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Friday, 31 July 2009 (self-injury special) 1:53pm My car key broke off in Phobe's truck lock. I have a AAA keycard to use for now (and it's saved my bacon on more than one occasion), but, damnit. This is not what I wanted to deal with right now. It happened in the parking lot of Sloat Garden Center, where I bought a buttercrunch lettuce starter to replace the dead kale. I hope the bugs find it just as tasty. So the kale failed (no great loss, I'm not a big fan of kale), but thus far one of my tomato plants as well as the strawberry seem to be doing well, and the oka is even starting to bloom. I'm far from getting the hang of this, but I feel like I'm on the right track. | ||
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Thursday, 30 July 2009 (loss without magic) 4:12pm We're in Santa Cruz. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but sometimes those are the best things. Not among the best things: deep-fried Twinkies. Heavens help us, they actually exist. 7:53pm We're at Pink Godzilla for dinner. This is more like it. And I'm eating fish, because without fish there's no Scallops Mitsu. | ||
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Wednesday, 29 July 2009 (intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic) 10:20pm Marta and I are at Shotwell's, without Rhiannon. First time for everything. After this we're going to Staygold, Marta's favorite monthyl queer/dyke dance club. sometime after midnight Damn, there's a lot of ghosts here. | ||
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Tuesday, 28 July 2009 (guten tag, herr stockhäusen) 4:14pm Worked on the Victory Garden this morning (mostly digging up dirt), got some blood drawn at the health clinic, and now I'm at Cafetazo with Marta. It's a work date, though tomorrow night we're planning on having a real one. Like this past Saturday. We went to the closing of an art gallery (where there was no flash of leopard-print), swung by Other Avenues for soy cream, then went back to my place to watch Spalding Gray's Monster in a Box. I'd been uncertain about returning home, since the subletter upstairs had (kindly) warned me that she was throwing a party that night. She assured me they would keep to the front half of the house, so the majority of the noise would be above the garage and not my apartment. I was still nervous about it, in addition to feeling slightly hurt by the fact that she didn't invite me to the party. I got the impression it would be a bunch of burners, and I guess she figured I'd harsh the mellow or something. Thankfully, the sound was negligible. After the movie, Marta and I went straight to bed. Straight to sleep, more to the point. It's the fist time we've done that, just crashing rather than having sex first. It's one of those inevitable firsts in a relationship, I suppose, especially one with any sort of sustainability. We were both just too tired to do anything else, and we more than made up for it on Sunday morning. We awoke around seven, by about half past ten we decided that we should actually get out of bed, and then one of us turned to the other, and the next thing we knew it was half past eleven. After brunch and writing at The Sea Biscuit, we headed into The Mission to go thrifting. Plus she lives out there and I had Bad Movie Night that evening so we'd have gone there anyway, but our primary goal was to hit the thrift stores in search of schoolgirl and/or cheerleader skirts that would fit me. Rare creatures, but they do exist, and are necessary for show I'm in at The Dark Room this October. (It's called Tales From The Dark Room, and it's similar to Creepshow from a couple years back, but hopefully with a more commercial name. I'm hosting one of the weekends, and my character will either be a zombie cheerleader or a zombie schoolgirl, depending on what costume we can find.) No such luck, though Marta did find a sweater, a preppy-ish pullover boy sweater. She looked quite hot in it, in that way that girls look hot in boy clothes when they aren't necessarily trying to look like or be boys, and she straddles that line expertly. Even when she's wearing a shirt and tie, she just doesn't radiate masculinity, and I'm probably the only person in San Francisco who doesn't find butchness or masculinity sexy at all. The vector's just right, as I don't think I could be with a tranny boy or a butch. I haven't been attracted to one yet, anyway. Though I've seen her physically recoil at the notion of wearing a skirt or makeup, Marta ain't butch. She's currently wearing a pink baby tee with unicorns, which kinda says it all. | ||
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Monday, 27 July 2009 (spinning off) 7:23am I wrote the first agent, the one who contacted me a couple years back because I was in the lineup for Writers With Drinks. When I told her what I was doing at the time, she wasn't interested (describing herself as "too prudish"). So I brought her up to date on where I am now, that the manuscript is completed and I've been shopping it around and that a few publishers are considering it. She remains disinterested, though she has expanded her reasons to include the fact that I'm new and unknown and thus unlikley to attract the attention of the majors, therefore representing me isn't worth her time even if one of the publishers decides to pick up the book. Okay, then. When the book sells and becomes the next big thing, she'll wish she hadn't blown the chance to be my agent. In the meantime, I'm moving along. | ||
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Sunday, 26 July 2009 (the unloved sequel) 3:03pm At The Sea Biscuit with Marta, at my old favorite table. Work is getting done, even if the glare from the fog through the window is killing me. 11:12pm I left Bad Movie Night early, because I could. | ||
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Saturday, 25 July 2009 (chime) 3:55pm The teaser trailer for the Tron sequel. Yep, I'm excited. | ||
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Friday, 24 July 2009 (we sing hallelujah) 8:32pm Had lunch with The First today. Quinoa and avoacdo salad. Yum. | ||
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Thursday, 23 July 2009 (when i get to the border) 11:17pm Joe offered me an evening at The Garage as part of the San Francisco Fringe Festival this September. I accepted, of course. Between Litquake and The Fringe, I'm doing pretty well for myself. I was at The Garage tonight to host the second night of the Queer Girl Theatre Project's film series. I'd been offered the hosting gig on Wednesday night as well, though I declined it because I had plans with Marta. She could have come with me, of course, but we probably would have spent the entire time wishing we were back at the Black Light District in private, so we cut to the chase. I cooked her dinner on Wednesday night, we watched a couple episodes of Spaced, then fell into bed together, as is our wont. We finally made it out of the house around noon today, having lunch at the Sea Biscuit and attempting to write for an hour or two, finally returning back to my place for more privacy. It's how we are. | ||
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Wednesday, 22 July 2009 (so much more) 11:21am We did get some work done. I submitted "vestri pen0r quod vos" to Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation (which is already incredibly controversial because the transgender community has an unfortunate tendency to turn into a bunch of godsdamned harpies at the slightest hint of a semantic infraction or other sort of heinous thought crime, like the sort I evidently committed in my Lesbian Podcast interview), though I'm also been brainstorming an original essay. Because the world is small no matter what angle you approach it from, Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation is occupying the publishing slot that Bottomfeeder would have been in otherwise. (I know as much because the publisher told me.) I was already planning on submitting to it, and now I'm all the more determined to get in. After working for a couple hours, Marta and I went to Dolores Park. Marta had the foresight to bring a blanket, and the day was finally beginning to warm up even though the sun was beginning its descent, heading closer and closer to the hill on the west. The sun felt more like a spotlight than anything else, illuminating Marta's face as she lay next to me and occasionally on top of me, as plenty of fast-moving clouds rushed by behind her head. I took off my shoes and socks (I haven't been wearing my boots as much lateely) to feel my feet in the grass, and after twenty years of loving the song I was finally having a perfect "Summertime Rolls" moment. I walked her home after that, but I'll see her tonight. 3:31pm I picked up Breakdowns : Portrait of the Artist as a Young %@&*! by Art Spiegelman and Shortcomings and 32 Stories: The Complete Optic Nerve Comics by Adrian Tomine from the library today. I'd put them all on reserve, and the girl behind the counter asked me if I'm an artist. That's a new one. I told her that no, I'm not an artist, but I'm a writer who's fascinated by graphic novels and hopes to write one someday. | ||
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Tuesday, 21 July 2009 (delayer) 1:47pm With Marta at H Cafe. We're both on our laptops, and we actually think we're going to be able to concentrate and get work done. It's very cute of us, really. I just got asked to be reader for Instant City at this year's Litcrawl. I said yes, of course. Finally, I get to be in Litquake! | ||
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