Maura's Illuminated Manuscript

For a few years now I've been hearing about events called Petting Zoo, mainly from the local latex gang. I finally got around to checking it out. TL;DR: A+ would groove with them again.

But first, who the hell are these people? It took me a while to find out, but they're kink-friendly* Burners who are raising money for the Slutgarden theme camp**. The theme was rainbows and unicorns, so as Rubbermaid put it, there were a lot of horny people around***.

Eye candy: first rate. Sweet thangs of all genders showing a lot of skin, in the grandest Burner tradition.

Choonz: very uptempo, in a good way. They had local dyke DJ Trinitron on the decks for an hour plus, and at least a couple of other women who did a good job, so points for that.

Met and chatted up cutie with lots of grey hair. She went grey early, so she's too young. Le sigh. But! Meeting people is good.

Got hit on by a dude, but he's a dude with manners.

A note about the venue: Club Sur has a lot of Latin nights, and Cuban-themed permanent decoration. I get the impression that Club Sur is by and for Latinos except when it isn't. They're also just down the block from the beloved Monkey Loft. I can get there from my place using one bus and no train.



*Several people in puppy gear and of course the aforementioned latex gang attended. And then there was yours truly in head-to-toe leather, which I though was at least adjacent to the fur theme.
**I have a friend who had a bad experience with Slutgarden related to beauty standard enforcement, which is all too common in the bigger theme camps these days. Cf. Robot Heart. I'll discuss this with our mutual friend, Dancer. Pity, really, because last night was the kind of event that got me camping with the Space Virgins back in '07.
***I'll see myself out.

Do any of you remember Much Younger Woman? She's... a highly distinctive individual, boy howdy, and she also lives not too far away from the Blue Moon Tavern. The Blue Moon has its fabulous (and cheap) house music night, DJs in a Dive Bar. I finally succeeded in getting MYW to join me for that.

Much chat. Very groove. Wow. Choonz were drum & bass followed by old-school house. It was a hit with Much Younger Woman.

MYW has been keeping on, and thanked me for basically nagging her into being social; it wasn't the first time I'd tried to get us together there. She's dealing with some health issues in the larger sense, and taking an impressive number of medications. I told her way too much about my circumflatulation plans; I feel comfortable doing that with a member of the greater MOO kroo.

We enjoyed the (ahem) view of sweet young things on the dance floor, a couple of whom made a notable effort to look nice on a Tuesday night, but we were too busy catching up to do any dancing ourselves. It was a good time, and I hope to do it again before too long. Dare I hope that it can be a monthly or bimonthly thing?

The organizers of the Cascadia festival, a local event of bleepy goodness in the summer, put together a miniature version right here in my neighborhood. Splendid! For three nights, they booked two venues a couple of blocks a part and I... bought a ticket for the wrong one last night. And I didn't even realize it until I was on my way home when I walked past the other one. Le sigh.

The tunes? Reggae-influenced and some dubstep. Not really my thing. It surprises me that this was in the bigger, fancier venue (Nectar) and not the smaller one (the High Dive).

Consolation prize: being surrounded by stunning younger women, one of whom was shaking her booty about eight feet (2.5m) in front of me.

I shall have my revenge at the Monkey Loft on New Year's Eve. Oh yes, I shall.

Went to the Blue Moon for bleepy goodness and a chance to hang out with Much Younger Woman, but she bailed due to being in a bad headspace. I found it unreasonably amusing to hear goth standards in the Blue Moon when I showed up, but it got ravier as the night progressed.

There was a costume contest (that I ended up not sticking around for the results of) so of course I wore the more formal version of the Devil Girl outfit. I got to talk to random Xers and local DJ Kadeejah Streets.

One nice thing about going out on school nights: I don't wake up too early the next morning, which I otherwise do often.

Gosh, what have I been doing? When I'm not working, grocery shopping, it seems.

What haven't I done? Gone to the house music monthly that's just down the hill from my house because it's on the first Tuesday. Le sigh. I've moved into a neighborhood full of temptations, but they all have their price.

That's not the only weeknight event I've blown off in recent weeks for either health or sanity reasons, so now I'm ready to collect on that karma do what I usually do in October: party my little white booty off.

Luckily, I have many lined up:

1. A munch tomorrow night. It's a pity it'll be in a place with terrible food, but these are my people, If You Know What I Mean.
2. Brunch with trystbat Saturday!
3. Uwajimaya with Tacoma Girl on Saturday afternoon. I really should get non-alcoholic beverages and non-sushi eats for my Halloween party.
4. Possible outing on Tuesday to the Blue Moon. Hey, it's early doors, cover-free, and the DJ is a FOAF.
5. A Halloween party that isn't mine on the 11th.
6. Latex dinner the 17th.
7. A certain luminary's birthday at Massive on the 18th.
8. Seacompression on the 19th.

Madness!

Oh: I got my free gummint COVID tests in the mail. If you're in the US, order yours if you haven't already.

Friday: hit Trans Pride at the Volunteer Park amphitheater. Attendance was at least as big as last year, but the folks running things seemed to have done a better job of laying out all the booths so that I didn't have to elbow my way through. I also liked the performers that I heard better. The Tickler and I observed independently that Trans Pride is turning into quite the fashion show. It feels weird to say it, but Trans Pride seems to have come of age. (Arguably, it already had in its pre-pandemic march incarnation. That isn't happening anymore because the organizers don't want cops around.)

Saturday: hit the street fair on Broadway, the historical main arterial of Seattle's gayborhood*, Capitol Hill. Went on a successful quest for pasties. Saw Vienna La Rouge, Burner buddy J, and fellow Merc regulars J & K. For me, that's the best part of hanging out on the Hill on Pride weekend.

Tacoma Girl was volunteering at a booth until 1700, at which time we jumped on a train to the U-District, reasoning correctly that eetz would be much easier to obtain there than on Broadway, where the fair was still nearly in full swing. After devouring dinner and perhaps a beer too many at Big Time** we shopped for Korean instant ramen at H Mart. The U District does have its charms.

I took the train down to SoDo and got rained on as I walked to Orient Express, a Chinese restaurant in train cars. And why in the hell would I do a thing like that, you ask? Because a venerable house music monthly, Train Car House Party, was having its very last night. I'd been meaning to go for many years and just never got around to it. So, it was my first & last TCHP.

That venue is so singular that it deserves its own paragraph. The cars TCHP used were basically a dive bar, and I'm not talking the gentrified version of a dive bar that you see elsewhere in Seattle, either. We're talking frank alcoholics, overly strong drinks, some kind of porn on a monitor at the bar (?!), and literal funk; SoDo is still pretty rough around the edges, and I hope it stays that way. The original brass luggage racks were (just barely) still attached in the train car that housed the naturally long and narrow dance floor. I think the house music crowd drove out the down-and-outers at some point, and I'm conflicted about that, boy howdy. I overheard one woman describe TCHP as a soft option, but that option is now gone. Le sigh. I actually liked the choonz, which were supplied by Riz & Rob.

Possibly for the first time in SoDo, I party hopped to the Monkey Loft because promoter Ramiro Gutierrez put me on the guest list! I figured I couldn't refuse an invitation like that. (Or the house music mafia might funk me up?)

Sunday: I didn't even make it out of bed until after noon because I woke up at 0630 and just couldn't face life without more sleep.

SFDs: black Stetson hat, black leather harness, blue silk plus-shaped pasties, my silk-and-leather Pride stripe skirt belt from Astral Chrysalis, leather thong undies so I don't get arrested, black patent Docs, Trans Pride socks so I can say I'm transsoxual, and a whole lot of queer and kinky accessories. Oh yeah: I tied black and gray hankies to the right side of the back of my harness.

Made it to the Seattle Center. Walked and walked an walked, which I figure makes up for the lack of bike ride today. The only person I ran into who I know was, unbelievably, Vienna la Rouge, looking totally casual and makeup-free as I'd never seen her before. Yeah, she's still devastatingly pretty that way. I asked her if there were any sunscreen globs on my back, and she smoothed them out for me. It didn't occur to me until several minutes later that this could be construed as flirting with the most physically attractive woman I know, who happens to be conveniently gay. Aw mayunn, that wasn't what I meant to do.

Went grocery shopping on the way home. Yes, in my hat, harness & pasties. I did laundry, made beans & rice, and took out the bins as usual on Sunday, and I'm still wearing my hat, harness & pasties. I'm really liking them. Happy Pride!



*Pike and Pine streets, which are parallel and one block apart, are perpendicular to Broadway are sort of the secondary main drags. There's actually more gay stuff on or near these two streets. They're collectively called the Pike-Pine corridor. The director of Lambert House once described them to me as a decades-old "shitshow". I know what he means, and he's not completely wrong.
**I used to go there all the time in my student days. The menu has changed a little, but the food and the beer, which they brew, is still right on. Totally a blast from my past.

Funny Lady & I went to the Shameless crew's anniversary party at Massive, which is in the old R Place space. Oddly enough, despite R Place being a gay bar, I never went in there. It's just as well, though, because I've heard that R Place's management, like that of so many clubs, wasn't all that ethical in their dealings with DJs.

But anyway, Massive is three floors, two of which are set up as dance floors. Funny Lady pointed out that the HVAC on the top floor, which has by far the larger dance floor, isn't what it needs to be once lots of people start moving around in it. "We're Florida girls," I said. "We can handle it." And we did. Decor? Super gay neon. Bar staff? Awful purdy boys.

Choonz? Riz Rollins sounded fresher than I've heard from him in a long time. You love to hear it. Honorable mention to Nina Sol of San Francisco, who I'd never heard of before the event announcement.

Crowd? A house music crowd. Shirtless and occasionally harnessed gay boys. (There was a go-go boy with his jock strap stuffed with US dollars, but no go-go girls. Harrumph.) Sharply dressed Black women digging my corset. I was impressed with how many people were there half an hour after doors, i.e. 2230. It wasn't as absurdly packed as Re-bar was at its most extreme, but then again I think Massive's upper dance floor is bigger.

Shallow fashion details: black sheer & velvet top, red & black corset, short red chiffon-ish skirt, red fishnets over black leggings, 14-eyelet black patent Docs. Red accessories, eye shadow, and lips.

Oh! I can't hit the post button without reporting something Funny Lady & I saw while pre-funking at the Wildrose. There was one particular sweet young thing in very short shorts — ah, spring — who had a black handkerchief tied around her right thigh right below the hem of her shorts. Indeed, Funny Lady thought it was a pocket poking out until we saw it from a different angle. I didn't get a chance to confirm this hypothesis, but I think that girl was flagging.

For those of you who don't know, flagging was a system invented by the gay men's leather scene back in the '70s to let each other know at a glance what they're into. Various colors of hankies were worn sticking out of back pockets. (I knew more of the details than FL.) The left was for tops, the right was for bottoms, and each color had a distinct meaning. I've heard of femmes wearing hankies tied to their hair, but other body parts are a new one on me. Our girl wearing a black hanky around her right thigh? Might have something in common with your humble correspondent here. Pity she bounced early.

Pro tip for going to the 'Rose: get the 2-top by the window if you can. Funny Lady agrees that it's the best place for people-watching in the city.

Saturday evening was long: I went to Funny Lady's birthday shenanigans at Optimism Stoup. In the grandest FL tradition, she was over an hour late to her own party. By the time pizza arrived the other guests were morphing into pork chops and drumsticks, Warner Brothers style. And may I say that I miss Optimism's beer selection? Stoup has joined the conspiracy by Big Hops to sell us all IPAs all the time.

Stopped by chez R of namoda & R fame, snarfed his drink tokens, and promised to hang out. I have every intention of keeping that promise.

Made it to Seacompression using only one bus. ¡Viva el Ocho! Local Burners took over Fisher Pavilion and its lawn & roof.

Worthy of note: there were as ever competing sound systems, but Sam Lamb* and I agreed upon the best one. After they called it a night and were hanging out behind their tent, I asked them, "Who are you people?" It turns out they're Sundowners, the South African term for happy hour. Indeed, the ossum DJ who told me this has a South African accent, but he said they're from all over, as such camps tend to be.

So, am I burning with desire to return to Burning Man? I dunno. If I find the right situation I might, but if I have to pick between the Burn and Treffen I'm taking the latter. I've spoken with one Hardwarian, and I'd like to speak with more.

My metro mojo deserted me when I got skeeved upon while waiting for the E home. Ordered a lift that arrived with merciful speed. Yuck.

I so didn't get enough sleep on Saturday night or Sunday morning. I barely managed lunch with the Wendling, the bare minimum of housework, and Lambert House number crunching. I slept eight hours last night but could have easily gotten nine, I think.



*Yeah, that's her real name. I love saying "Sam Lamb". She sells real estate, she cute, she's charming, and she's damnably heterosexual.

At the last minute, the Purdy Persian lent me her car to go to Pride celebrations in Snohomish, WA, a picturesque little town about an hour's drive from Seattle. I don't see eye to eye with her about everything, but I can't help but be impressed with her generosity. And she looks fabulous in a bright yellow maxi with matching lemon wedge handbag.

And why would I want to go to Snohomish Pride? Mainly because Taller Woman volunteered for it. She's undergoing treatment for cancer for the second time since I met her. I, well, figured it would be a Good Thing To Do. The hell of it is, I didn't tell her I was coming and she left early because the incision sites for her most recent surgery were hurting her. But hey, I was there.

And how was it? Well, it was small, naturally, but it was super mellow. Yes, the churchy types were there, but they weren't nearly as nasty as the ones you see in Seattle and I could count them on one hand. There were lots of kids walking around in their Pride colors. I talked to a lady wearing a dress made of banned book covers, and a trans person who'd come from Monroe.

Monroe, another small nearby town, reminds me: Monroe, Arlington, and now Snohomish have all had their first Pride in the last few years. That alone is cause for hope. The mellowness that I saw makes it even better.

One gripe: the parade was at 10:00 AM. Even if I hadn't been dependent on the grace of the Purdy Persian, I would have been loath to hit the road before 0900 on a Saturday. Seattle's parade officially starts at what, noon?

Would I go there again? Wayell, maybe if Taller Woman invited me again, but honestly, I love the big city Pride vibe. We tried to make plans for the day before Pride in Seattle, but our schedules clashed yet again. Rats.

I went to Substation for a hippie ravey night. The bartender told me they'd gotten rid of a bunch of practice spaces to make room for more performance space. I... don't feel good about that. The music? Not bad; it was the Psy Ops crew. But I bus-and-trained it over to the Mercury to get my social on. I gotta love a chat in the alley with a young woman wearing a pig snout. The symbolism was not lost on me.

Was I hoping to see a certain burlesque dancer? Is the pope Catholic? Did I? No. I shall try again later.

Friday, the fellows who cleaned West Neighbors' upper windows offered to do the ones on the north side of my place. You know, half of the ones that aren't safely reachable. I said, "Yes, if you can." They did so, and then didn't come back to my door so I could pay them. I even saw them driving as I was waiting for the bus later that evening. They waved. I... what? Are they going to bill me? Because that's OK.

I had a ticket for Friday night at the Monkey Loft to see Fred Everything, who was, I must say, pretty great: uptempo and jazz-flavored. The man from Montreal can be forgiven for wearing what looked like a black fedora. Much random social, too much booze, and just the right amount of Japanese fried chicken at the Monkey Loft's in-house sushi-and-other-Japanese joint, Saru*. Dude who made the chicken was the only one wearing a mask in the whole place. I... kinda wish they'd opened the roof before I punked out at 0100. Excellent mass transit mojo on the way back.

I had two different fetish events happening at the same time last night, but I didn't try to go to either of them because my body said, "Nope." I only regret that a tiny bit.

Comcast Xfinity has sent me email for the third time that they're about to disconnect my service. I'm most likely going to spend the afternoon on the phone with them instead of going to the Fremont Sunday Market, where I don't really need to spend any more money for a while. If that's salvation, though, I'll take perdition. Why, oh why, can't they get it into their system that my lot got subdivided? It's a common scenario.



*Saru being Japanese for monkey, of course.