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Sunday, 20 July 2008 (fed by the others) 2:27pm Got to bed around half past five, up again by a quarter to noon, but I'm still not altogether here. I didn't drink at all last night, either, though I did injest perhaps a bit more not-so-good food than I should have, mostly for the energy—I was at The Castro from three in the afternoon to two this morning at the Midnites for Maniacs "Animals Attacking Humans" Five-Film Feast. I love San Francisco so much. I took copious notes at the show and hope to turn it into a Medialoper article. Just gotta find the time and the energy. It'd be nice to get a new one written eventually, though. | ||
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Saturday, 19 July 2008 (right and proper) sometime after midnight It's four in the morning, and I'm walking to The Dark Room after hanging out at KrOB's for the last couple of hours. Life is good. | ||
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Friday, 18 July 2008 (before hours) 12:33pm I left Phobe in the new office's parking lot overnight. Officer Dave warned me against it, citing the sketchiness of some of the folks in our new 'hood—especially those often hanging around outside our immediate neighbors, the San Francisco Pretrial Diversion Project—but, I figured, what the hell. The parking lot has a gate which would presumably be closed at some point during the evening, and if I didn't leave Phoebe here I'd just have to try to find a spot to park her in Ilene's neighborhood, which is tricky at best and not a whole hell of a lot safer. Besides, if anyone actually looks in the windows before busting them in, they'll notice a large gap where the stereo would be, and nothing of value on the seats. Unless they really need a well-worn Santa Cruz map, or a half-full (I'm an optimist!) bottle of water. So, I gave it a shot. So, after going to the gym and killing some time at Caffe Trieste, I watched a few episodes of Battlestar Galactica with Ilene at her place. (I haven't watched the first season since Ripley and I broke up, and when Ellen Tigh was first introduced, I couldn't help but flash...anyway.) This morning I met up with Sean Kelly, Jim and a few others for an on-the-fly writing group at a cafe conveniently located in Ilene's neighborhood (if ten blocks counts as still in her neighborhood—on the same street, at least), and caught a ride back to the office where I found Phoebe doing just fine, nary a window busted. Yay. Tonight, after going to the gym (the trick, see, is to go a lot, in addition to cutting back on things like the cheese and sour cream so often found in your average Mission burrito), I'm hooking up with Pete and Sarah Goldie to watch Galactica. Different season . 8:06pm For something which wasn't high up on the list of priorities, it didn't take long for me to crack and buy a new car stereo. I was driving by Best Buy when I did the math on my upcoming Fresno trip—which isn't for two weeks, but feels much sooner—and realized that making the drive without a radio would be a bad thing indeed, especially for a planned late-night drive. It's not that I can't keep my mind occupied. Rather, that's the problem. My mind can occupy itself so much that it loses track of little things like the road in front of the car. It would be a little different if I had someone coming with me. Perdita will be in her carrier on the passenger seat, of course, and she can certainly hold her own in a conversation, but that won't be quite enough. So, a working stereo, one whose faceplate I'll be keeping in my bag rather than in the glove compartment. All that's left to take care of is contacting the library about the DVDs that were stolen out of the trunk and paying the replacement fee, which is probably gonna hurt. (Still, though, thus far this has all cost less than the deductible would have been if I'd filed a claim with my insurance company, and without my rates being raised.) When I take Phoebe to Saturn of Colma on Monday morning for her already-scheduled maintenance, I'm going to ask if they can remove the trunk-release thingy next to the driver's seat, which I seldom use but which was definitely used by the thieves. It's a security flaw, to put it mildly. | ||
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Thursday, 17 July 2008 (invisible figures) 10:57am So, we're in the new office. It's a cavernous concrete warehouse-type space which used to house a high-end Asian furniture joint. There are skylights, and what overhead electrical lights do exist are far less obnoxious than the fluorescent nightmares at the old location. Overall, getting set up was a fairly simple process, but it helps that I've done it many times before. My archnemesis isn't here today, which has also done my nerves a world of good, as is the fact that I don't have to look at them every time I get up from desk anymore. Yay for that. The no-stuff-on-the-walls rule is in effect, but some people are already breaking it. Not me, though. Not yet. It's all about the timing. It feels like 1998. Seriously. This is a total dot-com environment, a bunch of twentysomethings moving into a warehouse with visions of phat stock options in their eyes. Tres organic. The difference, of course, is that this is an established company run by thirtysomethings (some above, some below) that survived the dot-com crash. I don't know what the first offices were like, but I wouldn't be surprised to discover we've come full circle. I spent most of '98 at Autodesk, and I still have the majority of the stuff from those walls. If/when I do start populating the walls—and it'll only be after more people are doing it in earnest, because I will not be made an example of, kthx—I may put up some of my old Autodesk stuff, just to see what it does to my head. I did finally make it to the gym yesterday afternoon. Half hour on the treadmill, and hour on the crosstrainer thingy. I left around six, in the middle of their super-busy period. And I showered. It felt important to use the shower, both so I wouldn't be stinky and just to do it, to face that fear (again) and use the shower while it was busy. Except, it wasn't, not really. The SoMA location seems to get a lot more boys than girls, even compared to the Castro location. As a result, the women's locker room was never especially bustling, and I felt more comfortable. Which is good. The one bummer about the otherwise lovely day of the Mechanicrawl was that I was getting clocked left and right, constantly being called "sir" and "he" and all those other icky signifying words. (Though never in restrooms, not even when I was standing in line for a public restroom on Fisherman's Wharf, surrounded by tourist women and their children. They didn't give me a second look. Maybe that's in general the case with locker rooms, too, and my anxiety is unfounded. Here's to hoping. Afterward, my niece Shandon and I had dinner at Nippon Sushi and compared notes. We haven't talked since last year, and it turns out we both went through similar drama vortices, complete with a breakdown on New Year's Eve. 2007 was cruel to the end. | ||
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Wednesday, 16 July 2008 (the more tragic the better) 11:55am I stayed at The Dark Room last night, sleeping in the Green Room. My plan had been to go the gym for a couple hours this morning, then return to The Dark Room, write until this afternoon, then meet up with a friend for dinner. Didn't work out that way, since Phoebe got broken into last night. Her rear shotgun window was busted, and her stereo was removed with less-than-surgical precision. I called Saturn of Colma, who recommended me to a more local auto glass place, one which is conveniently located less than a mile from The Dark Room. I should get her back this afternoon, after which I'm planning on going to the gym. Take that, random fate! Though staying the night is a relatively new occurance, considering that I've been spending a vast amount of my time in the Mission for the past five years and is this is only the second time my car's been broken into, I'm doing pretty good. And it's the only time the window was smashed. I'm pretty sure that last time, I'd left either door or the trunk unlocked. They didn't touch the stereo, though I did lose the bulk of my Acid Mothers Temple collection. I'd downloaded them off the usenet, so easy come easy go. As for the last time a window got smashed—damn, I think that might have been in '98 or '99, but either way, it was in front of my apartment in what's otherwise considered a low-crime area. So there you go. These things happen everywhere. That said, both times it happened in the Mission I was parked on 19th between Mission and Capp, so, yeah. Gonna try not to park overnight on that block if I can help it. Otherwise, I'm fixing the hole and going on about my business. Which won't include going to the new office, at least not today. 12:37pm Aw, man! The Full Moon Rising Hike this Friday at the Chabot Space and Science Center is already sold out. That's what I get for waiting so long to make reservations. On the plus side, Phoebe's all better now. She's still lacking a stereo, but that's not especially high on the list of priorities. Which won't include going to the new office, at least not today. 2:57pm Really not one of my better days, automotive-wise. Phoebe's window is replaced (and the back seat is all nice and clean), but she's currently blocked in across the street by three police cars. Not sure why, except it's Mission, and these things happen. I was honestly hoping to make it to the gym, too. | ||
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Tuesday, 15 July 2008 (no one seems to know) 3:45pm There must be something special about my hair today, because I've received compliments on it twice, both while walking down Mission between The Dark Room and 19th Street. There's nothing remotely special about it. It's just up in the high ponytail I put it in before working out at the SoMA Gold's Gym this morning. Maybe I have a glow or something. As I expected I would, I crashed early last night. After swinging by The Dark Room to update the marquee on the front door, I went home, made a salad and watched Futurama: The Beast With a Billion Backs, falling asleep by nine. I awoke again around half past seven, feeling much better than I did Monday morning. Yay for actual rest. I was the gym by ten, spending forty-five minutes on the treadmill and thirty on the crosstrainer. Kinda like the old days, 'cept it was an hour on each back then. In time. This location is a five-minute walk from the new office, and probably a two-minute drive, depending on traffic. I showered at the gym, though I'm keeping my fingers crossed about a shower being installed at the office, which would solve so many problems. Otherwise, though, I think I can make this work. I hope I can. I have a lot of clothes I want to be able to wear again. I'm a creature of convenience, I won't do too many things that are inconvenient, and this for the most part works. The yoga thing just isn't going to happen, because not only are the logistics too tricky (there's very little reliable parking around the studio, whereas there's decent parking both at the gym and at my office) but because the way it made me feel bad outweighed the way it made me feel good. I don't necessarily mean the physical strain, either. The pace was too fast, I couldn't keep up, I was never sure if I was doing it right or not, which was compounded with the fear that I would never be able to do it right, thus leading into an oh-so-fun vicious circle. It was a worthy experiment, though. I did their thirty-days-for-thirty-bucks newbie deal, and I went three times, so I spent thirty bucks on sixty bucks' worth of classes. That's agreeable. The gym also has yoga classes, but for now I wanna concentrate on what works: the hardcore cardio, running and whatever it is the legs do on a crosstrainer, things I actually enjoy, especially since the latter is an opportunity to read. (I have a lot of books in the queue, though at the moment the reading material is Center Square: The Paul Lynde Story, my interest in whom was piqued from talking to Sean.) I used to do it daily ten years ago when I was at Autodesk, and that involved getting up at a quarter to four in the morning. Getting up by five should do the trick for me now, and...I don't know. We'll see. This will work out (no pun intended) or it won't. 4:11pm Sister Edith texted a little while ago to inform me that the move is not going according to schedule, and I probably won't have to come to the (new) office tomorrow, either. Fine by me. 4:47pm Sometimes I feel like I'm out of the game, off the radar. Not hosting the Queer Open Mic (my choice), not attending open mics at all (also my choice, mostly due to forgetting about them and doing other things), and as a result flung away from the hamster wheel that is the local lit scene. Then there's times like a few minutes ago, when I ran into the director of one of the local queer arts residency programs on the street. He didn't compliment me on my hair, but he did encourage me to send in a proposal for his program, and soon. That's a good sign. | ||
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Monday, 14 July 2008 (the morning of the twelfth night it all ends) 12:55pm At work, feeling dehydrated and sleep-deprived. Not sure what the deal is with the former because I've been drinking lots of water today, but the latter is because I got very little sleep last night. (Duh.) I spent the night at Ennui's, and though we went to bed as soon as we got there—"going to bed" as in turning off the light and cuddling and closing our eyes and waiting for sleep—I'm not sure it ever really happened for me. I tried to get comfortable, but I just couldn't. I even tried to approximate my usual position when I'm in my bed at home, generally the only way I can get to sleep, and I know I was still awake past when the bars down the street closed. I eventually remembered to put in earplugs, which helped, but I still suspect I'm going to crash heavily tonight. Haven't had a lick of caffeine thus far today, though that might change. Ennui and I had dinner last night at the Ethiopian place on Valencia, and then went on to Bad Movie Night. It was one of our better shows in a while, a packed house filled with newbies who seemed to enjoy themselves thoroughly. A lot of them were there specifically for the feature, Reign of Fire, which evidently has a much bigger cult than I'd realized. Hopefully they'll come back for Cloverfield next week. | ||
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Sunday, 13 July 2008 (indeterminate stasis) 2:11pm The Mechnicrawl went like this. I parked Phoebe at 23rd and Dolores, swung by The Dark Room to piddle and stow my laptop, then walked to the 16th Street BART Station and took the train to Embarcadero. Walked up Embarcadero toward Pier 45, and was spotted and joined by Rhiannon along the way. At Pier 45 we got our special Mechanicrawl tickets from Mikl-Em's wife Danielle at The Long Now's booth, then went into the Musee Mechanique (which I haven't been to since a very bad weekend in '06) to wait for Alexia to join us. When she did we had lunch at a fancy-pants restaurant near the Musee, which may well be the only time I've ever had a waiter say bon appetit for a meal which included french fries. It wasn't very good, either. What is about expensive restaurants in touristy areas, anyway? They always suck. Maybe they figure the tourists will be too bowled over by the experience or the overall view (I got a nice look at the Eat at Joe's sign, which made me happy) to notice. From there, with full stomachs, we took a tour of the USS Pampanito, a World War II submarine. It wasn't quite as cramped and claustrophobic as I expected, but it helped that it was berthed and relatively still. Being out in the middle of the ocean would be a different matter entirely, I'm sure. Then it was on to the S. S. Jeremiah O'Brien, a World War II liberty ship. Not sure from whence the term "libery ship" beyond meaningly jingoism, but it's really damned big, in any event. The main attraction, and indeed one of the main attractions of the whole Mechanicrawl, was the engine room. It's a big fucking steam engine, so big and loud and poundy as to be somewhat difficult to comprehend. (But I've always lived my life on a relatively small scale, and really big things are outside my experience.) It was used as the engine room for the movie Titanic, but more than that, it made me think of my maternal grandfather. He built a steamboat which I rode in on several occasions as I was growing up, and I'd imagine he had experience with these larger versions as well. Such an alpha, he was. It's no wonder he's holding the gavel in this picture. It's been in the back of my mind—and occasionally the front—that he would be fascinating person to write about. I've done a little research into family lore surrounding him, and I know that if I want to do any more I need to do it soon, since not many people alive still know the stories. I have no idea how he'd feel about me being his biographer, though much like my uncle Ces (whose itchy green wool blanket Ennui and I cuddled under many times on Chicken John's bus, and I'm pretty sure it's visible beneath us in the picture at the top of the page), I'm sure he wouldn't approve of how I live my life. That's okay, though. From there we walked to the Hyde Street Pier, which was a bit of a disappointment. There was a re-enactment of the 1901 Waterfront Strike which should have been much more interesting (it didn't help that we were critiquing it as theater geeks), admission onto the boats wasn't covered by our Mechanicrawl tickets because it was a national park or some such thing, and the boats themselves were a bit underwhelming compared to the Jeremiah O'Brien and the Pampanito. Still, though, I'm glad we explored them. It's why I love San Francisco: there's so much stuff like that which I never get around to seeing. Doesn't help that I spend so much of my free time sitting at The Dark Room writing about other things I've done in my free time. (Meta!) We then walked to the The Long Now's office and museum at Fort Mason. It involved some hills, and considering that we'd already been walking pretty much nonstop for a few hours, we were getting a bit bushed. There was a lot of interesting stuff there, but the place was packed and we just didn't have the energy to appreciate it. So, we got caffeinated beverages from Greens next door—their coffee and to-go prices are extremely reasonable compared to the astronomical sit-down menu—sat down, and recharged our batteries. Rhiannon had to return to Pier 45 to get her bike, so Alexia and I continued on to our next stop, The Exploratorium. I have no idea when I was last there. Vash and I talked about it but never went, nor did Maddy and I. Hell, the last time might have been with The Ex. Anyway, Alexia and I had a grand time, our energy fully returned and making a mild spectacle of ourselves, running around like hyper eight year-olds, clapping happily when neat stuff happened. That's what The Exploratorium's all about. Some of my favorite exhibits were the ones where you can give yourself an electric shock. I did those quite a few times. Hey, these days I don't get many kicks otherwise. We left at a quarter past seven and walked to the final destination, The Wave Organ. It was high tide, not to many tourists other than Mechanicrawlers were there, and the Organ was loud and burbly. Rhiannon (who was unable to join us for The Exploratorium, sadly) brought Alexia and I sammiches, and we sat and ate and listened. It was beautiful and perfect. One of the best decisions I ever made was to audition for Night of the Living Dead in '03. Maddy wasn't happy about it, since she felt I was too busy and distracted already, and thought it was inconsiderate of me since at the time she was afraid of zombies. But I did it anyway—and Maddy even ended up getting a role, overcoming her zombie fear in a big way—and it led to that moment. And many others. | ||
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Saturday, 12 July 2008 (she's not for you) 10:19pm Normally, I might be a little depressed to be home on a Saturday night. And it certainly feels weird to not have spent a single night at The Dark Room this weekend. But it's been a long, full and damned good day doing The Mechanicrawl with Rhiannon and Alexia, so I'm perfectly happy to be here. sometime after midnight pitufina es ahora gatocita. | ||
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Friday, 11 July 2008 (with all eyes on) 4:54pm We had no internet access for most of the day at work. It's entirely coincidental to the fact that most of the office is packed up and ready to be moved; it just so happened. Gave it all a surreal edge, though. Since I couldn't do any work-work, I wrote up my proposal for next year's National Queer Arts Festival, and submitted it after I left the office. It's pretty good, I think, though I have no expectations. It'll be accepted or it won't. Tonight, I'm going to see Sean Owens' play Her Majesty at The Exit. Tomorrow, I'm hooking up with Rhiannon and possibly Alexia for the Mechanicrawl (including my beloved Wave Organ, which I haven't been to since everything was different). Sunday, I get to see Ennui. Monday's our final day in the old office, Tuesday we're supposed to work from home (bwahaha!), and Wednesday we descend upon the new place. | ||
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