Sherilyn Connelly > Diary > September 11 - 20, 2005



8/14/05
My Face for the World to See (Part II):
The Diary of Sherilyn Connelly
a fiction


September 11 - 20, 2005

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Tuesday, 20 September 2005 (dirty dark streets)
11:49am


Thanks to Cameron, I, um, have a teevee audition tomorrow afternoon. It's for a show filming in San Francisco called The Evidence, which appears to be the latest Law & Order slash CSI clone. In other words, the kind of thing I'd never watch on my own. (The last time I was in Nebraska with Maddy, it was tough to ignore CSI blaring in the other room. Even the sound editing in that show is annoying.) The character is a transvestite accused of murder, which makes me uncomfortable on more levels than I can count, and I haven't even read the script yet. I did tell the casting agent that I do not identify as a transvesuite, and after seven years on hormones and two-hundred odd hours of electro I'd like to think that's not how I appear.

gosh, that explains why you never ever get called "sir" or "him," huh?
As the casting agent pointed out, even if I don't get the part and/or decline to take it, it still gets me into their system. She sounded very excited about me auditioning, which leads me to suspect that Cameron talked me up quite a bit. She also said that only four people are auditioning, so there's probably a slight degree of desperation involved, and it's surely part of her job to sound enthusiastic. No, Come On In! I'll Bet You'd Make a Great Cop Number Three!

Whooboy. Majorly mixed feelings. If I don't like the role and how it portrays trannies yet they offer me the part, do I take it? Is that selling out? Yes, I suppose so, because I'd be doing it for the money; don't know how much it would be, but surely it would be enough to at least pay back Maddy and the other people to whom I'm in debt. Then there's my student loans. And my credit card. And then there's the car. And...

It would be seen by millions of people in the initial broadcast, and then end up on DVD within a year, enshrined for the ages on the shelves at Target and racks at Blockbuster. I'd be in the IMDB, not to mention it would totally throw off my Google results. What might be a few days' work and the single largest check I've ever received would always be there, always need to be reckoned with, and surely require explaining for the rest of my career, or at least the rest of my life.

Then again, I suppose I'd get a lot of writing out of it, huh? I could get my Spalding Gray jones on. It might be even more controversial than my account of the Rent Girl shoot! Nah, probably not. Nothing could be as scandalous as that.

12:50pm

No, I'm not a transvestite. (I have nothing against transvestites. I'm just not one myself, though I identified as such for a while before overcoming the denial.) Nor am I Karen Carpenter as an angel, or a hyperintelligent pandimensional being taking the form of a mouse. But I've played those. It's acting, not making a statement about who I am personally. What's more, she said that they don't want to just use a regular actor, but rather someone who is familiar with the "lifestyle." For as much as I cringe at that word, I appreciate what they're trying to do, something a bit more thoughtful than just sticking a guy in a wig and a dress. And maybe it will be a positive portrayal, murder suspect angle notwithstanding. Stranger things have been known.

2:23pm

My bad. She isn't accused of murder; she witnessed a murder. Granted, she's a sex worker in the Tenderloin, a Motherlode girl who refers to herself in the third person occasionally. But, having read over the lines a few times, I think I'm comfortable with it. She isn't a total caricature, and the script refers to her simply as a tranny, not specifcially a transvestite—and much more importantly, refers to her as "she" and "her." That makes all the difference in the world to a pronoun fascist such as myself, as it implies that the sceeenwriter is at least trying. That's more than most.

So, yeah. I think I'm kinda wanting this.

6:13pm

It's exquisitely beautiful in my part of town right now, thanks to the dry September thunderstorm this afternoon. I'm not outside enjoying it, though. Lilah's coming over tonight to watch movies, and I originally envisioned I'd be spending the time before she arrived frantically cleaning the apartment, trying to make it as flawless as possible based on the probably erroneous notion that she gives a damn. As I memorized the lines on the train ride home, I realized that I was going to need the time to figure out exactly what I'm wearing to the audition, how I'm going to deal with the logistics of it at work (the obvious choice of my hooker dress is inappropriate even for NakedSword), and putt-putt my car over to Walgreen's to a print out what I hope will be a decent-looking headshot. I'm still doing those things, but wouldn't you know it, new script pages arrived. My part—well, the part, it ain't mine yet and may never be—has been rewritten, and is considerably shorter. That's the biz, I guess. But I still want the part.

sometime after midnight

After taking Lilah to the train stop (and having received her approval earlier in the evening for my audition wardrobe choice), I shaved my legs and armpits. Haven't done either in months. Evidently, I mean business.

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Monday, 19 September 2005 (our vexatious duties)
3:01pm


My first non-automotive weekend wasn't so bad. I'll learn to hate it soon. Ask me tonight after I get home from my radio show.

11:44pm

From my office at 3rd and Townsend, I walked to 9th and Market to have dinner with Maddy, then to 19th and Mission to do my show, then to Church and Market to catch the train. Feeling pretty good about it.

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Sunday, 18 September 2005 (not a girl who misses much)
10:32am


Seven (7) years ago today, I started on hormones.

11:19pm

I was a last-minute replacement host at Bad Movie Night this evening, making it third night in a row I've performed at The Dark Room. I think that's the first time that's happened when it's actually been three different shows. Unfortunately, the turnout was light (the other shows were packed), but it was fun all the same. Even if one guy, a regular, called me "him." Several times. In rapid succession. He apologized (profusely) when I corrected him (politely), citing that he was drunk, that he has/had a roommate who was an F2M, etc. Seven years, and it still happens. It always will. Period dot end of sentence.

Yesterday, I called Vash. She returned my call today. It's neat when it actually works that way.

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Saturday, 17 September 2005 (eerie bliss)
10:32am


See, in addition to all those things Candy said, one of the reasons I've come to hate my body—always hated it, really—is that it requires constant vigilence. Doesn't let me slack for a second, never a moment's peace. If I'm not careful, if I let my guard down, if going to the gym in the morning becomes impractical, it begins to decay and expand and I can't even wear my Trinity pants anymore.

Meanwhile, I've discovered Joan Didion. Okay, sure, I'd heard of her before, and my brother's roommate once had a cat named after her, but that's different.

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Friday, 16 September 2005 (a leavening of filth)
10:17am


While borrowing a crossing guard's cell phone to call AAA yesterday morning, I also called the office to them know I'd be late. I ended up speaking to someone I'm not sure I've ever even met, who sent out a companywide email which said "Sherilyn. car got towed, will be late."

To which I replied this morning, companywide:

Not to get all semantical, and I was surely difficult to understand when I called the office because I was gibbering like an idiot, but my car didn't *get* towed--I take a certain snotty pride in the fact that it has never been towed without me calling AAA first. [embarrassing emoticon] I did *have* it towed yesterday morning after it said "urp" and rolled to a halt, and this morning I learned the bearings in the water pump went kablooey, resulting in a Rube Goldberg-esque chain of motor events which resulted in me spending a few hundred bucks to get it running again not very well, on three out of four cylinders, shaking so much that the empty bottle in the holder rattles loudly, and though the mechanic says he got it up to 60 mph on the Great Highway, hills are to be avoided--rather tricky when your apartment is in the Outer Sunset but everywhere else you go, well, isn't. (My planned Northwest tour for this November is in major jeopardy, that's for sure.) I'm told it would be better to just get a new car than attempt to replace the valve or cylinder or whatever. Whee. Not that I could afford one even if the answer was "yes," but have hybrids been around long enough to be sold used?
In the foreseeable future, I am the very model of the modern Muni warrior. Except I don't have a Fastpass yet.

1:31pm

Going in front of two fairly large audiences later. The Femsex class is at 210 Wheeler on the UC Berkeley campus, and while I don't know how many people are in the class, the room holds several hundred. What a Relief!?! is at The Dark Room, which holds considerably fewer people, but a big turnout is expected. It's particularly important that I don't suck today. I'm wearing shiny black pants (a pair which is teaching me to be zen about bulge, but shiny black all the same), which always helps.

It'll probably change as of tomorrow, but I'm listed on the The Dark Room's website for three different events. Neat.

sometime after midnight

is this how things are? this is how things are.

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Thursday, 15 September 2005 (a violent denial)
12:27pm


Just got to work, since after I was on the road for a while my car "urp," rolled to a halt, and threw up all its antifreeze. Thankfully, I had decided to take city streets rather than the freeway like I usually do. I shudder to think.

3:10pm

So I had my car towed home from where it died, calling AAA with the cell phone loaned to me buy the crossing guard of the school I was currently stuck in front of (antifreeze pooling in the gutter, in a stream from my car), and then towed again from home when I got the okay to bring it to a mechanic. (Lesson learned, however: I really need a cell phone, if only for emergency purposes.) Not my usual mechanic, but a closer one, recommended by Collette. Upon brief inspection, he said that it looked like a timing belt problem.

Speaking of lessons:

There are two types of engines that use timing belts. They are described as: "Interference Engines" and "Non-interference Engines" The difference lies in the proximity between the valves and the pistons. On an interference engine, if the timing belt slips even one notch, the piston can crash into an open valve causing serious engine damage by bending valves and breaking pistons. Non-interference engines will usually not self destruct, but in either case if the belt fails, the engine will immediately shut down leaving you stranded.
The mechanic called a little while ago. Seems my timing belt did, in fact, go kablooey. Guess which kind of engine a 1997 Dodge Neon has? The mechanic is pretty sure it's the bad kind, but he says we won't know how fux0red it is until I drive it around for a while. Lovely.

sometime after midnight

It can be liberating to be sans car, especially when the city traffic is gnarly, as it was today. I walked from my office to the Phoenix Theater at Geary and Mason probably faster than I could have driven the mile and a half. Having seen the play and met the director, I reached two conclusions: A) I wouldn't have been cast, and B) I was no revelation to the director. She'd asked me to introduce myself to her after the play, which I did, but there wasn't any particular spark or clicking between us. It was downright awkward, in fact. Oh well. The play itself was quite powerful, and is strongly recommended.

From there, I went to Ali's art opening. There was a brief temptation to just go home, especially since I was on foot, but I realized that was all more the reason to go deep into SOMA,. go into full-on urban warrior mode. Walking the city streets on a chilly September night can be quite invigorating. It's what living in this place is all about, really. Not much point if you aren't going to pound the dark foggy pavement now and again.

And, really, is there anything more quasi-urbane and pretentious than an art reception? Even if it is all erotic art, much of it with an S&M bent. (Which almost goes without saying in this town; if something is sexual, it's practically a given that there will be an element of kink.) (Then again, maybe that's just the circles in which I run.) I was there more for the social element than anything else, as was most everybody, being an Exiles event; I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer about these things, but I'm pretty sure I was cruised more than once. Spent much of the time talking to a woman I'm rather attracted to, Vash, whom I have reason to believe is interested in me as well. I guess it would be considered flirting, technically. Phone numbers were exchanged. (Ironically, we already have each others' email address, but the ritual should be kept alive.) I know better thank to think that'll lead to anything, but the signs are promising all the same.

Afterwards, I went with Ali and a friend to a nearby Thai restaurant for an excellent late night meal, then walked back up to Market together. All in all, a really terrific night.

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Wednesday, 14 September 2005 (the streets of rome)
12:08pm


One of the nice things about this job is being able to stop what I'm doing to help Ali put together a frame for a picture of her in all her pony-girl glory, and then drive her to Studio Z to drop them off for an art opening tomorrow night. It's a nice mix of dot-com and pr0n.

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Tuesday, 13 September 2005 (respect of decay)
6:43am


I set my alarm for a quarter past five, to enable getting to the gym by six. It didn't work.

10:56am

Because, see, Batman rehearsals are at the same time as my radio show, and I really want to go as unnoticed as possible, but the statuesque knockout playing Catwoman was there last night, onstage in a shiny black corset and fetish boots, and it was difficult for it not to hurt, because of course they would go with someone like her for the role, someone real, and not someone like me, so I didn't want to look at her, trying not to think too much about the fact that it's been a year since I've acted in anything there, but then someone who really should have known better took my shoulder and pointed to her and said isn't she sexy?, and I simply agreed and went on my way.

11:21am

The Fringe play I'd decided not to audition for is running this week, so I'll be going to see it at some point. The director asked me to introduce myself to her.

Meanwhile, Jennifer Blowdryer has booked us some reading gigs in Oregon and Washington for the first week of November.

1:38pm

Everyone should try being a pariah for a while. It's an interesting experience. Puts things in perspective.

6:13pm

My hearing is dodgy enough without listening to six hours of Sutcliffe Jugend, but that's what the day required.

11:16pm

It figures that on the day I find out I'll be driving to Seattle (possibly even Vancouver) and back in the near future, my car's tape deck dies. There's going to be a lot of that sort of thing between now and then.

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Monday, 12 September 2005 (yet another clown)
10:51am


And so week two of the cold begins. The station is down, so while I'm actually feeling healthy enough to do my show tonight, it probably won't happen. On the plus side, I have good hair today.

11:10pm

isn't she sexy?

Sure. Once the knife is in, why not twist it a bit?

sometime after midnight

i just have this edge that needs to be taken off...

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Sunday, 11 September 2005 (shining black hypocrisy)
4:01pm


The long day yesterday evolved into a late night, as they so often well. I went to Maddy's after the shoot to color her hair, and opened for Lynnee at The Dark Room that evening. All the while, even now, I'm still not healthy. To borrow a chapter title from Rowling, I am generating an excess of phlegm, my body weight daily. But I'm ambulatory, I'm doing things, sometimes not so much because I really feel up to it but because I appear to be capable. To the outside world, that seems to be enough.

4:50pm

The guy who runs Pirate Cat Radio recently met a music major who said she was a big fan of my show. He told her that I'm DJing tonight at the Pirate Cat Radio hurricane benefit, and that she should come on by to meet me. She said she'd try. Maybe she'll be cute and single. (As though it would matter.)

sometime after midnight

It's always nice meeting new people, and we seemed to get along pretty well, but—when a cute girl offers to buy you a drink, isn't that a flirt? Can you offer to buy a stranger a drink and have it simply be an overture to friendship? I could have sworn that was one of the rules. And, no, I'm not referring to aforementioned mystery fan. If she was there tonight, she didn't make her presence known.

Oh, I almost forgot: fuck Patriot Day.

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