NetNews Usenet Archive 1993 #3/NN_1993_3.iso/spool/soc/motss/58898

Text File | 1993-01-28 | 5.0 KB | 93 lines

Newsgroups: soc.motss
Path: sparky!uunet!think.com!spdcc!joe
From: [e-mail] (Joseph Francis)
Subject: Imaginary San Francisco (Re: Places to stay in SF)
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Keywords: things to see people to do, fun fun fun
Organization: S.P. Dyer Computer Consulting, Cambridge MA
References: <[e-mail]>
Distribution: ca
Date: Thu, 28 Jan 1993 14:18:14 GMT
Lines: 80

In article <[e-mail]> [e-mail] (Steven Myers) writes:
>Can any of you good people from San Francisco give me some suggestions
>on where to stay when visiting your fine land?  A friend and I are are
>planning a weekend jaunt by plane from LosAngeles.  This is his first
>time up north I think.  I've visited once, but didn't get to go out at
>all.  We're looking for someplace resonably prices (for boys on a
>budget) and hopefuly close to the clubs and stuff.  I hear you people
>don't use cars like we do in LA. So I'm curious if we should skip the
>rental car counter.  Also, any suggestions for places to go, or things
>to see?  We'd like to go see "beach blanket babalon".  For anyone
>familiar with the SoCal club scene, our taste in clubs runs towards
>The Rage, Revolover, Studio One, The Probe, Ripples, The BoomBoom
>Room.

You arrive at the airport, and dozens of youngish men with cute
earrings are wandering around in clusters of two and three, all
wearing naturally sunbleached Levi's, Black Reeboks, Black Poloshirts
with tiny red embroidery. A few have orange-lined green bomber
jackets, usually the one with high-top timberland boots. There are
also an army of women in pairs and trios, all smiling knowingly at
each other, dressed in casual pastel-coloured natural fibre clothing,
sporting a wide variety of snappy haircuts. The sound system is
playing soothing melodies by Kitaro.

You take an express bus into the city, the driver being a chunky yet
fashionable bear with a clearly visible coke-can cock nestled in his
shrink-fitted chinos, bristly hair poking out from the neck of his
Pendleton shirt. "Hello" he mouths.

You arrive somehow on Castro, where wandering here and ther, like
mayflies, handsome men of a variety of ages smile and wave at each
other, speaking in low, seet tones, kissing, all dressed in
comfortable, no-nonsense industrial jumpsuits, well-worn jeans, supple
leather,bright-eyed and busy tailed. The restaurants are remarkably
inexpensive, and serve a variety of nutritious and filling morsels -
miniature baked potatoes stuffed with tofu and green chiles, organic
apple pie tarts with non-dairy creme fraiche, mildly alcoholic
pineapple/guava coolers, and shockingly, no non-smoking signs are even
to be seen - no one smokes so it isn't necessary!

The stores are stocked full of very unique yet timeless men's
fashions, all at totally reasonable prices, interior furnishings, the
latest intellectual paperbacks, one breathes and delights in the
atmosphere of progressive, smart, queer lifestyle.

Going out is fabulous. Huge crowds of the most attractive men you've
ever seen in your life, who never having grown tired of seeing the
same faces in the small town always are happy to see each other, kiss,
hold hands, and in general promote an atmosphere of camaraderie where
even a sweater-wearer in a Leather bar is treated as a brother. You
and your friend are cruised, but with total consciousness that you are
a couple. The people like to build egos, and you find yours really
pumped. No wonder this is a gay mecca! A few police come in one bar,
and far from being nervous, the crowd applauds them, and the police in
turn buy a round for the house. During a quiet moment, a few young
well-built men (though they seem like virtually any of the other men)
spontaneously climb on a bar and start gogo dancing, refusing all
offers of tip money from the crowd. The do it for pleasure only - what
a blast this lifestyle is! Why, all the bars have oaken casks full to
the brim with condoms and lubri-pacs for free so anyone with love in
mind has to look no further than their pocket for less risky sex aids.

Later, much later in the evening, crowds of men and women roam the
streets, giving out the collected bar tip money for the evening to the
burnt-out homeless, in many cases unlocking their cars so the homeless
can sleep covered for the evening. Most people take one or two home,
since so few people in San Francisco have polution-causing cars.

Sigh. The last few strains of a Kitaro lute piece are fading as you
arrive back at the airport, fond memories of the evening spent with
Kent and Geoff with sweaty, no-shirt dirty dancing, and the sparkling
night afterwards making chemical-free totally reciprocal and balanced
four-way love in their Pacific Heights penthouse, my god, they both
had rock-hard stomachs and those huge horse-cocks! That was the
evening before they left to go work the next morning for the lesbian
and gay planned parethood clinic.

Sigh! If only those damn epicycles had worked; Galileo was a jerk!
--
US Jojo; damp, slighly soiled, but tasty nonetheless.