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Friday, 20 June 2008 (the breaking of the shell) 1:31pm What happened was, I went, I took the ninety-minute class, it kicked my ass in a big way, and I intend to go back often. | ||
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Thursday, 19 June 2008 (coronation of fire) 12:11pm There are two things I generally won't wear in public. Okay, there's a lot of things I won't wear in public, but in terms of kinds of clothing which I either own or are likely to, way up at the top are t-shirts and anything white. This is especially true when I'm going to be the center of attention in any way. So, naturally, I did both in the name of my birthday. Since Bad Movie Night was posited as a sleepover, we encouraged people to wear their pajamas. I briefly considered tarting it up a bit, wearing some of the lingerie which hasn't gotten any use since the early days of Vash (she really liked me in it, y'see), but decided that comfort and verisimilitude took precedent, in that order. So, I wore what I actually sleep in: very old and very comfy velvety pants and a Blair Witch Project t-shirt, plus a new addition, a black-and-white stripey armwarmer given to me by Bunny as a birthday present. Of course, I was still holding court as I always do at Bad Movie Night, running around making sure things are going well and schmoozing with people and getting on stage to announce the movies and all that stuff. I had makeup on and at Ilene's suggestion put my hair up in pigtails, but otherwise, I was severely drabbed down. On the plus side, in addition to being comfortable it was far more forgiving of the fleshy expanse which is my midsection than anything classically sexy might have been. And, frack it. It's my show, and it's about having a good time, not looking good. Sometimes I feel like I've given up on the latter goal entirely. Other people played along. Rhiannon, obviously, and a few of the regulars. (We also had some newbies, people who picked a hell of a night to give the show a try. Gods bless 'em.) Bunny wore silkish printed jammies which seemed to impress eternal fashion maven Sean Owens, no small feat. She claimed they were Czechoslovakian, which I'm not entirely sure I believe—I've noticed that her ability to to bullshit with a straight face rivals my own, and I say that in the most affectionate way possible—but if it isn't true, it should be. I wasn't originally planning on going at all on the night of my birthday, but by the time of Sadie's staged reading, I was getting my second wind. Possibly my third. So, I figured, what the hell. Part of the impetus was because it was both mine and Isobel's birthday, and Isobel wanted everyone to wear white. Because, you know, the birthday thing. Of course, I don't really have much of anything in white, but the ever-prepared Sadie (while we backstage at her show's venue) happened to have one of the costumes from The Ten Commandments handy. Not the one I wore, but the one for Nefertiri, played by someone much much much smaller and more female-shaped than myself. And yet, miraculously, it fit fairly well. It wasn't form-fitting, not by a long shot, but it didn't look too bad on me, either. The group of us all wearing white at San Francisco's most venerable goth club turned a few heads, to be sure. I didn't sense any hostility (goths are generally too laconic for such things), but quite a few people did ask why we were wearing white. Why, indeed. Though this probably would have happened regardless of what I was wearing, one girl came up to me and said when she saw my hair, she thought I was Tina Root from Switchblade Symphony. High praise indeed, considering she was one of my primary inspirations to get the squid. Nice to know some people get it. It was like old-home night, as there were some people there whom I used to hang out with at Shrine of Lilith and on Gloom back around the turn of the century. Naturally, this would be when I'm wearing white. Well, why not? Meanwhile, I'm thinking about dropping in on the Bikram Yoga studio in the Sunset this evening and seeing what happens. 2:20pm I think the houseguests upstairs are gone. The evidence—not to be confused with The Evidence, the teevee show I unsuccessfully auditioned for in 2005, and I'm perfectly okay with failing the audition since it was the same week that I started dating Vash, so by defintion it was one of the best weeks of my life—is as follows: about half of the stuff in the garage is gone, including the ginormous canvas bag; the truck with the FLYING SAUCERS ARE REAL! SPACE PEOPLE ARE ANGELS! bumper sticker, which I choose to believe was meant ironically (like when my buddy Kurt at the Video Zone back in Fresno had an NRA sticker on his truck because he thought it was funny, even though he knew most people would think it was sincere) hasn't been in the driveway lately; and when I got home last night around half past midnight their living room light was on and I saw one of the Bad People sitting at a desk, meaning the giraffe has (blech) been moved back into the bedroom immediately above mine. Frack. I'm a girl so math is hard, but it hasn't been six months since April, has it? Though it did mean that many more people for me to dodge when coming and going, and the laundry machines being that much more inaccessible, having those extra people upstairs actually made things a bit more tolerable. Or perhaps I'm just acclimated. I don't know. I just hope my landlord decides to give me a bit more time without contributing to the water bill. | ||
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Wednesday, 18 June 2008 (into the record) sometime after midnight After the underattended but otherwise excellent More Five Minute Erotica Bookparty tonight, I went to the Gold's Gym in SOMA for a while—the thing is, I do enjoy exercisting—then hit Pirate Cat Radio for the last half hour or so of Ask Dr. Hal. I show up on the podcast at 83:39. I hate the sound of my voice, but that's a given. And I never properly answer Pete's question about how the Pegasus finds Galactica. | ||
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Tuesday, 17 June 2008 (several rows of needles) 12:12pm The office move has been pushed back a couple of weeks, to mid-July. For as much as I'm not looking forward to moving, I'd kinda prefer to get it over with sooner than later. | ||
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Monday, 16 June 2008 (underneath) 7:01pm Ten years ago today, on my twenty-fifth birthday, I had an appointment with my new shrink in San Rafael. It was the first of the twelve sessions required with a Licensed Psychlogist to start on hormones. I generally consider that to be the day that I began transitioning. I spent most of today recovering from the Bad Movie Night party last night. Had breakfast at Boogaloos with c0g and m0 before they headed back to Bolinas. Then Bunny joined me, Sadie, Isobel and Venice (both of whom also have their birthdays today) at Tartines. We all went our seperate ways, and I went back to The Dark Room to nap for a few hours. Bunny may or may not be joining me tonight for staged reading Sadie's in. All in all, it's been an excellent birthday. Rhiannon's pictures from last night are up, including very well-lit shots of her MST3Kish cake and less well-lit but still nice pictures of Bunny and I. | ||
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Sunday, 15 June 2008 (flavors of entanglement) 5:06pm I worked the door at The Dark Room last night, hung out at Rhiannon's place for a bit afterward, then went home, another of those weekend nights where I get to bed earlier than I usually do on weekdays. It feels like an indulgence, really, going to bed before midnight and not having to get up early the next day. Tonight is Rhiannon and Sherilyn's Back to the Future Trilogy Birthday Sleepover. It's in the SF Weekly, so it's true. | ||
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Saturday, 14 June 2008 (at the gates) 5:06pm At The Dark Room. Just watched the previous two episodes of Battlestar Galactica. Cried a little at a few points. It's how I am. After work yesterday, I went to the fake Caffe Trieste and wrote until they closed. Bunny was getting off work around the same time, so I picked her up, and instead of Tommy's Joynt she suggested we ventured to Port Costa, a town thirty miles north which makes Bolinas seem like a bustling metropolis. She's quite fond of it, but I'd never been. It was past midnight and not much was happening aside from the Warehouse Cafe (more of a bar than cafe), but that was the perfect time to go. Though they made a few different kinds of cocktails, their beer list seemed endless, so I figured it was only right to get one. I have no opinion about different kinds of beer, so I did what I always do in these situations: go for the one with the best name. Which I did, ordering a Haacker Pschorr Weiss Bock. Being an Italiophile, Bunny ordered an Italian beer. Port Costa has a nice spooky ambience, especially late at night, reminding me of Babylon from Carnivale—you don't wanna die there, because your soul will never leave. It didn't help that as we were driving away, Bunny observed that the moon was red. We figured it was probably due to the Northern California wildfires, but it's also what you'd expect to see if you were dead. Though I'm pretty sure we survived. | ||
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Friday, 13 June 2008 (avoiding repeats) 2:38pm I went out with Rhiannon and her family for her (actual) birthday last night. We had way too much of everything at Red Lobster in lovely metropolitan San Bruno, and then her and I slowly made our way back to The City looking for things to do, including Air Hockey at Serra Bowl and riding a few of the rickety rides at the carnival which had conveniently set up shot next door. Having recently rewatched the first season of Carnivale with Ilene, I felt less comfortable there than I might have otherwise, especially since I had to leave my bag on the ground while Rhiannon and I went up in the rides. Thankfully, it was still there when we returned to the Earth. I was more concerned about my bag getting stolen by carnies than being killed by the machines. Seemed more likely, anyway. After hanging out on the top of Twin Peaks for a while and enjoying the unseasonably warm breeze (on the top of Twin Peaks? in JUNE? it was like the Santa Ana Winds decided to head North), my sleep dep caught up with a vengeance, so I dropped her back off at her place and returned to the Black Light District to crash. As a result of talking to Officer Dave yesterday and other confluences of fate, I'm now going to start writing for our Gawker-esque bloggy site The Sword. Well, not "now," but soon. Eventually. It'll happen at some point. I've also learned through the always-reliable grapevine that my workspace is one of the ones that will not fit into the aesthetic of the new office. Not that I'm getting shitcanned, just that my "sullen teen" decor isn't quite what they have in mind. If that's the case, so be it. I've been sitting in this particular space for a little over two years now, which is a good run by any standard, and the left, right and back walls are looking quite nice as a result. But nothing lasts. Having a late dinner and drinks with Bunny tonight. Probably. | ||
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Thursday, 12 June 2008 (the marble index) 11:43am The podcast of last night's Ask Dr. Hal is up. Pete and I make our appearance at 35:10, including Hal describing me outside the window scratching to be let in. The show was over at midnight, and I joined KrOB and Puzzling Evidence for a late-night meal at Orphan Andy's, thus ensuring I'd bet to bed no earlier than two. I've been getting more than enough sleep lately, after all. And certainly I don't need much for a morning when I really have to be at the office by eight since I had a talk planned with Officer Dave. Which was fine, actually, since I got here in plenty of time and I operate far better than I should be possible on little sleep. He assured me that yes, everyone's happy with me and my job is secure and it's all good. I also brought up the whole "writing for work" concept again. Just for the hell of it. Change is good. | ||
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Wednesday, 11 June 2008 (not your perfect kind) 8:16pm At the Atlas Cafe. I'm going to Pete Goldie's in a little while to serve in my role of Purveyor of Battlestar Galactica—my mom must be so proud!—and we're meeting up with KrOB and Dr. Hal later at Pirate Cat for the current version of Ask Dr. Hal. Whether or not I'll be doing my own show again remains uncertain. Yesterday morning, I walked from Ilene's place to work, and after work I walked to where I parked Phoebe in the Mission on Monday morning. Both trips took me by the office building we'll be moving into next month. I explored the barren neighborhod some, scoping out possibilities for lunch and coffee and all the vitals. I'm choosing to look at this like an adventure, like I'm moving on to an exciting new job in an exciting new location. Since I'm paranoid—the last time my workplace on the verge of moving several blocks away to a new location, I got shitcanned shortly before it happened—I'll be talking to Officer Dave tomorrow morning. Just to check in and make sure they still love me and think I'm sexy and want to be with me and stuff. In the highly unlikely event that the answer is "no," I'll probably cry. It's how I am. After getting the squid tightened, I hooked up with Bunny and her friend at the tail end of their meal. Her and I then bounced around The Mission some, mostly her running errands, finally winding up at Divas. It's not technically in The Mission—or even untechnically, or by any accepted sociogeographical standard whatsoever—but it sounded to me like a good place to wind up, and Bunny was game. We continued to talk and get to know each other and figure out where the hell we are. I'm no closer to knowing than before, but that's okay. Whatever will happen will happen. Like Friday night. She's working fairly late, and when she gets off work we're probably going to Tommy's Joynt for beer and booze. For example. I'm just glad to have her around, and to be around for her, this month. | ||
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