the ocean

Chicago's Pride Parade was today. This year I observed the occasion by going to the gym, making myself some avocado toast, and hanging out on the roof with Ian and the dogs. Nary a shot was ingested, and although I did briefly have my top off, it was only because I got it dirty while gardening. Needless to say, shit got pretty wild.

I actually don't think I've been to the parade for like five years now? Maybe longer? Definitely pre pandemic. I think there was a year or two when they didn't do it because it's definitely a disease carrier. There was also a year when I'd just gotten back from six weeks in Texas for a trial and all I wanted to do was lie in my own bed for like a week straight. But back in the day it was definitely an annual event for me. My friends would have a party near the parade route, where I could alternate between screaming for the ABC7 float or the Dykes on Bikes (likely brought to you by some mutual fund) and soaking up air conditioning while mixing alcohols that did not belong together. Inevitably I'd inhale the greasiest Mexican food available and pass out by 8ish. It was a triumphantly misspent youth.

But, I have to say, I don't really miss it much. There's something to be said for remaining functional, at least inasmuch as I ever truly am. And if I'm going to eat 2000 calories of something, I'd at least like to be able to remember it the next day. Plus, reading outside on a nice day is pretty amazing. Top on or top off.