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to begin
I want to begin with my general thoughts about communities, cities, my city and my intentions with this blog. This is the part where I woo the Internet masses with daises and lemonade on the front porch.
A few weekends ago, we left the comfort of our in town Atlanta neighborhood, with myriad options for coffee, drinks and gourmet pet treats within walking distance, for the unruly and unpredictable hills of Tennessee. We packed up our low-emission, compact city car with camping gear to visit my sister at the intentional community where she lives. The community is generally billed as a haven for transgender or queer artists. This was a special weekend, the group was hosting an annual music festival. After traversing winding country roads with no signs and rocky, dry creek beds, we were welcomed with the unusual performance of "Oklohomo: How Musical Theatre Ruined My Gay Life." Men dressed as women, women dressed as men dressed as women and generally bizarre costumes.
The protagonist told a woeful story of being ostracized from the gay musical theatre crowd and searching for a home and respite from the cold, harsh world. The outcast found a wandering group of queer and bedraggled minstrels. Cuddled around queer campfires, singing jubilant songs, newly founded friendships were formed and all was good.
In our search to define ourselves, we pull from our experiences with comrades, friends and family to create our unique, complexly wonderful voice. This is how I see Atlanta, as a city with a deep, rich history, incredible diversity and potential to become a new kind of city in the south. With zazucity, I'll explore the facets of Atlanta's spurts and fits of urban growth as well as the moments of clarity and beauty and hopefully find my voice in the process.
A few weekends ago, we left the comfort of our in town Atlanta neighborhood, with myriad options for coffee, drinks and gourmet pet treats within walking distance, for the unruly and unpredictable hills of Tennessee. We packed up our low-emission, compact city car with camping gear to visit my sister at the intentional community where she lives. The community is generally billed as a haven for transgender or queer artists. This was a special weekend, the group was hosting an annual music festival. After traversing winding country roads with no signs and rocky, dry creek beds, we were welcomed with the unusual performance of "Oklohomo: How Musical Theatre Ruined My Gay Life." Men dressed as women, women dressed as men dressed as women and generally bizarre costumes.
The protagonist told a woeful story of being ostracized from the gay musical theatre crowd and searching for a home and respite from the cold, harsh world. The outcast found a wandering group of queer and bedraggled minstrels. Cuddled around queer campfires, singing jubilant songs, newly founded friendships were formed and all was good.
In our search to define ourselves, we pull from our experiences with comrades, friends and family to create our unique, complexly wonderful voice. This is how I see Atlanta, as a city with a deep, rich history, incredible diversity and potential to become a new kind of city in the south. With zazucity, I'll explore the facets of Atlanta's spurts and fits of urban growth as well as the moments of clarity and beauty and hopefully find my voice in the process.
1 comment:
i like it. brief and insightful
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