Stomachheart Eats Pride

Pride is History
As you, dear reader, probably know, this past weekend was Gay Pride in many cities across the country including my little place of residence, San Francisco. I made it a point to go to as many events as I could, from the TransMarch to Dykes on Bikes and even to a performance by the Backstreet Boys on Sunday. This year, the theme was "Fabulous and 40" commemorating the 40th anniversary of the event. This, of course, made me think of history and how Pride has a way of digging up the past and presenting it to you as if it were yesterday. And I don't mean it makes me remember all those queer legends and heroes that came before to make Pride possible.
Necessities: What better to way to brave a very hot and crowded Dolores Park on Pink Saturday than with a cheap bottle of chilled Chardonnay and some reduced fat pita chips. I, of course, brought a classy little cup to keep the festivities green.

The history I'm thinking of is more personal. For me, and I think for many queers in the city, Pride is the inevitable time when you are bound to take the long parade past many of the people that you've hooked up with. Sometimes this city is too small and there are just too many skeletons in the closet (or out of it actually).
By the end of Pride, it felt like I had made dinner for half of the gay men in the city. At the Pink Party, I barely just said "hi" and "happy pride" to Dinner Guest 11, when I ran into and did the same thing all over again with Dinner Guest 2. Literally within 1 minute of each other. Awkward... I wonder what would happen if two of my Dinner Guests met. Would they cancel each other out? Would they join forces and fight me? Would they fall in love?

Then on Pride Sunday, I narrowly escaped an encounter with Dinner Guest 1. I totally dove behind a crowd of shirtless leathermen just, so I didn't have to have another awkward hello and happy pride. And then, of course, the Monday after Pride, I ran into Dinner Guest 12 who actually took the day off as a paid religious holiday (Q: Do you believe in God? A: No, just Gay). Also very awkward because I ran away after 5 minutes. Sometimes it's just too much. Sadly, he actually witnessed the shooting that happened at the Pink Party. I guess there are more important things to worry about then the boys from my past. Hopefully next Pride will not only be fun as it always is, but safe for everyone, too.
My friends totally showed up my meager Pride snacks with lots of delicious offerings from Bi-Rite: beet and sweet potato salad, organic peaches, chocolate mousse, spinach and artichoke dip, and some yummy cheese.

The one dinner guest that I wish I had run into at Pride is Dinner Guest 14. Unfortunately he was out of town and I had to go the whole weekend without even a very proud snuggle.

Dinner 15

Distractions
It's really hard to cook when you are doing even one of these things:
a) stressing out about job decisions
b) stressing out about how the decisions you make now will affect you in the future
c) stressing out about keeping in touch with friends with busy schedules
d) starting to date someone
It's especially hard to cook when you are doing all of those things. And it's even harder to eat what you've cooked. Even though I am e) all of the above, luckily, I'm not having that problem. I've been cooking every night (but just for myself) and eating heartily. The problem is what follows eating. Stress really fucks up your stomach. My stomach grumbles and sucks in on itself and bloats out to prego point and then flips over and I pretty much want to vom when I think of the life choices I need to make.
A salad with carrots, broccoli, arugala, and jicama. For dressing, we loaded on scoops of TJ's White Bean Hummus.

Fortunately there is d). And d) happens to be Dinner 14's guest. After Vermont, we started hanging out periodically and things have progressed slowly but surely. Usually when I start to date someone, I totally stress about how much they like me, or if they like me at all, or what I should do when they do this, or what I should do when they do that. With Dinner 14, it's different. We only get to see each other about once a week, but when we do, we have a really good time, biking around, giggling like little girls, and eating, of course. There's no pressure because we seem to be on the same, unspoken page.
Paninis with grilled portabella mushrooms, red peppers, onions, and zucchini with goat cheese.

Recently we hung out at Lake Merced and then went to the ocean way out there. It's weird because the road along the ocean is barricaded and sand has blown over a lot of it. It kind of looks like the end of the world, especially when it's deserted and you just walk down the center of the road. But it's nice when you have someone's hand to hold.
Sweet potato fries and a random picture of a dog that Dinner 14 picked up on the street.

After our journey to the end of the world we cooked together, this time at his place. It always makes me nervous to cook in other people's territory, especially this time because his kitchen is really small and he has few utensils and dishes. But somehow we managed okay and even made a lemon cake that came out really weird, because we had to stir it in the same square pan that we baked it in. I guess amid all the chaos in a kitchen or in our lives, we find a way to make do with the things that do make sense.

Stomachheart in Vermont

Dinner without Desire
For the past two weeks I've been in the middle of nowhere (a.k.a. Johnson, Vermont) doing a writing residency at the Vermont Studio Center. This is a place where you get fed three meals a day, and all you have to do is sit in a beautiful studio overlooking a river and write. My expectations for food and men were high before I arrived. Rumor had it that this place was nicknamed "Divorce Camp" because everyone parties hard and hooks up with each other the whole time.Actually, I did have to do more than just sit in my studio and write. To fund my stay, I received a work study job... in the kitchen. Perfect! I shucked corn, nearly chopped off my finger cutting onions, snapped an endless amount of green beans, and learned cooking secrets from the head chef himself.
And actually I was quite disappointed about the "Divorce Camp" reputation at first. There was not a single boy (out of 50 resident artists) who I was interested in. So much for crazy parties and passionate hook ups.
But I was being really productive and feeling good and happy. I was not even thinking about boys. I realized that life is really different without desire. Boys take up a lot of time. Not just from hanging out with them or texting or whatever, but from just thinking about them. They fill up my head. But here I had nothing to worry about, no one to flirt with, no cell phone reception, so I was completely free to focus on myself and my work. It felt really amazing.
Another reason for my productivity is that three meals of unlimited, delicious food was provided for me daily. Sure, I had to put in a couple hours of food prep here and there, but mostly I just sat down and ate, and then got seconds and ate some more. Not having to constantly cook freed up a lot of time too.
I guess the troubling part is that cutting out two of my favorite things (cooking and boys) made me a way more productive and focused person. What does that mean? Should I give up boys? Should I give up cooking elaborate meals? Should I give up cooking meals for boys? Maybe it was good to have a break for a little while, but what are we without our loves, desires, and vices?