It’s spider season in our neighborhood. This means that even the quickest trip outside (to take out trash, recycling, compost, laundry) results in running into two or three spiderwebs with my face. Going for a walk equals ten more encounters (recently, a strand broke across my eyeballs, and another time, a partial web went into my mouth).
A few months ago I ran across the uber-left-code-pink-mobile:
Entertaining, yes, but not a huge surprise in the Breakaway Republic of Berkeley. But then yesterday, right there on Telegraph Avenue, two blocks from the university campus, I stumble upon something which looks like it should be hauling gear to a monster truck show in Omaha.
I know you know what I’m thinking: Metal Masher vs. Pink Power. This Sunday at the Sonoma County Fairgrounds. Earplugs optional. Bring the kids.
I’ve seen this truck here and there in my neighborhood for years. Even in the breakaway Republic of Berkeley, this billboard on wheels can not be touched for the sheer volume of the causes it covers. And for its sheer volume:
I count six causes on this panel alone (I’m counting the three “D’s” – decolonize, disarm, destroy – separately).
Nudist sightings are no big deal in my neck of the woods.
I’ve lived in or near Berkeley the last twenty years, and the fumes of 60’s counterculturalism still waft through the air here: on the same block it’s not unusual for me to see street vendors selling tie dyed T-shirts, old hippies reading Karl Marx, crunchy skatepunkers panhandling for change, people selling way-left-of-left bumper stickers, and yes, the occasional naked person strolling about.
When I was in school, there was a guy, Andrew Martinez, who made headlines for showing up to class in nothing more than a bandana, and sometimes not even that.
The tents I could’ve predicted. The nudity, however, I did not see coming.
On Saturday night, my two sons and I were walking from Ichiban, a sushi restaurant in downtown Berkeley, to Yogurtland, a frozen yogurt shop about five blocks away, when we stumbled upon the local chapter of Occupy Wall Street.
Twenty or so protestors were camped out in a small circular plaza in front of Bank of America.
Wells Fargo and Chase branches were across the street, but they didn’t have a little plaza. I can only imagine the Chase and Wells’ execs laughing at their B of A counterparts over their heirloom tomato and artisanal cheese salads at Chez Panisse.
Quentin Lee would like to think he’s a part-time drag queen and and full-time hustler moonlighting as a filmmaker. He went to UCLA Film School with fellow Offender Justin whom he co-directed his first feature SHOPPING FOR FANGS with. Subsequently, he made DRIFT, ETHAN MAO and the upcoming THE PEOPLE I’VE SLEPT WITH. He also blogs as Film Hustler.
The first time I wore women clothes was when I was six. I was hanging out with my mom on a lazy Sunday afternoon while my dad was out. She let me try on her evening gown and carry my favorite glittery purse of hers. As I pranced around on her bed, I playfully dubbed myself “the nightgown chicken.” In Cantonese, “chicken” is the slang for “prostitute.” My mom was cracking up. We both had so much fun. I remember I really enjoyed playing a character… being someone whom I’m not.
But she only let me do it that once.