My two-night stay in Portland is coming to a close, and shortly I’ll be checking out of The Hotel Zags Portland and hitting the road back to Pasadena.
This three-week getaway has been filled with ups, downs, and all-arounds. But mostly ups. And I don’t take that lightly. I’m genuinely grateful for everyone who reads, shares, and supports me on Substack. You’re a big part of why I was able to take this much-needed break and actually enjoy it.
Visiting Portland, for me, was all about one thing: reuniting and spending time with my beloved chosen sister, Miss B.
And let me tell you, reunited feels so good!
Yesterday, Miss B and I kept things simple, spending the day wandering through the exhibits and galleries of the Portland Art Museum. Room after room of thoughtfully curated work, the kind that makes you pause, tilt your head, and sometimes just stand there a little longer than expected.
And then there was the real highlight for me: an exhibit featuring hundreds of works by David Hockney, my favorite living artist.
If you’re not familiar with Mr. Hockney, do yourself a favor and go down that rabbit hole. His use of color, perspective, and pure joy in his work is something else entirely. Hockney’s art, from every era of his sixty-year career, feels so alert and so alive.
Miss B and I had so much fun, we ran out of energy for anything else. No time or energy to Powell’s City of Books. Or even get our mani-pedis on. Honesty, I’m not mad about it. It was that good of a day!
There’s something deeply satisfying about a day that’s so full, in the best possible ways, that it naturally tells you when it’s time to stop.
From here, the plan is simple: get on I-5 and drive home, slow and easy. No more than six hours of driving per day, I’m aiming to be back in Pasadena by early Friday afternoon. Unless I get a wild hair. Which is always a possibility.
As much as I’ve loved being on the move, my inner homo alono self is ready to sleep in my own bed, get back to my own routines and rhythms, and just be in my own space.
Speaking of spaces, I got a few ideas for reworking my studio apartment. Nothing major, just small projects that will make my heart happy and help the space feel even more like home.
And, lastly, for those who enjoy food porn, yes, I made it back to Grits N’ Gravy one more time this morning. I had to. Some things are just too good not to repeat. Here’s a look at what I ate and a glimpse of the decor. Note: The restaurant also acts as an art gallery for local artists. Some stunning pieces (that I didn’t photograph out of respect for their creators):
This trip may be winding down, but I’m taking the memories and the moments home with me. The ups, the downs, and the all-arounds. Cuz that’s the way, uh-huh uh-huh, I like it.
Keep calm and boogie on!
Clint 🌈✌️
P.S. Over the next week or so, I’ll be sharing new photos from a dear friend’s private collection. Primarily vintage physique and BDSM-themed portraits, likely taken by Bruce of LA, Pat Milo, and/or Mel Roberts. I’m due to pick them up to scan when I get home. Yay!
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FROM THE ARCHIVES
BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY
04-29 = Garrison Starr (1975- ) = American singer-songwriter 🌈
04-29 = Constantine P. Cavafy (1863-1933) = Greek poet 🌈
04-29 = Jim Toy (1930-2022) = American activist and educator 🌈
04-29 = Leslie Jordan (1955-2022) = American actor, comedian, writer and singer 🌈
04-29 = Rod McKuen (1933-2015) = American poet, singer-songwriter, and composer 🌈
MAN CRUSH(ES) OF THE DAY
“I fell out of the womb and landed in my mother’s high heels.”
Leslie Jordan
Ready now for the last leg Brian, a fair wind and a following sea as the salty old sea dogs would say 😎🤨 Cheers DougT🏴 🇬🇧
Glad your vacation ended on a high note. Fun sharing it with you. Fondly, Michael