If I start to worry that my godchild has become too fifteen-year-old cool to express affection, I just have to remember that even after spending the afternoon walking me around the neighborhood in order to introduce me to the local cursed playground toy—it's a bathtub-yellow spring-rider duck whose manic cartoon eyes have mildewed with rust in a fashion suggesting that Fallout 76 is just about to ensue—and get a slushie from 7-Eleven that was just about the same color of Fanta Pineapple, after he had theoretically gone to bed he came back downstairs to show me his coin collection including wheat pennies and an extensive selection of quarters featuring national parks and notable American women. The Tarot deck doesn't seem to want to draw anything for me but major arcana: Venus for Love, Isis for Magic, Rhiannon for Movement. It's better than that one with all the swords we thought for a moment hadn't been reversed.
2025-04-05
Especially since the crowd spilled back at least as far as the Museum of Natural History, my godchild and I got much closer than we had expected to the head of the Mall surrounded by signs themed from penguins to the Constitution, accompanied by intermittently organized political chants and a noise which turned out to be one dude processing through the crowd playing the Wii home theme on a shofar, which is honestly the kind of weirdness I want at my protests, along with the vocal defense of trans rights and science. ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
selkie witnessed a bagpiper in parade dress blasting the "Battle Hymn of the Republic." We were near a marble bench when my godchild needed to sit down, after which he acted as a sort of gateman helping protesters and their signs and their backpacks over or under the thigh-high chain of the fencing. We saw a lot of veterans, a lot of people who looked as though they had protested on this same mall in the 1960's. A lot of kids. A lot of rainbow flags. We had no signs, but our queer/trans/disabled selves. We were tired and counted.
selkie witnessed a bagpiper in parade dress blasting the "Battle Hymn of the Republic." We were near a marble bench when my godchild needed to sit down, after which he acted as a sort of gateman helping protesters and their signs and their backpacks over or under the thigh-high chain of the fencing. We saw a lot of veterans, a lot of people who looked as though they had protested on this same mall in the 1960's. A lot of kids. A lot of rainbow flags. We had no signs, but our queer/trans/disabled selves. We were tired and counted.
