We are living in a time of institutional chaos, moral chaos, constitutional chaos, and not least, biological chaos. And so we get it: Chaos is the order of the day, then. But when the sun goes down each night on Philly, its streets now empty and forlorn on a level not seen since the 1990s, another form of chaos quietly reigns: #gaychaos.

We first noticed this simple tag during the waning days of the beforetime, and loved it on sight. But since then, we’ve grown to love it more. At the same time, the tag has proliferated during the city’s shutdown at a rate that is frankly inspiring; #gaychaos has been productive in a way that would seem to be the antidote to all of those “don’t feel pressure to be productive during this time” think pieces that keep coming over the transom. Hell yes you should be productive, #gaychaos seems to be saying, this could be your last chance to produce #gaychaos! It’s later than you think! 

Who, after all, is having more fun than #gaychaos right now? Imagine it: You’re #gaychaos. You do your Zooms, or your essential job, you get through your day however you can. But by 8pm, the sun is going down, the streets are empty. You load your backpack with multiple cans of spray paint, paint markers, in as many colors as you can lay your hands on in this weird moment. And then you hit the streets, with one eye over your shoulder but your entire focus on spreading this one simple message. It’s not your name. It’s not who you’re voting for, or what you’re protesting. Instead, it’s a wish, a solution, a prayer: Gay Fucking Chaos.

One could argue that tags aren’t art. That’s fine. But words are art. And as a diptych, #gaychaos is high art, aspirational in scope, but attainable whenever and however you like. Is this old world getting you down? May we suggest simply closing your eyes, even for just a moment, to visualize gay chaos. Perhaps it’s a dream of getting freaky in the streets, perhaps it’s a political platform of pansexual anarchy. Maybe it’s even just a pure GIF-inspired abstract visual of confetti-laden, helium-voiced gaiety in a time when circumstances just want to deny us that. 

Whatever it is, we’ll take it.