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#gay friendly Portland Oregon
gaytravelinfo · 2 months
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The Hotel Zags - Portland, OR
The Hotel Zags | 515 SW Clay St, Portland, OR 97201 | 1-855-523-6914 WELCOME TO THE HOTEL ZAGS — YOUR PORTAL TO PORTLAND  The Hotel Zags is situated in downtown Portland’s Business district, one of the city’s most vibrant neighborhoods. We’re truly close to everywhere you want to be — from delicious dining to hip shopping hot spots to cultural attractions. Most are within walking distance, but…
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avocadosandanxiety · 5 years
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Tryna chill
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pwlanier · 3 years
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Martin Wong
(American, 1946-1999)
Persuit (El Que Gane Pierde - He Who Wins Looses), 1984,
Hindman Auction
Martin Wong was born in Portland, Oregon in 1946 and came of age artistically in the heady California dreamscape of late 1960s San Francisco. Living in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood of Merry Pranksters and Grateful Dead infamy, Wong an openly gay man of Chinese ancestry, found acceptance in the free spirited, open-minded and mind expansive ideologies of the hippie lifestyle, while experimenting creatively in ceramic and performance art. Above all a painter, it was Wong’s works in the second dimension that earned him the most recognition in the Bay Area and the fabled handle Human Instamatic for his facility for cranking out $7.50 portraits at street art fairs and communal happenings.
In 1978 Wong switched coasts, moving to New York’s Lower East Side, mythically on a friendly “if you can make it there…” type dare, to forge his path as an artist in the postpunk, postmodern epicenter of culture and cool. In New York Wong focused his creative energy on painting using his representation talents to compose edgy, enigmatic and existential character studies of the city, its denizens, buildings, bricks, concrete, steel and pavement, primarily limiting this raw documentation to the sourced sights and sites of his immediate neighborhood. For the most part a self-taught painter, Wong’s canvases identifiably have a naïve visionary quality, sensitively balancing fantastic wonder with observed reality, paint handling imbued with an overall haunting sense of longing, that seems to explore what it means to belong to a group. An artists’ artist, Wong established himself as fixture on the Low East Side art scene, supporting his passion for paint with a day job at the MOMA giftshop, also picking and flipping undervalued antiquities at auction to make ends meet. Just as he enjoyed fellowship with the dropped-out freaks in Frisco, Wong connected deeply with the emerging east coast underground culture of hip hop, specifically the graffiti element, importantly co-founding the Museum of American Graffiti in 1989 and generously donating his own impressive collection of artworks by graffiti pioneers to the Museum of the City of New York in 1994. Wong joined forces romantically and creatively with Nuyorican underground poet and playwright Miguel Piñero after the two met at an exhibition opening at alternative project space ABC No Rio in 1982. The pair’s time together was inspired and productive, with Wong creating many of his most innovative and accomplished painting during their partnership, culminating in Wong’s ambitious 1984 solo show Urban Landscapes at the taste making Semaphore Gallery.
Painted in these salad days and acquired at Semaphore the year it was painted, Persuit (El Que Gane Pierde - He Who Wins Looses), 1984, is a self-consciously ominous New York nocturne, a surprisingly illusionistic wooden frame peppered with poetic phrasing, presumably words burrowed from his often collaborator Piñero, borders a clue that sleight-of-hand could be at play, a view finder, capturing and celebrating this authentically gritty New York minute. In his signature uncommon social meets magical realist fashion, Wong gracefully champions the underdog, the underrepresented, the unseen, revealing the unique and flawed glory of these ignored individuals, also the components that comprises the greater structural whole of an equally marred and magnificent metropolis. A comfortable insider to outsider or even outlaw company, Wong plays with this captivating contradiction visually and conceptually, arranging the composition with gorgeously detailed barriers and boundaries of crumbling brick facades, confining fences, locked gates and closed doors, challenging the audience to uneasily decide which side of the conflict or tracks they reside on, are you a part of, or apart from. In the lower left corner of Persuit…, a shadowy figure ambiguously give chase as loser or be chased as winner, either on the Ignatz Mouse or the Krazy Kat end of the brick toss, depending on the viewer’s chosen vantage, voyeur of the locked in or witness to the locked out. The phrase El Que Gane Pierde, which translates to the antagonistic Whoever Wins Loses also emphatically appears in the charged closing scene of Piñero’s 1984 play Short Eyes, loosely about his incarceration experience, lending credence to a potential jailbreak read of the subject’s trajectory. The lone actor blends with his staged surroundings, partially obscured by the stylized grid of a chain link fence, dwarfed by a desolate righthand crowded backdrop of apartment building geometry, obsessively rendered with Wong’s hallmark exposed brick motifs, enduring monuments of urban progress, a somber stoic chorus more than scenery. Overhead a cryptic surreal constellation map, a visual language of pattern parallel to the fingerspelling iconography the artist frequently employed, stands in as night sky accentuating the intoxicating mystery of the foreboding narrative unfolding. This carefully articulated and decisively stylized star chart dually provides shelter of darkness and celestial navigation guiding our hero hopefully to an escape of transcendent negating outcome, the sublime symbolism of the draw.
Wong sadly lost his battle with AIDS in 1999, dying from complications of the illness years prior to his work receiving the universal acclaim it earns today. Always painstaking in the organization of his vision, following being diagnosed in 1994 Wong was able to realize his full body of work to a level of completion he felt resolved, satisfyingly defining his own destiny as that of a lasting legacy of artistic wins.
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netflixaddictedd · 4 years
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10 lesbian books you should read
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Leah on the offbeat: When it comes to drumming, Leah Burke is usually on beat—but real life isn’t always so rhythmic. She’s an anomaly in her friend group: the only child of a young, single mom, and her life is decidedly less privileged. She loves to draw but is too self-conscious to show it. And even though her mom knows she’s bisexual, she hasn’t mustered the courage to tell her friends—not even her openly gay BFF, Simon. So Leah really doesn’t know what to do when her rock-solid friend group starts to fracture in unexpected ways. With prom and college on the horizon, tensions are running high. It’s hard for Leah to strike the right note while the people she loves are fighting—especially when she realizes she might love one of them more than she ever intended. (Make sure to read Simon vs the homosapiens agenda before Reading this)
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Her royal highness: Millie Quint is devastated when she discovers that her sort-of-best friend/sort-of-girlfriend has been kissing someone else. Heartbroken and ready for a change of pace, Millie decides to apply for scholarships to boarding schools . . . the farther from Houston the better. Soon, Millie is accepted into one of the world's most exclusive schools, located in the rolling highlands of Scotland. Here, the country is dreamy and green; the school is covered in ivy, and the students think her American-ness is adorable. The only problem: Mille's roommate Flora is a total princess. She's also an actual princess. Of Scotland. At first, the girls can't stand each other, but before Millie knows it, she has another sort-of-best-friend/sort-of-girlfriend. Princess Flora could be a new chapter in her love life, but Millie knows the chances of happily-ever-afters are slim . . . after all, real life isn't a fairy tale . . . or is it?
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The price of salt: Therese, a struggling young sales clerk, and Carol, a homemaker in the midst of a bitter divorce, abandon their oppressive daily routines for the freedom of the open road, where their love can blossom. But their newly discovered bliss is shattered when Carol is forced to choose between her child and her lover.
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The miseducation of Cameron Post: When Cameron Post's parents die suddenly in a car crash, her shocking first thought is relief. Relief they'll never know that, hours earlier, she had been kissing a girl. But that relief doesn't last, and Cam is forced to move in with her conservative aunt Ruth and her well-intentioned but hopelessly old-fashioned grandmother. She knows that from this point on, her life will forever be different. Survival in Miles City, Montana, means blending in and leaving well enough alone, and Cam becomes an expert at both. Then Coley Talor moves to town. Beautiful, pickup-driving Coley is a perfect cowgirl with the perfect boyfriend to match. She and Cam forge an unexpected and intense friendship, one that seems to leave room for something more to emerge. But just as that starts to seem like a real possibility, Aunt Ruth takes drastic action to "fix" her niece, bringing Cam face-to-face with the cost of denying her true self even if she's not quite sure who that is.
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Late to the party: Seventeen is nothing like Codi Teller imagined. She’s never crashed a party, never stayed out too late. She’s never even been kissed. And it’s not just because she’s gay. It’s because she and her two best friends, Maritza and JaKory, spend more time in her basement watching Netflix than engaging with the outside world. So when Maritza and JaKory suggest crashing a party, Codi is highly skeptical. Those parties aren’t for kids like them. They’re for cool kids. Straight kids. But then Codi stumbles upon one of those cool kids, Ricky, kissing another boy in the dark, and an unexpected friendship is formed. In return for never talking about that kiss, Ricky takes Codi under his wing and draws her into a wild summer filled with late nights, new experiences, and one really cute girl named Lydia. The only problem? Codi never tells Maritza or JaKory about any of it.
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Annie on my mind: Liza begins to doubt her feelings for Annie after someone finds out about their relationship, and realizes, after starting college, that her denial of love for Annie was a mistake.
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Tell me again how a crush should feel: Leila has made it most of the way through Armstead Academy without having a crush on anyone, which is a relief. As an Iranian American, she’s different enough; if word got out that Leila liked girls, life would be twice as hard. But when beautiful new girl Saskia shows up, Leila starts to take risks she never thought she would. As she carefully confides in trusted friends about Saskia’s confusing signals, Leila begins to figure out that all her classmates are more complicated than they first appear to be, and some are keeping surprising secrets of their own.
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It's not like it's a secret: Sixteen-year-old Sana Kiyohara has too many secrets. Some are small, like how it bothers her when her friends don’t invite her to parties. Some are big, like the fact that her father may be having an affair. And then there’s the one that she can barely even admit to herself—the one about how she might have a crush on her best friend. When Sana and her family move to California, she begins to wonder if it’s finally time for some honesty, especially after she meets Jamie Ramirez. Jamie is beautiful and smart and unlike anyone Sana’s ever known. There are just a few problems: Sana's new friends don't trust Jamie's crowd; Jamie's friends clearly don't want her around anyway; and a sweet guy named Caleb seems to have more-than-friendly feelings for her. Meanwhile, her dad’s affair is becoming too obvious to ignore. Sana always figured that the hardest thing would be to tell people that she wants to date a girl, but as she quickly learns, telling the truth is easy…what comes after it, though, is a whole lot more complicated.
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Juliet takes a breath: Juliet Milagros Palante is a self-proclaimed closeted Puerto Rican baby dyke from the Bronx. Only, she's not so closeted anymore. Not after coming out to her family the night before flying to Portland, Oregon, to intern with her favorite feminist writer--what's sure to be a life-changing experience. And when Juliet's coming out crashes and burns, she's not sure her mom will ever speak to her again. But Juliet has a plan--sort of. Her internship with legendary author Harlowe Brisbane, the ultimate authority on feminism, women's bodies, and other gay-sounding stuff, is sure to help her figure out this whole "Puerto Rican lesbian" thing. Except Harlowe's white. And not from the Bronx. And she definitely doesn't have all the answers . . .In a summer bursting with queer brown dance parties, a sexy fling with a motorcycling librarian, and intense explorations of race and identity, Juliet learns what it means to come out--to the world, to her family, to herself.
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Style: Kyle Blake likes plans. So far, they’re pretty simple: Finish her senior year of high school, head off to a good college, find a cute boyfriend, graduate, get a good job, get married, the whole heterosexual shebang. Nothing is going to stand in the way of that plan. Not even Stella Lewis. Stella Lewis also has a plan: Finish her senior year as cheer captain, go to college, finally let herself flirt with (and maybe even date) a girl for the first time and go from there. Fate has other plans for Kyle and Stella when they’re paired up in their AP English class and something between them ignites. It’s confusing and overwhelming and neither of them know what to do about it. One thing they do know is that their connection can’t be ignored. The timing just isn’t right. But is there ever a good time for falling in love?
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exhxustxd · 2 years
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ash cruz is here.
basic information:
full name: ashley “ash” cruz
nickname(s): goes by ash
age: 32
date of birth: may 10th
hometown: portland, oregon
current location: taos, new mexico
ethnicity: ashkenazi jewish, dominican
nationality: american
gender: cis woman
pronouns: she/her
orientation: the gayest of them all
occupation: delivery driver by day, bartender by night
living arrangements: renting a small cabin with clyde
language(s) spoken: english, dominican spanish
physical appearance:
face claim: monica raymund
hair color: brown
eye color: dark brown
height: 5′4
build: athletic?
tattoos: a bunch of doodles on on one thigh, a couple small ones on the arms
piercings: none 
clothing style: super casual, sweatpants or ripped jeans and a t-shirt, with the sleeves cut off if warm enough outside 
usual expression: either slightly annoyed, or smirking, there’s no in between
distinguishing characteristics: good lord she’s hot as hell
health:
physical ailments: tore her acl playing soccer in high school, and has had it reconstructed. while it is mostly fine, some days it’s more sore and annoying than others
neurological conditions: anxiety, ptsd
allergies: none that she’s aware of
sleeping habits: has had a lot of trouble with falling asleep lately, but once she’s out, she can be out for a solid twelve
eating habits: whatever is in the fridge, if anything, if not, takeout
exercise habits: loves to bike. mostly terrain and mountain. other than that – a lot of sex.
emotional stability: appears to be around a 7/10, but probably really is at like a 3/10 these days
sociability: very social, which contributes a lot to her work, especially social with the women, you know. also butts into things she has nothing to do with
body temperature: rather warm 
addictions: cigarettes, alcohol, cocaine, pills
drug use: cigarettes when stressed or anxious, which has been a lot lately, but manages to keep it to that normally. some trouble with cocaine and pills, depending on what she feels the need for, but not as bad as the alcohol
alcohol use: excessive, definitely an alcohol abuse disorder at this point
personality:
positive traits: loyal, friendly, persistent, dependable
negative traits: impulsive, stubborn, narrow-minded, reckless
fears: disappointing the people closest to her, being on her own
hobbies: biking, partying and fucking
favorites:
weather: warm and super sunny
color: grey
music: emo rap and sad trap
movies: mostly watches tv-shows, an action drama hits the spot
sport: soccer, duh
beverage: jack and diet
food: pica pollo
animal: quokka
song: bad place – the hunna
family:
father: dominic cruz
mother: alicia cruz
sibling(s): two older sisters, a younger brother
children: –
pet(s): a golden retriever named clyde
family’s financial status: upper class, very well off
extra:
zodiac: taurus
tw: homophobia, conversion therapy, domestic abuse, alcohol abuse, drug abuse
bio:
born and raised in portland, oregon, ash never really fit in with her family very well. 
her parents were very strict and religious, something ash very early on realized she wanted nothing to do with. however, this would prove to make life very difficult for her at home. especially when ash realized she was gay.
not wanting to pull her punches with her parents and being the rebel that she had become in the household, ash came out to them fairly early on. this resulted in her parents doing everything in their power to get rid of her “lesbian urges”, including abusing her at home and sending her to conversion therapy camp.
ash did really well on the soccer team in high school, and it was looking like she would be offered a college scholarship, but during her senior year, she ruptured her acl and had to undergo surgery, which pretty much took the chance away from her.
while her family easily could have paid for a college education, ash didn’t want to be tied to them more than necessary, so she packed her things and moved to seattle.
she got a job as a bartender, and has been working there since. it works well with her personality, and oftentimes leads to her finding a girl to pickup by the end of her shift – always a nice treat.
trying to cope with the trauma of her teenage years and in an effort to avoid dealing with most things in life, ash got into a bad habit of drinking too much, both at work and on days off, which eventually escalated to abusing drugs sometimes.
six years ago, ash started working for audrey as a delivery driver as well, and there’s nothing ash wouldn’t do for her.
her girlfriend of four years somewhat recently left her due to it, and after her having held ash down for the time they had been together, ash is back to sleeping with anything femme with a pulse, and is spiraling more than ever before, while still trying to get her head back above water on her own.
ash isn’t very selective about who she makes friends with. if you’re nice to her, she’ll be nice to you. while she’s very good at quickly figuring out whether or not you’re worth her time, she will be very slow to judge you and give everyone a fair chance. once you are close with her, she will be very loyal – but she will also expect that back.
ash thrives in chaos. she feels comfortable when everything is falling apart around them and often manages to keep it together in those kinds of environment.
criticism usually bounces right off ash – unless it is coming from an unfair and close place. she really doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her.
ash is not a big fan of change, and would rather have things stay the same for as long as possible.
she’s not particularly good at expressing her emotions, and will put up a front and do what she can to deflect in order to avoid having to deal with it. however, if she does care a lot about you, you will know. she will show it in every other way she can.
ash doesn’t really have much self-control. she goes big or goes home. what the hell is moderation?
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mourntheantagonist · 4 years
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I love the ol’ moving to California fic just as much as the next person, but I strongly hc that harringrove actually moves elsewhere.
Maybe Billy doesn’t want to go back to california because it brings back bad memories. Maybe Steve just doesn’t like the idea of moving to Cali. Maybe it’s too expensive. Idk.
I LOVE the idea of them moving to Portland, Oregon. Am I biased because I was born there? Yeah. But just hear me out.
I feel like Portland is the perfect place that just caters to both of their interests so well. West coast means Billy still has access to beaches. It’s a big city, but not too big. A perfect middle ground for the city boy and the small town boy. It was gay friendly (all things considered) in the 80s. It has a really good climate to satisfy both of them (not too hot not too cold). It just feels right to me.
I love all the potential vibes. The concert scene is amazing. Really good music was coming out of the pnw during the 80s so. Enjoying all the cute little shops downtown. Going to Trail Blazers games. Hiking up multnomah falls. Ugh the vibes are immaculate. I will never not write my future fics set in Portland and I’m not sorry.
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wakairyuu · 7 years
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//OMG! my state (Oregon) has become the first state to add the 3rd gender to ID cards! People can mark X as their gender starting July 1st for people non-binary genders!
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bayardboy · 4 years
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On Spirituality, Queerness, and Complacency: Care as a Radical Act
“Today I feel that God motivates me to use my whole being to combat by nonviolent means the ever-growing racial tension in the United States; at the same time the state directs that I shall do its will; which of these dictates can I follow-- that of God or of the state? When the will of God and the will of the state conflict, I am compelled to follow the will of God. If I cannot continue in my present vocation, I must resist... through joyfully following the will of God, I regret I must break the law of the state. I am prepared for whatever may follow.” -Bayard Rustin, 1943.
Although I take Mohammad as the final Prophet, every three months I ground myself with a new spiritual teacher: the Dalai Lama and Thich Nhat Hanh have taught me well in the past year about the ethics for a new millennium. This February 2021 I have found enjoyment and excitement in the letters of Bayard Rustin. Shortly after this letter, he was arrested for refusing to enlist in World War ii. He then went on to stir up quite a bit of trouble at prisons for refusing to engage with the segregationist policies within the walls. He took it upon himself to build and teach education courses for poor imprisoned whites, and created a cross-race coalition of prisoners determined to erase the drawn lines in the cells.
Bayard Rustin would later go on to inform nonviolent theory and strategy for some of the biggest names in the Civil Rights movement of the 60′s; although I haven’t yet read about his work organizing that first March on Washington, with John Lewis and MLK Jr. I will say that his work within the prison was derailed massively when it was discovered he was a homosexual. 
Bayard Rustin has been effectively erased from public narrative around nonviolent racial organizing, because he was gay. His letters to his partner, Davis Platt, convey a deep and friendly love that revolve around the deep conviction that segregation was wrong, and during this time, also that the prison systems were necessary to undermine. He also loved to play mandolin. In remembering Bayard Rustin I am holding closely that he was a socialist, pacifist, Christian, homosexual, Black, educated, man. He was easy pickings for the segregationist agenda in a time of rampant homophobia. He was even cast aside by his allies, because his identity could have harmed their agenda. But he held close the will of God in the ways he engaged with this discardation.
In a very recent conversation with a queer organizer friend, we touched on spirituality. It felt like one of the first times I had been able to speak on how deeply my spirit was impacted by this work. We are not taught to care for each other or ourselves. We are not taught to live truthfully or honestly. In this system that would rather create boxes and stuff people into them, than see what shapes their forms may take on their own, we are purposefully not taught to be ourselves. To be one’s self, to let one’s spirit live, is to resist, because the state has already curated an idea of what one should be.
My friend also gave me a quotable belief that I will share here: “If your queerness isn’t radical, you’re doing our elders a disservice.” Within the context of public acceptance for trans and non-binary peoples, we were discussing how Portland has become a sort of haven, where white trans people do not have to engage with the common violence standardly enacted against all trans people, most dramatically against Black trans women. This allows for queers to become complacent in their acceptance; but this must not be so. 
When I cultivate an argument around nonviolent organizing I always root it in my spirit. Not only must we center the voices of people most harmed by the issues we face, but we must simultaneously work to cultivate the path of *least harm possible*. In this understanding, complacency becomes what we must frame our work around. You cannot stand aside as Biden opens the first facility for migrant children. You cannot just observe as our state of Oregon continues the active genocide of the indigenous peoples through ongoing water crises in Warm Springs (donate here). Can you stomach the injustices enacted against all our societies, and keep your head down, and live your unsustainable life?
If we are to be ALIVE and AWARE of the will of the state AND of God, we have no choice but to care! Caring becomes recognized as a radical act; Caring for ourselves, for each other, and for the land we share our livelihood with; Caring for our tools, our resources, our food; Caring for our neighbors, our family, our coworkers; Caring for immigrants, for indigenous peoples, for invalids.
This is why I have named this newly formed account “BayardBoy”. I have every intention to highlight and seek out members of the spiritual and civil rights communities that have been ignored. I plan to share my thoughts and learnings here, because I am wholly aware that one day I too will be forgotten. While I am not a titan, nor an elder, I hold close a similar intention, to cultivate change through positivity and militant disobedience, as God wills it to be so.
this coming week I am engaging with the Indigenous Principles of a Just Transition as relayed by the Indigenous Environmental Network. https://www.ienearth.org/justtransition/
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matthewschueller · 4 years
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The 16 Best Things to Do in Portland Oregon - From a Local
Why Visit Portland Oregon? Advice From a Local.
Portland Oregon is a quirky, eclectic mix of crazy personalities and stunning natural beauty. Every time we fly back into Portland, we’re stunned by the view of Mount Hood overlooking the emerald green forests surrounding the city. There’s no place like it, and it continues to surprise us. The city is filled to the brim with evergreens, top-tier restaurants, green spaces, bike lanes, and unique neighborhoods. Just an hour from the coast or the mountains, the options for hiking and outdoor activities are limitless.
Besides the fact that Portland is basically a city within a giant forest, it has an interesting way about structuring its neighborhoods. Throughout the sprawl of the city, there are tons of neighborhood centers, each with its own unique personality and feel. What we love most about Portland is its irreducible attitude about not giving-a-shit about what anyone thinks about it. Portland is super weird, and it’s proud of that fact. From Voodoo Doughnuts, Powell’s City of Books (the world’s largest bookstore), to Darcelle’s (our personal favorite), anything here is accepted and loved as is!
Above that, Portland is an incredibly gay friendly city. Many have asked where the gay district Is in Portland, but really, we think the whole city is kind of gay. It’s awesome, and we feel totally 100% free and comfortable no matter what part of the city we’re in. Skip down to the 16th list-item below to see a bit more about the LGBTQ+ community in Portland.
It’s no surprise that Portland has become a popular destination for people from all over, and we’ve had many friends and family members ask, “What should we do in Portland? What should we see in Portland? Where should we eat in Portland!?" Well, we are here to answer all of that HERE!
Here are The 16 Best Things to Do in Portland Oregon
1. Get Lost in Powell’s City of Books
Powell’s City of Books is an iconic destination in Portland. The bookstore is 4 stories tall and takes up an entire city block. It holds more books for sale than any other bookstore on earth. It’s enormous, and you can actually get lost in there (I have)! On the top level, there’s an isolated room full of first edition and signed books, including original print copies from series like Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. It’s amazing.
2. Eat as Many Donuts in Portland as Possible
We’ve all heard of Voodoo Doughnuts, and while this is a staple of Portland’s quirky eccentric attitude, these aren’t the best donuts in the city. Don’t get me wrong, we love Voodoo, but there are a couple Portland donut shops that have risen up above the rest over the last decade.
Pip’s Doughnuts
For something a little more classic, head to Pip’s Original Doughnuts and Chai. Known for having some of the most delectable chai in the greater Portland area, Pip’s offers donut holes topped with classic and seasonal custards and cremes. Whether you come in the winter for a rich Banana Custard and Salted Nutella doughnut or a little closer to spring to enjoy their Meyer Lemon Pear Butter doughnut, you will always be able to pair them with a perfect chai or matcha.
Blue Star Donuts
Blue Star crafts its donut creations out of a brioche base from scratch and pair that with fresh fruits, herbs and spices, even liqueurs. Whether your in the mood for something fresh like their Meyer Lemon and Key Lime curd creation, something rich like the Chocolate Almond Ganache, or a classic Old Fashioned (of which there are three varieties), Blue Star has a myriad of flavors that stem from the surrounding area to tantalize your tastebuds.
3. Shop on Nob Hill’s 23rd Avenue
Perched on the North West side of downtown, 23rd Avenue holds some of the best cafes and restaurants of the city. Stroll down 23rd Ave. and grab a coffee at Barista, browse unique gifts at Paper Source, check out the view on Restoration Hardware’s rooftop or find your favorite crystals at the small pop-in shops along the way. 23rd Ave is a beautiful neighborhood full of ornate victorian homes. Walking around the area is a treat, and this is a prime area for good shopping. One of our favorite places to grab a pick-me-up is Tea Chai Te. We love sitting out on their outdoor balcony overlooking 23rd Ave.
4. Have a Scoop at Salt & Straw
Their first storefront opened on 23rd Ave. and now Salt & Straw is pretty well known throughout the West Coast. With intense and crazy flavors, Salt & Straw typically boasts a line out the door and around the corner. Try their famous Sea Salt and Caramel Ribbon, Honey Lavender, Pear & Blue Cheese, or seasonal varieties like Bone Marrow & Smoked Cherries or vegan Coconut Milk with Cashew Brittle & Pandan! Everyone is welcome and encouraged to try as many flavor samples as they’d like while standing in line. Try them all!
5. Enjoy the View at Pittock Mansion
Pittock Mansion is a famously beautiful mansion overlooking downtown Portland from Forest Park. You can catch one of the best views of Mt. Hood from there, and in the Spring, the rhododendrons around the mansion are kind of magical. It’s one of the must-see places to anyone visiting! Pittock Mansion is best to visit on sunny days in the Spring, but is perfect for photography all year around.
6. Sip Lots and Lots of Coffee
This one is without saying. Portland has great coffee. Obviously, you have to try Stumptown. Their coldbrew is unbelievable—like nectar-of-the-gods-good. It’s chocked full of caffeine, so sip slowly! Check out their iconic location in the Portland Ace Hotel downtown. The lobby of the Ace Hotel is an iconic photo spot and an even better place for people watching. Other favorite coffee shops include Ristretto Roasters, Never Coffee, Heart Coffee, Barista and Good Coffee; just to name a few.
7. Find Some Peace at the Japanese Gardens
In the hills over downtown, the Japanese Gardens holds acres of rhododendron, blossoming trees and small ponds surrounded by bamboo. It’s a peaceful place to spend the day just far enough away from downtown. With views of Mount Hood, the famous Japanese Gardens attracts tourists from all around the world.
8. Stroll Down Mississippi Ave.
Mississippi Ave. is lined with some of the best restaurants and bars of the city. It’s really active any night during any part of the year, and is always bound to bring a good time. It also has a ton of cute trendy shops and cafes. Hanging out there is one of our favorite things to do on any given weekend! The food cart pod on Mississippi Ave. has cheap and tasty options including Matt’s BBQ and Little Conejo Food Cart. Our favorite spot to grab a bite on Mississippi is ¿Por Qué No?. This hugely popular taquería serves some of the best tacos and guacamole we’ve ever had. Food isn’t the only thing that has us coming back to this neighborhood, the bars are the best. Our favorites include Prost! for beer, Interurban for cocktails, and Psychic Bar for one of the most interesting witchy atmosphere’s we’ve experienced!
9. Eat at the Food Trucks
Portland’s street food culture also has made a name for itself. In the summer, you’ll see everyone out biking down to the food carts to grab Koi Fusion, Chicken and Guns, or Nong's Khao Man Gai. There are so many food trucks in Portland, we could do a whole blog just on which ones to try… and there are a lot we can recommend. Our advice, try as many as possible during your visit. The food culture here is just as good in the streets as it is in the sheets... or restaurants, oops.
10. Explore the Alberta Arts District
Few spots are more classically Portland than Alberta Avenue. The arts district is filled to the brim with Portland grunge. Graffiti stained walls, independent and bustling coffee shops, food carts and enough weed to get the entire state high. You can find yourself wanting to stick around Alberta Ave. for a while. Head to this neighborhood to admire the graffiti art, go bar hopping, or try any one of the incredible restaurants. We recommend Pok Pok, Pine State Biscuits, Proud Mary’s and Bamboo Sushi to start!
11. Hike in the Colombia River Gorge and See Multnomah Falls
The Columbia River Gorge is home to some of Oregon’s most iconic natural wonders. Located just a 30 minutes drive from downtown, Multnomah Falls is the most popular natural tourist attractions in the state. The historic falls plummet from the foothills leading up to Mount Hood and is perfectly framed by the iconic stone bridge located just in front. It’s a very short walk from the parking lot to the falls, but for those looking for a hike, there is plenty of trail beyond the falls. The Colombia River Gorge is full of adventurous trails that will lead you up paths to find countless waterfalls and epic views of the gorge.
Here are a few of our favorite hikes and views:
Hike in Oneonta Gorge —
Oneonta Gorge is itself a scenic canyon located in the Columbia River Gorge. The U.S. Forest Service has designated it as a botanical area because of the unique aquatic and woodland plants that grow there. There are four major waterfalls on the Oneonta Creek as it runs through the gorge. Middle Oneonta Falls can be seen clearly from a footpath and is very often mistaken for the upper or lower falls. The lower gorge has been preserved as a natural habitat, so there is no boardwalk or footpath through it as such. Thus, Lower Oneonta Falls can only be seen by walking upstream from the creek's outlet. Getting to the lower falls can require wading through water that, in some places, can be chest-deep, depending on the season and the relative amount of snow-melt. Bring your waders if you want to see the iconic lower falls!
Hike to Latourell Falls —
Latourell Falls is one of the easiest waterfalls to access while still having breathtaking height and power. Access from Portland takes you first to the Bridal Veil exit off of I-84E and then a quick double-back toward the city along the Historic Columbia River Highway. Park your car at the small lot and walk about 0.5 miles down the trail until you reach the falls. There is a 2.4 mile hiking loop if you want to enjoy the scenery around the area even more, see the falls from above and hit a second viewpoint at the Upper Latourell Falls.
Hike to Angel’s Rest —
One of the closest hike’s to the Portland metro area with rewarding views of the Columbia River Gorge. This is a moderately paced hike with clear paths, good elevation gain and is an easy day trip from the city. Due to its proximity this can be a slightly busy trail but is very peaceful at the early morning hours. If you want to secure your parking spot and have a climb with little disturbances definitely arrive before 9am.
Take Pictures at Vista House —
Vista House was built in 1917 on one of the most beautiful scenic points along the Historic Columbia River Highway. Prior to the construction of I-84, this building was intended as a place of respite and relaxation for those traveling along the highway. There is still an espresso bar with snacks during hours of operation, but the main reason to stop here are the breathtaking views in all directions.
12. Take a Day Trip to Cannon Beach — Haystack Rock
On one side of Portland you have the mountains, but on the other side is the beach! An hour and a half West from downtown Portland is Cannon Beach. Perhaps just as a popular as the falls, every traveler must plan a day to check out the Oregon Coast. You’ll find impressively wide beaches with powerful waves, along with striking cliffs and rock structures jutting from the water, like the famous Haystack Rock in Cannon Beach. Spend the day walking down the beach, sitting in the sun, and exploring the tide pools around the rocks. Pelican Brewing Co. at the edge of the beach is our favorite spot to hang out, grab a couple beers and watch the sun set over the historic Haystack Rock. We try to make it out to Cannon Beach at least a few times a year, we love it!
13. Drink All the Beers
Arguably, one of the best parts about visiting Portland is the sheer number and variety of breweries throughout the city. Honestly, you can make an entire trip centered around trying the beers here. We are regulars at 10 Barrel Brewing Co.’s rooftop bar in the Pearl District. We also love enjoying a local tap at Departures Lounge on the rooftop of The Nines Luxury Hotel downtown. Departures also has amazing sushi if you’re looking for a bite to eat! You’ll find us enjoying a local IPA but if hops aren’t your flavor try the local blondes, ale or stout! We have them all! Other great breweries to checkout are Deschutes Portland Brewery, Migration Brewing, Breakside Brewery, Rogue Brewery, Occidental Brewing, Baerlic Brewing, Ecliptic Brewing and many more!
14. Go Wine Tasting in the Willamette Valley
For every brewery in Portland there’s another winery outside the city waiting to help get your drink on. The Willamette Valley outside of Portland is known for its world class Pinot Noir. And really, the wineries are not far from Portland’s City Center. If you’d prefer to stay in the city, there are plenty of tasting rooms like Boedecker Cellars and Cerulean Wine. Our favorite wineries to visit just outside the city are Hawks View Winery, Domaine Drouhin, Brooks Vineyards, and Stoller Family Estate. Wander down to Willamette Valley Vineyards just an hour south of Portland for some of the best Pinot Noir the West has to offer. All of the above wineries have shipping available for those who’d like to bring some bottles home without the hassle of getting them through the airport.
15. Bar Hop around Portland and Drink the Night Away!
As a warmup, we’ve mentioned all the breweries and wineries to try around Portland. We’ve also mentioned some of our favorite bars along Mississippi Ave and the Alberta Arts District. Here are a few of our all-time favorite bars and shows around the city.
Scandal’s
This is our favorite gay bar to hang at. It’s a pretty relaxed bar, no fluff. It’s comfortable, not intimidating, and an easy place to grab a drink and relax. I love this place because of how welcoming it is, and the drinks are honestly super cheap!
Blow Pony
This is a hugely popular queer event held once a month in Portland. It is a riot, and things get crazy. For those up for a party, it’s worth coming to Portland just for this! Wear as little as you’d like!
Darcelle’s XV
Darcelle has a history with the city. As the oldest practicing drag queen, Darcelle and her girls throw a comedy show four nights a week that will leave you on the floor. We went here for our bachelor party and had one of the best nights of our lives. They are so sweet, take no shit, and will give you a show you’ll never forget. 
16. Celebrate Pride in Portland
We love walking down Harvey Milk Street downtown, popping into Scandal’s for a bit and having a drink with friends. Portland is a big city, but still feels kind of small. The community here is super personal and extremely friendly. I remember my first time at Portland Pride and how I essentially just felt an overwhelming sensation of belonging. It’s tight knit, and people really look out for each other. The gay bars are scattered throughout the city, so it isn’t dominated to just one section of town. The free-spirited, anything-goes mentality is something I’ve only also seen in places like The Castro or the West Village. There are two gay beaches, one at Sauvie Island and another at Rooster Rock, in the Columbia River Gorge. There are also a ton of community and sports groups like the Portland Frontrunners, who I run with every Tuesday and Saturday.
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gaytravelinfo · 6 months
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The Hotel Zags - Portland, OR
The Hotel Zags | 515 SW Clay St, Portland, OR 97201 | 1-855-523-6914 WELCOME TO THE HOTEL ZAGS — YOUR PORTAL TO PORTLAND  The Hotel Zags is situated in downtown Portland’s Business district, one of the city’s most vibrant neighborhoods. We’re truly close to everywhere you want to be — from delicious dining to hip shopping hot spots to cultural attractions. Most are within walking distance, but…
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shhhhyoursister · 5 years
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36,25 and 15!!
oooooo i think this is for the “being nosy” ask thing so!!!!! here are my answers!!!!
36. where i would like to live
honestly??? anywhere that has a queer community i could immerse myself in!!!! like ive been to portland, oregon, and its so fucking gay there?????? its just full of gay stoners who like to eat and hike and IM a gay stoner who likes to eat and hike!!!! the only issue with portland is that its so far from my family and i cant do that!!! there are some closer places like massachussetts (a pretty gay friendly state for my non-american friends) and the town i go to college in that would also be ideal, but really anywhere i can feel safe, happy, comfortable, and create a life for me and whoever im hopefully dating at that time!!!!!!
25. my idea of a perfect date
okay okay OKAY so i have some thoughts.....so for an earlier on kind of date like when you know you like the person but its still a lil early to go all in i think the most fun kind of date would be going to like,, a zoo or aquarium??? super super fun, animals are GREAT, and there is always something to talk about!!!!!!! ive gone on aquarium dates before and its really just such a fun time and you can take cool aesthetic pics and stuff, wow yeah aquarium or zoo 100%!!! however, my ideal “we’ve been dating for a while so we dont have to try as hard” date would be cooking together (while smoking cause honestly as long as youre safe and capable cooking high with someone you love is so fun) and then cuddling and watching stuff while we eat the food we made!!!! love love love those kinds of nights!!!! oh no this is making me YEARN!!!!!!!!!!!!!
15. favorite movie
oh god this is a hard one for me kinda like i know what my answer is but im so bad at movies???? my absolute fave that has been my fave for YEARS is rocky horror picture show, i watched that movie growing up and its just so weird and queer and freaky and the music is so fun and the aesthetics??? oh my GOD dude!!!! but i also have a fave documentary which is paris is burning, and if you know nothing about american drag culture (like actual drag not rupaul drag) you NEED to watch it because i believe it is the most comprehensive and real look at that culture during the beginnings of the ballroom culture and its so queer and interesting and entertaining (just BIG trigger warnings for homophobia and transphobia in many different ways)
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the-coconut-asado · 5 years
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Oh Stumptown my Stumptown!
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Portland likes to keep it weird. Officially. You could even buy the tee shirt if tee shirts weren’t so predictable.   
From a poster invitation to “Hear my TED Talk about DIY and Impending Doom” to the Big Legrowlski (sic) night club that hangs carpets on the walls -  not to balance the sound for the band but because they really bring the room together -  the City has an off-beat vibe that feels authentic even while it gets you scratching your head. And where else would you queue round the block for a voodoo-doll shaped doughnut with a pretzel stick through its ‘heart’?
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You probably won’t be surprised when I tell you that Portland is  the Hipster Capital of the World. You know it’s hipster because it sells more coffee and has more microbreweries per head than anywhere else in the US.
We came for the food because People That Know told us to. It’s not simply that everything is delicious but that chefs, cooks, carts and food enthusiasts are trying to do different. It’s like Masterchef has landed in Twin Peaks. Entrepreneurs are making ice cream out of chickpeas and it works. A pastry chef has re-interpreted her favourite childhood book on a plate and you rejoice in the complex flavours of her tiny reconstructed bunny. So who’s the bunny boiler now?
One thing that puzzled me is why the City changed its name from the original Stumptown (pretty weird) to Portland (the Holiday Inn of city names). Devon, a local lawyer who we chatted to most mornings in Baristas Cafe, explained that Portland was never officially called Stumptown.  It became its nickname due to all the trees they had to cut down to build it, leaving the eponymous stumps in their wake. Stumptown is also the name of their iconic coffee brand, which I always assumed was NYC’s greatest invention. This is one of the many ways in which travel expands your mind.
Devon embodied something else about Portland: its friendliness. Even the passport officers are anxious that you have a good time. Full disclosure,  it wasn’t just Devon that we sought out each morning - it was Pepper, his cute little dog. I would eat Barista’s fresh, flaky rhubarb hand pie just to drop crumbs that Pepper would breakfast on. 
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Devon put us onto a couple of great places to eat - one we made it to, one we didn’t. But more of that later.
Where to begin to describe this steel guitar food odyssey? Let me take you through our many highlights from the  mountain of food we consumed. Set it to the soundtrack of Chris Isaak’s Wicked Thing.
Our first evening, tired and hungry, we stuck to our guns and found Andina, the City’s Peruvian eatery. When you are both tired and hungry it’s easy to get seduced by posters boasting ‘Meatball Monday’ and forget your mission, but our persistence paid off. That legendary Portlandia hospitality squeezed us into a nook where there really wasn’t a free table, and we dined greedily on humitas, ceviche, lamb shank and seafood, washed down with Oregon’s finest home-grown Pinot Gris. I didn’t quibble that they brought something different from my order. In my fractured Spanish ‘Arroz con Pato’ probably did sound like ‘Seafood Risotto’  - and the risotto was obviously going to be delicious before fork met lip, so I didn’t send it back.
Next day, which coincidentally was Taco Tuesday, we hit the street food. 
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Portland is big on street food (see: hipster capital of the world). Most food vendors have carts - permanent fixtures where the chef builds enough of a following over months or years to be able to open a small restaurant. Nong’s Khao Man Gai was just one of these. They do one dish - a Vietnamese poached chicken with a secret chilli sauce, accompanied by rice cooked in the chicken broth. You can also have a version with shrimp, pork or Tofu. We bought a bottle of the sauce to bring home. Life’s too short.
It’s not all carts - there are a fair few trucks too. 
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One which specialised in cheese toasties challenged “ Come and relive the taste of your childhood. But if your childhood sucked, we’ll share the memory of ours”. Have you eaten a cheese toastie recently? I mean really felt the embrace of  a sandwich of molten cheese and fried bread? Maybe your childhood did suck after all.
That evening it was the turn of The Hairy Lobster restaurant, and that bunny dessert I mentioned earlier. Little Bunny Foo Foo to give it it’s full name. A delicate carrot cake, covered in cheesecake mousse, accompanied by a ginger crumb, caramel sauce and a marshmallow rabbit. 
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Despite it’s show-stopping appearance and fusion of flavours, it was their roast squash with curry sauce and pumpkin seed praline that was the stand-out dish for me. The Lobster picnic for our main was pretty damn good too.
Friday brings me to Devon’s first recommendation, Pok Pok,  a teeny Thai eatery in the suburbs. Getting there had the added advantage of passing through a neighbourhood full of rambling old houses in the Amityville Horror style. I recalled the first time I had heard of Portland was from a TV thriller full of witches and jabberwocks called Grimm. They had definitely filmed it’s eerily beautiful moments around here.
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If I had to single out a food highlight in a week of next-to-no food lows, I would choose Pok Pok. It gave me my first food coma in a long while. Something about it’s smoked aubergine, pork belly curry, marinated chicken with two dips, sublime mango with sticky rice and that rhubarb blush cocktail… I sense I am sharing my food coma with you now. Their signature dish is hot spicy chicken wings. The couple on the table next to us were too full to finish theirs so offered them to us. Maybe it was the wings that tipped me over the edge. I’ll never know.
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And so to our last day, and the big daddy of Portland nights out: Jake’s Crawfish. Over 100 years old, walking into Jake’s is like walking into one of Sinatra’s memories. It has a justifiably stellar reputation, and seems to have maintained it for a century. I ate Steel-head trout for the first time, fished on their doorstep from Oregon’s Columbia River, coated with a horseradish crust, and preceded by half a dozen of the plumpest oysters I have ever eaten.
I haven’t yet mentioned Portland’s biggest hipster foodie habit: brunch. No matter what day of the week, the restaurants that brunch are always full. For most of our trip, we were waking up too early to really do brunch justice. Those rhubarb hand pies at Baristas had satisfied our hunger by around 8AM so a mid-morning banquet wasn’t really on. One day, however, we made it to Tasty & Alder in the Pearl DIstrict of the city and managed to sneak in a table for two before the queues built up. Worth it for their Green Frittata with salsa verde (who ever thought of doing that before?) and lightest, fluffiest American biscuits. We never made it to Devon’s second recommendation: Burmasphere, his friend’s Burmese cart on the other side of the river. And now we have an excuse to return.
When it came to rustling up some recipes that take me straight back to Portland weird, I whittled my list down to three: my version of Tasty & Alders’ green frittata with feta and salsa verde; a less labour-intensive version of Andina’s Arroz con Pato, made with chicken or guinea fowl; and in the spirit of weird, though by no means original, a cake inspired by Churros con Chocolate. The best possible end to a Taco Tuesday.
I messaged a friend of mine that had moved to Portland a few years back and asked why she had ever left. “ Too much rain and not enough art.” she said.  
You missed the point Sweetie. Great Food IS great art. And if you can’t stand the rain, get into the kitchen.
Green Frittata with Feta and Salsa Verde
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A great little brunchy-lunch dish packed with flavour for the carb-conscious. If you want to add some carbs, slices of toasted sourdough will go down a treat. Serves 4
Ingredients
8 large free-range eggs
1tblspn, double cream
100g asparagus spears, chopped into 2 cm chunks
100g shelled garden peas or petit pois
50g feta cheese
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
For the salsa verde:
Small pack of flat-leaf parsley (around 15-20g)
½ a small pack of mint leaves
3 tbsp. Capers
7 anchovy fillets
1 clove garlic
1 tbsp dijon mustard
8 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
How to make:
Bring a small saucepan of salted water to the boil, then add the peas. After a couple of minutes, add the chopped asparagus and continue simmering for another 2 minutes. Drain and refresh under cold water. Put to one side.
Next, make the salsa verde. Put all the ingredients except the olive oil into a blender, season generously with pepper and go easier on the salt (anchovies and capers are already pretty salty). Then, add the olive oil and blend again. Don’t over blend at each step - it's nice to keep the texture a little rough.
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Put a skillet on the stove and melt a knob of butter. Beat the eggs, add the cream and season. Lightly saute the green vegetables in the butter for a minute or two. 
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 then pour the eggs over and crumble the feta cheese over the top. Cook for a couple of minutes until the bottom is starting to brown.
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 pop under the grill to continue cooking, until the top is a light golden colour and the frittata has firmed up with a slight wobble (keep a close eye on this, probably takes 2-3 minutes).
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Cut the frittata into 4 wedges and serve with a dollop of salsa verde on top.
Arroz con Gallina Picante
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I never did get to eat Arroz con Pato in Andina, but while I adore the rich flavour of duck, devoting two or three days to confitting it before finishing the dish is only for the dedicated dinner party cook. This version with a spicy chicken and a feta-enriched herb sauce (based on a Melissa Clark recipe)  goes down just as well - or the richer Guinea Fowl, which I have used here. And Peruvian aji amarillo is now more available by mail order - substitute ordinary chile powder if not. Serves 4.
Ingredients:
1 medium-sized chicken or guinea fowl, jointed into 2 breasts, 2 drumsticks and 2 thighs (discard the back or freeze to make stock at a later date)
For the marinade:
6 garlic cloves, crushed
3 tbsp light soy sauce
1 tbsp paste made with aji amarillo powder and olive oil
Juice of 1 lime
1 tsp sriracha sauce
1 tsp. Dijon mustard
2 tsp ground cumin
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
For the sauce:
½ a large bunch coriander leaves, broken up
2 jalapeno chilies, chopped
75g feta cheese, crumbled
1 garlic clove, crushed
Juice of 1-2 limes
2 tsp chopped fresh oregano
½ tsp dijon mustard
½ tbsp aji amarillo paste (see marinade earlier for method)
1 tsp honey
1 tsp ground cumin
½ cup extra virgin olive oil.
For the Peruvian Rice:
3 tbsp sunflower oil
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 onion, finely chopped
3 heaped tsp aji amarillo paste (see marinade earlier for method)
½ large bunch fresh coriander, broken up and blended till smooth with a tblspn water
500g fresh chicken stock
300g bottle of beer or lager
2 x small green chillies, chopped finely
500g basmati rice
1 red pepper, chopped into small chunks
100g fresh garden peas or petit pois
How to make
First, make the marinade. Mix all the marinade ingredients in a large bowl, cover the fowl of your choice in it, cover with cling film and pop in the fridge for at least 4 hours or overnight.
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For the sauce: put all the ingredients into a blender, and blend till smooth. Pour into a bowl, cover and refrigerate, taking out about 15 minutes ahead of eating to bring to room temperature.
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For the rice. Heat 2 tbsp oil in a saucepan, add the onion and garlic and saute until starting to turn golden. Add the blended coriander and chili paste  and cook for a couple of minutes until the paste has thickened slightly and smells delicious.
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Pour the beer into the saucepan, cook for a few minutes then add the chicken stock. Bring to the boil, season, then take off the heat, cover and put to one side.
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Heat the oven to 200C. Pat  the chicken or guinea fowl pieces dry, then pop onto a shallow baking tray, season and drizzle with olive oil. Put the tray into the oven and roast for 35-40 minutes.
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While the meat roasts, finish the rice. Heat 2 tbsp oil in a medium sized saucepan, add the peppers and cook for a couple of minutes. Then add the rice and stir into the oil and peppers until it starts to crackle a little at the bottom. Add the peas and chilies and stir again, then add the stock, beer and onion garlic mix. Stir, season if needed, then cover and simmer on a low heat for 25 mins.
Fluff up the rice and spoon onto plates. Top with the chicken or guinea fowl pieces, and crown with a dollop of sauce.
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Churros Bundt Cake with Dipping Chocolate Sauce
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I love churros, and I love a Bundt cake. If you want all the flavours but none of the faffing or frying, then give this a try. The cake will keep, covered in a tin. Just remember to reheat the chocolate sauce for dipping or pouring each time. Serves 8-10
Ingredients:
For the cake:
2 ¾ cups plain flour
2 tsp. Baking powder
2 tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp. Salt
170g unsalted butter
130g caster sugar
50g soft brown sugar
4 large eggs
1 egg yolk
1 375g punnet of sour cream
2 tsp. Vanilla extract
For the cinnamon sugar ‘glaze’
2 tsp ground cinnamon
4 tsp caster sugar
For the chocolate sauce:
½ cup cocoa powder
Pinch chilli flakes
100g dark chocolate (70%)
1 cup double cream
½ cup dark brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
½ tsp cinnamon
How to make
Preheat the oven to 160C. Grease and flour a large bundt cake pan (make sure to get into all the nooks and crannies).
Beat the butter and sugar in a mixing bowl (ideally using an electric stand mixer) until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one by one and continue to mix between each addition, finishing with the egg yolk. Add the sour cream and vanilla extract and beat again until just incorporated.  Mix all the dry ingredients, add them to the butter and egg mix and fold in until smooth. 
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Pour the cake batter into the bundt tin and bake for around 50-55 minutes until a skewer inserted near the middle comes out clean (I usually check the cake after 45 mins). Invert the cake onto a rack to cool.
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Mix the remaining sugar and cinnamon in a small bowl. Melt the butter and paint all over the surface of the cake. Dust the cinnamon sugar over the buttered cake, making sure you pat it in places to stick.
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To make the chocolate sauce. Pop all the ingredients into a saucepan, then cook, stirring constantly, on a low heat until the chocolate has melted, everything is smooth and custardy. Let it bubble slightly then turn off the heat.
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Serve slices of the churros cake with warm chocolate sauce poured over. There are some who prefer their chocolate sauce served cold. That’s fine too.
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ezra-blue · 6 years
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Worst Version - Moonrise over Suburbia
I started writing a fic for Saiyuki AU August, and then I started hating it. So I gave up and wrote a 393 instead. Here’s the first twelve pages of a 353 fake dating AU, unedited.
Moonrise Over Suburbia
It was too damn early. That was what Gojyo hated most about the long hauls; crossing time zones there and back fucked him up something fierce. It was ass-o'fucking-clock, a little past four AM, but his brain said it was seven and time for the morning piss and the first cigarette of the day before he was supposed to be getting back into the cab of his eighteen-wheeler and setting off towards the rising sun. Still, being willing to make the drive from Maine to Oregon, Portland to Portland, kept money in his pockets, kept the lights on and kept the landlord off his ass. Steady pay, not bored during the day, the occasional pretty young thing from the bars that dotted the highway to keep him busy at nights? Pretty ideal, really. He and his best friend-slash-hetero-life-mate had managed on his UPS job and his friend's adjunct professor's salary for this long, so he had nothing to complain about that way.
Really, the only thing he had to worry about tonight was where his next meal was coming from, since Hakkai wasn't home and Gojyo was the kind of chef who could burn stove-top ramen. He didn't even want to think about how terrible he'd be at cooking on two hours of sleep.
Even so, as much as it sucked to be up way earlier than he had to be on his day off, there was something kinda surreal and dreamy about being out on his balcony and watching the pre-dawn August sky, those pale blues and pinks and that hint of orange. It was quiet, damn quiet, not a car on the road and only the rare jogger or dog-walker breaking the abandoned streets of the suburbs at the foot of his apartment building; the neighborhood felt unreal without anyone in it, but it wasn't a bad kind of unreal. The moon was setting in the distance, in the space between the houses and mid-rises across the street, her swollen face, waxing, pale against the misty sky and half-faded, as if she'd never been there at all. Gojyo lit his cigarette against the mirage of the moon and sucked down the first rush of nicotine, easing the crave and relaxing into the way-too-damn-early serenity of a world that hadn't woken up yet.
Life was good.
Then, the door to the neighboring balcony slid open, and Gojyo felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, readying himself like a referee at the edge of a boxing ring had picked up the hammer next to the bell. Gojyo's neighbor stepped outside with a sigh already on his lips, languid eyes and heavy gaze running over Gojyo in his singlet and boxer shorts as he, already dressed for the day, took his Marlboros from his back pocket.
“You're up early.” He held his smoke out. “Give me a light.”
“What, your lighter out again?” Gojyo held out his Zippo and flicked the wheel. “You think you'd've remembered to keep spares on hand by now, old man.”
He sneered, and if he didn't do that so much, Gojyo thought, he might've been good-looking, but instead Gojyo just found himself having a lot of trouble liking him. “Fuck off, I've been buried under work for the past week while you were fuck-knows-where, running through every damn disposable I had.”
Sanzo was kind of weird like that. He smoked like a car factory, but he insisted on disposable lighters. He claimed to be a Buddhist and meditated in the laundry room (though Gojyo was this side of sure he was just napping), but he was anything but peaceful, swearing at anyone who got on his nerves and cussing out his roommate through the walls. He kept weirder hours than Gojyo, because Gojyo couldn't name a single hour he hadn't heard the guy awake through the walls, though Gojyo, with his broken sleep schedule, had no room to criticize. He was also basically kind of an asshole to everyone for no obvious reason. Gojyo couldn't hate him – even had a grudging respect for someone who lived the way he wanted and unapologetically gave zero fucks – but he made himself hard to like.
“Get a fucking Zippo and a jumbo bottle of lighter fluid, you'll damn near never run out.” Gojyo waited for Sanzo to touch his cigarette to the flame and catch, then tucked it away and returned his attention to his own cigarette as the embers smoldered against his fingers. Sanzo grunted noncommittally.
“Whatever. It'd be less of a pain than talking to you every time I run out, anyway.” Sanzo leaned over the railing of his balcony as he took a drag, looking tired and a little tragic as his focus turned to the sky and the setting moon. “Hell of a time to be up.”
“I just got done with a gig driving all the way East along the Canadian border and back. Five days out of the right time zone kinda fucks a guy up, y'know?”
“You do it to yourself.” Sanzo sneered a bit. “Just turn your alarm off and roll over.”
“Can't do that, princess.” Gojyo wagged his cigarette between his fingers. “Even if the old alarm didn't ring, the internal 'cig time' clock runs smoother than a fake titty in a compression tank top.”
Sanzo gave him a sickly glower. “Every time you make a metaphor like that, I doubt further you've ever seen a breast, let alone touched one.” He snorted and dragged deep on his cigarette, pulling the flame down to the filter fast. Gojyo admired that lung capacity for a second, until Sanzo coughed deep and hard.
“Jeez, you're in a mood this morning. That time of the month already?” Gojyo stubbed the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray Hakkai had put out next to his potted plants (in an effort to keep Gojyo from flicking his butts into the plants, of course), as Sanzo scoffed again, then rubbed at the deep bags under his eyes.
“Fuck you.” He groaned and shook his head, rubbing his fingers against his temples. “Just... I fucking hate summer.”
“The heat get you down?” Gojyo leaned his back against the railing, watching as Sanzo seemed to slump further. He definitely seemed a little more worn-out than usual. “Work a bitch this time of year?” Gojyo wasn't sure what Sanzo did – his roommate, a friendly college student that Gojyo palled around with when he wasn't buried under homework, had mentioned something about stock trading – but he seemed to hate it. Then again, Sanzo seemed to hate damn near everything.
“The fuck do you care for?” The smoke billowing off Sanzo's teeth seemed to come a little fiercer. Gojyo just shrugged.
“I dunno, I can usually hear you bitching through the walls when you're in a shit mood, so maybe I don't need your bleep-box nightmare mouth waking me up when I'm trying to catch up on my Z's. So, spill, maybe wise ol' Gojyo can help.” He turned, wagging an eyebrow at Sanzo with just a little bit of a lascivious grin. Sanzo scoffed again, but then he was quiet, that kind of quiet that said he was thinking. Then, he muttered:
“Is your roommate home? I haven't seen him.”
Gojyo rolled his eyes. “Check your calendar, dipshit. It's the end of August, Professor Hakkai's in the pre-semester crunch doing syllabuses and making up assignments. He left a note to apologize for the empty fridge, so he's probably been living in the teacher's lounge at the university since after I left.”
“Shit.” Sanzo threw his cigarette down and scrubbed his hand down his face. Gojyo raised an eyebrow and tucked his cigarette between his lips as he crossed his arms.
“Okay, what the fuck is up?”
Sanzo grimaced, then slid his fingers open to make a gap over his face and eye contact with Gojyo. “I need a date.”
Gojyo damn near swallowed his cigarette. “What?”
“I. Need. A. Date. You heard me.” Sanzo made a face as he pivoted to face Gojyo. “It's... look, do you have any family?”
Gojyo pulled a face at this. “None worth talking about.”
“Most of the time, me neither. My old man travels the damn world most of the year, but he comes back home for a little bit in the summer, and he always wants to see me when he's home.” Sanzo huffed in disgust. “Even when he's globetrotting, he calls me from wherever the fuck he is, forgetting that time zones are a fucking thing--” Gojyo snorted at the irony, but Sanzo missed it-- “And pisses me off whining about wondering how I'm doing. I decided to get him off my ass by telling him I'd gotten a boyfriend.” Sanzo didn't even give Gojyo a chance to question him, ranting right on, “That way, I could mute my phone and if he asked why I didn't pick up, I could tell him I'd been busy with my boyfriend and he'd be happy for me and maybe fucking call less.”
Gojyo managed to push his jaw shut. “Wait, you're gay?”
“No.” Sanzo glared at Gojyo. “And even if I were, why do you care?”
“Curious, dude. I mean, it's not my thing, but I say live and let live. So, you're not gay but you told your old man--
“If I had to date someone,” Sanzo interrupted, emphasizing the 'if' like it had a two ton weight swinging behind it, “I'd prefer a man. Women annoy me more.”
“Got it.” Gojyo shrugged again. “So, I'm guessing that lie's made its way back around the world to bite you in the ass.”
Sanzo grunted and pinched his temples again. “My dad has invited me to a dinner party. He wants me to introduce him to my boyfriend. The one who doesn't exist.”
Gojyo whistled. “Your mouth wrote you a check your ass can't cash, huh?” He smirked at Sanzo. “Took a withdrawal from the bank of lies and found that interest a little steep?”
“Fuck you, I didn't think you'd be much help anyway.” Sanzo sneered and turned for the door, but Gojyo whistled again to get his attention.
“Hold up, prissy-britches, wait a second. What is it you need?” He paused, putting the pieces together as his brain woke up enough to puzzle out what Sanzo had said. “Wait, were you gonna ask the Prof to be your boyfriend or something?”
Sanzo grumbled something indistinct, but in the pink dawn light, Gojyo realized his ears had gone bright red. “Oh-ho. Oh, Sanzo. That wouldn't'a worked anyway. Prof Hakkai's got this long distance girl – her name's Yaone, she's this medical researcher working in N'Orleans right now, something about frogs – and he Skypes with her every night for like an hour. He wouldn't be caught dead with someone else, since he's got big plans for her when she's done with her assignment.” Sanzo swore softly. “What about Goku?”
“What about Goku? My dad knows him, he'd never believe he and I had gotten together. Plus, I would've just said, 'Goku and I are an item' instead of being as vague as I have.”
“Any reason you couldn't'a just faked it with the kid?” Gojyo wagged his cigarette a little. “Hell, I hear about folks our age just getting married to our buddies for the tax benefits and getting a no-fault divorce when the real deal comes along.” Sanzo huffed with annoyance, shoulders sinking, but he waved his cigarette hand around as if to wipe away the very notion.
“It's complicated. I'm not getting into that with him. Either way, my dad wouldn't buy it.”
“Fine.” Gojyo knew how loaded a word like 'complicated' was when it came to love stuff, family stuff, stuff he usually tried not to fuck with. “And I'm guessing, given your glowing personality and natural charm, you've got plenty of friends who'd be willing to play the role for a night.”
“Fuck you.”
Sanzo blinked a few times as if someone had snapped a flash photo and he had to clear away the fuzz. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"It means, you need a fake boyfriend, I got spare time and a dick, I could play the part."
"Not a chance." Sanzo sneered, lip curling. "I'm not your type."
"You sure about that?" Gojyo grinned coyly and swaggered up to the railing, keeping the bars between him and Sanzo but leaning over them to smirk at him. "That might even work better for ya. Your old man'll be able to tell we're not a good couple, so if you do find someone you actually wanna hook up with, he'll totally understand when you break up with me."
The fact that Sanzo just raised an eyebrow rather than throwing back a nasty retort told Gojyo that he might have just said the magic words. "And what do you get out of it?"
"Dinner, duh." Gojyo thumbed over his shoulder. "Told ya, the Prof's out, and I probably won't see him 'til the crunch is over and the semester starts. You said this was a dinner, that means free food and you can filch me some leftovers, and I don't have to live on Mickey D's for however the fuck long Hakkai's out of the house." Gojyo paused. "Alright, and if I gotta sweeten my own deal, you gotta bring me some breakfast or something."
Sanzo scowled his irritation, but he put his face close to Gojyo's. "Can you pretend to enjoy kissing me?"
"Only if you can." As if to test it, Gojyo tilted his head to kiss Sanzo on the mouth, but Sanzo evaded.
"No dress rehearsals. Fuck. Fine." Sanzo pivoted around, shoving his sliding door open. "Be ready to go at five, we gotta drive there. Wear a tie, if you own one." He slammed the door shut behind him (as hard as one could slam a glass sliding door), and Gojyo blew a smoke ring at his back.
“Well, whatever.” He had dinner set for the night, anyway, and it was something different to do on his day off.
Life was strange, but alright. Gojyo watched the moon sink a little lower as he finished his smoke, and resolved to try to get a little more sleep. He wanted to be awake enough to watch Sanzo squirm tonight.
--------------------------
Sanzo at first seemed surprised when Gojyo pushed open the front door of their apartment building, eyes a little wide as he strolled down the sidewalk towards the curb and Sanzo's stark white Equus (nice car, Gojyo thought, for someone who never leaves the house). "Hey," he hailed Sanzo with a wave and a wink, and Sanzo just scoffed and flapped a hand back, but Gojyo didn't miss the way Sanzo's gaze swiped his body. Gojyo had dug out the black silk shirt and a white straight tie, the stuff he saved for nights at swanky clubs near the college, and now Sanzo was staring at him with what sure smelled like jealousy. Gojyo made sure to pass him just close enough that he could smell his cologne and the cigarettes on his collar; after all, even if he was just playing at being Sanzo's boyfriend, Sanzo's dad might as well think he was a catch, or at least sexy, and it'd be nice if Sanzo would acknowledge that he was making an effort. Sanzo sniffed the air a little, though Gojyo couldn't be sure if it was attraction or derision. Gojyo walked a short circle around the car so Sanzo could see just how damn good his ass looked in dark wash jeans, but also so he could check out the ride – it was an older car, but it looked damn sharp, so either Sanzo took good care of it or never drove it. "She's nice."
"She?"
"Cars are ladies, doncha know?" Gojyo winked, then leaned against the hood. "So, you ready to roll?"
Sanzo pulled a face, brow quirking, mouth twitching back with annoyance. "Yeah, fine." He took a cigarette out of his sport coat's inner pocket and lit up as he circled to the driver's side. His focus glanced off of Gojyo again as Gojyo cracked open the passenger side door. "You look presentable."
That was the closest thing Gojyo'd ever heard to a compliment coming out of Sanzo. He just chuckled and slicked his fingers back through his hair. "Well, when I'm not bound for sixteen hours in my cab by my lonesome, I make a little more effort. Thanks."
"Hm." Sanzo's focus flitted away, eyes dodging down, and Gojyo realized Sanzo actually, seriously thought he looked good. He smirked to himself, cocksure and proud, as he settled into the cushy seat of Sanzo's little luxury sedan and threw his safety belt on.
Sanzo drove like he was daring the cops to pull him over, using his turn signals like insults rather than indicators. Gojyo found himself gripping the “oh-shit” handle for most of the ride and watching the streets fly past the window as they veered from the outskirts of Portland, circumvented the city, and sped towards Five Corners. Gojyo was familiar with the area, he'd driven local deliveries through here. He recognized the exits and turns towards a particularly nice slice of the suburbs north and east of West Hill, the kind of place where he ended up dropping off a lot of luxury brand packages in December.
Not surprising. If Sanzo's dad had the assets to travel the world, it made sense he had it in him to own a house in a nice area. Sanzo seemed like he came from a good place, though Gojyo got the sense that something had happened that had made him turn out rotten. Kids who came from good homes seemed to have the biggest problems. Gojyo had found that folks with money too often substituted cash for decent morals and common sense. Not that broke kids didn't have their problems too, but everyone knew about those already, so they were hardly worth whining about.
The sun was just starting to sink behind the mountain when they pulled up to a mid-sized Victorian-style house in the middle of a winding, tree-lined road, but instead of the manicured lawn and designer garden he expected, the grass was long and wild, the roses were growing up the brick and stone columns like trellises, and most of the windows were draped with ivy, bedecked with living greenery like Christmas tinsel. The lights were on, glowing gold onto the other cars parked out front, and Sanzo groaned as he pushed the clasp on his seat belt loose. “Fuck, he invited the whole crew.”
“The whole crew?” Gojyo repeated, fumbling off the last of his terror at the last abrupt, screeching turn onto the driveway, fingers shaking just a little, but he got out and shook himself off. The yard was quiet, with only a faint hum of noise and music from the house proper. Sanzo shook his head with disgust.
“He invited all of his friends from work, from before he retired.” He slapped the cars as he strolled past them. “Glasses guy, Fey guy, the Colonel, Big guy, Shouty guy, Quiet guy, Baldy One and Baldy Two...”
Gojyo frowned and followed a step behind. “They, uh, got names?”
“Sure, but I don't bother remembering them. I see them once a year, less if I had any say in it.” Sanzo scoffed, shaking his head as he went, but Gojyo caught him shoot a truly venomous look at a black sports car parked in front of the driveway. “And of course, that prick is here. I'd hoped the old man would've pushed him off a boat by now.”
Gojyo raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't ask. He had a feeling he'd find out who 'that prick' was soon enough.
Sanzo loped to the front door, shaking his shoulders out like he was limbering up for a boxing match, then rang the bell and rapped his fist on the door twice. Gojyo felt Sanzo's tension around him like static electricity as the chime reverberated into silence, until the door opened to a mild-looking man in a colorful knee-length jacket, his long hair in a braid cast over his shoulder and a pipe between his fingers. He threw his arms open, beaming. “Kouryuu, there you are!”
Sanzo reluctantly trudged forward and let the man fold his arms around him. Gojyo even caught a glimpse of a begrudging smile. “Father. I've asked you to call me Genjo instead of that babyish nickname.”
“It's not babyish, it's what I've always called you!” Sanzo's father patted his back a few times before releasing him, only to hold him at arm's length. “And you'll always be my baby, you know.” He turned to Gojyo, and spoke to him with the familiarity as if he'd known him for years. “Has he told you about how I adopted him? All my old friends were stunned, they didn't think a man like me could be a parent, but this one falls into my lap and--”
“Father, you should really introduce yourself before you start telling embarrassing old stories about me.” Sanzo was visibly tense now, and Gojyo couldn't help but chuckle to himself.
“Hey, he told me it'd been a while since you've seen each other, I can't blame ya for being eager.” Gojyo loosened to a casual slouch and swaggered a half step in. “Name's Gojyo. I''m the guy who's been taking care of your boy these last – how many months, babe?”
The look of pure relief on Sanzo's face was immensely satisfying. “Ten.”
“Ten months, but who's counting, right?” Gojyo extended a hand. “It's nice to meet you, sir.”
“Oh, he calls me 'sir,'” Sanzo's father laughed, but he clasped both hands around Gojyo's and shook it vigorously. “I'm Koumyou Sanzo, his father. So tell me, is his butt as cute as it was when he was little?”
Gojyo nearly choked on his own tongue trying not to laugh right there, as Sanzo turned a shade of crimson Gojyo could only compare to steakhouse ketchup. “Father!”
“He hasn't showed me baby pictures,” Gojyo demurred, winking at Sanzo again. “But let's see what the night brings, you know?”
Koumyou chortled, obviously delighted, but waved the pair of them past. “Oh, Genjo, he's funny. I like him!”
“He's unique.” Sanzo eyed Gojyo with just a hint of malice, and Gojyo put on a sheepish grin. “He's never boring, anyway.”
“I'm just glad I can make you laugh, babe.” Gojyo motioned for Sanzo to go first, as Sanzo shot him one quick glare and moved past him.
So far, so good.
Koumyou led them into a room near the entrance, but before Gojyo could even get a look around, a cheer rose through the room.
“There he is!”
“The prodigal son!”
“The famous son,” someone else laughed back, and Gojyo finally got a look around. Koumyou kept it colorful, the walls beige but decorated with ornate, colorful paintings – Klimt, van Gogh, Degas, and framed posters from art galleries advertising exhibitions from around the world – and his table was just as colorful. The centerpiece of the room, the dinner spread over the long low table, was of covered dishes in purples and crimsons and greens over a tablecloth with a technicolor geometric pattern. All the guests were seated on silk patterned cushions on their knees similar in pattern to Koumyou's jacket, and all of them were waving to Genjo as he slouched in the aperture between the foyer and dining room.
“It's...” Gojyo could feel Sanzo's tension in the hum of his hesitation and patted his back, and Sanzo seemed to remember that he should finish his sentence. “Nice to see you all again.”
“Liar,” one man near the head of the table, a man closer to Sanzo's age than to Koumyou's with shaggy dark hair, chuckled, and Sanzo's gaze snapped to him. “Imagine,” he went on, dark eyes gleaming in the yellow light of the chandelier, “Koumyou putting the poor antisocial boy through his paces again.”
Sanzo bristled, and jerked his shoulder to shake Gojyo's hand off. “It's been too long, Jianyi.”
“He lies again.” The dark-haired man, Jianyi apparently, laughed, and elbowed at the man next to him, who actually gave him a rather irritated look back.
“Will you be nice to your boyfriend's son?” He was an odd-looking fellow, with a classic Mandarin hairstyle, all the hair shaved but for a braid, and a mustache, and when he stood, Gojyo realized he was a little person. He circled the table and came to stand in front of Sanzo, then bowed. “You're looking well, Genjo.”
“Genkai.” Sanzo actually bowed back. “It's good to see you again.”
“Now he means it,” a man with hair dyed purple giggled (Fey guy, though his voice was rougher than his rather feminine features suggested), and Baldy One and Baldy Two on either side of him both smiled, One reluctantly and Two wryly, before Fey guy cupped a hand. “Genjo, introduce the beefcake!”
All eyes were on him now. Gojyo keenly felt Jianyi's stare, as Sanzo motioned to him. “Everyone, Gojyo. We've been seeing each other ten months.”
“Nice find!” A guy wearing a canvas military cap, who was a little younger and a little thicker than the others (Gojyo was guessing that was the Big guy), hooted, and the Colonel (the white beard and mustache were a dead giveaway) chuckled into his hand.
“Gojyo, Genjo, please, sit, make yourself comfortable! Where did that Father of yours get to?”
“He can't have gone far.” Genkai eased back and motioned to the two empty cushions near the center of the table. “We were all just catching up. All boring old man stuff, of course. What have you been up to?”
With that, Genkai ushered Sanzo to sit, and Gojyo sat beside him on his knees, and Sanzo was dragged into the typical inane conversation of catching up with someone one hadn't seen in a while. Gojyo found out a little about Sanzo, at least: he was a straight-up New York City stock trader, working (remotely) on Eastern Standard Time from the nine A.M. opening bell (six A.M., Gojyo did the math in his head with a quick wince) until closing. Explained why he was always awake when Gojyo's schedule was fucked, anyway. It also explained why he seemed to be such a recluse, or at least how he could stay in the apartment all day and still make a decent living. Gojyo couldn't help but figure the why from Sanzo's terse reactions every time he got a question from another direction, eyes briefly widening a little bit every time someone asked about the next big trend, stock advice, buy or sell on this or that, and turning faintly scarlet whenever Fey guy or Big guy made some wink and nod joke about him being “kept busy” and winking at Gojyo.
Koumyou rejoined the party just as Baldy Two was pushing Sanzo about Apple stock, bearing a covered dish. “My, my, you've all started the festivities without me!”
“We couldn't help ourselves,” Jianyi chuckled, edging over to widen the gap beside him. Gojyo immediately felt his attention snap to the guy, because for some reason, Gojyo had gotten a bad vibe off of him, and not just from Sanzo's reaction to his prodding, or that of the other ten men in the room every time he'd made some mutter Gojyo couldn't hear or make out. It was that 'not-safe' feeling he got when he pulled into truck stops that told him his shit would get stolen out of the cab if he so much as stopped for a piss break there, or when he passed over lot lizards that he just knew would give him syphilis if he so much as looked at her twice without a condom on. He had sort of a sense for trouble like that, it came with living like he did. Jianyi seemed either blissfully unaware of everyone else's disdain or wholly unperturbed by it, but that was just as off-putting as the initial sense Gojyo got, and just as eerie as the smile Jianyi put on when Koumyou sat down beside him and put the dish in the rest of the spread. "Can we serve now?"
"Oh, yes, yes, please!" Koumyou motioned up with both hands, indicating for everyone to lift the covers, before turning his smile towards Gojyo. "And if you don't know what something is, please ask!"
Gojyo suddenly felt eyes on him, and plastered on a self-conscious smile. "Food's food, right? I'm sure I can figure it out."
There was a round of soft chuckling and stifled laughter around the table, as Sanzo muttered, "You happen to be at a table with eleven world-travelers, each of whom brought a dish from a part of the world they have been to over the last year. I guarantee you I'll only be guessing at half of what's on this table, but I have no food allergies or sensitivities and I'm not picky. Just ask if you're not sure."
"I'm not picky either," Gojyo countered quickly, choosing not to volunteer that he'd eaten maggots before just so nobody could press him about the context. "Uh, but excluding us, I counted twelve, so--"
"I can't cook," Koumyou volunteered sheepishly. "However, I got a friend in town to dress a lamb leg in the Turkish style, and while I wouldn't know what to do with it myself, I can set an oven and carve meat off the bone."
"With some help." Nii winked at him, and Gojyo heard Fey guy make a disgusted noise.
"Can we just eat already?" He lowered his voice to a mutter and added, "Before I lose my appetite."
The plates were lifted, to an outcry of excitement from all sides but Sanzo and Jianyi, and though Gojyo didn't say a word, he didn't recognize half of what was on the table. Instead, Gojyo took the first thing he could identify (a hearty slice of that lamb leg Koumyou had brought in) and sniffed every plate as it came past him. He began to pick up on what was what – those funny green egg rolls were grape leaves stuffed with mushrooms and onions, the white pasta with big meatballs was a Vietnamese pork meatball over rice noodles, that wasn't ham wrapped around melon but prosciutto and it was popular in Spain, those crispy things were deep-fried lotus root – and luckily, it all smelled amazing.
“Man, this is better than going to a buffet,” he remarked as he passed a platter of black eggs that smelled of oranges and spice to Baldy Two on his left, to a few chuckles from nearby.
“It's fun,” Genkai said from his place, smiling peaceably. “We all get together to share where we've been, and bring a little of it with us.”
“A fine meal is a fleeting pleasure, but one best enjoyed in good company.” Koumyou lifted a teacup, and many of the others followed suit with water or wine glasses. "Cheers. I'm glad to see you all again."
There were answers of "Cheers," and murmurs of agreement, before Koumyou turned to Genkai. "You said you brought dolmas, old friend? How did Greece treat you?"
"Better than its citizens, sadly." Genkai smiled wryly. "Even despite its current troubles, Athens is still beautiful. I admit I spent longer in Germany this year, but, well... I suppose I was thinking of Goudai."
Jianyi pulled a face behind his wine glass, as Koumyou sighed. "It's still fresh for me, too. He would have loved them, you did a fantastic job."
"Goudai," Sanzo said, in a voice meant for Gojyo, "was an old friend of my father's who passed a few years ago."
"I think we all miss my old mentor." All eyes shot to Jianyi with irritation when he spoke over his folded hands and tented fingers. "Even so, I imagine he'd be loathe to think of us all moping about him now, wouldn't you agree, Genjo?" His dark eyes glimmered with mischief, and he failed to disguise a smirk. Sanzo snorted and turned his attention to his plate, but Gojyo felt compelled to say something:
"He'd probably be glad you all thought of him, anyway. It's nice to remember folks who're gone, not for them, but for you, y'know? Those good memories are still good." He picked up one of the fried lotus root chips with his fingers, imitating Baldy One across the table, as Genkai cracked a little smile.
"You speak like someone who's lost someone dear to you, but with the strength to remember them fondly. Admirable, in a boy your age."
“Well, we can't all be worldly little monks, can we?” Jianyi tossed his head back and laughed. Genkai flushed, but Gojyo brushed it off as if he hadn't spoken.
“Oh, you're a monk, are you? Like, what kind?”
“Holy Land Buddhist,” Koumyou and Sanzo both answered.
“It's how we met.” Koumyou nudged Genkai with his hand. “All of us were students of Buddhism under a wise teacher, and we became a social group outside of meditation sessions and sutra readings.”
“With one notable exception.” Fey guy was glaring daggers at Jianyi again, who was much more interested in the bottom of his wine glass.
“Guilty as charged.” Jianyi put his glass down and put it towards the center of the table, and Koumyou took up the canter and refilled it. “I was actually an apprentice under dear deceased Goudai, and got pulled in by him.”
“I think he thought we would be good influences.” Baldy One smirked a bit, then tucked a whole shumai into his mouth. “Mmh, Excellent, Jyoan.”
“Thank you.” Fey guy smirked like a satisfied cat, then glanced sideways to Gojyo. “So, aside from our odd man out, we all came up together.”
"We're all relatively faithful, though I admit Koumyou's, er, non-traditional." The Colonel chuckled, as Koumyou flapped a hand.
"I live my own way, and I don't think I've hurt anyone so far." He winked at Sanzo. "I'm not so bad, am I?"
"Yeah, yeah. Do as you please, as long as you don't hurt anyone," Sanzo muttered, stabbing at the dolmas piled on his plate.
"That's the Hippocratic oath, Genjo." Jianyi wagged a finger. "And really, Seiran knows more about that." Baldy Two snorted, and Gojyo could have sworn he muttered something like:
"Keep my name off your lips."
"You're a doctor?" Gojyo asked, before Jianyi could engage a second further. Baldy Two raised a brow, then nodded.
"Myself and Soujin both." He motioned to the Colonel. "I've been researching methods for recovering from brain damage post-trauma and seizures."
"Pediatrics, with Médecins Sans Frontières. It seemed a natural progression after being in the Marines, to me, anyway!" The Colonel chuckled again, stroking his beard (or maybe wiping a little of that white yogurt sauce out of it, there was a reason Gojyo didn't like beards much). "Perhaps our new guest deserves a bit more explanation."
“Oh, right. Genjo likely didn't tell him about all of his uncles.” Fey guy sneered a bit, but smirked at Gojyo. “I'm an anthropologist and writer. I've been examining some non-conforming villages in China. Do you know there are subcultures wherein marriage isn't practiced? At all?”
“We can talk studies later.” Glasses guy adjusted his spectacles, but Gojyo could feel him examining him under the wire rims. “I'm a reporter. My forte is in covering disasters, though I admit I don't care for it nearly as much as covering the recovery.”
With that, everyone around the table gave his profession. Big Guy was a food writer who traveled the world writing about unique cuisines for a major food magazine Gojyo had never heard of, Baldy One taught English in underprivileged remote Japanese villages, Shouty guy paused briefly in devouring from some Thai-fried rice to explain that he was a soccer coach. Every one of these men touched ground in multiple countries a year, and the hosts were no exception, just like Sanzo had said.
“I'm a curator for the International Foundation for Art research.” Koumyou beamed and gestured to some of the posters. “They trust my instincts enough to let me choose where to search, and I find pieces and build exhibitions for museums around the world.”
“His taste is world-renowned.” Jianyi gave Koumyou a rather heated look and a smirk that wasn't entirely sarcastic, which only put the needles a little deeper under Gojyo's skin. “Even I can admit some of his collections are unique in ways hard to put into words.”
“Which says something, though I'm not certain what.” Koumyou giggled softly, and Gojyo saw Sanzo wince as he stroked his fingers down his arm.
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nobloodmoon · 2 years
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יוטיוב של זוג הומואים שעקבתי אחריהם מלא זמן ואז נעלמו לאיזה עשור וחזרו בלתי נסבלים
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saucyboystatus · 4 years
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10: When was your last physical fight?
I love this story. I was homeless in Portland, Oregon, back in 2018, for about three months. At the tail end of that time, there was a homeless couple- a large, skinny six foot and a half druggie and his equally drugged, five foot nothing girlfriend. The girl was very nice and friendly with most of the other people in the shelter, but the dude was... a lot. They mostly slept on a ratty ass mattress in the back of an abandoned parking lot, and I’m not even gonna get into what went down back there. All that matters is that I *saw* what went down back there with another guy from the shelter who I used to busk with. I bought him a guitar at Goodwill for him and he bought me a little bongo so we’d just play on the corner. Well, I’m carrying this bongo and the other dude’s carrying this guitar, so we drop our shit off in some bushes where some other bum won’t steal it and we chase this dude halfway down the street to a park, where he starts flipping out (I assume he was tweaking) and punching light poles and construction equipment. So, I’ve lost my buddy at this point, and I flying leap onto this guy’s back like a gaht damn chimpanzee and put him in a chokehold (badly, I might add), and eventually this bum trips over his own shoelaces or something and falls over and we just kinda laid there until the cops showed up.  Some nice lady called ‘em and after they were done threatening me too and giving me ugly looks for being a hobo they put the guy in the wagon...but not before this guy, I shit you not, tried to WWE style DROPKICK a cop. You can guess how well that went for him. He ended up getting tazed.  Dude ended up in jail, as far as I know he’s still there. Girl’s also still on the street, but me and that busking guy saved up enough to come back to Louisiana on the Greyhound. He’s in NOLA doing hot gay shit and I’m just... vibing. Anyway, that’s the whole story surrounding the only fight I’ve ever won. 
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gayorgynight65 · 5 years
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Fleshlight play Oregon City
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