Things are back in motion.
Tonight I hung out with a friend of mine I haven't seen in a while. He's a Deaf guy from California who works as a mechanic. Anytime we get together, he always has some turn of phrase or perspective or two cents that I leave thinking about for the next few hours if not days. Tonight was no exception.
For the record, while it may be stating the obvious: People who only hang out with people who look and were raised like themselves, and monolinguals, miss out on everything. Lord knows the world could do with less of the people who cling to their linguistic and physical mirror images and then want to talk about "diversity" and "diverseness of perspective".
(pause)
Today involved dealing with a lot of sexual harassment. Pretty heavy handed shit, too. Some guy rubbing his cock at me on the bus. A dude thanking me for his boner. Fucking obscene ass shit. All the while the only skin that was showing were my face and my hands. Leave it to their imaginations.
(Of course, it wouldn't matter how much skin was showing. Fuck that slut-shaming crap and keep it in your pants.)
On a humorous note, as I waited for my friend to show up at the bar, a woman pointed at me and then approached me telling me that her and her husband both like women. Her husband, as it turned out, was the man I kept eyeing thinking that he was Damian Jurado. Turns out, he's not. I'm so bad at these pale, bulldog-faced men in stubble and plaid shirts. There's so many of them out here.
(pause)
One of the first interpreting situations I experienced at the company I most recently worked for was with a man who kept telling me that I looked like Eartha Kitt from Batman. It was both deeply complimenting and, deeply, well, odd: If only I could go to work in a catsuit.
Well, let's face it: I practically do.
Be well; be loved,
k.
(photo: Eatha Kitt on the set of Batman in 1967. Swiped from mazzystardust tumblr)
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