The Seattle Pride march happens this month and I don’t think I can make it. I don’t having anything to be proud of. I have the look and I have the attitude. I’m lacking any substance. Resembling a cliche doesn’t fill you with all its nougat-y goodness. The culture I discovered last month has a number of factions that would like my attention. Chomping at the bit over what method of destruction I will choose the stench of fresh meat draws the attention of most predators. The advantage I showed up with is not so easily falling sway. Continue reading Pride
