I leaned over the bar waiting for the bartender to run my card. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed an older guy on my right, looking at me. “Let me see that.” he said making a gesture toward my right hand and I dutifully held the hand up so he could see the ring better. It never really fit and I turned it so the sparkles were on top where they‘re supposed to be, where I could see them again.
“Wow. I noticed that thing trying to blind me.” he explained his staring, though I noted the ring was not on my ass where his eyes had lingered the longest. “That’s some ring.” he observed and I looked at it and waited for it to blind me but it didn’t then just as it never had.
I thanked him. It seems if you have a big rock dangling off one of your fingers, a man will mention it as though their acknowledgement that you’re owned makes it okay for them to start a conversation. Like if you see a car you like and want to peek under the hood you better at least nod to the guy signing the lease.
He lifted his glass up and pushed it through the air toward me saying “cheers” and then “it’s your turn”
I said nothing, not knowing what he meant. He repeated himself “It’s your turn.” I smiled at him, unsure what he wanted from me other than possibly my ass. I didn’t know if he meant it was his turn to receive a compliment or if he realized I had taken something I didn’t have any right to or if he just didn’t notice I didn’t have a drink to lift and clink with his.
He turned to the bartender and raised his voice the way he had his glass, in good cheer “have you seen this ring, Jesse? Can you believe she’s married?” Jesse nodded and smiled as a bartender does, always multitasking and she handed me the credit slip.
“I’m not married.” I told him and he appraised me with his eyes.
“You wear the ring, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” and I shrugged, handing the slip with my signature on it back to Jesse and lifting a limp hand to let my fingers flutter as I turned to go. “But it doesn’t wear me.”
“It’s your turn.” he insisted as I walked out.
And it is. I’m going to take it. And I'm taking my ass with me.
June 30, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
My Head
I’ve been pulled to the edge. I’ve been pushed there. I’ve been blindfolded and tricked there. I’ve tip toed to the edge all on my own and looked out into the big wide empty. I’ve pulled others there. Pushed them there. Begged and screamed on my knees, waving my arms and pleading that they see there. It’s only you that thinks of what snacks we should bring. It’s only you that encourages me to have a seat so we can dangle our feet. It’s only you already there, letting me be there with you. Unless that's me. Unless that's all in my head.
It’s not what we can see, though it sure helps if we like what we do see.
It’s what we CAN’T see that draws us in and fucks with our heads. Its...
The empty places where we can sketch in what we want to see.
The nooks we shove our hope in next to all the shimmer and glimmer that caught our eye.
The shinier the better . The more reflective the more easily we can see ourselves there.
No, not our whole self… some better self or other version of self.
Just don’t lose your head.
June 29, 2009
It’s not what we can see, though it sure helps if we like what we do see.
It’s what we CAN’T see that draws us in and fucks with our heads. Its...
The empty places where we can sketch in what we want to see.
The nooks we shove our hope in next to all the shimmer and glimmer that caught our eye.
The shinier the better . The more reflective the more easily we can see ourselves there.
No, not our whole self… some better self or other version of self.
Just don’t lose your head.
June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
When it Happens
It doesn’t matter how long you’ve waited for the axe to drop. It doesn’t matter that your hands are tied and your knees ache so much you’ve been wishing for the searing release of the blade. It doesn’t matter that you’ve tried to gain distance from the masked man holding the heavy instrument of doom. It doesn’t matter that the crowd that gathered to watch isn’t even paying attention anymore. When it happens you’re surprised. When it happens you look down at your body and ask it why it didn’t move, ask it who it is. When it happens you’re shocked all over again that he’d rather remove your head than take off his mask.
June 28, 2009
June 28, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Before the State of Emergency (a prequel)
He got the call just after one of those naps that doesn’t help. “Hello” my brother nearly growled into the phone before he was inundated with her chirpy bubbly voice. She used a mutual friends’ phone to call. He never would have answered with her name in the caller id.
“Do you know who this is?” she demanded cheerfully, the way only an ex from hell can pull off. Unbelievable, that she was calling him after so many years. He had gone out of his way to avoid her all this time and then a week or so before had accidentally run into her. Feigning an inability to recognize her didn’t fly and he knew it was just a matter of time after that unfortunate event before Smelly Kelly would contact him.
“Yes.” he admitted. “What are you calling for, because it’s your birthday?” he asked her with that gruff and gravelly mask worn over his voice. And it was her birthday.
He doesn’t know why he agreed to go over there. “free beer” he said and he even insisted that was it until finally he admitted the possibility of getting laid did occur to him. Still, when he arrived he was glad he brought his own twenty-four ounce of Coors (the tall boy) because they were drinking Miller genuine draft, a beverage that tears his insides up.
Of course, after having the Coors, the Miller wasn’t looking too bad after all so he went ahead and had five or six of those which led him to complain…. “Hey Smelly! I don’t like Miller.” he told her. She went and got Coors.
By that time the rest of the birthday party had left and he was alone with Smelly Kelly. Now, my brother isn’t necessarily any more intuitive about women than the next guy but when she took a shower and came out wearing only a robe before disappearing into her bedroom and then summoning him to join her he had to know what she was after. After walking in the bedroom and finding her buck naked and sprawled wide open on the bed in front of him no doubt remained. Two things: Smelly Kelly was drunk and Smelly Kelly wanted him, wanted him bah’ud. He stood there, leaning on the door frame, frozen in hesitation and finally he wandered over and got in the bed with her.
Nothing happened. “I wasn’t drunk enough” he told me. I think it was all part of his revenge plot. They hung out in bed awhile and he managed to achieve the level of drunk required to bed such a lady… only by this time SHE wasn’t drunk enough. And I imagine she was a little pissed off.
***************************************
I must interrupt myself right here. Tyler just said, rather sweetly “don’t make her sound dirty”
Ahahahahahahah that motherfucker is the one who TOLD me this story!! He said it like I’m making this shit up!!!! Ahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahah!
“Besides, I did bring her a birthday present” he added. “A corona hat with a corona t-shirt that I bought for her four years ago. It’s been sitting there waiting for her in my closet.”
No. He won’t tell me the story of the break up. Clearly, it was ugly and painful.
********************************************
Feeling the sting of rejection Kelly finally asked “Are you going to go out on the couch or am I?”
“Well, I’m not getting on the couch so I guess you are.” he had the nuts to insist.
AND SHE DID!!! She got up and walked out of HER bedroom, leaving a guy DRUNK ON HER DOLLAR sleeping in HER bed… ON HER BIRTHDAY!!!!
That wasn’t enough for Tyler. Nope. Next morning he was up with the birds as usual and … the Miller had it’s way with his bowels. I won’t torture you with the details the way he tortured me.. Suffice it to say that the bathroom was made into a toxic war zone.
He was feeling guilty enough about that to straighten up some of the mess from her birthday party when she woke up and began screaming from the bathroom that someone had used her bathroom before her. That’s when he smoked half a pack of her cigarettes and made her give him bus money to get home.
Why am I telling you guys this???? BECAUSE HE WANTS TO CALL HER!!!!!!!!!
Am I the only one that thinks that’s a really BAD idea??? Also, a total waste of candy??
June 23, 2009
“Do you know who this is?” she demanded cheerfully, the way only an ex from hell can pull off. Unbelievable, that she was calling him after so many years. He had gone out of his way to avoid her all this time and then a week or so before had accidentally run into her. Feigning an inability to recognize her didn’t fly and he knew it was just a matter of time after that unfortunate event before Smelly Kelly would contact him.
“Yes.” he admitted. “What are you calling for, because it’s your birthday?” he asked her with that gruff and gravelly mask worn over his voice. And it was her birthday.
He doesn’t know why he agreed to go over there. “free beer” he said and he even insisted that was it until finally he admitted the possibility of getting laid did occur to him. Still, when he arrived he was glad he brought his own twenty-four ounce of Coors (the tall boy) because they were drinking Miller genuine draft, a beverage that tears his insides up.
Of course, after having the Coors, the Miller wasn’t looking too bad after all so he went ahead and had five or six of those which led him to complain…. “Hey Smelly! I don’t like Miller.” he told her. She went and got Coors.
By that time the rest of the birthday party had left and he was alone with Smelly Kelly. Now, my brother isn’t necessarily any more intuitive about women than the next guy but when she took a shower and came out wearing only a robe before disappearing into her bedroom and then summoning him to join her he had to know what she was after. After walking in the bedroom and finding her buck naked and sprawled wide open on the bed in front of him no doubt remained. Two things: Smelly Kelly was drunk and Smelly Kelly wanted him, wanted him bah’ud. He stood there, leaning on the door frame, frozen in hesitation and finally he wandered over and got in the bed with her.
Nothing happened. “I wasn’t drunk enough” he told me. I think it was all part of his revenge plot. They hung out in bed awhile and he managed to achieve the level of drunk required to bed such a lady… only by this time SHE wasn’t drunk enough. And I imagine she was a little pissed off.
***************************************
I must interrupt myself right here. Tyler just said, rather sweetly “don’t make her sound dirty”
Ahahahahahahah that motherfucker is the one who TOLD me this story!! He said it like I’m making this shit up!!!! Ahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahah!
“Besides, I did bring her a birthday present” he added. “A corona hat with a corona t-shirt that I bought for her four years ago. It’s been sitting there waiting for her in my closet.”
No. He won’t tell me the story of the break up. Clearly, it was ugly and painful.
********************************************
Feeling the sting of rejection Kelly finally asked “Are you going to go out on the couch or am I?”
“Well, I’m not getting on the couch so I guess you are.” he had the nuts to insist.
AND SHE DID!!! She got up and walked out of HER bedroom, leaving a guy DRUNK ON HER DOLLAR sleeping in HER bed… ON HER BIRTHDAY!!!!
That wasn’t enough for Tyler. Nope. Next morning he was up with the birds as usual and … the Miller had it’s way with his bowels. I won’t torture you with the details the way he tortured me.. Suffice it to say that the bathroom was made into a toxic war zone.
He was feeling guilty enough about that to straighten up some of the mess from her birthday party when she woke up and began screaming from the bathroom that someone had used her bathroom before her. That’s when he smoked half a pack of her cigarettes and made her give him bus money to get home.
Why am I telling you guys this???? BECAUSE HE WANTS TO CALL HER!!!!!!!!!
Am I the only one that thinks that’s a really BAD idea??? Also, a total waste of candy??
June 23, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
State of Emergency
“So you don’t want me to just come get you tonight and you could stay over?” I asked over the phone.
“I need to get laid, tonight.” my brother said plainly and I laughed at his candor.
“State of emergency?” I asked wryly.
“You don’t understand!” he complained “You have it easy.”
“What the hell makes you think that?” I snorted.
“And being broke just makes it harder.” he went on. “It’s next to impossible to get laid without any money if you’re a guy.” There was a pause in the conversation while we each took a drag and exhaled together.
“It’s cool though.” He recovered his sense of humor. “There’s a jar of old candy around here somewhere. Girls like candy, right?” He did a voice, “You want a piece of candy, sweetheart?” I guffawed appreciatively.
“Too bad you don’t have a van. You could throw a cooler in it, sell ice cream and pick up girls. My gawd. I just solved all your problems!”
“I know! Not driving doesn’t help either. But with some cash I can at least treat a girl to a nice ride on the city bus.”
“Stop! I can’t breathe! Where do you usually take them?”
“Oh I don’t know. A movie or something. I prefer to get them drunk.” he said. “But candy might do the trick.”
“You’re going to be just fine, ya know that? You‘re funny. Girls love funny. You‘re going to be fine.”
“I’d be better if I could get laid.”
“Were you talking about that nasty hard candy collection Mom’s been dusting for five or ten years?”
“yeah.” he sheepishly admitted.
“Maybe you can find one that’s already drunk.” I suggested rather helpfully. “But don’t poison her with that shit candy. Funny won‘t save your pretty blue eyed ass in jail.”
June 22, 2009
“I need to get laid, tonight.” my brother said plainly and I laughed at his candor.
“State of emergency?” I asked wryly.
“You don’t understand!” he complained “You have it easy.”
“What the hell makes you think that?” I snorted.
“And being broke just makes it harder.” he went on. “It’s next to impossible to get laid without any money if you’re a guy.” There was a pause in the conversation while we each took a drag and exhaled together.
“It’s cool though.” He recovered his sense of humor. “There’s a jar of old candy around here somewhere. Girls like candy, right?” He did a voice, “You want a piece of candy, sweetheart?” I guffawed appreciatively.
“Too bad you don’t have a van. You could throw a cooler in it, sell ice cream and pick up girls. My gawd. I just solved all your problems!”
“I know! Not driving doesn’t help either. But with some cash I can at least treat a girl to a nice ride on the city bus.”
“Stop! I can’t breathe! Where do you usually take them?”
“Oh I don’t know. A movie or something. I prefer to get them drunk.” he said. “But candy might do the trick.”
“You’re going to be just fine, ya know that? You‘re funny. Girls love funny. You‘re going to be fine.”
“I’d be better if I could get laid.”
“Were you talking about that nasty hard candy collection Mom’s been dusting for five or ten years?”
“yeah.” he sheepishly admitted.
“Maybe you can find one that’s already drunk.” I suggested rather helpfully. “But don’t poison her with that shit candy. Funny won‘t save your pretty blue eyed ass in jail.”
June 22, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Simplicity
Simplicity appeals to me only in the sense that I simply want what I want when, where and how I want it. And I want it now.
Yes it is simple. Just fucking give it to me.
I’m on that same old rope again, that place between mechanical resolve and wanting to rip my skin off. I’m always here I just feel it today., feel all the inbetweens and not enough and too fucking bads.
There’s a moment when your body is heavy and pressing into me, when your want looms over the mirror of my body. A moment when the wires are shredded and the jagged nerves don’t lead to complete thought, when I can disappear in the hole with you. I love it emphatically for approximately as long as it takes for you to fill and empty me. And then I hate you/me/we.
Yes it is simple. Just fucking give it to me.
Simplicity appeals to me only in the sense that I simply don’t know what I want or when or how to give it to me. Simplicity is me filling your hole and hoping the reflection might shimmer over my own. And I hate you for it.
June 19, 2009
Yes it is simple. Just fucking give it to me.
I’m on that same old rope again, that place between mechanical resolve and wanting to rip my skin off. I’m always here I just feel it today., feel all the inbetweens and not enough and too fucking bads.
There’s a moment when your body is heavy and pressing into me, when your want looms over the mirror of my body. A moment when the wires are shredded and the jagged nerves don’t lead to complete thought, when I can disappear in the hole with you. I love it emphatically for approximately as long as it takes for you to fill and empty me. And then I hate you/me/we.
Yes it is simple. Just fucking give it to me.
Simplicity appeals to me only in the sense that I simply don’t know what I want or when or how to give it to me. Simplicity is me filling your hole and hoping the reflection might shimmer over my own. And I hate you for it.
June 19, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Naked Bike Ride Part One
Yesterday was the World Naked Bike Ride here in Portland Oregon. And yeah. I was there perched on a borrowed bike averting my eyes and peddling with the rest of them. It’s my sister who got me into this.
“You’re coming, right?” she asked anxiously over the phone. “Everyone has bailed are you coming? You’re going to ride, right? Naked? You‘re going to be naked? RIGHT? I‘ll go alone but it would be nice to know at least one of the naked people!”
See Deon has been talking about the Naked Bike Ride for a year. She is an avid cyclist. She rides to work. She rides to play. Sometimes she rides all the way out to Corbett to see me. That’s almost twenty miles for those of you wondering. So she had to do it, had to join her fellow cycle nuts in shedding her clothes to demonstrate a cyclists vulnerability on the road. She had to peddle along in a celebration and example of their solidarity against our reliance on oil. And she needed me there with her, a witness and a partner in crime.
“I’m wearing underpants.” I told her. “I’m not rubbing my lady parts raw. Not even for the environment. Those parts are for pleaszuuuure, Deon”
“I might wear panties too.” She said. So it was decided. Over the week we discussed possible costuming ideas. A halo and wings? A feather boa and long socks? As always it’s all about accessories. You ladies know what I’m talking about. And when you’re going to be NAKED… well, the accessories only gain importance. In the end we decided naked was enough, naked spoke loudly enough, naked was the statement and that was all we had to say.
We headed downtown around nine with two bicycles crammed in the rear space of my car. I managed the bridge without hyperventilating and breezed into a parking garage without a problem. We were planning to meet Sock’s Mate at McFadden’s for some pre-ride drinks as she had VIP status which meant $2.00 drinks until 10:00 pm. Well you know what that means folks, drunk Dew by 10:15 pm. Sock’s Mate had me request Footloose and then it was balls to the walls dancing time until suddenly (couple hours later?) Deon is dragging me out of the club so we can fetch the bikes. There were a couple naked people riding around already and we panicked thinking we were late or something and ran to the car.
Yes RAN! Me! Running!
After getting the bicycles out of the garage we just rode down along the waterfront and followed the blinking red rear lights on other bicycles. The streets away from old town were quiet and peaceful, it was dark and a pleasant temperature, conditions were perfect. But …Perfect for a naked bike ride?
This might be the spot to mention I have not been on a bicycle for more than ten feet in …. well fuck let’s go with five years. I remember a little baby in the carrier in the back and it was not my current baby. Also even when I rode, I was not one of those… cyclist people. I didn’t’ ride with traffic. I didn’t ride with strangers. So, I don’t know the etiquette. We passed some cyclists on our way to the meet up point, they’re clearly going where we are and we’re right next to them…. So I would say stuff as we passed. You know, just “tallyho!” or “good evening” or I would tease people. This guy goes by me like he thinks maybe he’s in a race or he’s going to miss the naked and I hollered after him “hey there look at speedy Gonzales” and he laughed and peddled faster so I said “I don’t even know how to change gears! Just so’s ya know!”
*shrug*
We were getting close to the address. More and more cyclists were coming out of the side streets all around us and then we glided around a soft curve and…. Saw the biggest crowd of naked people with bicycles EVER.
In the first moments all you see is naked. You’re taking stock of your environment and everywhere your eyes land it’s naked. And you think BREASTS! And your eyes scamper off so as not to be staring and then, PENIS!! And no matter what you do or where you look it’s a big sea of ASS! Resting adorably on the bicycle seats. And overwhelmingly it’s flesh. Flesh everywhere.
June 14, 2009
“You’re coming, right?” she asked anxiously over the phone. “Everyone has bailed are you coming? You’re going to ride, right? Naked? You‘re going to be naked? RIGHT? I‘ll go alone but it would be nice to know at least one of the naked people!”
See Deon has been talking about the Naked Bike Ride for a year. She is an avid cyclist. She rides to work. She rides to play. Sometimes she rides all the way out to Corbett to see me. That’s almost twenty miles for those of you wondering. So she had to do it, had to join her fellow cycle nuts in shedding her clothes to demonstrate a cyclists vulnerability on the road. She had to peddle along in a celebration and example of their solidarity against our reliance on oil. And she needed me there with her, a witness and a partner in crime.
“I’m wearing underpants.” I told her. “I’m not rubbing my lady parts raw. Not even for the environment. Those parts are for pleaszuuuure, Deon”
“I might wear panties too.” She said. So it was decided. Over the week we discussed possible costuming ideas. A halo and wings? A feather boa and long socks? As always it’s all about accessories. You ladies know what I’m talking about. And when you’re going to be NAKED… well, the accessories only gain importance. In the end we decided naked was enough, naked spoke loudly enough, naked was the statement and that was all we had to say.
We headed downtown around nine with two bicycles crammed in the rear space of my car. I managed the bridge without hyperventilating and breezed into a parking garage without a problem. We were planning to meet Sock’s Mate at McFadden’s for some pre-ride drinks as she had VIP status which meant $2.00 drinks until 10:00 pm. Well you know what that means folks, drunk Dew by 10:15 pm. Sock’s Mate had me request Footloose and then it was balls to the walls dancing time until suddenly (couple hours later?) Deon is dragging me out of the club so we can fetch the bikes. There were a couple naked people riding around already and we panicked thinking we were late or something and ran to the car.
Yes RAN! Me! Running!
After getting the bicycles out of the garage we just rode down along the waterfront and followed the blinking red rear lights on other bicycles. The streets away from old town were quiet and peaceful, it was dark and a pleasant temperature, conditions were perfect. But …Perfect for a naked bike ride?
This might be the spot to mention I have not been on a bicycle for more than ten feet in …. well fuck let’s go with five years. I remember a little baby in the carrier in the back and it was not my current baby. Also even when I rode, I was not one of those… cyclist people. I didn’t’ ride with traffic. I didn’t ride with strangers. So, I don’t know the etiquette. We passed some cyclists on our way to the meet up point, they’re clearly going where we are and we’re right next to them…. So I would say stuff as we passed. You know, just “tallyho!” or “good evening” or I would tease people. This guy goes by me like he thinks maybe he’s in a race or he’s going to miss the naked and I hollered after him “hey there look at speedy Gonzales” and he laughed and peddled faster so I said “I don’t even know how to change gears! Just so’s ya know!”
*shrug*
We were getting close to the address. More and more cyclists were coming out of the side streets all around us and then we glided around a soft curve and…. Saw the biggest crowd of naked people with bicycles EVER.
In the first moments all you see is naked. You’re taking stock of your environment and everywhere your eyes land it’s naked. And you think BREASTS! And your eyes scamper off so as not to be staring and then, PENIS!! And no matter what you do or where you look it’s a big sea of ASS! Resting adorably on the bicycle seats. And overwhelmingly it’s flesh. Flesh everywhere.
June 14, 2009
Naked Bike Ride Part Two
We parked our bikes and climbed off. We began shedding clothes. First the sweat shirt. Then the jeans… I tried pulling my jeans off over my hot pink old school vans. They’re smallish shoes so I really thought it was doable but I only got one leg free and then hopped around in my underpants like a maniac trying to get loose and finally Deon had to help by pulling the pant leg back up and I had to take a shoe off after all. Then the t-shirt and the bra found their way in the basket alongside Deon’s rear tire as well. And then there I was, standing in the industrial area of downtown Portland in nothing but black underpants and tennis shoes.
“I’m taking my underwear off.” Deon stated in a bold surge of self-empowerment. “I kinda wish I hadn’t shaved. Do you think I look like a whore?” She scampered to mount her bike quickly.
Already back on my bicycle (I needed a prop!) I side-longed Deon… naked on her bicycle. “No. You do not look like a whore.”
“Don’t look down!” she advised me. So of course I did. And then right back up again. There wasn’t anywhere TO look. Me almost naked on my bike… my sister buck naked on her bike. Thousands of naked people around us on their bikes. I mentioned the flesh thing, right?
It’s amazing. We’re all… fleshy. I mean sure there are differences but mostly as you sit there and your skin gets used to all the air on it and you adapt to the idea that people might be seeing you naked. You also adapt to seeing them naked. Before long you’re just hanging out. Naked. Conversation revolved around the waiting. It was like any other event I’ve attended, concerts, sports games, the dmv, just people… waiting for something…..not talking about how naked they are.
Lots of people were in some form of costume or another. The theme for this year was Where The Wild Things Are so there was plenty of fur underpants and all manner of animal print. Many had been to the pre-party and had body paint all over themselves. There were messages “Ass powered!” or “Oil Freedom!” There were tattoos and body piercing and wings and glitter. There were socks in every length and tutus on men and women and even some masks. All kinds of bikes were there, the kind you sit to peddle, the tall kind you need a parked car to climb on and ride, tandems, off road, racing, anything you can imagine, some of them decorated. There were people on skateboards, long boards. Any human powered form of transportation is welcome.
This might be a great spot for some advice for the folks thinking “hot damn I’m going to do that next year” and hopefully certain individuals I cannot name will hear the news and next year will be better. For the love of holy nudity people…. Take a shower! Naked does not mean smelly! You’re allowed to wear deodorant! The BO!! We hadn’t even started yet! Also…. Lint. If you have hair in your ass crack…. Dear gawd I hope that was lint. I cant even go on… also for the man wearing the hair shirt…. Right on theme man. Right on.
Around this time a couple of naked men climbed on top of a mini school bus and further excited everyone. There were fists pumping in the air and roars from the crowd and grins all around at their shenanigans. “The helicopter” … “Oh my - doesn’t it look like an elephant..” etc.. Some other naked man decided to try and climb a building.. Some “ooohs” erupted but everyone politely looked away when he sort of skidded his front down the bricks back to the ground. People around us were making naked jokes. “Better get my helmet on! Safety first!” coming from a naked cyclist. “Does anyone have the time?” directed at a giant mob of nudists is rather funny as no one is wearing a watch.
We were all ready to go. We had seen enough naked to be bored with it. Really. That soon. I saw two very nice racks. I saw lots of cold penis. I saw many shapes …. And sizes. I saw hair and hairless. I saw every shade of skin. I saw nipples in every assortment. I saw bellies and backs and cracks galore. It was time to take the show on the road for gawd sake!
June 14, 2009
“I’m taking my underwear off.” Deon stated in a bold surge of self-empowerment. “I kinda wish I hadn’t shaved. Do you think I look like a whore?” She scampered to mount her bike quickly.
Already back on my bicycle (I needed a prop!) I side-longed Deon… naked on her bicycle. “No. You do not look like a whore.”
“Don’t look down!” she advised me. So of course I did. And then right back up again. There wasn’t anywhere TO look. Me almost naked on my bike… my sister buck naked on her bike. Thousands of naked people around us on their bikes. I mentioned the flesh thing, right?
It’s amazing. We’re all… fleshy. I mean sure there are differences but mostly as you sit there and your skin gets used to all the air on it and you adapt to the idea that people might be seeing you naked. You also adapt to seeing them naked. Before long you’re just hanging out. Naked. Conversation revolved around the waiting. It was like any other event I’ve attended, concerts, sports games, the dmv, just people… waiting for something…..not talking about how naked they are.
Lots of people were in some form of costume or another. The theme for this year was Where The Wild Things Are so there was plenty of fur underpants and all manner of animal print. Many had been to the pre-party and had body paint all over themselves. There were messages “Ass powered!” or “Oil Freedom!” There were tattoos and body piercing and wings and glitter. There were socks in every length and tutus on men and women and even some masks. All kinds of bikes were there, the kind you sit to peddle, the tall kind you need a parked car to climb on and ride, tandems, off road, racing, anything you can imagine, some of them decorated. There were people on skateboards, long boards. Any human powered form of transportation is welcome.
This might be a great spot for some advice for the folks thinking “hot damn I’m going to do that next year” and hopefully certain individuals I cannot name will hear the news and next year will be better. For the love of holy nudity people…. Take a shower! Naked does not mean smelly! You’re allowed to wear deodorant! The BO!! We hadn’t even started yet! Also…. Lint. If you have hair in your ass crack…. Dear gawd I hope that was lint. I cant even go on… also for the man wearing the hair shirt…. Right on theme man. Right on.
Around this time a couple of naked men climbed on top of a mini school bus and further excited everyone. There were fists pumping in the air and roars from the crowd and grins all around at their shenanigans. “The helicopter” … “Oh my - doesn’t it look like an elephant..” etc.. Some other naked man decided to try and climb a building.. Some “ooohs” erupted but everyone politely looked away when he sort of skidded his front down the bricks back to the ground. People around us were making naked jokes. “Better get my helmet on! Safety first!” coming from a naked cyclist. “Does anyone have the time?” directed at a giant mob of nudists is rather funny as no one is wearing a watch.
We were all ready to go. We had seen enough naked to be bored with it. Really. That soon. I saw two very nice racks. I saw lots of cold penis. I saw many shapes …. And sizes. I saw hair and hairless. I saw every shade of skin. I saw nipples in every assortment. I saw bellies and backs and cracks galore. It was time to take the show on the road for gawd sake!
June 14, 2009
Naked Bike Ride Part Three
Up ahead we finally saw the sea of nude begin to undulate in a way that made us think it might be go time. The drum section of a marching band was there to see us off and the drums began the rat a tat let’s move beats. People hurriedly got themselves situated on the bicycles and placed a foot on the peddle, ready to start the ride. Then we all shuffled forward awkwardly with our bicycles under us trying to avoid scuffing anyone’s vulnerable bare skin. Slowly we were able to actually mount our bikes and peddle as we made it past the drums and they nearly knocked my off my bike with a ginormous drum roll as I passed them.
This giant crowd of naked cyclists was bottlenecking out onto the street and already there were people on the sidelines cheering us on. Someone started a chant “LESS GAS MORE ASS! LESS GAS MORE ASS” and the crowd shouted along with them. There were police blocking traffic and the usual chirps and siren wails that go along with that, and then finally… the open road.
We all peddled furiously, so pleased to finally be moving. Flesh in motion, muscles in use, naked went mobile into the streets. And it was glorious. I really do love bike riding. Topless doesn’t take away from that. I did keep thinking something was on my lower back…. I was right - it was my hair. It really is getting pretty long. And I gotta tell ya - it kept my nipples warmer than they would have been otherwise.
Everyone was smiling as we cruised through mostly quiet streets with only a few well wishers on the sidelines here and there. People were giddy with nudity. People were joyful about having the street all to ourselves. People were high on the night air whispering along all their naked bits. There were some “WOOOOO!”s and titters and over all I would describe this part of the ride as carefree summer fun.
Around then we made our way to 23rd, known to be a college types “cool” street with bars and a nightlife. The sidewalks were overflowing with drunk people cheering and offering high fives. The road slopes up so we were all focused on making it up the hill. (naked people straining in public!) I didn’t know how to change the gears on the bike so I had to stand to make it but most of the riders are experienced and probably would have rathered die than stand on their peddles in front of the gawking throngs alongside us. We were able to maintain our pace and Deon and I agreed that when you’re naked and people are staring there’s really only one thing to do and that is to smile.
There must have been some naked drama… we passed a naked man being lifted off the pavement onto a stretcher and I don’t think I care to know what happened to that brave soul. Imagining the road rash is enough for me. I spotted someone’s underpants abandoned on the street and wondered if they were lost willingly. People on the sidelines were beginning to shed their clothes, ladies in bras and couples casually standing arm and arm buck naked with drinks in their hands. And everywhere, absolutely everywhere were cameras. Every tom dick and harry has a motherfucking camera these days. I assured Deon we were likely nothing more than a blur of pixels but there were professional cameras too. One man had a tripod for fucks sake. “Smile for me sweetheart.” someone pleaded and I flipped him the bird on my way by only to receive cheers.
Thankfully we turned and started down hill on Burnside heading for the heart of downtown nightlife. And I do mean down hill. Hair streaming out behind us we blasted down one of the busiest streets downtown alongside cars parked with people hanging out their windows laughing with their jaws dropped as thousands of naked cyclists flew past, many of them with squealing breaks and tiny tinny bells ringing.
Periodically I would lose Deon and try to find her amongst other people… difficult when everyone is nude. Then I would find her behind me and she would grin and wave and I would say “There’s my naked sisser.” and we’d continue on. Until the stopping started.
June 14, 2009
This giant crowd of naked cyclists was bottlenecking out onto the street and already there were people on the sidelines cheering us on. Someone started a chant “LESS GAS MORE ASS! LESS GAS MORE ASS” and the crowd shouted along with them. There were police blocking traffic and the usual chirps and siren wails that go along with that, and then finally… the open road.
We all peddled furiously, so pleased to finally be moving. Flesh in motion, muscles in use, naked went mobile into the streets. And it was glorious. I really do love bike riding. Topless doesn’t take away from that. I did keep thinking something was on my lower back…. I was right - it was my hair. It really is getting pretty long. And I gotta tell ya - it kept my nipples warmer than they would have been otherwise.
Everyone was smiling as we cruised through mostly quiet streets with only a few well wishers on the sidelines here and there. People were giddy with nudity. People were joyful about having the street all to ourselves. People were high on the night air whispering along all their naked bits. There were some “WOOOOO!”s and titters and over all I would describe this part of the ride as carefree summer fun.
Around then we made our way to 23rd, known to be a college types “cool” street with bars and a nightlife. The sidewalks were overflowing with drunk people cheering and offering high fives. The road slopes up so we were all focused on making it up the hill. (naked people straining in public!) I didn’t know how to change the gears on the bike so I had to stand to make it but most of the riders are experienced and probably would have rathered die than stand on their peddles in front of the gawking throngs alongside us. We were able to maintain our pace and Deon and I agreed that when you’re naked and people are staring there’s really only one thing to do and that is to smile.
There must have been some naked drama… we passed a naked man being lifted off the pavement onto a stretcher and I don’t think I care to know what happened to that brave soul. Imagining the road rash is enough for me. I spotted someone’s underpants abandoned on the street and wondered if they were lost willingly. People on the sidelines were beginning to shed their clothes, ladies in bras and couples casually standing arm and arm buck naked with drinks in their hands. And everywhere, absolutely everywhere were cameras. Every tom dick and harry has a motherfucking camera these days. I assured Deon we were likely nothing more than a blur of pixels but there were professional cameras too. One man had a tripod for fucks sake. “Smile for me sweetheart.” someone pleaded and I flipped him the bird on my way by only to receive cheers.
Thankfully we turned and started down hill on Burnside heading for the heart of downtown nightlife. And I do mean down hill. Hair streaming out behind us we blasted down one of the busiest streets downtown alongside cars parked with people hanging out their windows laughing with their jaws dropped as thousands of naked cyclists flew past, many of them with squealing breaks and tiny tinny bells ringing.
Periodically I would lose Deon and try to find her amongst other people… difficult when everyone is nude. Then I would find her behind me and she would grin and wave and I would say “There’s my naked sisser.” and we’d continue on. Until the stopping started.
June 14, 2009
Naked Bike Ride Part Four
Riding along on your bicycle naked or mostly naked, costumed or not is a lark. Sitting on your bike waiting for the crowd of butt crack resting on bicycle seat ahead of you to inch forward one spoke turn at a time with nothing on you but leering eyeballs is awkward. You have to make conversation. You have to acknowledge the onlookers. You have to hear what they’re saying about you and your fellow rebellious buddies.
I’m not sure what exactly the hold up was. Some waiting is expected when there’s a gap in riders and the police blocking side traffic let a few cars go through but this was ridiculous. I think the planners just had no idea how many riders there would be this year. They’re trying to make Portland’s the biggest Naked Bike Ride in the world. Problem is the onlookers. In the past it seemed rather lucky to happen to be out on the night naked people ride by on bikes. Now it seems people are planning to be there and watch but the police are not numerous enough to run a naked parade. The bars must have been empty ‘cause everyone was out watching us and rather than stay on the sidewalks they were out in the street leaving those of us naked on bikes a very narrow space to navigate. So there we were with our bikes between our legs slowly inching along through mobs of drunk people.
The majority of the people on the sidelines had great attitudes. Many shed their clothing on the spot and a few joined us mid route, their bare feet slapping along on the pavement along side us. Only a few were genuinely out of line. Passing through the “gay area” I ended up parked next to a gentleman who asked where the nice looking dicks were and I had to break the bad news about temperatures. He grinned and said I was his favorite. Somewhere along the way one of Portland’s bicycle rickshaws joined us with a naked driver and a naked man standing in the cab performing for onlookers and taking pictures when he wasn’t holding the camera in front of his dick.
The nice gentleman just ahead and to the right of me was told he was “cute” - not a good thing when naked I think. I assured the onlooker that he’s undoubtedly a grower not a shower and remarked on the cold temperature. I think he was grateful. A woman lunged out in front of Deon and asked her to smile for a picture saying, “You’re doing it right, girl!” Deon obliged with her camera smile. A pair of rowdy boys informed Deon and I that we were the best looking girls there, and that that was no small thing. I accidentally made eye contact with a guy staring at me intently and he shouted “You! You’re the one! I love you!” making as though he might come and get me. I took a sudden interest in the stuffed gorilla strapped to the back of the naked man directly in front of me.
We started to get cold. Lots of people gave up and parked their bicycles on the sidewalks and began to get dressed. Some sequined socialites cut us off by crossing in front of us when we were actually starting to move and one of them excused herself saying “sorry we really need to get through here” all snotty the world is mine tone and I said “right. ‘cause you’re naked.” Cold Dew is cranky Dew. Ms. Hot Stuff turned back, her angry face creasing her heavy make up. I gave her a hard stare and watched her eyes start at my sneakers, slide up my bare legs, over my black boy short underpants, on up over my belly and skirting nervously over the place my hair rested over each nipple and back to my smirk. She decided to move along. And good thing! Half naked throw downs get ugly fast, friends! Besides I know what she saw when she looked at me. She saw that clearly the world is mine.
June 14, 2009
I’m not sure what exactly the hold up was. Some waiting is expected when there’s a gap in riders and the police blocking side traffic let a few cars go through but this was ridiculous. I think the planners just had no idea how many riders there would be this year. They’re trying to make Portland’s the biggest Naked Bike Ride in the world. Problem is the onlookers. In the past it seemed rather lucky to happen to be out on the night naked people ride by on bikes. Now it seems people are planning to be there and watch but the police are not numerous enough to run a naked parade. The bars must have been empty ‘cause everyone was out watching us and rather than stay on the sidewalks they were out in the street leaving those of us naked on bikes a very narrow space to navigate. So there we were with our bikes between our legs slowly inching along through mobs of drunk people.
The majority of the people on the sidelines had great attitudes. Many shed their clothing on the spot and a few joined us mid route, their bare feet slapping along on the pavement along side us. Only a few were genuinely out of line. Passing through the “gay area” I ended up parked next to a gentleman who asked where the nice looking dicks were and I had to break the bad news about temperatures. He grinned and said I was his favorite. Somewhere along the way one of Portland’s bicycle rickshaws joined us with a naked driver and a naked man standing in the cab performing for onlookers and taking pictures when he wasn’t holding the camera in front of his dick.
The nice gentleman just ahead and to the right of me was told he was “cute” - not a good thing when naked I think. I assured the onlooker that he’s undoubtedly a grower not a shower and remarked on the cold temperature. I think he was grateful. A woman lunged out in front of Deon and asked her to smile for a picture saying, “You’re doing it right, girl!” Deon obliged with her camera smile. A pair of rowdy boys informed Deon and I that we were the best looking girls there, and that that was no small thing. I accidentally made eye contact with a guy staring at me intently and he shouted “You! You’re the one! I love you!” making as though he might come and get me. I took a sudden interest in the stuffed gorilla strapped to the back of the naked man directly in front of me.
We started to get cold. Lots of people gave up and parked their bicycles on the sidewalks and began to get dressed. Some sequined socialites cut us off by crossing in front of us when we were actually starting to move and one of them excused herself saying “sorry we really need to get through here” all snotty the world is mine tone and I said “right. ‘cause you’re naked.” Cold Dew is cranky Dew. Ms. Hot Stuff turned back, her angry face creasing her heavy make up. I gave her a hard stare and watched her eyes start at my sneakers, slide up my bare legs, over my black boy short underpants, on up over my belly and skirting nervously over the place my hair rested over each nipple and back to my smirk. She decided to move along. And good thing! Half naked throw downs get ugly fast, friends! Besides I know what she saw when she looked at me. She saw that clearly the world is mine.
June 14, 2009
Naked Bike Ride Part Five
We were all happy to be done with Old Town and get cruising again. A man on a bike behind me said “There’s 405 let’s just hit the road and never stop!” I asked if he would tow me or if he maybe had some pegs on his bike I could stand on. He and his lady friend both offered to pull me. Naked Bike People are Good People. After that he popped some naked wheelies and though we called him a show boat we loved it just the same. Around then a guy on a skateboard came alongside us and we all talked about how he was doing the same work as we were except he had to do it with only one leg so he went ahead and did some tricks too. I was a little frightened for him, I’ve spent enough time with skateboarders to know how often they actually land a trick. (almost never!)
At one of the side streets some bicycle people were stopping traffic to let us through rather than police officers. A woman got out of her car to confront the guy. “You have to let us through! We have been sitting here for fifteen minutes watching naked people. Enough is enough!” she argued and we laughed and waved. Semi trucks honked long and loud, either as a show of support or in anger at having to wait, we don’t know which. And then, at last the naked throng came into view again.
We had arrived at the end. Nobody got dressed. People just stopped and stood there with their naked and their bikes. Deon and I managed to maneuver to the edge and put our kick stands down. Pabst beer was being passed around and I kept getting hit with the smell of marijuana. I could tell we were amongst feral hippies though I didn‘t actually smell any patchouli. Must have worn off on the ride. One of the warehouse type buildings around us was the location of the after party, a naked dance fest Deon and I decided not to attend. It was already two in the morning, we both had to pee badly and I was starving having only had a granola bar (THANK YOU SOCKS MATE!) since lunch.
So amid protest from those around us we dressed ourselves and I discovered my bra had gone missing from the basket on Deon’s bike along the way. Why someone wanted to steal my fucking bra is beyond me unless some boobless girl saw my sister and thought “Those look exactly the right size, I’m stealing her bra!” but I’m rather annoyed about it. We climbed back on our bikes and rode all the way back where we started so I could drive her home and then drive me home all the way to Corbett.
At Deon’s we unloaded the bikes and checked out the pics on her camera. “This would be a great shot of you if there wasn’t that ginormous fat man in the frame.” Deon lamented.
“you must be joking that‘s what MAKES it an awesome shot” I argued. “Though I’m not loving my nipples on your memory card.” I added.
“I DON’T WANT TO SEE THAT!” our brother (the babysitter) exclaimed, horrified. Deon and I shared a meaningful glance regarding his maturity and inability to handle nudity, wizened after our wild night.
All in all I give a big thumbs up to World Naked Bike Rides and I’ll see you there next year. Course I’m buying a seat pad. And a bell. (and a black bra. But that’s for everyday use.)
June 14, 2009
At one of the side streets some bicycle people were stopping traffic to let us through rather than police officers. A woman got out of her car to confront the guy. “You have to let us through! We have been sitting here for fifteen minutes watching naked people. Enough is enough!” she argued and we laughed and waved. Semi trucks honked long and loud, either as a show of support or in anger at having to wait, we don’t know which. And then, at last the naked throng came into view again.
We had arrived at the end. Nobody got dressed. People just stopped and stood there with their naked and their bikes. Deon and I managed to maneuver to the edge and put our kick stands down. Pabst beer was being passed around and I kept getting hit with the smell of marijuana. I could tell we were amongst feral hippies though I didn‘t actually smell any patchouli. Must have worn off on the ride. One of the warehouse type buildings around us was the location of the after party, a naked dance fest Deon and I decided not to attend. It was already two in the morning, we both had to pee badly and I was starving having only had a granola bar (THANK YOU SOCKS MATE!) since lunch.
So amid protest from those around us we dressed ourselves and I discovered my bra had gone missing from the basket on Deon’s bike along the way. Why someone wanted to steal my fucking bra is beyond me unless some boobless girl saw my sister and thought “Those look exactly the right size, I’m stealing her bra!” but I’m rather annoyed about it. We climbed back on our bikes and rode all the way back where we started so I could drive her home and then drive me home all the way to Corbett.
At Deon’s we unloaded the bikes and checked out the pics on her camera. “This would be a great shot of you if there wasn’t that ginormous fat man in the frame.” Deon lamented.
“you must be joking that‘s what MAKES it an awesome shot” I argued. “Though I’m not loving my nipples on your memory card.” I added.
“I DON’T WANT TO SEE THAT!” our brother (the babysitter) exclaimed, horrified. Deon and I shared a meaningful glance regarding his maturity and inability to handle nudity, wizened after our wild night.
All in all I give a big thumbs up to World Naked Bike Rides and I’ll see you there next year. Course I’m buying a seat pad. And a bell. (and a black bra. But that’s for everyday use.)
June 14, 2009
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