Sherilyn Connelly > Diary > August 11 - 20, 2009



6/25/09
My Face for the World to See (Part II):
The Diary of Sherilyn Connelly
a fiction


August 11 - 20, 2009

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Thursday, 20 August 2009 (solitaire)
1:55pm


Regarding the most recent job lead, I asked if they received my application. I was informed that they did, and...

...we are accepting applications and holding interviews on a rolling basis, which means we are doing some interviews now, and may continue to contact qualified applicants depending on how these interviews go. This process is slow and not linear, so I can’t give you a specific date by which you should expect to hear from us.
So there you go. On the plus side, I have a bucket of shredded cabbage tucked away in a corner. If all goes well, it should ferment its way into sauerkraut. A small jar of sprouts I started earlier this week is coming along nicely, as is a big jar of kombucha I was recently given as a (very) belated birthday present.

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Wednesday, 19 August 2009 (country disappeared)
2:09pm


The dog is still gone. I suppose I could, like, ask them, but if something bad did happen, I don't want at what would surely be a still-fresh wound. (Plus it might be a little awkward at the moment, since I'm pretty sure I heard one of them going into the backyard last night, or at least going down the stairs to close the door, while Marta and I were in bed and still awake. I mean, I'm allowed to have noisy sex in my own bed at half past ten at night, but still.) For now, I'm going to assume the dog is at the vet. Or, worst case scenario, found a farm in Alaska with plenty of room to run around.

Meanwhile, since there's only one light in the backyard and it doesn't quite reach my Victory Garden, my landlord has offered to install a second light, with an inside rather than outside switch. I think he genuinely enjoys this sort of project, which is fine by me.

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Tuesday, 18 August 2009 (bull black nova)
10:07am


They're definitely back—their car is in the garage—but so far there's no sign of the dog. It's never gone this long without barking. I don't know that this means.

Digging through my '99 archives for research. Seriously, how did people write memoirs before chatlogs and emails? Using their memory? As if! Thankfully, I was very chatty for the first couples months of the year, with Summer and then c0g, and it nicely fills in the gaps until I started this diary.


5:58pm


Still no sign of the dog. A big part of me hopes it doesn't come back because that'll make my life easier across the board, but at the same time, that would be mean they lost their pet (one of three, anyway), and I wouldn't wish that on anybody. In the meantime, I'll simply enjoy the lack of barking and not ruminate on what it might imply.

Meanwhile, things continue to grow. The green of the radishes and mesclun are starting to peek through, the pea plants are definitely growing, and in spite of being rather sad-looking I think the bean is hanging in there. I'm feeling more confident than ever about this experiment. Something c0g said on Friday helps a lot, too: that I don't need to worry about overwatering. He assures me that between the soil I added and the existing sandy loam, there's just not chance of drowning the plants. Sure, if I leave water running twenty-four-seven it could happen, but otherwise, it won't be a problem. That's really good to know. And I guess the worms will survive it, too.

Marta's coming over tonight.

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Monday, 17 August 2009 (you never know)
11:11am


I try to support neighborhood merchants, but it's quite clear that Chu Supply (a local hardware store) doesn't want my business. I probably would have gotten better customer service from Frank Chu, and I doubt he would have so blatantly overcharged me for a washer. Fifty-four cents? Seriously?


2:57pm


The upstairs neighbors and their dog are supposed to return today. Whee. It was a nice reprieve while it lasted.


9:11pm


I had an appointment at Lyon-Martin tonight. My bloodwork says that I'm healthy and all my levels are where they're supposed to be. My weight has creeped back up, which I'm not happy about at all, but I also know has everthing to do with not working out and frequent nutritional misconduct. Basically, I've fallen off the (metaphorical) treadmill. Y'know, a lot of good has happened as as result of losing my job—I cleaned the house, and I finished and am in the process of selling Bottomfeeder, I started the Victory Garden, and I met and fell in love with Marta (though that probably would have happened regardless, considering that I nearly abandoned the girlfriend search due to poverty)—and of course the loss of the steady income really sucked, but the thing I miss the most about working at Cubik was my regular workouts and eating habits and how I was getting into great shape. Gold's right there for daily cardio, Tyrol's spin classes, all that. Feh. FEH. Dumb stupid Global Financial Apocalypse. I know better than anyone that change is an inevitable part of life and there's nothing more useless than fighting it, but damnit, why I'd have to lose that?

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Sunday, 16 August 2009 (you and i)
9:08pm


It's Sunday morning, and I've got a net to hang and a bucket of worms to bury. The worms came from c0g, along with with a resupply of mulch—mostly hay mixed with chicken and goat guano. There's also quite a lot of worm guano ("Earthworm Castings," as the bag calls it). It almost feels like I know what I'm doing, which of course I really don't, not yet. but I'm beginning to feel like I'm getting the hang of it.

Victory Garden 2.0, thanks to c0g. (Not visible in the pictures is the crib-like fence he built to keep the dog out.) Tomatoes, strawberrys, kale, peas, radishes, beans, buttercrunch lettuce, nasturtium, and zucchini. There's also The Container Annex. The green one on the far right (a decent pot acquired for free when c0g asked an employee at Sloat Garden Center if they had any extras) and the black one on the far left are meclun lettuce, the tomatoes are fairly obvious, and the clover-looking plants are the ocas. The big one was the already-growing plant that c0g and m0 gave me in July, but the smaller one is the loose ocas I planted I myself, and I'm especially proud of it because that's the first time I was able to successfully put something in soil and have it actually grow. Anyway, all the rest of the containers, including the garbage can in the corner, are potatoes. Mostly red and purple, the especially yummy, exotic kind. There's a good chance I'll wind up with far more potatoes than I need, but it also means that I'll have something to meet if things really get dire. Which I don't expect they will, but it's better to prepare for it now.


sometime after midnight


Excellent Bad Movie Night tonight, with a big, excited crowd who was totally into the feature, last year's ultra-violent Rambo sequel. It was pretty much the opposite of the turnout I got this past Thursday, but considering that tonight I actually got a cut of the door (not a lot of money, but enough to keep me afloat this next week), I'm not complaining at all.

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Saturday, 15 August 2009 (one wing)
1:40pm


prudes don't go truffle-hunting in the wet spot.


4:00pm


Yesterday's mission was successful. c0g made the Victory Garden much healthier and better-looking than before, and he answered some questions I hadn't been able to find satisfactory (or at least consistent) answers to. Plus it was just nice to spend time with him and m0, and Marta was able to join us later in the afternoon. m0 had to drive back to Bolinas early in the evening to tend to their goats, so Marta and I gave c0g a lift back once he was done for real, around nine. He put a lot of work into it, and assured me that he enjoys little side projects like this since there's no pressure, unlike his contract landscaping jobs where clients have very specific, often unreasonable demands. Me, I just want stuff that'll grow and something to keep the dog out when the neighbors return. Marta napped on most of the drive to Bolinas, and c0g and I reminisced about the goth scene in '99, much of which will come in handy for Landing on Water. Not that any of what he told me will be going into the book, but it's good to re-familiarize myself with the names and relationships of the various players. Just like there's far more about The Power Exchange than made it into Bottomfeeder, hopefully it'll be felt in the texture between the lines.

Marta and I swung by King of Thai when we got back into town (because I hadn't eaten for about eleven hours), then crashed. We awoke this morning, tore into each other for a few hours, then headed back out into the world. After some vegan hot dogs at Underdog on Irving, we mostly ran errands until I had to take Marta back to her place, after which I did a bit more running around, including returning to Home Depot. I'm fully aware of how evil they are and stuff, but, quite frankly, at the moment, I kinda need the deep discounts they offer. I'm home now and in for the evening, because it's Saturday night and I have nowhere to go, and can't really afford it anyway.

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Friday, 14 August 2009 (deeper down)
1:23pm


c0g and m0 are on their way into town to help me whip the Victory Garden into shape.


4:00pm


At Home Depot with c0g and m0. (Rhymey!)

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Thursday, 13 August 2009 (thickly layered production)
11:40pm


Tonight's show was severely underattended—it was pretty much just the performers and their partners—but everyone had a good time, and both Joe from The Garage and Erin from Queer Girl Theater Project both still want to work with me in spite of my total lack of marquee value. And I got to see Marta wearing fishnets, heels and makeup, which was both hot and also had "first and last time" quality to it.

In an attempt to keep pressure off my ingrown toenail, I was barefoot during the show. It was my first time performing barefoot, and, really, these past few weeks have been the first time that I haven't worn socks on a regular basis. I've even been barefoot while sleeping. Barefoot and without earplugs or the Buddha Machine or white noise generator going. (Admittedly, I've been playing Cesare's Sleepbot Environmental Broadcast at night, but it's less of a crutch and more of an indulgence.) While I was single, I'd wondered how my peculiar sleeping requirements would mesh with someone new in (what seemed at the time) the unlikely event that I actually shared my bed with someone again. Now Marta sleeps with me a few times a week, and I find I don't need them anymore, even when I'm alone. Of course, it helps that the giraffe is long gone, and I suppose there's no telling what'll happen when the upstairs neighbors and their very loud dog return next week. It's just not easy to sleep when a large dog is barking constantly right outside your window. We'll see.

Anyway, the experiment tonight went fine, except that "The Last Dog and Pony Show" requires and fair amount of time on my hands and knees. As a result, my ingrown toenail is fine but the tops of three of my other toes have been rubbed raw. Painful irony.

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Wednesday, 12 August 2009 (ambient synth textures)
10:13am


Marta and I had dinner at Shangri-La last night, then returned back to my place and had at each other for a couple hours before crashing. Sadly, when we woke up we weren't able to pick up where we left off, since this is Marta's first day back at work. On the other hand, she didn't have to be at work until ten, so it could be a lot worse. Someday we'll both be employed, and I can only imagine how that'll cut into our sex life.

At the moment, I have food, water, a book (Matthue's Yom Kippur a Go-Go: A Memoir, which I'm loving, and not just because I adore Matthue or even because he thanks me and Maddy in the Acknowledgments), a fully charged iPhone, an empty bladder and nothing else planned for today. I'm ready to wait in line at San Francisco General's Pharmacy.

11:30am

Got in an out in just over an hour. I'm inclined to believe it was a fluke. The line was moving pretty fast, all things considered, but the other people in line were bitching loudly about it all the same. As usual, I was the only person reading a book.

2:11pm

The first product of my Victory Garden. I'm no farmer, but I think it's a pineapple.

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Tuesday, 11 August 2009 (minimalist arrangements)
5:03pm


I rehearsed "The Last Dog and Pony Show" a couple hours this afternoon at The Garage, in preparation for tomorrow night. I've been reciting it to myself at home this past week, and I'm a little rusty in places, but being in The Garage—and, more imporantly, on the ground—brings it all flooding back.

My sense of victory was short-lived, as it often will be, since I went to the gym afterward and attempted to excercise. In my usual workout clothes, which of course include socks and gym shoes. Unfortunately, they don't work so well with my new ingrown toenail, and the net result is ow. Godsdamnit. Thankfully, I already have a checkup at Lyon-Martin next week, so I can get it taken care of then. I expect they'll have to remove the toenail altogether (as has been done in the past to both of my big toenails), and I can only hope the recovery time is quick, becuase I was intending to get back onto the treadmill, figuratively and otherwise.

I parked Phoebe at my old office before going to The Garage, and just my luck, I crossed paths with Tim and Officer Dave. (More Officer Dave, really, since Tim was all in a hurry and stuff.) It wasn't necessarily unpleasant, and we talked for a bit, but I prefer being able to get in an out of the lot without actually talking to anyone. I'm antisocial like that. At least I didn't see my archnemesis—who, as evidence of the godlessness of this universe, is one of the dozen or so people who haven't been shitcanned—though I took some pleasure in blocking her car.

But none of that matters now, because I'm going to go pick up Marta, and that means everything's okay.

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