Sherilyn Connelly > Diary


1/13/12
My Face for the World to See (Part II):
The Diary of Sherilyn Connelly
a fiction

last updated: 5/14 15:50 PT


 
I read your book and I find it strange
That I know that girl and I know her world a little too well
And I didn't know by giving my hand
That I would be written down, sliced around,
Passed down among strangers' hands

        Never again would I see your face
You carry a pen and a paper and no time and no words you waste
Oh, you're a voyeur, the worst kind of thief
To take what happened to us
To write down everything that went on between you and me

—Sheryl Crow, "The Book"
 
Most recent days at top, though updates over the course of the day are at the bottom of each day. Oh, you know how it works.
Names have been changed. If you're convinced something is a big mean public attack on you, that says more about you than me.

REALITY CHECK: I consider myself a writer, but not because of this page.
CONTENT WARNING (updated January 21, 2007): Depending on what month/year you're reading, this page may or may not deal with topics including but not limited to transsexuality, heartbreak, loneliness, alienation, raging self-pity, as well as sexual references both subtle and graphic. If any of these things bother you, or if I say things which conflict with your worldview, please close your browser window and grumble to yourself about how stupid and wrong I am.
STYLE ADVISORY: I overuse the following words: naturally, really, but (particularly as a conjunction), very, anyway, of course, just and I. A strong tolerance for semicolons, parentheses and dashes is also recommended.
TYPO CAVEAT: While spelling is one of my strong suits, you wouldn't know it to read these pages, which are essentially several years' worth of sloppy rough drafts. (Seriously. I'm embarrassed by how rough a lot of it is.) Feel free to point out typos.
SEMANTIC QUIBBLE: This is not a blog, it's an online diary. There's a difference, honestly. (Wanna know what's really funny? "Accidentally" calling it a blog. Comic gold!)




Archives

<    5/11   5/12   5/13   5/14




Monday, 14 May 2012 (a modest kind of truth)
3:29pm


Meet on the Ledge is complete and presentable, so I've sent it off to the publisher. After the end of the semester, just like I'd told them!

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Sunday, 13 May 2012 (of plagues, of dearths)
12:38pm


Marta and I are doing some erranding in the Haight, and as always, I am so very glad I don't live here.

11:12pm

Pretty good turnout for Escape from L.A. at Bad Movie Night, and perhaps more importantly, the crowd was really into the movie in a good way, chanting snake! snake! snake! at the slightest provocation. People who have fun tend to be repeat customers.

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Saturday, 12 May 2012 (this bloody tyrant time)
1:09pm


I love known that I can do the "hard-boozing writer" thing—I had half a beer last night, and I feel like I slept funny, though my body was probably dealing with the unexpected influx of gorgonzola sauce—so I'm happy to settle for "overly caffeinated writer." Not as fashionable or Bukowsi-glamorous, but we meet our deadlines.

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Friday, 11 May 2012 (your painted counterfeit)
4:53pm


I've been working at Marta's, and I just got invited to join the weekly's staff for drinks at Pier 23, as a celebrationy thing for the upcoming best-of issue. Also, I've completed both my Libr 202 Final Exam (and am confident that I'll be getting 100%) and have turned in everything I need to turn in for Libr 204, so the semester is officially over, and that requires celebration as well. So, adventure!

7:51pm

Swell plan, except for the fact that I know don't know what anyone at the weekly actually looks like (except my editor, who I had dinner with in January) and thus I couldn't pick them out of the incredibly loud and noisy crowd, nor did they pick up on me wandering around with Marta trying to find them, both her and I feeling terribly out of place in the upscale crowd. So, after a half hour of that, we decided to had into North Beach for dinner, and are now having a more proper celebratory meal at Mona Lisa—which, oddly enough, is not particularly upscale.

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