Islands of Sun

This Sunday was much like the previous, but sunnier. I was never cold in my short sleeves and I was warmed by friends I’d known for between 15 years and 20 minutes.

San Francisco is a lot like Honolulu in more ways than one would think. Pay no mind to the allegations that San Francisco is attached to some larger body of land, it is an island. It’s true, even if you insist it is an island of its own choosing. And just as any place that is disconnected from the larger world around it, San Francisco is unique. Its geology, architecture, politics, art, history, and current residents reflect and perpetuate its uniqueness.

Like islands are, it’s dirty, too. But all the dirt and grit doesn’t really bother me, as there’s so much other beauty.

On the way up the first significant slope to the God of Biscuit’s house, we passed another house of god where an authentic supposed miracle occurred. But I would never have noticed the church itself, because I was always caught up in the brilliant Christmas-red swaths of fabric looping and draping from the limbs of the giant tree out front.

So sayeth the GoB, a silhouetted image of the virgin Mary appeared in a weathered sign at the little Catholic house. We mused that Mary’s silhouette looked a lot like the shadowy image of the Emperor of the Galactic Trade Federation. And we noted with mock suspicion that we’ve never seen them together... I’m not saying they’re the same person, but of course, no one’s saying they’re not, either.

We drove right past the site of the "miracle" for our current version of church: Beer bust with the bears. Not really bears ourselves, we still find the easiest company with the hirsute jolly men. I nursed a beer or two while they indulged, smooched, and groped. I held hands with men so familiar that I could call them family, and laughed louder than was probably even appropriate. I was assaulted by cigar smoke from one side and pakalolo from another and rather than cringe or crave, I just basked in it all.

I left feeling full. Reinvigorated. Connected.

Head Chef will join me for more of this next weekend, and I cannot wait. The island of San Francisco is holding its gay pride celebration then, and it sounds like the Pink Saturday block party is the biggest attraction of all.

The forecast is for sun. I’m going to hold my Chef’s hand amidst thousands of other island people and just bask and bask.