A Short Evening with Brothers.
I think the odds that I will some day be struck by lightning are slightly higher than average.
This evening was good. It was very good. I have come to realize, over time, that with very few exceptions, there is no pair I'd rather be marauding with than Jonathan and Andrew. Tonight, we went down to enjoy the sights and sounds of Foodstock before Jonathan went over to the Civic for Les Mis. Of course, there was no easy parking for a few blocks, so it began with a short walk.
Walking with my brothers is a separate experience, when we are not communicating in our own bizarre language of movie quotes, song lyrics, inside jokes, and favourite disses, even our body language and the way we walk and move--to say nothing of facial expressions--feels so comfortable familiar and natural, that even our silences do not feel empty or pregnant.
We were feeling amusing tonight, however, so there wasn't much silence at first.
We made it down to Foodstock in good order, just before it began to pour rain, truly pour. At the opening of the heavens, all of the patrons scurried like beetles for shelter. We followed a large portion of the beetles to beneath the mighty columns of One Summit Square. But as we stood there, looking at the soggy whippet faces of the people around us, we realized that we were hungry, we were us, and there was no way we where going to sit there and cower under cover because of a little downpour.
We had decided to go get some food, rain or no, when we heard thunder. That settled it. It was time to get something to eat. So out we went, into the rain, and off to find some quality chow. It is amazing how the decision to face the rain, the change in mindset, changes how you feel. Instead of standing there shivering, we strode through the rain--Andrew might have been strutting--and enjoyed every second of it.
There are two attitudes one can take when facing rain. You may decide to hide from it, or you may greet it as welcome. A simple change of mind, and even Booey, who had been looking grim--like a disgruntled wet hen--under cover, now was grinning as the water ran down over his face. We ordered overstuffed shrimp po-boys, the sun came out, and we exalted at having ordered before the crowds came back out of hiding. Po-boys in hand, we went to find a place to sit and eat, which we did, only then regretting that not one of us had thought to bring napkins.
Our food devoured, we realized that we still had plenty of time before Jonathan had call, so we decided to go to Starbucks. Mundane normal happenings, right? Wrong! Did I not tell you? Walking places with your brothers is not like walking places with other people, and walking to Starbucks is even better, because where you are going is really exciting!
Downtown was also quite the place to walk through--back and forth, multiple times--on this particular evening, because there were many sights to see. People. So many people. People we knew. People we knew not. People, at whose visages one could only say, hell no. There were a few primary strains. The leftover downtown presence left from Pride, the usual food truck contingent, the normal downtown people, and the Rock the Plaza people. While all of them can be interesting to watch, getting to watch them all at once--on the same streets--is even better. Note: Food truck peoples have better ink than Plaza peoples.
We finally walked our way down to the Civic--none of my usuals were in Freimann--bid adieu to the second born, and Dogmeat and I made our lonely way back to get Whip n' Chill.
I am already well accustomed to bald jokes.
But I think I was going to make some point about the rain. Oh yes.
Dogmeat and I, once upon a not so terribly long ago, sat out in the middle of a thunderstorm, just to watch it go by. We of course remained low to the ground, and would have gone in had the lightning strikes been too close, but we were kind of enjoying having the storm to ourselves. Since then, this has been just one more part of our crazy brother code, and it has even caught with Jonathan. When the storm drives all others under cover, we go out to greet it. We are odd creatures of tradition and custom, and it may some day get me struck by lightning, but it is part of the way we relate to each other, part of our own queer language, and I don't think I am likely to give it up.
This evening was good. It was very good. I have come to realize, over time, that with very few exceptions, there is no pair I'd rather be marauding with than Jonathan and Andrew. Tonight, we went down to enjoy the sights and sounds of Foodstock before Jonathan went over to the Civic for Les Mis. Of course, there was no easy parking for a few blocks, so it began with a short walk.
Walking with my brothers is a separate experience, when we are not communicating in our own bizarre language of movie quotes, song lyrics, inside jokes, and favourite disses, even our body language and the way we walk and move--to say nothing of facial expressions--feels so comfortable familiar and natural, that even our silences do not feel empty or pregnant.
We were feeling amusing tonight, however, so there wasn't much silence at first.
We made it down to Foodstock in good order, just before it began to pour rain, truly pour. At the opening of the heavens, all of the patrons scurried like beetles for shelter. We followed a large portion of the beetles to beneath the mighty columns of One Summit Square. But as we stood there, looking at the soggy whippet faces of the people around us, we realized that we were hungry, we were us, and there was no way we where going to sit there and cower under cover because of a little downpour.
We had decided to go get some food, rain or no, when we heard thunder. That settled it. It was time to get something to eat. So out we went, into the rain, and off to find some quality chow. It is amazing how the decision to face the rain, the change in mindset, changes how you feel. Instead of standing there shivering, we strode through the rain--Andrew might have been strutting--and enjoyed every second of it.
There are two attitudes one can take when facing rain. You may decide to hide from it, or you may greet it as welcome. A simple change of mind, and even Booey, who had been looking grim--like a disgruntled wet hen--under cover, now was grinning as the water ran down over his face. We ordered overstuffed shrimp po-boys, the sun came out, and we exalted at having ordered before the crowds came back out of hiding. Po-boys in hand, we went to find a place to sit and eat, which we did, only then regretting that not one of us had thought to bring napkins.
Our food devoured, we realized that we still had plenty of time before Jonathan had call, so we decided to go to Starbucks. Mundane normal happenings, right? Wrong! Did I not tell you? Walking places with your brothers is not like walking places with other people, and walking to Starbucks is even better, because where you are going is really exciting!
Downtown was also quite the place to walk through--back and forth, multiple times--on this particular evening, because there were many sights to see. People. So many people. People we knew. People we knew not. People, at whose visages one could only say, hell no. There were a few primary strains. The leftover downtown presence left from Pride, the usual food truck contingent, the normal downtown people, and the Rock the Plaza people. While all of them can be interesting to watch, getting to watch them all at once--on the same streets--is even better. Note: Food truck peoples have better ink than Plaza peoples.
We finally walked our way down to the Civic--none of my usuals were in Freimann--bid adieu to the second born, and Dogmeat and I made our lonely way back to get Whip n' Chill.
I am already well accustomed to bald jokes.
But I think I was going to make some point about the rain. Oh yes.
Dogmeat and I, once upon a not so terribly long ago, sat out in the middle of a thunderstorm, just to watch it go by. We of course remained low to the ground, and would have gone in had the lightning strikes been too close, but we were kind of enjoying having the storm to ourselves. Since then, this has been just one more part of our crazy brother code, and it has even caught with Jonathan. When the storm drives all others under cover, we go out to greet it. We are odd creatures of tradition and custom, and it may some day get me struck by lightning, but it is part of the way we relate to each other, part of our own queer language, and I don't think I am likely to give it up.
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