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Monday, 10 September 2007 (impossible germany) 8:10pm At Java Beach, hoping that being elsewhere with a mocha will help me feel inspired to write, in spite of the fact that I've been exhausted all day long because of getting four hours of sleep right now. The healthy would be to go home and go to bed, but, well, the giraffe is active tonight, so actually getting to sleep seems unlikely. Children are a miracle, aren't they? Yep. Every last one of 'em, a goddamned miracle. Dinner last night was at Millennium, which has a a holy fucking shit it's expensive reputation, and it's well-earned, because it's really fucking expensive. Good, though; I've paid more for worse food. I've always paid less for better food, but the draw is it's an elegant vegetarian restaurant, geared towards the foodie who doesn't eat meat. (Remind me never to say the words "foodie who doesn't eat meat" around Poppy. It just wouldn't be respectful.) Group meal are always tricky for me, especially since poor timing often results in me sitting next to people I can't stand to be around, resulting in what my brother Barefoot would refer to as "a Larry David moment" (cf. Curb Your Enthusiam). Last night I had Sadie to my left and Carol Queen and Robert Lawrence to my right, so it really couldn't have been more perfect. A few hours earlier, Carol had sent me the contract for "Outlet" to be published in More 5 Minute Erotica. I was pretty sure it was going to make it in, but I don't consider it real until the contract is signed. Carol and Robert all seemed anxious share a bit of news they'd heard about the Power Exchange; I could tell they'd been all oh, we totally have to tell sherilyn this. It cracks me up that people are associating me with the Power Exchange so much. Speaking of which, Venice and I did not go to the Power Exchange after dinner last night; we didn't get out of the restaurant until half past eleven, and neither of us were quite up for it, even though I wound up being awake for the next few hours anyhow. We're planning on going on Thursday night, and with sufficient advance warning, Vash was able to make plans with Dietrich. It's nice when it works out that way. Dunno when I'll be seeing Ennui again. Soon, I hope, but our schedules aren't playing nice with one another.
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Sunday, 9 September 2007 (you are my face) 7:25pm Just about the only thing which went according to plan this weekend was feeding Cindy's cats. Otherwise, I figured Vash and I would go see The Simpsons Movie on Saturday morning, then meeting up with Sadie on Sunday night for a birthday dinner for Phil, and between those to it would be write write write. Productivity and all that. Started off Friday afternoon by leaving my cell phone on the bus on the way home. I discovered this when I tried to call Vash's new mechanic to make an appointment for Lazarus. Instead, I called Muni's lost and found (on my landline, duh) to tell report the loss. I knew even then it was gone, of course. Boldly sallying forth, I went on to Java Beach and scored a table with an outlet, where I worked until Vash joined me around half past ten. We went out for a late meal at the Go-Go Cafe, then returned to the Black Light District to crash. Went to the cheap showing of the movie on Saturday morning, where Vash and I were half the population of the audience, the others being a mother and daughter who laughed mostly at the slapstick and occasionally repeated dialogue aloud. Well, it's like watching a teevee show, isn't it? Anyway, I really dug the movie, more than I was expecting to. Afterward, Vash and I went by the Sprint store near the theater (I was sure to say hello to Oscar and Mina from the street), where I discovered that I have to call them to replace a phone. Gotta love the logic behind that one. Back at my place, Vash and I somewhat unexpectedly spent the rest of the day processing. I had some stuff I had to get off my chest, and she had things to tell me, and there was much crying (mostly but not entirely on my part) and some gnashing of the teeth and venting and revealing and questions which I'd been needing to ask, but no fighting per se, it wasn't at all like previous relationships—I can tell Vash what I'm feeling and what's scaring me without fearing an explosion, and it's still taking a while to overcome my old conditioning, but damnit, I'm doing it, and it partially accounts for why we've been together for nearly two years now against a hell of a lot of odds and in spite of what sometimes feels like our best efforts to break ourselves up. I've been uncertain lately about our future, but now I'm certain that we're far from over—and what's more, I want us to keep going, unlike some past relationships where we'd go see a Nice Lady and emerge out the other side mostly patched up, except for the fact that I didn't want us to be patched up, I just wanted out altogether. We ended up relatively early that night, but in somewhat better, more satisfying way than past crashes, it felt like we'd made a lot of progress that day, and we had every right to be exhausted. I didn't get any writing done on Saturday, but the day was not wasted by any standard, and the story I'm telling feels clearer to me than ever. I called Sprint this morning to get my cell phone replaced; I pay the seven bucks a month for this very reason, so I can get a replacement sent to me for a deductible of fifty plus an extra fifteen for super-fast delivery. I was actually a little sad when they told me that the same model of phone wasn't available anymore. It's a fucking cell phone, but I kinda liked it. Thankfully, the new one also has a flip-top so I can pretend it's a communicator on Star Trek, and I can re-download Tetris, and it has web capabilities, so I now no longer have to go for an hour to or from work without access to my email. I mean, really, what is this? The nineties? Did that already, thanks. After the greasiest brunch imaginable (wherein we consumed more ketchup than even two humans should do in one sitting), our big project for the day was taking down Vash's show from Glamarama, which involved much standing on rickety ladders while removing nails from an unforgiving wall. Vash did most of the dangerous stuff, with me just holding the ladder steady and ducking nails as they fell from above. She dropped me off back at the Black Light District, and now I'm at the Marsh, to be heading out soon to meet up with Sadie et al for Phil's birthday dinner. Venice and I may or may not be going to the Power Exchange afterward for some preliminary exploration, and it'll be okay either way. More importantly, Vash has invited to go to a pony munch with her this Wednesday. It's something I've been wanting for what feels like a long time now, to be at Poppers' side. Doesn't mean I won't still be a cat, of course. I'm a lot of things, and so is she, and so is everybody.
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Friday, 7 September 2007 (either way) 9:36am From a derelict this morning at 4th and Brannan: that's gotta be a guy! that's gotta be a guy! ain't no woman that tall! A little while later, from one Budweiser delivery guy to another outside of Primo Patio: i don't know what that is! that's an it!
Yep.
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Thursday, 6 September 2007 (breathing without the mask) 6:30pm I watched Star Trek: The Motion Picture at Rimma and Ziad's last night (much to Rimma's chagrin), then went to Sadie's. It was pushing eleven, so I swung by the 24-hour Starbucks at 9th and Howard to get a mocha. Man, that place really is tweaker heaven. I don't like tweakers, not at all. Anyway, Sadie was already starting to fade by the time I got there, and I only made it to about half past one myself. Thanks for nothing, mocha. Because I'm always restless when I get home regardless of recent caffeination, I didn't get to bed until around three or so, and I didn't get out of the house and to the bus stop until a quarter past eight. It was foggy yet bright this morning, and as I waiting for the 16AX, I glanced eastward and noticed something odd: the Sun, at least what could be seen of it through the fog, was orange. Huh. Well, the Sun's a big fucking ball of fire, right? So, sure. Orange-red made sense. Except that a) the Sun is yellow, which is how Superman gets his powers, and b) it's generally white-gray when visible through the fog. Orange? Weird. Turns out it was due to wildfire smoke, and was even more interesting-looking earlier in the morning. Damn. That's what I get for sleeping late. I wrote Sparky and politely declined. He said he was "mildly disappointed." I'm sure; maybe next time, if he wants to kiss someone he's just met, he should ask before planting one on their lips. When he tried a second time, I put up my hand and said please don't. It's called consent, kids. Look into it. Besides, there's something terribly hot about asking someone if you can kiss them, and them saying yes. I still remember it vividly with Vash, sitting in her car outside the Black Light District as she dropped me off after our first date, or Ennui in line in front of Cobb's Comedy Club, or Collette at Maddy's birthday party in 2004, or Hayley as we sat on my couch. The Ex kissed me first as we stood in the blacklight room at Jonco's apartment, and she didn't ask permission, but I was sixteen and she was fifteen and it was absolutely wonderful. With Maddy I'm pretty sure it was when I picked her up from the airport on September 1, 1999, and I doubt either of us asked. Random: Venice has the same birthday as me, give or take six years, and she also wears Fluevog Lucky Stud boots. Took my car to get its annual smogcheck. It passed the emissions test, but the bastard at the smog test place wouldn't actually give me the certificate because of the issues with the cylinders and stuff, the near-mortal wound it suffered two years ago this week. I tried explaining that, yes, I knew about these things, but otherwise it's working well, far better than I would have expected two years on. Helps that I don't drive it to work every morning. He just brushed me off, though, and I suspect the language barrier wasn't helping either. So, I have to...shit, I don't know. Get a new car, I guess. My reprieve may be over, and Lazarus (why did it take me so long to name my car? and my car's a girl, so can it rightly be called Lazarus?) will have to return to the ground from which that pigfucker Jesus yanked her from. Or not. Vash just got a new mechanic, not coincidentally one of Dietrich's best friends, and I may take Lazarus on her first bridge trip in over two years into Oakland to have it looked at by someone whom I can trust, and, heaven help me, who has the same native language as myself. Sometimes that makes communication so, so much easier.
At a wifi cafe in the Inner Sunset. Really not impressed by the service or the food or the fact that they didn't toast the bread of my tuna sammich like I asked nor is there tapioca in my mocha slush even though I paid extra for it, and when they started mopping while I was eating—well, I'm not a foodie on the level of Poppy or even Ennui, but suddenly being inundated by the smell of ammonia didn't help my palette. But they're open until nine, and I'm going to get as much work done between now and then as I can.
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Wednesday, 5 September 2007 (after the honeymoon) 2:11pm When we first started, we knew everyone was gonna hate it. But if you believe in what you're doing, then it's OK if no one else gives a shit. It's OK if you show up to play and everybody leaves. 4:12pm At Borders. The theory is to be here for a while, then go to Rimma and Ziad's place for dinner and a movie, and then possibly/hopefully to Sadie's after that. I'll be out late night on a schoolnight, but on some schoolnights that's just what you gotta do. Maybe after another year I'll get used to it? Meanwhile, I seem to have lost my notes for my current project. I guess I'm going without a net from here on out.
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Tuesday, 4 September 2007 (the sundown of your blank stare) 10:15am Found taped to Anna Joy Springer and Ali Liebgott's refrigerator in July of 2004: SolaceThe classics, they never die. 10:20pm At Ritual with Cindy. Wasn't planned; I just happened to come by and she just happened to be here, and that's how things just happen. Other ways things happen: on a lark yesterday afternoon, I checked the Craigslist personals for women-for-trans listings. Among the very few was a man (pick pick) looking for a tranny girl to be a bondage bottom. I wrote him, he responded, and we met up that night at Divas, which is my concept of neutral-to-safe ground. We talked for a while, and he seemed nice enough. Into trannies, without a doubt, and quite sweet-talker, saying all the right things. Kinda looked like Charles M. Schulz, which was both creepy and charming at the same time. As boys go his energy was pretty good, but, you know, still a boy, plus there was the problem that I really had no idea who he was. We tentatively agreed to get together at a party at the Citadel this Friday and experiment, see how things go. This evening I hung out with Venice, a girl whom I've know for a while via Sadie, and had even shared stages with her at Paul Reubens Day the last two years. She also does various forms of secks work, including bondage stuff, and she likes me. Our energy was a lot better (and she laughed at my jokes, which the guy last night did too, but, she really laughed), she lives in town, she's cool with going to the Power Exchange, I know who the hell she is, and Sadie's a damned good reference. Plus she's a girl, which makes so much of a difference. Though there's technically no reason why I can't play with them both, I think I'm going to politely decline going any further with the guy. My instinct is to work with Venice instead, and there really are only so many hours in the day. The one shame is that I was going to refer to him as "Sparky," which any self-respecting Peanuts knows was Schulz's nickname. Alas. No "Gloria" at Divas for me tonight.
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Monday, 3 September 2007 (here comes that cold sunrise) 11:05am I was at Trieste yesterday until about half past three, by which point my hand had been slapped for using their wifi past the posted limit without buying more stuff. Arrrr! I walked from there to SOMA, where Vash rejoined me at Rimma's place for a barbecue. Rimma's boyfriend Ziad made some incredibly yummy guacamole (secret: Tabasco) which I had to go easy on because Vash and I had dinner plans with Ennui and her boyfriend Jack. In a classic example of the tininess of San Francisco, I've known Jack's boyfriend Martin since long before I met either of them, and Martin tried to set me up with Jack during my one of my past i wonder if it's possible for me to like being with a boy ruminations. He's cute enough, and in spite of some facial hair is decidedly un-masculine (cf. Horehound, who isn't femmy per se but ain't butch). The only reason it didn't happen is because it didn't make it happen; Ennui and Jack assure me that I'm still more than welcome, and Vash is down with it, too. So, I don't know. Maybe. Just start with a simple date, hang out, no pressure, see where things go. I'll be dead eventually, and then I'll never find out. Maybe on a night that both Vash and Ennui are otherwise engaged, because otherwise I can see myself thinking, why am i with a boy when i could be with a girl? I'm a bigot like that. From there we proceeded to Bad Movie Night. It was a strange show, probably the oddest and roughest in some ways since The Passion of the Christ. The feature was Full-Tilt Boogie, a stultifyingly dull yet obnoxious documentary about the making of From Dusk Till Dawn. The turnout was light, which I'm guessing has as much to do with Labor Day Weekend slash Burning Man as much as anything else. Just to make things perfect, in attendance was the psycho nutbag arsonist Paul Addis, he of the pre-burning of the Burning Man, was in attendance. I was not happy about this at all; I first met him when he worked on Night of the Living Dead in '03, and I thought he was crazy nutbag then, too. He's not what you'd call "a friend of The Dark Room" by any stretch of the imagination, having bullied his way in in the past, and he's cornered Maddy on the street. A few trips into the loony bin in the meantime has not appeared to add any cards to his deck. Thankfully, he behaved himself and didn't burn the joint down, but I'm going to talk to the person who brought him along and make sure they understand that he's not welcome at my shows—and that would be the case even if he hadn't burnt the Man early.
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Sunday, 2 September 2007 (blood in my eyes) 12:28pm At Caffe Trieste in North Beach. Despite its legendary hipster status as a Beat hangout, I've never been here before. I can't rightly claim that the Beat connection is meaningless to me, since I'm still proud that I read at City Lights a few years back. That it was a J.T. LeRoy reading, and thus part of one of the biggest egg-in-the-face literary hoaxes in recent memory, makes me all the prouder. After all, Lou Reed and Shirley Manson were fooled as well (look! I'm on the same page as 'em!), and I couldn't be prouder to be in such company. Anyway, I walked here from the Mission with Vash after spending the night at her housesitting gig. She's having lunch at House of Nanking at a friend, I'm hoping to get some work done on the show (yeah, that'll happen) before heading to Rimma's for a barbecue, where Vash will be joining me again. From there we'll be heading back into the Mission to have dinner with Ennui and her boyfriend, and it's Bad Movie Night at The Dark Room. Probably spending the night again at Vash's housesitting gig, or not. I rather dumbly left my 'mones at the Black Light District, and depends on how long I want to go without them. Do I push my emotions enough as it is? Ennui joined me at Virgin Cupcake on Friday evening after she got off work. We went on an impromptu adventure in the Marriott, since I'd nevers seen the big glass lounge on the top floor, and she regaled me with stories of her and Sadie seeing clients in the Marriott in the past. From there we headed into Sunset, got burritos at the place next to the Sea Biscuit, then watched Found Footage Festival Vol. 2 DVD at the Black Light District. We're both trying to keep costs down, so it was an intentional low-key evening, especially considering some our other culinary adventures, past and planned. We slept for about a zillion hours, then had a late breakfast/early lunch/well-timed brunch on Saturday at King of Thai on Taraval. My original plan had been Tu Lan, but not dealing with Sixth and Market sounded much nicer. I dropped her off at her place, then headed into the Mission and found a place on Dolores for my car to wait for me until Monday. I schlepped to Mission Creek and attempted to get some work done, but it was so very warm and the air was so still, I couldn't concentrate to save my life. I pinged Vash, who said it was okay for me to join her at the House. We relaxed for a while, then headed back out into the world, eventually landing at Old Jerusalem, which may have the best hummus in the whole world. Then it again, it may not, but I haven't seen the whole world, nor am I likely to. Vash and I returned to the House. We planned on going back out again; her stated housesitting plan had been to at least once go out and get drunk, then stumble back. Tonight seemed like a good night for it. Instead we dozed on the couch, eventually moving into the bedroom to crash. So as it was, so it shall be.
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Saturday, 1 September 2007 (brokedown engine) 3:45pm So very warm and brain-melty.
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