Leathered Up And Lusting

SLPA's Pride Week makes me very happy. There's a certain something in the air, a smell of leather and dubbin and amyl and beer, pressed hankies and new chaps. Everyone I encounter is some sort of deviant. I am among kin more than ever, more than at Mardi Gras or Sleaze or Queer Collaborations or any other Big Queer Sort Of Happening. I find myself bouncy around singing along to J Bear's Meatloaf cover versions, grinning at strangers in cow hide, flirting and schmoozing and cruising and sniffing about in dark corners, getting cheeky and assertive and brazen and bold in my boots and collar, nipples hard and hairs up on the back of my neck, a heightened alertness and energy... Wish the Westie was in Sydney for it this year, want to drag her about on a leash at Inqui (or vice versa, I am a switchy creature), want to give her a tour or every toilet block in town, want to leave the whole city stinking of us...