come out and thoughts are shared. it’s why my world goes silent during the week of burning man.
anyway, here is the string of texts i got last night, divided exactly as i received them:
Well once again Portland surprises me . . . I walked into what I always thought was a small old man gay bar by my work . . Turns out it’s ______, portland’s b
iggest drag club. I feel like I’m in sf sitting here. the btender just told me he’d waive my cover if I hang for the show at 10. The place looks small
from where I always passed it. Turns out that’s the back door and it’s a city block wide with a main entrance i never passed.
Gross part is that the tequila comes out of a soda gun. Gayyyrossssss
Also is that the whole length of the main bar is a grimey fish tank. Like I’m setting my beer actually on a long shallow goldfish tank and it’s kinda gro
ssing me out. Sometimes when they swim by real fast I think there’s a mouse on the bar. It is NOT clean.
I mean goldfish die all the time. How often will there be a belly up fish under my beer and wallet.?
One just pooped.
What’s the word for a drag cane?*
Like a hairy man in a dress with bad saggy boobs and a crooked wig?
I’m having a me night.!! Tell me it’s bad to make out with a mostly toothless but HOT meth head 22 yo from la that’s bumming smokes off me. It’s either
him or the 50yo who love me but smells like the macys colougne department enough to make me sick. Not to mention that of course all portland queens are
really trannys. One is named miss Adam apple. Okayyyyyy
Made out with the tweeker.
*let me explain “cane”. years ago a dear friend and co-worker and i were working on a project when we came across the city kaneohe, hawaii. my friend said “does that say kane hoe?” we laughed until it hurt and “cane ho” quickly became a part of our vocabulary. we decided it meant a ho that needs a cane, i.e. and elderly woman dressed like a total slut. san francisco is full of them, especially the tenderloin.