some personal and family anecdotes prompted by the song: not at all #caustic, though the first anecdote features a lot of drug discussion (including IV use), so be aware
This song (and this band) always reminds me of a particular time in my life: I was hanging out with a social circle that's largely discorporated nowadays, and one member was a fan. She was also pretty into doing nitrous as a nightcap substance returning from clubs, so the song can give me something of a contact high (in the social-context way described by Alexander Shulgin in PiHKaL, not the secondhand smoke way).
(same person as mentioned in some other anecdotes; not someone who's had a tag before)
A story from this time: I went out one night, and upon realizing that it was Saint Patrick's day I tied a green hankerchief around my left arm just above the elbow. I ran into friends coming into the city (we would usually go to a particular zone, because it was where every cheap place was located), and then later an acquaintance I'd met there a couple of times. The acquaintance wanted to go to The Beat (the local queer nightclub, a single trainstation away), so we all went along despite none not being both gay and aware of that (this was before I'd even considered transitioning, though in retrospect that I regularly looked in the mirror and felt some pleasure at my absence of a noticeable adam's apple should probably have clued me in a little), as was a standard thing: it's widely acknowledged to be one of the better clubs in the area.
So there we found ourselves, sitting and talking in the smoking section. A friend'd bought some pills from someone just after we came in, and they'd not yet kicked in after half an hour or so, so they assumed they'd been had (the substance had some onset latency: not sure what it was exactly, but probably not actual MDMA). We were talking about this as I went through the process of injecting some insulin: I'd drawn the insulin from the vial, and while I was in the middle of flicking the syringe (to remove bubbles), someone came over to ask for a cigarette.
They started to ask, then looked over to me and immediately left. As I then realized, the combination of "green kerchief tied just above the elbow", "flicking a syringe" and "substance discussion" seemed to have given the asker the impression I was about to shoot something up, and that scared them off. I have to say, it was pretty funny.
Relatedly, my father is not himself queer (to my knowledge, though he is fashionable enough I can imagine it being something someone'd assume were my mother not also there), but does have some historical connection to local queer culture: he worked as a bouncer for the biggest queer nightclub around when he was the age I was in the story I related earlier. My parents did Jeet Kune Do as a couple's activity, and he reached some blackbelt+++ certification there: I assume he got the bouncing job through a friend there: I'm shorter than average for people who've gone through testosterone puberty (163cm, 5'4) and so shorter than the average woman wearing heels (though I usually wear shoes that add a little height [not lifts or other massive shoes, but something with a taller sole than parkour shoes]), and my dad's slightly shorter than me, so I can only assume he was pretty skilled. My parents are close in height, also (though my mother's slightly shorter).
My parents met working at a skating rink: my father was a rink attendant, and my mother a snackbar chick (in her words-ish, she describes it with words having those vibes). Apparently he shares my (past) inability to notice if someone's into him: according to my mother, many were into him, and she won via being the only woman willing to ask him out herself.
