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Sunday, 20 April 2008 (pruning back) sometime after midnight Though my serotonin is depleted, I did pretty well today. I did cry at one point while talking to Ennui, but I know my emotions well enough to know that I would have done so anyway. | ||
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Saturday, 19 April 2008 (light eclipse the moon tonight) 2:12pm Wrote for a couple hours at Mission Creek last night, met up with Sadie and her visiting ex-boyfriend Angel at The Dark Room after The Twilight Zone, and went to Cell Space for the final night of Welcome to Cardburg. We all inhaled so much dust during the destruction of the cardboard city, we'll probably collectively pull a Conqueror and die of cancer in a few decades. Sadie and I also had several zillion pictures taken of us together and separately by Herman Privette, but I'm not holding my breath about liking any of the ones of me, since I'd neglected to put any foundation on even though I'd observed earlier in the evening that my face was splotchy-looking. Alas. Sadie didn't think she was going to like any of the pictures of herself, either, in spite of the fact that she was properly made up and just more photogenic than me by a long shot. (That's my judgment, not hers.) It was around two in the morning by the time we left and headed to our semi-original destination of The Haunted Barn for The Life Size Mousetrap. The party was pretty well over by then, and we didn't know any of the people who were still there, though the Mousetrap itself was gorgeous, especially lit up in the dark. (I've never seen it before.) Sadie drove so I could drink (which I ended up not doing), and while we were out in Bayview she pointed out her old haunts and other places of interest We were wanting to make it a late night, and when it's pushing three in the morning one's options are limited. So, we returned to Sadie's so she could put Angel into drag, then drove to the Power Exchange. (If Angel was in boy mode he'd have to pay to get in, but in girl mode admission was free.) As I was showing Angel the Comic Hallway, I was approached by ownerMike Powers, whom I've somehow managed to never meet in spite of my semi-regular status. He asked me and Sadie if we'd like to be in one of a series of short films they're making next month. The details were a little vague, but as near as I could tell it involves pirates, and Artwhore assured me there's no pr0n or noodelty involved. Sure, okay. It was a slow night, even for a quarter to four on Saturday night, so we were relatively unobstructed as I gave Angel the rest of the tour. We hung out for a bit in the Cage, astonished at the lack of the circus, and finally left around a quarter past four. I dropped Sadie and Angel back off at Sadie's place, then drove straight home and was in bed by five. Though the banging and slamming and screaming began a couple hours later, between the blackout curtains and Buddha Machine and earplugs, I managed to sleep until nearly eleven. Good enough. 4:46pm Especially since now, probably unwisely, I'm onto my second mocha. The first was a couple hours ago at Ritual before going to pick up Ennui and Jack, and the current is at the Peet's Coffee at the lovely corner of Central and Park in metropolitan Alameda. Ennui and Jack are a friend's house for a party-type gathering of some persuasion, and I was excused from attending because a) there are copious numbers of children about, and b) nobody especially cares if there I'm not. So, I'm going to get a few hours of writing done before picking them up and proceding on to the party at Edie's. And I won't be thinking about what else is going tonight, not at all. I left my ears in the car—I'm giving the islanders enough to look at as it is, thank you very much—but I still have my tail on. 5:49pm Parents in Alameda do not teach their children that it's impolite to stare. However, they are taught things like: sometimes, when a woman is old, you call her an old bat. | ||
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Friday, 18 April 2008 (circles and cycles) 2:05pm It's a dangerous weekend, but so long as I keep my distance from the Citadel, I should be okay. | ||
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Thursday, 17 April 2008 (next comes the purge) 12:24pm Johanna and I had plans for comfort food and a sci-fi movie last night, but we weren't going to get to start until late and she had to be up early this morning, so we postponed. Perhaps just as well, since I was feeling in the mood for a rare evening at home. With earplugs in and headphones on, of course. Ate too much (as I'm wont to do at home) and was asleep by half past ten reading Fiasco, my latest movie-porn book. I'm pretty much elsewhere for the next week. Tonight I'm going to watch Twilight Zone dress rehearsal at The Dark Room, on Friday night Sadie and I are probably going to The Life Size Mousetrap, on Saturday night Ennui and I are going to a party at Edie's, Sunday afternoon we're going to the final performance of The Twilight Zone and the not-final Bad Movie Night that evening, Monday night is the second-to-final Ask Dr. Hal, and I may or may not be getting together with Zuki on Tuesday to start watching Star Trek: The Animated Series. So, yeah. An evening at home with Perdita was a good thing. Speaking of Ask Dr. Hal, from the "Social Notes" section of the latest dispatch: Still, we did have some good questions, and the crowd included some of our favorite people: ravishing Robin Coomer of Loop Station, slinky Sonjia Miles a.k.a. the Holy Hemptress who helped set out our late-arriving question slips, the Dark Room Theatre’s sizzling Sherilyn Connelly, maven of their Bad Movie Night (plug-ola!) with g.f. the tempting [Ennui], peripatetic Puzzling Evidence, radiant Rhiannon Charisse (& from the stage we heard the unmistakeable laff of her mom, marvelously mad Mable Syrup)...Nice to know I still sizzle, ignoring the obvious alliteration. I haven't been so sure lately. 11:18pm I'm hanging out with KrOB at the new-to-me Pirate Cat Radio studio. I have to admit, the temptation to return is getting stronger than ever, especially after seeing the new digs. In fact, KrOB informs me that the 8-10pm slot (right before his show) has just opened up, so I've emailed the station owner to let him know I'm interested. That'll go how it goes. | ||
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Wednesday, 16 April 2008 (all evidential standards) 10:14am I just realized that a major anniversary recently passed, the marking of a major change in my life: I started working here at NakedSword on April 12, 2005. 3:04pm The Stars of the Lid show was brief, just shy of an hour (not counting the opening act), but wonderful. Ilene and I had probably the best seats in the house, with a table and in the sweet spot between the speakers and with an excellent view of the screen behind the stage. Accompanid by a string trio (putting my musical preferences ahead of my preference in haircolor, we decided that I'd get the two blonde violinists and Ilene would get the brunette cellist) their set included both parts of "Requiem for Dying Mothers"—which, in terms of unexpected wish fulfillment, is right up there with Low playing "Do You Know How To Waltz?" when I saw them last year. (It's a shame that my companion chose that moment to walk away during the Low concert so they couldn't share it with me, but such is life.) The one jarring moment last night occurred while I was dozing off. The music wasn't boring—I'm big fans of theirs—but by their intention it's meant to be soporific, to be slept to and dreamt to. Ideally I would have been on the ground with my head on Ilene's lap like I'd done with Ennui at Luminous Ambient last month. Not so much of an option at this show, I settle for cuddling with my head on her shoulder. Anyway, all was nice and peaceful when our table suddenly capsized. The Italian restaurant-esque candle fell onto the ground and the various beverages on the table splashed onto Ilene and some friends of hers who were sitting next to us. It took me a couple minutes to realize what happened: a person sitting directly ahead of us, in front of our table, decided to stretch his legs and lean back. Problem was, he forgot about the aforementioned table, and physics took care of the rest. It's persnickety like that. | ||
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Tuesday, 15 April 2008 (one idea too many) 9:30am No Fernet for me when Ennui and I went to Ask Dr. Hal last night, and only the one rum and coke. Feeling fine today, yay. Tonight, Ilene and I are seeing Stars of the Lid at The Independent. | ||
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Monday, 14 April 2008 (taking it and going) 10:57am Bad Movie Night went well last night. The feature was Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, and the crowd was enthusiastic. Ennui sat behind me during the show with Jack and one of her bandmates, and I spent much to the preshow sitting on the ground next to her chair cuddling with her, and held her hand from behind during most of the movie proper. Afterward, I was approached by the writer for the SF Weekly whom Ennui and I shared a table with on the final Drive-Out Theater. Though she often writes the blurbs in the Weekly for Bad Movie Night, it was her first time attending, and she said she had a lot of fun. That made me happy. She also mentioned that she'd read my essay in It's So You and liked it a lot, which made me all the happier. | ||
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Sunday, 13 April 2008 (i've known no war) 1:36pm I drove into Mission this morning, got a cherry parking spot in front of The Dark Room, retrieved my laptop (which I've been purposefully keeping at The Dark Room since Friday night), went to Mission Creek, found a table with an outlet, then discovered I'd left my wallet at home. I rule! Thankfully, Sadie was able to spot me a few bucks to get me through the day, and my driver license is in Phoebe's glove compartment, so I'm not entirely illegal. After The Twilight Zone on Friday night, Sadie and I went back to her place, and then decided to make the most of the warm evening: we shared a pint of Häagen-Dazs chocolate-chocolate chip ice cream as we walked around, making the circuit up around Dolores Park, talking and processing. Among other things, we discussed going on tour later this year, probably in September, probably hitting the Pacific Northwest like I did with Alvin and Jennifer three years ago. It'd be nice to see new places, but I'm no good at at this, and starting with what I know makes sense. After returning to her place, I left around half past one, considering going to The Power Exchange but just not having the energy. (Is that ironic?) Though I did my usual waking-up-every-few-hours routine, I slept until ten on Saturday morning. The blackout curtains combined with the black theatrical curtains work, by gum. Darkness! And the material's even thick enough to dampen the noise from outside. It's not peace or quiet or even solace, but it's better than it was. I'd hoped to get some writing done yesterday, but after making it to The Dark Room, instead I decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather and hang out with Sadie. Rather than just do what everyone does when it's warm and sunny—hang out in Dolores Park—we decided to get out of town, sorta. Our first stop was Flora Grubb Gardens, which I'd never heard of before. There's a Ritual Roasters there as well, and almost as if we were at the one on Valencia, we ran into Spy. Tiny, tiny City. After Sadie bought the plant she was looking for (and I briefly felt sad that I can't have a plant in my house for obvious reasons) (and then remembered that I have a plant on my desk at work, and I'm there a whole heck a lot more anyway), we decided to head for the water. Not the water near the Black Light District, which would have been too easy. Instead, we went into Pacifica, which was much nicer drive. We parked near the Taco Bell on the beach and walked amongst the Norms, looking a little out of place, me moreso than her, but isn't that always the way? As it happens she had to meet up with a friend for a delivery, so we made the rendevous in the parking lot of Sea Bowl. I'm sure it didn't look suspicious at all, us moving boxes from a hatchback into Phoebe's backseat. It was high-grade equipment which Sadie informed me is known in the seckswerken biz as "pervertables," things which are not intended for sex/kink usage but work quite well for it. Christ, by the definition, I really don't know anything which isn't a pervertable. (Not to be confused with a trainable, but I know a few of those, too. We got back into town in plenty of time for dinner at We Be Sushi, and then headed to The Dark Room for the second night of The Twilight Zone. Sadie's playing Rod Serling this weekend, the first time she's been in a production there for some time. I spent much of the time before the show talking to Puzzling Evidence about the possibility of accompanying him to Burning Man next year. The curiosity has been killing me lately, but I simply will not go without a native guide. He hasn't been in several years, but has been thinking about going again, so we'll see. After the show a group of us went for a late-night meal at Osha, and then I went on solo to The Power Exchange. The bouncer at the door waved me in without looking at my ID, probably less out of familiar and more because it's glaringly obvious that I'm a tranny in her thirties. My first stop was the restroom on the first floor to change and put on a tad of makeup. As I washed my hands, a fellow a few sinks down was washing his cock. I was home! Artwhore seemed happy to see me, and brought me up to date on the latest developments and drama. I saw many of the same regulars walking around, comfortingly. Some things don't change. Artwhore introduced me to a new(ish) employee, saying: she's a regular. she used to be here all the time, but now she just comes when she feels like it.. Which is not an inaccurate way to put it, though doesn't quite tell the whole story, either. Now that I can actually sleep past seven in my own bed, I'm hoping to start staying out later, and maybe get back into my old groove. One of them, anyway. I heard the new employee telling Artwhore that he had just been, um, "fooled" by a tranny for the first time. He'd been working there since October and had always prided himself on being able to tell the genetic girls from the rest of us, but this time, his radar failed him. Occupational hazard, I suppose. It was a busy night in the Dungeon, and happily, both Hal and Rhonda were present. Rhonda was jerking off a guy when I showed up, and when she saw me she was all smiles, saying loudly: look who's here! I went over and hugged her, and she made the most obvious joke: i'd shake your hand, but... Of course. Hal introduced me to a tranny visiting from Colombia, saying that she was the most beautifulest tranny he'd ever seen. Eh, she was cute enough, but I wasn't impressed. Negative points for the obvious wig. (The squid may not be the realest thing in the world, but at least it's connected to my head.) I thought but did not say: jezebel's still much hotter. But that's my own biases at work, I suppose. Hal asked me if I'd like to take a ride on the cross, and I said yes, since it really has been a long time. Over a year, possibly. Same there, not much has changed, though he seemed very happy about his new velcro cuffs. I observed a genetic girl who kept startling me, since from behind she bore a striking resemblence to Maddy. (Well, to how Maddy looked with a particular haircut she hasn't had for years, but still.) Hal of course immediately told her that she reminded me of someone else, without mentioning specifics, and she smiled and took over from him for a while. In addition to her style being different, the energy palpably changed, and I found myself getting aroused in a way that I never do with Hal. She leaned in close and asked: are you a painslut? I had to answer honestly, the unfortunate truth which has probably kept me from experiencing a lot more than I would have otherwise, one which may even be on some level why Vash and I didn't last (the logic is convoluted and difficult to explain, and ultimately pointless because there's ultimately no reason why we didn't last beyond the simple fact that Major Briggs' greatest fear is true and love is not enough, but it's in my head): not really, no. I think I disappointed her, and when I looked back over my shoulder several songs later, she was long gone. Not her thing. Some things don't change: if I was into sucking cock or pain in and of itself, I would get so much more action than I do. And yet, I haven't been properly pierced since time immemorial. My energy started drifting around two, so I left. Hal walked me out to his car, and we exchanged phone numbers (or reconfirmed that our numbers haven't changed since we first exchanged them a couple years ago) and made vague plans to have dinner sometime, which I do hope happens. I've made a lot of friends there over the past couple years, and I want to keep them. | ||
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Saturday, 12 April 2008 (a soul that's been bought) 11:43am Days like today make my vampire blood kick in. 1:19pm Going into the light with Sadie. sometime after midnight No matter how long it's been since I've gone to The Power Exchange, I'm always greeted warmly and called a regular. That makes me happy. | ||
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Friday, 11 April 2008 (fully cylindrical) 2:38pm I'm not proud of this, but I've driven to work—or at least in that general direction—every morning this week. I spent Sunday night at Ennui's place and found a decent spot on Dolores on Monday morning, taking BART downtown. Monday night I was also at Ennui's, at had gotten permission beforehand to park at the office on Tuesday morning. Same for Wednesday morning after spending Tuesday evening with Ilene, and on though I spent Wednesday night alone at the Black Light District, on Thursday morning I took my chances in the Mission because I knew I'd be going to The Dark Room after work, and I founding a decent spot near Rainbow. It was a twenty-odd walk to work after that, which is a pretty nice tradeoff, all things considered. If I know I'm going to be driving into The Mission anyway, I might as well drive out there in the morning and park and walk the rest of the way, rather than taking the train back and forth and then driving in the afternoon, especially since I'm not walking much otherwise. (And what other possible way can I get exercise?) It looks like I'll be driving directly to work every Friday, though: I've been asked to be here by half past eight for the new Friday morning ritual of bagel delivery. It's a living. 3:45pm Noise from the Death Factory and Mutant Sounds. Once again, I miss my radio show. Maybe I should just look into doing one of those Shoutcast thingies. 5:08pm Well, that went nowhere. And I totally forgot to mention my connection to the 209 area code. | ||
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