It’s finally spring. It’s finally fucking spring! Where there was gray slush, now are leaves, dog poo, and what looks like phlegm. Once frozen park benches are now warm under bottoms of the malodorous drunken homeless and of chicos on their cell phones. And I… put on a dress. Maybe because it reminds me of my Catholic school uniform days, or because I crave a little breeze around otherwise mostly covered parts… I love wearing skirts. Paired with my man boots, a pretty flowy dress puts a smile on my face and makes me feel most comfortable. Comfortable enough to take a stroll around town, deep in gay thoughts, not minding if I look like a retard.
There are two songs I’m compelled to listen to, back to back, during my two hour outdoors adventure with the doggie: Sister Hazel’s “All for You” and Blues Traveler’s “Run Around.” I don’t know why. I don’t own any other songs by either, though I enjoyed the whole of the Blues Traveler’s live show at Lollapalooza a couple years back. Nevertheless, I got the pink harness and retractable leash on little Tori and off we were to the park.
She went about her usual business of eliminating all her body’s disposable drops of water on many different spots, marking virtually ALL territory, and rolling around in god knows what. She needs a bath anyway, I’m pretty sure there’s still a faint skunky funk left on her fur.
As for me, I chased her a little, threw sticks she ran in the direction of, but never managed to retrieve, checked my emails and then turned up the volume. With Sun rays recharging my brain, penetrating my skin and warming up chest, arms, and legs that no longer need artificial layers, I smiled. And then I started to sing. A couple of the chicos looked at me funny, so I walked away. Away from them and the homeless and the cute Asian family having a picnic, and the grandpa taking a stroll with his tiny tyke, and the kids passing time, circling around on their bikes. I went to the other side of the park where I hoped no one would hear me, and I sang lyrics to these optimistic and silly little tunes that, in conjunction with the Sun, helped me pause time on happy, careless, and perhaps slightly dumb mode. No matter.
I turned the volume way up and I couldn’t tell how loud I was, but I could feel the openness of my throat and the plentiful air brushing my vocal cords. I walked around some more, chasing the dog, taking some pictures, and still singing.
It’s too nice out for laundry, vacation packing, the mechanic, air conditioning or even to sit here, longing for something I should be finding out there.