I knew something was wrong when Perdita wasn't already crying before I opened the door. Her food is on top of the fridge right next to the front door, and it was obvious as soon as I saw it that she hadn't eaten much; I filled it before I left on Friday morning, and it was still mostly full. She was quiet, lethargic, wouldn't eat except for a nibbling at a couple of kitty treats Vash put donw, had difficulty jumping onto the bed and the table, and, perhaps most tellingly, didn't sleep with Vash and I. Scary. She wasn't doing appreciably better when we got up this morning, so we took her to the emergency pet hospital near 9th and Lincoln. I felt like the worst kittymom ever when I admitted that, um, I haven't taken her to a vet since I got her two years ago. (It just never occurs to me at the right time, which is just about the worst excuse possible.) They said she had a fever and was dehydrated, possibly due to an infection of some kind. They gave her intravenous fluids—essentially a lump of water under her skin that her body will absorb over the course of the day—and some twice-daily antibiotics. When we brought her back home, she went straight to her food and started eating like...well, like a cat who hasn't eaten for a couple days. I'm taking that to be a very good sign.

Have to say, she traveled well. Cried a little at first, but mostly relaxed in my arms and watched the world go past. Good to know for when we finally take her to Fresno to meet her grandmother.

Vash and I then ate at the Sea Biscuit, after which she headed back to Wonderland, unaware that she would have to, as she put it, go home by route of Beirut, what with the tanker truck exploding and melting the freeway. 2007 is so going to go down as the worst commute year ever.

sometime after midnight

Another sparsely attended Bad Movie Night (Left Behind), and yet another in which I heard about people avoiding it on ethical grounds. Fair enough. Still fun, and I expect the crowds will pack back up next month, which is more blockbuster-y kinda movies.

Perdita's still a little sluggish, but she's eating and jumping on and off of things with no apparent difficulty. She's also incredibly mellow when it comes to me giving her antibiotics, which is nice, since I don't always have Vash here to help like this morning. In any event, I guess I'll know for sure how she's doing by tomorrow.

Last night's Queer Open Mic was a lot of fun, if oddly attended. Leyba was the feature, and while there were very few readers, and there was a pretty decent crowd, mostly friends of his, including Peaches and Jennifer Fox Bennett. Which is terrific, whatever brings people in, and hopefully a few of them will come back. Except for Vash and Johanna, hardly any of our regulars attended. Alas. Their loss. (Kinda like what happened with The Passion of the Christ at Bad Movie Night. Does controversy scare people that much? Or is the promise/threat of blood?) After the show, a woman who'd seen me at Peaches' Black Mass last December but had never been to the Queer Open Mic said, I have a "a great community energy." Very sweet.

Thursday night Johanna and I went to the Power Exchange. Her first time, but she'd always been curious about it, especially after my Eros article. (That was the point, as far as I'm concerned, to get people to check the joint out.) We were in the Dungeon outside the Cage talking to Artwhore when Rhonda came up and said to him: there aren't any paper towels left in the bathroom, and my hands are covered in jorm! A better introduction to the Power Exchange, I cannot imagine.

Meanwhile, the Bay to Breakers isn't going to happen. At least, not for me. Vash is in shape for it, but I'm not and am not damn likely to be by May 20, and that's okay. The following weekend (May 25-27) is going to be pretty busy, however. In addition to getting my hair reblondified on Saturday morning and squidified on Sunday, Fresh White has asked me to host a Trans March benefit that Friday night, and Robert Lawrence has asked Vash and I participate in the Masturbate-a-Thon that Saturday at Kink.com's Porn Palace. He'd like us to help populate the Barn, Vash as a pony, and myself—well, as he put it, what is a barn without a cat? Indeed.

Huh. As usual when confronted with random questions, I was honest: actually it was my mom's favorite soap opera when i was growing up, and—

I didn't get to tell my charming anecdote about poring over the world atlas (I was fascinated by maps of other places as a child, ironic considering how sedentary I am now) while my mom would watch her story, because the woman interrputed: you remind me of a character named zarfy. the hair, and...well, everything. whenever i see you, i want to tell you that.

I replied, somewhat nonplussed: and this is a good thing, huh?

She said: it is. you look just like him!

Ugh. I knew this would end badly, that the male pronoun would creep in, but it still hurt when it did. I said: oh. well, so long as it's a good thing. thanks.

And I walked away. I could have argued her on the pronoun thing, but didn't see the point. Turns out the character she was thinking of was the much-hyped tranny character on the show, and...yeah. She meant well. I'm quite sure of that.

My notes about Saturday night, in raw form, unpolished, probably passable as stream-of-consciousness poetry if I get lazy, come out to about twenty-six hundred words. It's a story I really want to tell properly, but it'll have to wait.

10:35pm

I went to the Erotic Reading Circle tonight and read the notes. I feel I may be on the verge of something beautiful yet destructive.

The curtains have surely closed elsewhere. I think home is safe now.

From APE, Vash and I went to Dr. Sketchy's. She drew while I wrote, per usual. After a hopefull not-sick-making dinner at Kiki (and some processing to help us digest the sushi), she dropped me off at Java Beach, where I managed to score a table with an outlet, and worked until they closed. Because I haven't written at all this weekend, and as a budding workaholic, that simply will not do.

This weekend was far more good than bad--for as horrible as Friday was, Saturday was wonderful. By my math, that's a victory.

Haven't hurled again, though my stomach still isn't very happy with me. I feel weak, though that may be becuase in the last thirty-odd hours I've all had to eat are some saltines, and that was at Vash's urging. (Tricky, because it required leaving the house and driving to Walgreen's, but I managed.) I'm having some soup right now, and I'm determined to leave the house today and meet up with Vash at the Citadel for an Animal Role-Play class. We'd talked about me joining her and Zoe last night at the Eighth Annual Dog and Pony Show, but then I had to go and sick. Dumb stupid body.

Though I'm looking forward to it—her pony stable needs a resident cat, yes it does—the exact nature of the event almost doesn't matter. I just want to be with Vash today.

8:19pm

Attention-starved yet aloof, slutty yet finicky, skittish, fiercely loyal yet ultimately alone.