I wonder if proper pronounciation of Pam and/or Roma! requires a tongue-click at the end of the word. It would if they were !Kung, which they really aren't.

No show this evening, because I took my car to the shop, and ended paying a lot more than I expected. Seems one of the tires blew out while the car was there—the very definition of dumb luck—and two of the others were in need of being replaced. So, I had done what was needed to be done.

Net result being me in too foul of a mood to deal with doing the show, especially given the fact that the station isn't on the air at the moment, only online. I realize that more people can theoretically listen online than on the air, but I have no reason to believe that anyone other than a friend or two listens online. It also doesn't help that there's a cast meeting for Batman at The Dark Room tonight, and that sounds highly depressing right now.

So, I'm home, playing hooky and moping at the same time. I may be blonde, but I'm still hella goth.

An hour on the crosstrainer this morning, followed by forty-five minutes on the StairMaster, and a whole mess of crunches. I was very stinky when I was done. Not as stinky as the moron-rock station, though, which seemed louder than usual.

I'd hoped to get some writing done today, but that plan's gone about as well as it ever does. Tonight at Edinburgh Castle is the San Francisco Bay Area Harsh Noise Festival, and I'm really torn about going. It's my kind of event, but it also sounds like a lot of effort, and I have this fantasy that if I stay home, I'll be productive somehow. Yeah, that'll happen.

8:31pm

Staying in tonight. Did do some running around earlier. Driving north on Junipero Serra in Daly City, just shy of the intersection of Junipero Serra and School, there are two billboards next to each other. One billboard was for a bottled iced tea which proudly proclaims itself as being sugarless and approved by the South Beach Diet, which I know nothing about but figure can't be much worse than the Hollywood 48 Hour Miracle Diet, aka the "Shit Yourself Fit" diet. The other billboard was for Marble Slab Creamery, and featured just about the most sensuous scoop of ice cream I've ever seen in my life. A better marketing choice than their nightmarish corporate mascot Slabby, that's for sure. Those two ads next to each other perfectly sum up the schiozoid nature of America.

While at Other Avenues to pick up dolmas and tofu (what the fuck? am I pregnant?), I struck by the urge to ask the cute little dyke with crayon-red hair if she'd like to go out some time. Much to my surprise, I actually found the courage to do so, and she gave me her number.

sometime after midnight

On nights like this when I'm at home by myself, I sometimes wonder where Maddy is and what she's doing. I don't really want to know any more than she wants to know what I'm doing at night, but it makes me sad all the same.

It sucks not having a camera anymore. Not sure what I'm going to do for this month's picture. Another one from last year's shoot with Reverend Michel, I guess.

12:39pm

Feeling better today than yesterday. Was able to go to the gym this morning, anyway. Unfortunately, the slack-jawed kid behind the counter had the local moron-rock station on, complete with wacky morning jocks. They even made nutty crank calls! How cutting edge is that? Thank goodness for my Princess Leia headphones.

Apocalypse Now is playing at the Castro tonight, in 70mm. Oh my yes.

Needless to say, they didn't have the poster. I'm very close to calling it a lost cause. Retail therapy is always risky. The seller's communication has been for shit, though, so I'm giving him neutral feedback. That'll learn him good.

It doesn't help that my defenses are low. The last twenty-four hours have been rough. Started early in the day when my latest attempt to chew gum resulted in a yet another bitten lip. The oral fixation is still strong (anyone for regression?), and neither Altoid Sours nor Penguin Mints were doing it for me, so I headed over to Safeway and got some dry-roasted peanuts. Ate more than I should have, resulting in a heavy, unhappy stomach.

In spite of this, I still had my standard pre-Retool and Grind dinner at World Sausage Grill. (Their veggie sausages rock.) Retool itself was good; the attendance was a little sparser than usual, especially since neither Maddy nor Collette were there, but that's okay. I'm used to it by now. A tattooed old guy in a red leather thong doing what can be charitably described as an interpretative dance to "Total Eclipse of the Heart" was the highlight for me. It's the sort of thing which makes me proud to be part of the San Francisco performance scene. I also got flirted with twice, one in person and one by proxy.

On the way home, I stopped at the store and got cottage cheese and Russian dressing. This, for me, is indulgence. My body was still demanding more more more, and it was either that or ice cream. Figured this would be a little better for me, or at least not as bad. I do love my white foods with red sauces.

Sleep was fitful at best. I dreamed harshly and woke up a lot. At one point, returning from the bathroom, I was still dreaming to the extent that I was convinced there was someone else in the bed. It didn't freak me out or anything; rather, it just made it complicated to get into bed without disturbing them. In retrospect, it may well have been Perdita. It just goes to show that I really need to replace the dead bulb in my lava lamp, my nightlight. The light over the stove in the kitchen just isn't doing the job.

I woke up feeling like shit. I think I was dehydrated, as my mouth felt terribly dry, and my nose started bleeding. (I bled from somewhere else, too, but it's kinda gross.) I overslept so going to the gym wasn't an option, but it's probably just as well.

The random bleeding seems to have stopped, but my head still feels weird. Especially my tongue. At first I thought that the roof of my mouth was peeling, as though I'd ingested something hot—one of the reasons I don't like coffee or tea is because I invariably burn the inside of my mouth—but upon close insection, I see that it's my tongue that's peeling. The top layer of skin is coming right off. That can't be good. It's like it's molting or something.

Dumb stupid peanuts.

4:16pm

So, the Good Advice panel on Tuesday night was be definition a Q&A. The audience wrote questions on pieces of paper and passed them forward, and Jennifer read them aloud. She decided to let me look at one of them first, however, in case I found it offensive and didn't want to answer:

SHERYL—
WHAT KIND OF MEN GO WITH TRANNYS? WHAT DO THEY WANT?

I cancelled the audition. Not only are there no hard feelings on the part of the producers, they're going to keep in touch we for future projects. Pretty good for never having met in person, nor having seen my theatrical resume, which didn't exist until this morning.

To that effect, I've canceled my audition for the play. I really need to focus on more immediate, personal projects. What's more, Jennifer has asked me do a West Coast tour with her in October for Good Advice. In my mind, that's all the more reason to not do the play in September. Don't ask me why. Anyway, there'll be other plays.

Like the fact that the upcoming live version of "Once More, With Feeling" from Buffy The Vampire Slayer at Counterpulse is already cast. There's no guarantee that I would have passed the audition anyway, but I've been wanting to play Willow in that ever since it was first discussed at Spanganga two years ago, so I really wish I could have tried out for it. Alas.

It just drives home the point that I need to create my own art, my own performance opportunities; if I can't be Catwoman in The Dark Room's upcoming production of Batman or Willow in Buffy, then I'll be quasi-Courtney in Coma White. On that note, Counterpulse has very reasonable rates for band rehearsal space, and doesn't have the same noise issues as The Dark Room. Slowly, pieces are falling into place. Or, perhaps, I'm putting them there, because they never fall on their own.

12:20pm

Meanwhile, I'm strongly considering auditioning for this play.

4:58pm

Yep. I'm doing it. The audition is scheduled for Thursday after work. It's scary in a lot of ways. I don't know these people (not that I knew anyone at Spanganga when I auditioned for Night of the Living Dead two years ago), there's lots of intense dialogue, major time commitment, et cetera. But that's all the more reason to give it a shot. If it wasn't scary, it wouldn't be as much of a thrill, would it? I'm not expecting this to open up as many doors as getting involved with Spanganga did—if I hadn't auditioned for Living Dead, I wouldn't have been part of Bad Movie Night yesterday nor would I be doing my radio show this evening—but you never can tell. Lord knows I can always use a new direction.

And if I don't get cast, well, that's okay too.