Category: Ink

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The Illustrated Man (NSFW)

He took his shirt off and wadded it in his hands. He was covered with Illustrations from the blue tattooed ring about his neck to his belt line.

"It keeps right on going," he said, guessing my thought. "All of me is Illustrated. Look." He opened his hand. On his palm was a rose, freshly cut, with drops of crystal water among the soft pink petals. I put my hand out to touch it, but it was only an Illustration.

As for the rest of him, I cannot say how I sat and stared, for he was a riot of rockets and fountains and people, in such intricate detail and color that you could hear the voices murmuring small and muted, from the crowds that inhabited his body. When his flesh twitched, the tiny mouths flickered, the tiny green-and-gold eyes winked, the tiny pink hands gestured. there were yellow meadows and blue rivers and mountains and stars and suns and planets spread in a Milky Way across his chest. The people themselves were in twenty or more odd groups upon his arms, shoulder, back, sides and wrists, as well as on the flat of his stomach. You found them in forests of hair, lurking among a constellation of freckles, or peering from armpit caverns, diamond eyes aglitter. Each seemed intent upon his own activity, each was a separate gallery portrait.

—Ray Bradbury, The Illustrated Man

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Oh. My. (NSFW)

I don't get the mask (like your "legitimate" employer isn't going to recognize your distinctive tattoos), or the cap in the shower, or the fact that the "pitcher" is actually a "catcher" in this instance, but I can fully endorse the, um—thrust—of this photo set.

[Source]

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Some Snaps of San Francisco Pride Sunday from Years Past

1986

This was my first parade. We (my tribe) weren't even living in SF yet, but like so many others, we flew up specifically to attend.

1987

This was our first parade as full-fledged San Francisco residents.

Your host. (I was never that young.)
Lee and Tom
Alan
Kenny (yellow) (RIP) and Jim (blue) (RIP)

1988

This was the year the parade reversed direction because of light rail construction downtown, forcing the parade to start in the Castro and end at the Civic Center instead of starting at the base of Market Street. My dad—along with James, a longtime friend—flew up from Tucson to attend.

Kevin (RIP)
Lee and Tom
Tim and Alan

Your host

Kevin (RIP)

Jim (RIP)

1989

Continuing the previous year's route because track work was still going on downtown, the parade once again started in the Castro. This year my dad (who had relocated to the bay area during the previous year) and my mom were there.

Diana and Alan
Frank
Lee

I only discovered years later this contains a picture of a future boyfriend, Rory, the guy on the right carrying the flag.

1990

The energy of the parade this year—returning to it's original route moving up Market Street to the Civic Center—was off. I don't know if it was just me (I'd been going through some romantic troubles) or if it was the fact it was—for a second year in a row—completely overcast, but my heart just wasn't into it. In fact, I think I lingered only for about 90 minutes before returning home.

Barry
Some dude I regularly played with at a certain venue downtown…

1991

Back in a party mood after whatever had gotten me so down the year before, I headed downtown with every intention of getting as many photos of hot guys as I could. Overall I think I did a pretty good job.

1992

This would be my last parade, despite the fact I think that overall it was my  best, photographically speaking. Ironically, my attitude the following year and every one thereafter was "I mean really, how many photos of hot guys at the parade can one take?" so I never attended one again. Plus, the beginning of my attitude that "there are so many more interesting things about me than the fact I'm gay" was beginning  to take hold and I didn't feel the need to continually announce it to the world and was entering a period of when I was over the whole gay thing. I was slowly turning into what I dreaded: "a jaded, tired old queen living up on the hill." (Although living up on the hill wouldn't happen for several more years.)


Your host

Alan

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I Don't Care…

…if Jordan is gay, bi, straight, questioning, non-binary or whatever. He's damn pretty and ticks all the boxes.

Work it while you've got it, boy—because it ain't gonna last forever.