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Sunday, 31 December 2000 (deep in the heart of nowhere) 11:45am We were originally planning on going to a party thrown by a friend of Orky's tonight, but now it looks like we'll be going to barefoot's place in Oakland. Things change, although I suppose this qualifies more as things being like they once were, since it's an old tradition which died along with so many others. Who knows, maybe we'll be going to Santa Cruz for the Fourth of July. (Not holding my breath on that one.)
Saw
O Brother, Where Art Thou? yesterday. First Coen Brothers film I've seen since Fargo,
which was the first film of theirs I genuinely didn't like. This one, I liked a lot better. Besides the fact that I was
looking forward to it in general, I made a point of seeing it (followed by a revival of the original cut of Blade
Runner at the Castro) so I could, in good conscience, put it on my "Best Movies of 2000" list, which I'll be
making one of these days. And OB,WAT? may even be on it...
By the end of this year, nothing has changed. Nor will it be a year from now. Or ever. Because, you see, it can't. Not even me. The world is what it is, and nothing more. Sometimes I understand why the suicide rate is so high amongst trannies. It's really no great mystery to the outside observer, I'm sure, but from the inside, the will gets bitch-slapped like a nickel whore. Futility becomes a tangible object.
No, I'm not suggesting I'm considering it myself. For better or for worse I've always managed to retain
the conviction that things must improve, eventually. They'll go down again, too, probably deeper
than you can fathom (is that a pun?). But it's all about maintaining the forward momentum, somehow, for
whatever meager reason you can convince yourself to believe.
Sounds like the beginning of a novel, huh?
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Saturday, 30 December 2000 (cry wolf) 8:24am Well, my unconscious apparently considers me fair game once more, continuing where it left on in its campaign of mother-anxiety dreams, so I suppose I'm healthy again. My stomach still feels like it's carrying a lead ball, but for better or for worse, my appetite has returned. It occurs to me that both times I've gotten made up recently (Wednesday night, and Xmas eve before that) have been at least a day after the last time I'd shaved. That I can look at myself in the mirror and decide that I'm hairless enough at those moments implies that I'm in something resembling the home stretch with electro. This, I suspect, is the part where it gets really scary.
It's hard not to feel a sense of regret over the last few days. Back to work on Tuesday, and
the vacation is over. Okay, the vacation which had produced no small amount of anxiety
to begin with, and the first week back is only four days long, and the following week
is only three days long because of the Manson show...but, still, it feels like a wasted opportunity
nonetheless. It's that driving-home-on-Sunday-evening feeling, of nothing left to look forward
to. I hate it.
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Friday, 29 December 2000 (morpheus laughing) 10:54am Back on my feet. Mostly. I might be able to leave the house, which was unthinkable yesterday. At the very least, I should shower, which I haven't done since Tuesday. Yum. On the plus side, I haven't dreamed while I've been sick. Almost makes it worth it.
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Thursday, 28 December 2000 (the hair of the dog) 12:30pm I wonder if I'm on the verge of a new annual tradition: becoming violently ill right before New Year's. It's definitely a good thing I came home when I did last night, because within a couple hours of going to bed something hit me, hard. I've become reacquainted with everything I've eaten in the last twenty-four hours. (I definitely shouldn't have had that ice cream when I got home.) I don't know if it's food poisioning or a bug of some kind or what. Or how long it's going to be with me. I kinda wish I was supposed to work today so I could at least have the relative satisfaction of the justified sick day. Alas.
Maddy has noticed that I keep calling Mina by the name of my mother's cat. Great, now
I'm delirious, too.
My stomach is starting to churn once more. I guess that means I've been sitting up too long.
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Wednesday, 27 December 2000 (your demographic and the people who love you) 10:34am The bad people are back. They haven't taken their garbage out in three weeks, not since the weekend of that party during which they refused to keep the gate closed lest their guests get confused by the concept of ringing a doorbell. And now their pile o' garbage has started to attract ants. To quote Maddy on the subject, fucking yuppies. Ohwellwhatevernevermind. I don't want to sleep anymore. It's not worth it. So Orky wrote and invited us to go out tonight and meet some of his friends at Cafe DuNord, where a band called The Shimmer Kids would be playing. My gut reaction was "No, thanks." Sadly, this has become the case with me regardless of the circumstances; I almost always seem to arbitrarily decide against going out. The he hit me with the kicker: the band in question used a theremin. Well, shit. That settled that. Besides, and perhaps more pragmatically, I'm on vacation, I've never been to Cafe DuNord (although it's where Dark Sparkle is held, the semi-monthly event which seems to have restored just a little of Dana's faith in clubbing), and I like the idea of meeting new people. As retarded as that sounds. I got into full battle gear, flipped a coin and decided to drive rather than take the bus. Actually, although public transportation had been tempting given the parking situation in the Castro, my stomach has been unhappy with me for most of the day and I didn't like the thought of being at the mercy of the Muni should...um...an intestinal emergency begin. You know how it is. I got damn lucky with parking and arrived at about half past nine; Orky had said he'd be there at nine, but didn't show up until about ten. (My best guess, being watchless.) After making a circuit of the place, I found a patch of wall to call my own and watched as the opening act got set up. Apparently I had looked extremely lost as I wandered about, because a waitress came over to me and asked, "Sweetheart, do you realize Dark Sparkle isn't tonight?" I laughed and told her that yes, I was aware, and that I was waiting for a friend. She said that she wasn't sure, since I appeared somewhat confused but was dressed to fit in perfectly for Dark Sparkle (I took that as a compliment), and seemed very alone. I put my hand to my forehead and said, "I'm a goth—of course I'm alone!" She laughed and walked away. Orky showed up shortly after that, and started introducing me to his friends. At first he called me Jeff, and I asked (gently) if he could introduce me as Sherilyn. He did, but not without some difficulty at first; I assured him that with time, he'd be able to do so without laughing. Seeing as how we've known each other for nine years, I'm willing to give him a little slack. Then again, some people who've met me within the last two years still seem to have a hard time getting the pronouns straight, so what can I really expect? Nobody was particularly interested in the opening act, so we eventually wandered outside. After a while Orky got cold and went back inside; though I'd been in lost-puppy mode with him, I stayed outside with the others. It had been a long time since I'd done something like that, i.e. hanging out with a group of people I'd just met. It felt nice, like when I first started going to Shrine last year. After that, Orky seemed to disappear. The others sat down in front of the stage, but he wasn't with them. After the Shimmer Kids started playing he still hadn't re-emerged from whatever hole he'd found, so I figured I might as well bail. I'd pretty much done what I'd come out to do, hang with Orky and his friends. That seemed through for the evening—granted, they'd probably do something after the show, but it didn't seem likely I'd last that long. Bondage A Go-Go was happening in SoMa, and chances are Anodyne and others would be there, but....nah. The time for that had been Tuesday night, and I blew it. I left the club and started walking back to the car. After dodging a couple blocks' worth of agressive panhandlers, I was at 17th and Castro. I stopped there and just sorta hung for a while, watching people go by in the hub of the Queer Mecca, imagining they were watching me. For neither the first time nor the last I found myself wondering, what are they seeing? Do I not register at all? Do they see a girl? Do they simply see a tranny, or perhaps one who is mildly passable but no match for the discerning yet ultimately uninterested gaze of the modern Castro dweller? Do they see a drag queen, or perhaps a younger, monochromatic version of the middled-aged cross-dressers who furtively walk these streets in fear of being recognized? If reality is what you can get away with and what you can get away with depends on how society reacts, then what the fuck am I? While my mind was swimming through the same old existential river, another tranny walked by. She appeared to be roughly my age, with shorter hair and makeup which seemed both naturalistic and garish at the same time. (Read: a little heavy on the blush.) We briefly made eye contact, which doesn't mean much since I inadvertantly made eye contact with a lot of people. I don't know if she really noticed me or not. Part of me, the lonely, desperate part, was hoping she'd come back and talk. I really need to get to know, for want of a better phrase, a few of "my own kind." Of course, as our couples' therapist was kind enough to point out, just being a tranny isn't enough. I need to actually have other things in common with the person. If they're a conservative Republican xtian—and there those trannies who do retain such self-defeating poltical stances from their former lives, as counterintuitive as it may seem—then we're kinda doomed from the start, as was the case with Maggie and The Other. But it can be done... By the way, Orky was impressed that I was familiar with squicking. There's a reason we've been friends for all these years.
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Tuesday, 26 December 2000 (count to six and die (the vacuum of infinite space encompassing)) 9:50am On Xmas Eve, Maddy, jonco and I went to Livingstone's. It's a bar in the Tower District which functions as the semi-official meeting place for all people the "hip" persuasion, especially those who have since relocated. (Last year, in a display of the iconoclasticism for which I love her so dearly, Astrid insisted that we go anywhere but.) barefoot and Rox were already there, of course. There was the possibility of The Ex showing up, though she never did, and I also kept an eye out for Danny and Conk. Danny seemed a little more likely, if only because I didn't see Conk going to a bar on what is ostensibly a holy night. I was also still a little shaken by his appearance in a dream the night before, so it was just as well. I hadn't shaved since Saturday morning nor had I been wearing any makeup aside from a little eyeliner, figuring that something resembling stealth mode would be wise while in town, but I did get get somewhat into battle gear before we went out. I figured I might as well face it on my own terms, at least once. (Especially because? In spite of the fact?) were were going somewhere that I was bound to see someone I once knew. I did see a friend whom I'm known at least as long as Conk, Pancho. jonco spotted him first, talked to him for a few minutes (no doubt giving him the "What's little brother has been up to in twenty-five words or less" speech which he's probably used more than once by now ), then beckoned me over. Pancho was suitably impressed. He said that while he'd "heard about this" (I didn't ask if he meant what jonco had just told him, or if my reputation preceded me that much), he never would have guessed it was me if he hadn't been told. I was tempted to whip out my driver's license, but figured he probably didn't need the reminder. He's known me since I was 12, after all. Anyway, I imagine that if word has filtered back to Conk just yet, it's inevitable now. After a late breakfast on Xmas morning (my mom somehow convinced Maddy and I to sit still so she could cook for us—y'know, as a rule, nobody makes better pancakes than one's own mother) we went on the traditional pilgrimmage to Tower Records. It isn't that it's any better than the locations elsewhere in the state, but for some reason expatriate Fresnans always feel the need to swing by while in town. It's not located in the aforementioned Tower District and is completely unrelated to it, but maybe we just take comfort in anything with the word "Tower," I don't know. In any event, I expected that at least one of us would be there. I half-expected it to be barefoot and rox taking a detour on the way to mom's, but instead, Orky was there. We talked for a while, and he said he'd look into seeing if he can't get us invited to the house party he's going to on NYE. It's being held by friends he describes as "cyberpunk vampire goths," which I have to admit, sounds like our kinda people. In fact, I already know a couple of them from Shrine. The other attraction is that there'll most likely be some dosing going on, and while that's definitely not the best place for Maddy to take acid for the first time, at least there's a good chance of us scoring some. (Between Ecstasy and the inexplicable resurgence of heroin, acid has become extremely difficult to find.) And if even if we're not able to, it still sounds like fun. I guess we'll see.
The labels on packages got it right; most verbal pronoun usage didn't.
After a while, I found I stopped caring.
But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane, I was planning on going out tonight, to Trannyshack and Roderick's. It's been a while, I have tomorrow off, and the timing seemed right. But it didn't happen.
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Monday, 25 December 2000 (king kill 33°) 10:59pm Home, again. Okay. Yeah. In spite of that horrid beginning, it went a lot better this time than last year. Hell, we might even be back there again before Thanksgiving. But no promises.
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Sunday, 24 December 2000 (the fall of adam) 10:41am The usual concept of "preparing" generally involves some degree of preparation. If that had been the case with me yesterday, I would have made absolutely damn sure I had every single key in the apartment which might conceivably work for my mom's condo rather than just the three sets of rings hanging on the nail in the kitchen. Surely, I thought to myself in a fit of naievete intense even for me, one of these must be it! It was on a ring last time I actually let myself into my mom's, so in all likelihood it is on a ring even now! And in that I was very much mistaken, the net result being me calling my mom on Maddy's celphone at half past midnight while standing dumbly on my mom's front porch. (I reckoned that the phone ringing would be slightly less startling than the doorbell, and she later told me she wouldn't have heard the doorbell anyway.) Needless to say, this was categorically NOT the way I wanted to start things, calling attention to myself in such an embarrassing manner. Bad enough she has to correct herself on the gender pronouns (I've heard it twice so far this morning), but I'm also such a yutz that I can't remember to bring her friggin' key?
I then woke up five hours later from a series of increasingly
bad dreams, feeling like a war of attrition was being waged
against my sanity. My sanity, of course, was not winning.
It never does in this town.
Merry Fucking Xmas.
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Saturday, 23 December 2000 (valentine's day) 9:02am While washing my hands in one of the restrooms at the Evil Sony Metreon yesterday, I observed a man and his son, whom I guessed to be about six years old. They dried their hands, then crumpled up the paper towels. They were standing maybe three feet away from the trash receptable, essentially a hole in the wall about twice the size of a mail slot. In a display which I gathered was like a tradition between them (perhaps the man showing his son that sports permeate all things), they both threw their towels towards the slot at the same time. One went in, the other bounced off and fell onto the floor. Rather than picking it up, the father ushered the son out. The planet is doomed. I could go back to sleep right now, and I'm sure Madeline would appreciate it, but I learned my lesson with the last dream: being awake is safer.
Besides, it's time to take the next step with my computer: attempting to reboot with my shiny new NT disk, and
seeing if that will allow me to get back into the original OS and not this weird phantom one I'm using now,
theoretically resulting in my dsl becoming functional once more (or at least allowing a successful reinstall). I
suppose the whole thing might blow up in my face, but hey, even if it does, I was doing to be away from 'net
access for the next few days anyhow. Might as well live in the moment...
Well, enough of that. Seeing as how I'm descending into Fresno in less than twelve hours, I'd best start preparing.
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Friday, 22 December 2000 (b) apple of discord) 10:42pm We again plumbed the two extremes of moviegoing today: Dracula 2000 at the Evil Sony Metreon (the backwards baseball cap crowd was out in force, but hey, we were there to see Jeri Ryan as a vampire, a concept which melds together two of Maddy's primary fetishes) and City of Lost Children at The Red Vic (with a crowd which didn't feel the need to talk to back to the screen, thankfully). In between I indulged myself and got myself the THX-Remastered DVD of Evil Dead 2. One second thought, it wasn't an indulgence—I needed it. Yeah.
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Thursday, 21 December 2000 (a) eden eye) 8:30am I just discovered a voicemail message from my mother from last night: her isp is down. That's the way the next couple weeks are going to be, I suppose. In spite of this being Shopping Day #3 prior to xmas, I find I'm strongly considering a trip to the mall. My new endoc called in my prescriptions yesterday, and I have until the day after xmas before my current supply runs out. So, maybe, if I get out there early enough today, it won't be quite so bad...right?
In any event, it almost sounds better than just hanging around here.
I also swung by Border's and got some gift certificates for my nieces, even though
they won't be there this weekend. They'll get them eventually. I did some more general
grocery shopping, then came home, mildly surprised that I survived the trip at all.
Now just to make it through the rest of the day....
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