My Face for the World to See (Part II): The Diary of Sherilyn Connelly a fiction August 19 - 26, 1999

Thursday, 26 August 1999 (pretty persuasion) 7:47am I was practically in the elevator on my way out of here yesterday, at half past five, when I got pulled into a semi-impromptu meeting about a project which I'm told I'll be "immersed" in today. Hasn't happened just yet, but my network password inexplicably futzing out on me for the second day in a row might have something to do with that. Don't know, don't care. It does go to show just how many eggs they're laying in my basket, though. I can handle the pressure, that's no problem; rather, I'm just going to be amused to see the reactions when I send out the email later today announcing that I'll be gone for part of next week. There's at least a couple people I'm expecting to come by and see if they can't somehow convince me to stick around. Ha! Oh, this should be entertaining. With any luck, I can use the phrase "conjugal relations" at least once. "Rutting like wild animals" also gets the point across with a considerable degree of shock value, and as such should be saved for a time when heavy artillery is clearly necessary. Like an elevator full of suits or something. The right tool for the right job, y'know what I mean? So I started the deconstruction of the apartment last night, which involves making it as simple as possible for The Ex and her entourage to move her furniture out on Saturday. Part of the problem is that I don't have anywhere to temporarily relocate my stuff. Like, I have to find a new home for my ailing electronic equipment, as it currently resides on a big long narrow coffee table-esque thing which belonged to The Ex's grandmother. The couch seems most likely, as she's graciously leaving it behind. However, loading up the couch with my stuff might not make things any easier for them, since it's smack dab in the middle of the apartment, and...*sigh* This sort of thing is always a logistical nightmare. At least the nightmare is almost over. (Famous last words...?) I also need to call my landlords and see if they've made any progress with the bed, since when I get home on Saturday night (or Sunday morning, as the case may be) the apartment will otherwise be lacking one. Even scarier than that, though, is the thought of being computerless. The Ex has continued to be vague about the delivery date, only slightly vaguer about that than whether or not I'd be getting it at all. Ideally, the new one would be waiting for me when i get home, preferrably installed. In all likelihood, though, I'll be computerless on Sunday, and for who knows how long after that. Something I simply must be prepared for. 11:43am Retro-GAF. By god, that's what it is. 2:22pm It's the little things. The minor details from which you draw comfort and that get you through the day. Those are the ones most likely to go away. So Summer has a small refrigerator at her desk. It's something of a valuable resource for me, since I eat two meals a day here (barring these last few weeks when Summer and I have gone out to lunch quite a bit), and it's almost always cold food. The main kitchen is on the other side of the floor from our office, a little incovenient to say the least. The relatively short distance to Summer's desk works much better. So I open it this morning, and what do I find? Everything's been rearranged to make room for that cake from yesterday. It's a sheetcake filled with fruit, if you can believe that. I love vegetables, but I hate fruit. It doesn't make any sense, but there it is. It's one of the most repulsive, foul-smelling things I've ever seen, and half-finished as it is, it looks like a cross section of a leperous torso. Not pleasant to look at, and having it so close to my food bothers me in a very strange way. Oh well. Just one of those little things. 4:14pm 09/29/94 10:30 PM. God, I'm like a fucking whirling dervish, spinning from obsession to obsession to... Then again, is that word even fair? Somehow, I really don't think so. Maybe my attention becomes focused, but who DOESN'T that happen for on a regular basis? I also don't like the word because it makes me feel even more guilty about all of it. It all seems so immature. Well, maybe no more immature than some other people. Chip, for example. I don't think it's totally off to say that he was shopping around for a while before he found Emily, and by her nature she responded to him more strongly than any of the others. They both responded to...a baser instinct, perhaps. Chip's need to own someone, and though I hate to say, Emily's tendency to let herself be owned. If she stayed with Ian for three years, of course it's no problem to stay with Chip beyond the bounds of common sense. I'm sure Chip's kicking himself that he finally found one who'll stay with him (if only for the time being), but is so damned friendly she'll still talk to other people, even his dorky roommate. A threat! Well, I guess that's what I was to Ricky...and maybe even Tyler? Possibly, but that's really too far back to contemplate. I honestly don't want to think about it anymore. I suppose I can't deny the fact that The Other is like fantasy fulfillment on some level, perhaps that baser level I was referring to earlier. At the same time, though, it's not as though she's remarkably beautiful--on the other hand, a terrific personality and mind. Isn't that always ultimately my criteria? Southhampton Dock...The Final Cut...The Gunner's Dream...Echoes...the third and fourth movements of the Ummagumma version of A Saucerful of Secrets? The last part of You Never Give Me Your Money? Coincidence, thy name is...and, yeah, thanks a mil Robert, I really want to think about you in leather right now. What more could I ask? I must be so incredibly transparent. Emily cut straight to the heart of the matter: "Jeff, do you have the hots for her?" The answer? A big, hearty "Well, duh." Let's consider a few facts. This'll be...what? The third person since I've been up here? Ignoring certain crucial differences in each case, we'll just simplify everything and say yes. Kara (I could give a shit, honestly), Emily (ultimately much more valuable as a friend; kind of a kinder, gentler Tiff), and The Other (plot summary as yet unknown). The Other is, technically speaking, a man. I honestly do not have a problem with this. Other people might (andChipiChipwon'tChipmentionChipanyChipnamesChip), but I don't give a shit. Assuming that I somehow decide precisely what I want to do, I WON'T HAVE THE SLIGHTEST FUCKING CLUE HOW TO DO IT. Pretty undeniable. Then there's The Ex. Boy, I just drew a major blank. Okay, back to the facts. The Ex likes The Other as much as I do, surely far more sexually than I can admit to. (Which is not to suggest that it's purely sexual, but it's a major component.) If--IF-IF-IF--anything were to happen between The Other and myself, The Ex would not consider it cheating in the classical sense. There would be jealousy, yes. Hurt? Quite possibly; after all, me having sex with someone who is not her is...well, me having sex with someone who is not her. Bottom line. Still, try though I might, I simply cannot begin to imagine or predict a chain of events which could lean to that. Which, as Emily pointed out, is a self-fulfilling prophecy. She's right of course. Which leaves trying my best and still utterly failing. Reeeal swell options. All I know is that whenever I'm considering any of this, my heart skips a beat like when The Ex saw Tony again. God. Good fucking Christ. 3:30 AM, Quite a while later A fair amount has happened; i have to try to be quiet as so not to wake Chip and Emily. so of course, i say fuck the shift key. Katie was over earlier, probably around 10 (before i originally began writing this evening). Around 11:30, Emily finally got off the phone and i was able to talk to Katie. i'd already talked with Emily, and Katie seemed the next logical choice. needless to say, we made sure that Chip was out of the room, though i was perfectly comfortable talking in front of Emily. As soon as i mentioned The Other, Katie caught on, no fool she. "oh, man," she said, and smiled wildly. i wasn't sure whether to take that as a good sign or not, but i plundered onward, trying my best to explain just what i was feeling. not really being able to explain it to myself didn't make it easy to explain to her. then, at about 11:40 or so, the phone rang. it was The Ex. the timing was not so great; i was fully prepared to go on and on to Katie, and The Ex was prepared to go on and on about other stuff. i probably should have told her that i really wasn't in the mood to sit and listen, but it's never easy to tell her things like that. she takes it very hard, as a personal rejection. like that time years ago at work when she called and it was really busy and i didn't have time to talk and i told her i was sorry and she said in the most hurt voice imaginable, "You always say that," as if i was using the fact that i was at work as a dodge. sometimes i feel like i've never really forgiven her for that. so, after being on the phone for about half an hour and fighting bitterly through most of it (in spite of being in shorts and a t-shirt, i was sweating profusely), we finally got off. As i often am these days, i was dumbfounded. Katie was completely cool about it all. still, it brought home the question that has been swirling around in my head for a while now: what right do i have to be interested in The Other? after our phone chat i just felt so...i don't know what the word is, "dirty" i guess. No, not that, either, just...not right. things are no longer right with the world. my mood began to improve as Katie and i talked more; we eventually went out into the living room and sat talking with Emily. Chip came and went quite a bit. just as well. god bless Katie; she was making a concerted effort to cheer me up, it was obvious. after i hung up with The Ex--i just kept saying, "oh, wow, oh, wow, oh, WOW"--she asked if i'd really been having a bad day. i told her that even if i hadn't been before, i sure was now. never too late to start, i say. her and i ended up out in front of the dorms; there was a large group of people, including The Other. Though she never did anything corny like smile or wink (as Emily would've at every opportunity), i noticed she made a point of leaving the two of us more or less alone, even making sure i sat down next to The Other. hell, otherwise i probably would have stood the entire time. The Other and i mainly discussed computer stuff; i discovered something interesting, though. good god, when you come down to it, she's really as nervous as i am. about me in particular? no, just an apparent lack conversation skills to rival mine. sentences were cut off abruptly, ideas briefly expressed and then not developed, skittish eye contact. whether any of this is good or bad, i don't know. all i know is that it's a quarter to four and i've gotta get to bed. 4:54pm Must...be...extremely...careful.... 5:33pm My old friend from Autodesk, Leigh, is interviewing here today. I really wish I'd known ahead of time so I could have gotten made up this morning (I haven't seen her since December, and suffice it to say a lot has changed since then), but alas. It'll be nice to see her all the same. Oh, it would be such a good thing in so many ways if she got hired... 6:03pm Brian's giving Leigh the tour, introducing her to everyone. The same thing happened during my first interview as well, and it wasn't a given at the time that I'd be hired—but damnit, I'm taking it as a good sign. I need something to be happy about at this place. Even if she doesn't get hired, it was wonderful to see her again. Like a reminder of a time which, if not necessarily better, was at least simpler. Sometimes I long for that. 6:30pm koyaanisqatsi 8:46pm Damn, I've got a lot of videotapes. Last | Top | Next

Seven days, seven more days she'll be comin' I'll be waiting at the station for her to arrive Seven more days, all I gotta do is survive. She been gone ever since I been a child Ever since I seen her smile, I ain't forgotten her eyes. She had a face that could outshine the sun in the skies. I been good, I been good while I been waitin' Maybe guilty of hesitatin', I just been holdin' on Seven more days, all that'll be gone. There's kissing in the valley, Thieving in the alley, Fighting every inch of the way. Trying to be tender With somebody I remember In a night that's always brighter'n the day. Seven days, seven more days that are connected Just like I expected, she'll be comin' on forth, My beautiful comrade from the north. There's kissing in the valley, Thieving in the alley, Fighting every inch of the way. Trying to be tender With somebody I remember In a night that's always brighter'n the day. Bob Dylan, "Seven Days" Wednesday, 25 August 1999 (just my imagination) 8:22am You see, "divorced" sounds more official than "broke up," and it's all about what looks good on paper. The paperwork in this case is regards the switchoff of the car registration. I don't pretend to fully understand all the details, but The Ex's parents had to pull a few strings to get us the deal on the car to begin with, and similar ones had to be pulled once again. And appearances must be maintained. So, according to the Chrysler Corporation, The Ex and I are divorced. It shouldn't bother me—there are many, many reasons why it shouldn't bother me—yet it does. On the brighter side, there wasn't nearly as much tension between us as there had been on Friday, and not a tear was spilt. Which I guess is good. She also said that while she hasn't completely made up her mind, she'll more than likely be selling me the computer, since it was built to my specs. Although she'll want to get it in writing. Not that she doesn't trust me, but, you know, with all the other weirdness going on, it's good to keep track of these things as much as possible. Of course. Brigid should appreciate the irony in that one. 10:59am Okay, I'm officially mopey. I'm not sure why. Maybe the slight scratchiness in the back of my throat. Oh, if I get sick...no no no, that is absolutely NOT GOING TO HAPPEN... 11:30am Is there any human activity more pointless than the office birthday party? I'm really going to have to go with Elaine Benes on this one, I find them to be a waste of time. For the big boss, no less, and the smell of that bizarre mango-topped fruit-filled cake was genuinely turning my stomach. I wan the last half hour of my life back. 12:11pm So I finally heard back from the mailroom. I wonder if it's just a coincidence that this happened shortly after I ran into the office manager and asked her if I was going about it the wrong way. Probably not. Whatever. I don't care. They said they'll forward my mail accordingly, and that's all that matters at this point. God, I'm in a foul mood. I hope Maddy's okay. Haven't heard from her all day long. 2:03pm When we were discussing dividing up the CDs last night, The Ex asked if I'd be able to make copies of some of them on my new computer's CDR (which answers that question, doesn't it?) in order to avoid potential conflicts. Certainly there are more than a few discs, rare stuff, that neither of us will want to part with. She seemed almost surprised when I agreed. She was equally taken aback when I said that she doesn't have to have everything out by this Saturday, that I'd understand if a some stuff has to wait. I don't get it. Does she think I've changed that much? Does she really have this vision in her mind that I'm selfish and uncaring? That I'm nothing like I am before? I guess it's to be expected...it's sad, though, it really is... 2:21pm Summer went to a John Shirley reading on Friday night. I'd very much wanted to go, as I've really been enjoying his writing lately (and it's been inspiring me to start writing again, but the less said about that the better.) Unfortunately, I had to deal with the car switchoff. So, Summer had him sign a book to me. Tried at least; she asked him to sign it to Sherilyn, but he signed to her anyway. That's metaphoric for something, though I'm not sure what. 2:51pm 09/26/94 09:30 PM Wow. It's now officially a month that I've been doing this, and somehow I have considerably less than thirty of these to show for it. Go figure. The Ex was here for the weekend. Thursday was indifferent; Friday was horrid; Saturday was terrific; yesterday was okay; today wasn't too wonderful but not nearly as bad as Friday. Emily seems to have pretty much moved in; I guess I won't have the room to myself anymore. I don't know what this means. Yeah, I know goddamn well what it means. She'll be here a whole lot more than before. Nothing is going to happen. Nothing has happened; nothing can happen; nothing will happen. (I'll bet that has a lovely rhythm in Latin.) We'll be friends, of course, possibly even good friends--though I'm not sure how I'd be able to tell. But that's it. I'm not going to become romantically involved with her, sleep with her, anything like that. That was nothing but the briefest of pipe dreams, a momentary fantasy. That's simply not the way things work. Have things changed? More importantly, do things change? I don't know, let's consider what's going on at this exact moment. Chip, Emily and Katie are on Chip's side of the room; I'm even more isolated than before because he's moved his desk farther away from the wall. I could get up and stand over there, but why? What possible difference could it make? About a month and a week ago, none of us were fully aware that the other existed; now, most of us may as well be the other's best friend in the world. Except me, of course. (It's amazing how quickly I can launch back into full whine mode, isn't it?) It was a hell of a party, such as it was, at Katie's this weekend. The Ex and I playing blackjack with The Other--as Spalding said in Monster in a Box when he was sitting at the children's table signing the psychoanalyst's check in crayon, THIS IS THE RIGHT RELATIONSHIP!!! "Just go!" Would you fucking quit saying that? It means fucking nothing! Not a goddamned thing! Fine. There's nothing I can say to keep you from making all the fag jokes. Why? Because you just GO. Meaning what, precisely? It doesn't matter, because you just GO. So I can call fags whatever I want. Prick. What else can I say? Everybody's... That's the thing about Chip; I suspect he feels a need to be more...everything. Whatever someone else has or does, he has to do it bigger and flashier. Why? Because he can. As I'm sure I would if I could. Massive insecurity, perhaps even greater than mine. There's no way he could have made it at Katie's party; however he may talk about being openminded, he is far, FAR too insecure about himself not to have been threatened by what was going on. He couldn't have held a conversation with The Other without having been a total conscending dickweed. After all, like he told me, he likes his men masculine and his women feminine. There's no way he could have just stuck with one pronoun. His mind doesn't work that way. You fit things-- ...all the PC people. Fur is murder, actually. But it's PC, so there's... Katie! God! Don't say that in front of Chip...to his credit, he kept his mouth shut, but... Ah, fuck. Back to my mantra. I don't know anymore. I just don't know. Anything. Not a fucking thing. That fight The Ex and I had on Friday night...that was bad, pretty bad. As close as I've ever come to just packing it in and breaking up with her. It all seemed pretty hopeless by that point. All I could think of were the bad things, the negative stuff...nothing positive existed. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck death shit what to do where do we go from here who am i why am i i dont fucking know where do i belong do i belong anywhere Kinda nice, every so often, throw 'em for a loop. I took off my glasses, went into the bathroom, took my hair down and brushed it out. Just for the hell of it. Threw Katie off, that's for sure. Emily said it looked good. Of course she did. 8:27pm Gorgeous evening here in my little City. Big huge wall o' fog from the ocean, completely covering the Sunset district. Indeed, from a distance, if you didn't know it was there you wouldn't know where the water ended and the land began. Once actually inside the fog, the sunset was spectacular. It's the kind of weather that I hope we get at least a little of while Maddy's here. I imagine she'll find it as fascinating as I would crickets or swarms of fireflies. That may sound facetious, but it's not meant to be. It's so weird—the grrls who work at the Hot Topic in the Serramonte Mall know me. I haven't been in there for at least a month if not two, but as soon as he saw me, the grrl behind the counter told me they got more of my white powder in. I'm not wearing it daily like I was before and I have a pretty good supply now thanks to Maddy (and The Ex, credit where credit is due), but I bought a compact anyway. It seemed only right; in a retail job, that's clearly above and beyond the call. Not that they work on commission, but still. I also overindulged a little at clearance rack. (What's the distinction between overindulging and simply indulging, anyway? Can you underindulge?) Well, there were some Manson shirts that I didn't have, at 50% off, and I knew if I didn't get them I'd end up wishing I had, and...*sigh*...being an iconoclast can be a pain sometimes. Last | Top | Next

Tuesday, 24 August 1999 (strafe) 7:52am I have to spend all day with the intern, as he explains every line of the code he's been working on over the last month. This is going to redefine pain. There's no doubt in my mind that I can learn the stuff; I have no confidence in his ability to teach it, though. I'll just have to keep thinking of Madeline...that'll keep me going, as thoughts of her so often will these days... 9:24am In the plus column, it's looking like I'll be able to lure one of my old Autodesk coworkers here. In addition to her actually being a woman (of the non-male gender and everything), if she's hired, I'll get a referral bonus. Not a huge amount, but every bit helps right about. Certainly enough to take a chunk out of the cost of the new computer should The Ex decide to sell it to me. I also wrote the mailroom again about having Sherilyn mail sent to me. I actually explicity asked them to respond this time (I didn't before since it's common courtesy to reply in these cases, so I'd assumed they would), as well as using Outlook's "Tell me when this message has been read" feature. It breaks my heart to resort to Outlooks's goddamned bells and whistles, but these are desperate times. The vindictive part of me, which has otherwise been holding itself in check lately, is hoping that they'll try to refuse so I can sic HR on their asses. Maybe I just want blood right now. (Eight days...) 11:00am this is where it all ends 2:31pm That could have gone much worse, at least. As with any obvious sub (he's going to make some professional dom very rich some day), you just have to let them know who's boss. If he gave me the cold or whatever it is he has, though, mommy is going to be very, very angry... Anyway, it looks like I'm going to see Mystery Men with Joy tonight. And I really need to call Imani to apologize about last night...or maybe I could invite her to join us... 3:56pm So my boss was telling me about yet another huge project being foisted upon us, with an impossible deadline and ultimately beyond the scope of our resources. Business as usual. Then he mentioned that the bulk of our work might be during the first week of September. I explained to him in no uncertain terms that I'm not coming anywhere remotely near this damn place from 5pm on 7/1 to sometime mid-to-late morning on 7/7. Well, maybe briefly during the weekend to show Maddy the office, but there's no chance in hell of me actually coming in to work. Period, finito, thank you very much. He didn't object at all. I think he knew better. 4:35pm 09/20/94 10:58 PM. I have no idea what I'm feeling right now. I'm not entirely sure how to describe mine and Emily's relationship; in fact, it's arguable whether or not the term "relationship" is even applicable. Then again, any two people who come into contact with one another, by definition, have a relationship of some sort; it's simply a matter of dynamics. The Ex and I have a close, intimate relationship, one in which our lives are so intertwined it's somewhat difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins. My relationship with that girl in my Eroticism class is that of essentially two strangers who shared a few brief words but will never have any further contact. We're friends, but she has many friends. She tells me quite a lot, but she's open with just about everyone. She insists that she tells me more personal things than she does anyone else, but I can't help feeling skeptical. Certainly I come in second behind Julie, which is of course all right. I guess it's time to lay the cards out in the open. Is there a part of me which wishes it could progress further? Yes, undeniably. Would I sleep with her? Yes. Would I break up with The Ex? No, absolutely not, no way in hell. Would I want to be responsible for her and Chip breaking up? No. Is any of this relevant? No. In '87, I felt like I was a substitute for Ricky with Holly. I didn't so much get that feeling from her as I did from him. From her, I got the feeling that maybe...possibly...it could go somewhere. It's still an image, a feeling, a sensation, burned into my consciousness: at Disneyland (God, why couldn't it've been somewhere else? Well, beggars can't be choosers), riding in one of those things--oh, what're they called, they have them in Santa Cruz, like mini-cable cars held by wires, taking you across the park--with Sandra sitting on one side and Holly and I sitting on the other, Holly leaning up against me with her head resting on my chest. I even recall the discussion; Sandra was talking about how much she prefers the nighttime to the daytime, and I made a reference to a line in the Rolling Stone song "Rocks Off": "The sunshine bores the daylights out of me." Corny as all hell (the image, not the lyric), but I don't care. Everyone has embarrassingly sugary memories like that; it's the price we pay for having emotions. I guess Ricky wasn't able to go on the trip; I can't for the life of me remember why. It was basically Sandra, Holly and I for the most part. Shortly thereafter, Ricky swooped down and made Holly his. No real surprise, I suppose, but I was crushed. Of course. Ricky admitted to me a few months later (by which point they had, of course, broken up) that he'd panicked when he saw how well Holly and I were getting along, and had mainly asked her out to protect his ego. Whatever gland of mine it is that produces courage is usually dry and there's a good chance I would have never really won her, but it still hurt that the opportunity was stolen away. At the same time, though, I could take solace in the fact that something MIGHT have happened. It was theoretically possible. And if it could happen once, it could happen again. Why did I bring all this up to begin with? Oh, that's right. When I found out that Holly and Ricky were officially "going around" (I cringe at that term), I felt like I had been a substitute, just marking time until the real guy got back. (Lord knows it didn't help that there's a song by The Who called "Substitute" which is about just that.) I felt that way about Sid and The Ex, too. Before and as we began to get serious, that is, when Sid's presence was looming darkly over everything we did. I knew him well enough to know that his scruples in these matters are shakey at best, and that he would have no objection to screwing The Ex while her and I were together, and that he'd do everything in his power to make it possible. Sex is an end in itself, and anyone not stepping out of his way in its pursuit is IN the way. I don't doubt that to this day, there's a small part of him which is convinced that someday he'll fuck her again. The fact that when her and I became official the first time, she told me was still and would always be in love with him didn't help matters. (my love, she laughs like the flowers/valentines can't buy her) God, I'm really drifting tonight. I'm not really sure what I'm driving at. Chip is apparently a bit jealous of me for the time I spend with Emily, such as it is. There's no reason that I can think of that he can't be in here right now as she studies. But he's not, and I am. I really don't spend all THAT much time with her, certainly not as much as I would like. sometimes after midnight Just because you didn't get married doesn't mean you can't get divorced. Funny how that works. Last | Top | Next

Monday, 23 August 1999 (a.m.) 7:11am My epitaph should read: "She gave it a shot." That just about sums it all up. I tried to go to the gym this morning. I got up at 3:10am, was out of the house by 3:30 and got there at 3:45. The fucking place, the sign on the door wo which claims to be open 24/7, was closed. I went back home and called their complaint number, only to be told that the particular location's hours had changed because of remodeling; they simply hadn't bothered to, like, put up a sign or anything like that. Can't say I'm surprised; that's the only gym I know of which doesn't offer magazine racks for their equipment. (The Ex gave me a magazine rack for xmas last year to compensate.) They used to, but not anymore. I think the illiterate, brutish gorillas who work there are threatened by people reading. Just a theory. Anyway, I was annoyed to the extent that I decided to cut my losses and just hop in the shower then go to work. (The trains were subsequently running late, but that's another story.) So I move onto Plan B from here. I'm not sure exactly what Plan B is; it either involves going to the gym at night (which would severely cut into my chat time with Maddy), or going to a gym closer to my office and showering there afterwards like I used to when I used Club One. Club One, however, is no longer an option; I cancelled that particular membership for financial reasons. One should be enough. And I don't think I'll be joining the Evil Levi Plaza gym, either. I know I've been saying this for months, but I'm quite determined to start working out again. Besides the simple terror involved in my recent weight fluctuations (190 last night, 185 this morning, not to mention the Meridia seems to be losing its potency) and my shallow desire not to be obese again, it really is a great way to deal with emotional stress. I wouldn't be able to make anything resembing real progress before Maddy arrives, and an argument could be made that I should just wait until after her visit, but the time feels right. if i can't save my soul... 9:23am stigmatosis 9:47am I can't believe it. We have a new employee (another male, though of course I shouldn't dwell on such things), and when introducing him to me, Brian forgot my damn name. Not Sherilyn, either, but Jeff, the only one he knows me by as yet. Yeah, I've only been here for almost nine goddamn months... But anyway. The Ex never did come by yesterday, nor have I heard from her at all. Probably what will happen is what we'd tentatively decided on Friday: that she'll move the bulk of her stuff out next Saturday while I'm in Bolinas visiting Lee. Which should give me about three days to make the place presentable, and construct something bed-like, before Maddy arrives. Burning Man. I'd completely forgotten about Burning Man until Friday night at Shrine, when both Imani and Tiff commented that they were going to be there on Labor Day Weekend. They aren't the only ones. Damn. That changes things a little—oh, our plans are very much the same, but it seems Maddy won't be meeting quite as many people as we'd previously suspected. So I was driving Tiff home on Friday night, and the R.E.M. show came up. Turns out she's a fan from way back (she remembers when "Radio Free Europe" came out as a single, which is certainly before my time) and would have loved to have gone. And what with me having that extra ticket...I swear, it did not even occur to me to ask her. Of course, if I hadn't been constantly flaking on our admittedly tentative plans to go to the Evil Sony Metreon for the last few weeks then surely the subject would have come up in time...oh well. Once I explained to her the other circumstances (i.e., the nine-year anniversary with The Ex and the signifance the group has had for me this year), she concluded that it was probably just as well that I'd gone alone. We're still hoping to hit the Metreon in the very near future, though. Hell, for that matter, Imani wants to take me to dinner at her favorite Vietnamese restaurant as thanks for what she considered to be my generous tipping last week (which suggests to me that she still hasn't quite grasped how that particular system works, but who am I to judge?), Laurel and I are hopefully going to go see Better Than Chocolate, and my singular confirmed plan for this week is for Dana to color my hair on Thursday. Yikes. It's weird what can happen when you're not paying attention. 5:06pm The intern's last day is tomorrow, and I can sense a collective sigh of relief being released. I'll be taking over a bear of a project on which I'd only been tangentially involved, and while it's going to suck up most of my time for the next week and a half, even I think it's for the best. The kid is simply too inexperienced, too hostile, too lacking in a basic understanding of human interaction. We just had a meeting with representatives of a company whose software we've been modifying, and if I'd been them, I would have been extremely offended. Everything he said sounded like an accusation. He didn't describe problems with the software, but rather "Your guys's" software. i.e., it was all their fault. I just sat back, kept quiet and tried to look inscrutable. That's not too hard in purple-and-black stripeys, believe it or not. Unfortunately, tomorrow I have to sit down with the intern so he can bring me up to speed on what he's been doing. This is going to hurt, because explaining things in a logical manner is not amongst his strong suits. I won't be teaching at Harvard anytime soon, I fully admit that, but I don't express the level of constant hostility that he seems to, either. A very angry young man. He's the classic geek, socially inept and only able to truly interact with computers (and even then not very well, considering his intolerance of HTML), whereas I'd like to think I'm more of the new model geek. We both watch Star Trek, but I've been with a woman. You get the idea. Oh, and he also loves Babylon 5. The less said about that, the better. Imani called and said she's working tonight. I might go see her, I'm not sure yet. If these next few weeks are going to be as intense as I think they are, I might as well leap in headfirst. 5:35pm 09/17/94 02:07 AM. This is really sad. When nothing of interest happens, I write. When lots of strangeness is going on--and quickly--I don't. Chip has left with Emily, back to her apartment. He'll be back tomorrow morning, but they're going to Monterey after that, which should be nice. Jesus. I have no idea how to progress. I'll break things down and proceed one by one. EMILY: The Angel of 103. A complex person who, as Morrison may or may not have put it, wears her soul on her face. Apparently had an incredibly fucked-up childhood, including rape, molestation and general abuse. This may account for why she's been in America for the last four years, to escape from her previous life. Seems to genuinely like Chip--I noticed earlier today she said "love," and then repeated the statement saying "like" instead. In spite of how open she seems to be, there's more going on inside that soul of hers than perhaps even she's aware of. She seems to have a maternal slant about her, which Khamen picked up on as well. Always friendly; Khamen commented that she seems like she wants to help everyone she meets, and this is probably true. I feel slightly uncomfortable when I look at her, see her looking right at me, I look away, then look back and find her still looking at me. What does she see? Is she fascinated with me in some clinical way? She seems to have opened up Chip a bit, but more on that later. Proof that you never know what's around that next corner; a week ago none of us knew she existed, and vice versa. By the same token, how long did The Ex and I go to the same school and not know each other? By the time The Ex and I had actually met, I had fairly well decided that if I was ever going to have a girlfriend, she wasn't going to be from school. After all, I'd met everyone I was going to meet, right? Perhaps her totally matter-of-fact response to my outing of The Ex helped Chip deal with it better. CHIP: Seems quite, quite happy. As I said, he's opened up quite a bit. He seems to trust me quite a bit more than he did before; of course, it's only reasonable that he needed a little time, but still, it shouldn't have taken him as long as it did. No matter. Leaves his closet unlocked--hell, wide open. It probably helps that nothing ever happens around here anymore. Also, he said I could feel free to use his computer any time-- that first time I'd asked him, he seemed terrified that I would break it or something. When you have a lot, you do whatever you can to protect it. When you don't, you become a little more gracious, which is why I always tell people to feel free to watch any of my lasers, etc. Of course, they never do. He doesn't seem to hold it against me that Katie and I ganged up on him about his homophobia. I guess there's a lot to be said for being comfortable with your prejudices. KATIE: As God is my witness, I thought that Emily called Katie her roommate. Then again, she also said that she (Emily) was bi, so I guess a grain of salt is called for. Anyway, really nice. Not really as androgynous as Emily suggested. Actually quite attractive--boy, there's just something about me and lesbians, isn't there? In her own way, as open yet enigmatic as Emily; how someone who A) rags on Chip about his homophobia and B) has a bumpersticker that says "What Will You Say When Future Generations Ask 'What Did You Do to End The AIDS Epidemic?'" can insist she's NOT political is a mystery to me. Face it, honey, you're political. You care, and that sorta clinches it. I think her general attitude seems to be, "Yeah, I'm a dyke, so what? Let's just get on with life, shall we?" She promised to call me whenever the RRC is doing anything, or just whenever she goes into the Castro. I sincerely hope so. ME: What is there to say? Events of note: I went with the Rainbow Residents Coalition into the Castro on Wednesday evening. Katie has a truck, so three people were in front and the remaining four of us were in back. Guess where I ended up? Kinda uncomfortable, but not too bad. On the way out there, one of the guys (naturally, I forget his name) complimented me on my body heat. On the way back, one of the girls--Annie, her name was--did what no one else yet had: asked me to tell her about myself. I tried my best but of course ended up sounding like an idiot. She asked how Chip reacted when I told him I was gay, and of course I didn't feel right lying to her about that, so I admitted that I wasn't really gay. She quickly apologized, which I thought was unnecessary--after all, what the hell was I doing there if not? I felt like a spy in the house of love. I guess I'm going to have to come up with some kind of definition for myself; I told Katie today that I'm interested in transgender stuff, but I'm going to have to do better than that, yet I have no idea how. Katie has suggested that perhaps part of the reason that I'm joining the group is because of The Ex, that perhaps she's got me wondering about myself. She didn't sound too sure about that, though, saying that she believes that you're born with it (yeah, right, suuuure you're not political) and most know darn good and well one way or the other by my age. The basic conclusion that I came to is that I just don't know for sure yet who/what I am, but I figure it's as good a way as any. Back to Chip for a moment. I don't know what the best way is to phrase this, but he's been talking and generally paying more attention to me than usual lately. I suspect that it has something to do with Emily. I can't exactly say what--I mean, I doubt she came out and said "You should talk to Jeff more"--but I think it's a by-product, in some fashion, of his relationship with her. Then again, maybe she did say something to that effect. I certainly haven't hid from her the fact that I feel alienated from just about everyone around me--there's something about her which compels me to spill my guts. And, hey, it's only fair, considering how open she is. Perhaps that maternal instinct of hers kicked in. That's a metaphor which keeps coming into my mind, that in a vague way she's adopted us. (Well, Chip, Khamen and myself. I don't even know if her and Torben know the other exists.) I have no doubt that she's this way with most everyone she gets close to. Random factoid for which I can't find a decent segue: her and Chip, while sleeping in the same bed (having slept with another person in these beds, I can't exactly say I'm jealous), aren't actually having sex, nor are they going to. This comes from Khamen, who I heard this from Emily's roommate, the one that keeps exposing her cleavage and sucking on popsicles around him. (Some guys have all the luck.) So much for my FuckFest '94 theory, at least as it applies to them. I'm happy for Chip, and not jealous. (Good thing it isn't Tara.) Amazing what a difference a soul makes. Sleep. Bed. Yawn. 7:05pm Okay. No Imani tonight. Way too tired for that. But I still have errands to run, unfortunately, namely picking up prescriptions. Very important, not something I should put off, and Maddy's offline this evening so that's even more of an incentive to go out into the world. *sigh* Okay, okay, I'll go be responsible, goddamnit. And I've even put on jeans to increase the stealth aspect of the mission. Happy? Good, I'm glad. 7:27pm Looks like I'm staying in after all. The Ex wrote to say she's bringing car registration by tomorrow, which compels me to not to drive anywhere, both for legal reasons and (as always) to clean this place up a bit. Yeah, right. She also said she has stuff she needs me to sign. I assume it has to do with the car, but I don't know for certain. I just hate how that makes this all seem even more like a divorce. Oh well. Deal with it. I didn't ask about the computer. To be blunt, I'm afraid to. When she has something to tell me, she will. Back to back Law & Order. What more reason do I need than that? 11:09pm I poked around Maggie's site today for some reason. Ugh. I officially hate the word "lover." Last | Top | Next

Sunday, 22 August 1999 (being there) 8:19am Another Sunday. The Ex may or may not be coming by today to move more stuff out. Either way, this is going to be another of the tough ones. For the first time, I dreamed about Madeline last night. It wasn't as vivid as hers are, but her presence was there. That's enough. 11:11am Never mind moving too fast, the damage it could do to our relationship, et cetera. The most compelling argument against Maddy and I moving in together if she moves out here is: two people who have demonstrated an inability to make sure the freezer door is closed simply should not cohabitate. It's a good thing we can't reproduce. 1:03pm The Ex intends to have all her things, including the bed, moved out by the first of September. Maddy arrives on the first of September. My landlords just told me they don't expect to be able to get me the new bed until at least the first week of September. Oh, hell. 7:19pm you're dead but the world keeps spinning 7:47pm My LD/CD player appears to have just died on me in a big way. So, let's see here. At this rate, by the time Maddy arrives, I may in fact have no bed no computer no decent way to listen to music Just perfect. Last | Top | Next

Saturday, 21 August 1999 (halo five track four) 8:45am Any victory will be pyrrhic at best. This was never what I wanted. 11:03am Baraka is playing at The Red Vic. Don't worry, it plays there every six months. We'll make it next time. For that one, I am truly sorry. I screwed up, there can be no question. i have been loud and pretentious i have been utterly threatened i've gotten candy for my self-interest 2:30pm Ow ow ow. Bright. Too bright outside. This is San Francisco, where's the goddamn fog? 4:26pm I can't remember the last time I wasted a day so efficiently. 7:57pm In here, good. Out there, bad. 8:28pm Minimalistic generalizations suck. 9:58pm Inside all day long. Unshaven and no makeup. Sometimes I don't care. 10:44pm Haiku! 10:52pm "Could you help me with this rubber thing?" Cigars. The night of the nipple. Choad psychology at ground zero. The prettiest grrl in the joint. "Why don't you have your friend join us?" Apartheid: gone but not forgiven. Blatant discrimination towards non-goffs. The stripper fantasy. "Why is your hand shaking?" Swing low, sweet cherry, make it awful. Just too damn weird for the job. Last | Top | Next

This is the last day of our acquaintance I will meet you later in somebody's office I'll talk but you won't listen to me I know what your answer will be I know you don't love me anymore You used to hold my hand when the plane took off Two years ago there just seemed so much more And I don't know what happened to our love Today's the day Our friendship has been stale And we will meet later to finalise the details Two years ago the seed was planted And since then you have taken me for granted But this is the last day of our acquaintance I will meet you later in somebody's office I'll talk but you won't listen to me I know your answer already But this is the last day of our acquaintance I will meet you later in somebody's office I'll talk but you won't listen to me I know your answer already I know your answer already I know your answer already Sinead O'Connor, "The Last Day of Our Acquaintance" Friday, 20 August 1999 (miss world) 8:55am I knew they were around. I've heard the scratching sounds in my walls long enough. It's not constant, but happens just often enough to give me the creeps. When I saw the mouse scurry by in the bathroom this morning, I yelped and jumped. As has been observed, I'm jumpy by nature. But I was able to go back in and go on about my business, which I guess is a good sign. The Ex was pathologically afraid of all forms of rodentia, and would probably still be catatonic right now. I suppose I should tell my landlords. It may even help with the cat issue. 11:40am The Ex finally wrote back; it appears the final (as in, final) car switchoff should be taking place tonight. She had no comment about the figures I provided, however, which makes me a little nervous. Indeed, for how crucial this all is, she's been giving very little information. I'm no happier about any of this than she is, but damnit, I did my part... 12:12pm Will you live to 83? Will you ever welcome me? Will you show me something that nobody else has seen? Smoke it, drink Here comes the flood Anything to thin the blood These corrosives do their magic slowly and sweet 1:59pm I hate this. I cannot accurately describe how much I hate this. 3:51pm No rings were exchanged. No children were reared. No vows were spoken. No names were changed. No sacraments were offered. I am not my parents. 5:14pm Summer tells me Venus is in retrograde. I wish I could believe that explained things. 6:25pm So I'm going to BART into the East Bay to pick up the car for the last time. Meanwhile, The Ex is in Fresno taking care of the paperwork (tactical error not being present? yes, probably, one of many). She's been extremely vague about what happens from here, probably to buy time until she can talk to her parents and figure out what the next step will be. It's an ambush, pure and simple. Brigid's advice has been quite helpful, though, and when/if things should escalate from here (oh please god no) I'll be very fortunate to have her on my side. Maddy and Summer's moral support has also been invaluable. Helps me to remind myself that I'm not the bad person that I used to think I was, a vibe which I still slip into at times like this. Not a helpful thing when you're being drawn into a legal battle. Confidence is a bit better. 6:52pm There's more to tell about Wednesday night. And I do hope to tell it. sometime after midnight I'm not sure what happened tonight. I think it was good, sort of. It may result the situation not getting worse. It may also result in me not getting the computer, and paying for it if I do. All I know is, I haven't seen The Ex cry that hard since we broke up. Maybe if she'd been as open with her feelings before, things might not have gotten as bad as they did. I don't know. I don't know a damn thing anymore, if I ever really did to begin with. I'm feeling better about it now, but earlier in the evening in I was dreading the thought of sleeping. It was scary feeling that way. I don't ever want to go back to being like that. Last | Top | Next

Thursday, 19 August 1999 (doll parts) 8:55am There's never a good time for the network to crash. However, some times are worse than others. Case in point: last night around 7pm, as I was chatting with Madeline and getting ready to leave. I hadn't quite decided yet if I was going to see Imani or not. I was certainly curious, she very much wanted me to (and had mentioned offhand that she'd already had some people flake on her, including myself on Monday), and it was almost too bizarre an offer to pass up. Besides, I'd just sent off a preliminary bill to The Ex, listing my current estimate of what she owes me. Needless to say, I wanted to get that off my mind as much as possible. Then, just after I hit "send" on an ICQ message, the world went away. My telnet window disconnected, AIM crashed, yahoo lost its DNS entry, etc. Bad stuff. The worst part was, I had no way of contacting Maddy, since she was online. I waited about twenty minutes, calling her every few minutes just in case and getting a busy signal. Of course. Trusting that Maddy would understand (she knew that I'd been thinking about going to see Imani, and didn't mind) and figure out what had most likely happened, I headed out... 1:58pm I got to the bar at about a quarter to 8, and it was quite dead. Imani, who was very pleasantly surprised to see me, said that it probably wouldn't start to pick up until ten or eleven. Ack. My plan was to only be there for an hour or two, tops. Considering that I got in for free and was getting "street prices" on drinks—ironically, I have a hard time paying $4 for a carton of orange juice at the store but am willing to shell out the much for glass—whatever amount of time I stayed would still get me money's worth. The place was small and rather cozy, decorated in bordello colors but with a brick wall behind the stage. Just in case Robin Williams decides to stop by for some stand-up, no doubt. So I sat at the far end of the stage, close to backstage and the stairs leading to the dressing rooms. In spite of the crowd consisting entirely of myself, hardly the most overtly enthusiastic patron in the world, the grrls went on about their business. It seems a shame that their most energetic work (since the level surely must decline over the course of eight hours) went mostly unseen. Not necessarily unappreciated, but I'm simply not a huge fan of this sort of thing. Nothing I saw on the stage came even remotely close to the arousal inspired by simply talking to or fantasizing about Madeline. If anyone could have even been anywhere in the ballpark, it was Imani, who was of course goffed out. Her hair was in Betty mode (dyed black, blue and purple), and she wore a black leather bikini top, red velvet knee-high stockings (which I correctly guessed were from New York Apparel), short black sequined skirt and black platform shoes which almost put her at eye level with me. Almost. Since it wasn't an actual all-nude club and she's not a professional sex worker, her dancing was more like, well, dancing than any of the others. Very goff, natch, with no shortage of swoopies. Indeed, I recognized more than a few of my own favorite moves. She tried to use the standard-issue pole as best as she could, but those sorts of acrobatics are a bit beyond her. She wasn't clumsy by any means, merely inexperienced with that sort of thing. Some of the others—whose names I never learned—were clearly veterans, however, probably career. One grrl seemed to spend most of her time climbing up and down the pole, often in positions which if her legs lost their grip probably would have resulted in brain damage since her head would have collided hard with the stage. She also had a wide, toothy grin permanently on her face; it didn't seem insincere, precisely, but rather eerie. I could almost see the alien attached to the base of her skull, its tentacles poking through her cranium, constanly stiumating the pleasure centers of her brain. (Wow. I've clearly been reading too much John Shirley.) The first time Imani went on, there still weren't any customers besides me, and I didn't exactly count. Towards the end of her final song (she leaned towards industrial and goff, not surprisingly, with a liberal amount of Tori Amos thrown in for good measure; the grinning grrl, on the other hand, clearly had a passion for nine inch nails), the bartender disappeared outside for a moment, and the rest of the grrls were nowhere to be seen. It was a very surreal moment, just her and I. It also made me realize that I didn't feel like a spectator in the classic sense, or at least as defined by this particular context. I was not there to ogle her, but rather to appreciate and support a friend in what must be an exceedingly nerve-wracking form of artistic expression. More importantly, it drove home for me once again that...how do I put this, exactly? That even when in such a classical position as this, such the male position, I didn't feel it at all. I connect with very little of what it means to be male in this society, (particularly? even? especially?) what could be described as the more stereotypical stuff. This doesn't mean I have anything against men or can't be friends with them (no militant transdyke fascist horseshit for me, thank you very much), just that I don't really identify with them anymore, and the extent to which I did before was based on not seeming to have any choice in the matter. Though even then, I didn't go to strip clubs (save for that time Jose invited The Ex and I to see her) or drink beer or watch football, to name but a few of the more obvious examples. After her first set, Imani admitted to me that she felt a bit more self-conscious than usual knowing that it was just me watching and nobody else. I'm sure it's much easier to do this sort of thing in front of strangers than people you know. Hell, ask anyone with an online journal. (Damn exhibitionists, the lot of 'em.) Very soon thereafter normal clientele began trickling in; indeed, it was little more than a trickle. There was never a crowd, but it was frequently chaotic... 5:59pm 09/14/94 03:05 PM. God, an entire week without writing? I really ought to be ashamed of myself. Actually, I AM ashamed of myself. Well. That settles that. Where to start, where to start? I really should be doing homework, but hot gossip requires immediate attention. And this IS gossip, and I'm lowering my personal standards in writing about this, but... My prediction has come true; Chip is sleeping with someone. A rather nice English girl named Emily. Well, from appearances, more than just sleeping, but rather it's a full-tilt relationship, kissing and hand-holding and so forth. Near as I can figure it's been going for about a week, and while Chip hasn't been hiding it, he hasn't exactly been advertising it, either. I've seen her over here pretty much regularly for, as I said, about a week, although Chip never introduced us, even when The Ex was here this weekend. Oh, yeah--I can't remember when the last time was he actually spent the night here. (And to think I ever worried about privacy. It's a shame I haven't had any desire to masturbate lately.) Her and I didn't officially meet until yesterday. Ironically, I was looking to speak to that girl in my Images of Eroticism class, but couldn't find her anywhere. She probably dropped along with the other 90% of the class. Not able to find any seats up close, I sat roughly in the middle of the class and proceeded to mind my own business, as always. "Oh, I didn't know you were in this class! I'm so glad!" It took me a moment to realize where the voice was coming from and that it was directed towards me. Emily proceeded to sit down next to me to the right (thank God--it meant I'd be able to actually hear her.) At that moment, though, I didn't quite recognize her. After all, more often than not she'd be on the other side of the living room while I passed nearby. "You're Chip's roommate, aren't you? Jeff?" "Yes," I replied. "And you are...?" "Emily," she said. "Chip's friend." "Oh! I'm sorry, I meet so many people, it's hard to keep track." "That's alright." Then, earnestly, "Your girlfriend is very pretty." I'm never sure how to reply to that sort of comment, because it's not directed towards me, per se. Like I can take credit for The Ex being pretty? "Thank you, I rather think so." "Her hair is beautiful, don't you think?" "Oh, I do, I do," I replied. We proceeded to talk about the class and our mutual difficulties with it, and agreed, among other things, to help each other out both in terms of studying outside of class and remaining awake in class. I'm not sure yet which is more challenging. So, after class--which we both sat through in a daze--we walked back to the apartment, chatting about respective majors, etc. Turns out she's a psyche major--naturally, I couldn't let that one slip by. "Chip must be great, then. I mean, I'm not a psychology major and I have a lot fun analyzing him." She laughed. (I'm not pursuing her in any way, but she laughs at my jokes--that's a BIG plus.) Right then we happened to be walking past 211's bay window, and by no great surprise Chip was sitting there with...Sean, I think. Anyway, Chip registered absolutely no reaction in terms of her and I walking together. Rather, he was amusing himself by shining sunlight reflected from a CD into people's eyes. She stopped out in front of the building to have a cigarette; we said our goodbyes and I went inside. Chip hasn't said a word to me about her, but I'm not surprised. She's just a relentlessly friendly person, and there's nothing wrong with that. A while ago, in fact, while Chip was studying, she left with Khamen to go to the Taco Bell. For a brief moment, the words "The Angel of 103" passed through my mind. I'm not entirely sure what it means, but it has a nice ring. I'll have to remember it. 10:33pm I was standing in the muni station this evening when my right ankle started itching something fierce. So I rolled down my sock, lifted up my legging and scratched. Probably not a good idea, but damnit, I'm an American by birth (and Antichrist by choice, thank you very much) and sometimes I want my instant gratification and I want it NOW. To make a long story short (I know, I know), I have several bite marks on my right ankle. From what, I don't know. We used to have a problem with fleas when Mary was still alive, but she died over a year ago. (No matter how bad things may get between The Ex and I, all either of us would have to do is mention Mary and we'd probably wind up crying in each other's arms.) And the fact that I didn't even notice them until this evening, after being at work all day, must mean something. Further proof that the building is evil. This is not to say I'm entirely down on the idea of biting; on the contrary, there'll be a lot of it going on during Madeline's visit, I'm quite certain...this just isn't what I had in mind. Last | Top | Next