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Saturday, 20 September 2008 (some things broken, some things lost) sometime after midnight At the Folsom Street Fair Gala this evening, the ubiquitous photographer Rink came up to me and said that when he saw me from a distance, he wasn't sure if it was me or someone impersonating me. What a weird thought. I told him that I'm nowhere near famous or iconic enough to have spawned wannabes, but he seemed quite convinced that if it hasn't happened yet, it will soon. That's a compliment I'm willing to accept. A little while later, shortly after I'd k'vetched to my friend and coworker Tor that Rink hadn't actually taken a picture of us, Rink returned as we stood in the food line and did just that. He commented that the fact that Tor and I posed with the food in our hands unlikes, most everyone else, who always tried to hide it. Well, yeah. Holding stuff is fine, and I don't deny that I consume sustenance. I just don't want to have my picture taken with my glasses on. That's no good. | ||
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Friday, 19 September 2008 (unsunk ships) 4:32pm 9/18/08We had to leave the MOMA sooner than I would have liked (I was digging on Double Down: Two Visions of Vegas in what I think of as the Jeremy Blake Room) to get to Indie Artist Workshop: Do-it-Yourself Promotions on a Budget. It was pretty interesting, and I talked a bit with someone from myBART about possibly doing promotions for The Dark Room. Evidently we were never able to reach an agreement with them before, but it's worth a shot. Afterward, we went to Miyabi on Church for my second big celebratory meal of the day. In truth, the first one hadn't been all the big. Expensive, sure, being French, but not all that big. Or filling. It was delicious and the real point of it had been to see Horehound, but it didn't last with me very long. When the spinach-and-salmon quiche the server mentioned as a special sold out two mentions before I ordered it, I panicked and got the La Norviegienne instead, described as a buckwheat crêpe with smoked salmon and crème fraiche. Not bad, but, damn! Spinach-and-salmon quiche! I did get a glass of wine—"Boncallilou Cuvee Le Rouge - Carignane," which the server recommended since I don't know a damn thing about French wine—and for dessert Horehound and I shared a Crème Brûlée. That's one kind of decadence. I've been craving sushi lately, and it was exactly what I needed for dinner. Vast, vast quantities. Too much, but that's okay. I ate it all. It was a personal anniversary, godsdamnit. Independently of each other, Sadie and Horehound both commented that I've been seeming...brighter, lately. Just more open, more glowy. Sadie suggested that I'm becoming less nocturnal. That may well be true. I don't know where things go from here—the future is as mysterious to me now as it's ever been—but whatever I'm doing, I guess it's working. As evidenced by the measurements Raphaela took of me this morning. It's the first time she's measured me since our initial meeting in late July, and we're seeing what are generally referred to as "results." All my circumferences—waist, hips, arms, legs—have reduced by an inch or two, and according to her sextant-looking doohickey my body fat has gone down four percent. So, we keep at it. This is the only way it works. But, damn, it was a tough one today, the toughest yet. There were moments where I didn't think I was going to make it, and my body was saying no, really, no more, this is not what the legs are designed to do, to defy gravity like this, at least not these legs, and for the most part I made it through. It helped that Raphalea let me hook up my mp3 player into the stereo and there was a steady stream of Sheryl Crow, which my usual workout music these days. The trickiest moments were towards the end where I not only was I losing my strength and coordination, but my body was pretty much drenched with sweat and I was just a couple feet away from the mirrored wall, meaning I could see my body in all its misshapen, horrific detail. It's both motivational and intensely discouraging at the same time. I can see the difference in it, but mostly I just see how much is left to combat, all that extra flesh around my midsection which will never want to budge. Faith, it's all about faith. Keep at it, keep at it. Finished Dog Years earlier this week, and have moved on to Wendy Merrill's Falling into Manholes. Picked up a bunch more memoirs from the libary yesterday, so I'm good to go for a while. | ||
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Thursday, 18 September 2008 (ten years gone) 11:11am Only did half an hour this morning, just on the treadmill. I got there stupidly late, and decided to take it easy on myself, since I'll probably go back tonight. Plus it's an anniversary: on September 18, 1998, I started on estrogen. A decade ago, two and a half presidential administration, in my cubicle at Autodesk, before everything changed more than I could have guessed. I had not the first clue what the future would bring. I was making it up as I went along. Still am. I don't have any plans to commemorate it. I'd tossed around the idea of doing a show, but decided against it when I realized it would be coming on the heels of Working for the Weakened. I did find an excuse to mention it during Saturday night's show, and got the requisite applause, so I guess that's enough. I'll get to see Horehound, at least. When I gave him his cut of the door from Working for the Weakened, he suggested we spend it on a fancy lunch today at The Butler & The Chef in South Park, and I was more than happy to accept. That'll be nice. Don't know what I'm doing with myself tonight. Possibly the gym, as mentioned, or not. Maybe another nice meal, solo. Haven't had sushi for a while. I also keep thinking about going to Divas for a drink. The Power Exchange is also open tonight, but I don't want to be up too late, since since I'm seeing Raphaela tomorrow morning. It'll probably be just another evening. I also lost my job at CNET on this day in 2001, but that seems less relevant these days. | ||
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Wednesday, 17 September 2008 (half as much) 4:07pm Though I did pretty well on Friday, too. It was my first time at Raphaela's preferred place, a hole-in-the-wall next to Cafe Du Nord called The National Personal Training Institute. I was almost disappointed to learn that it's part of a country-wide chain, since I adored the thought that a place so small and low-key would have the stones to use both the words "national" and "institute." Anyway, I did a grueling hour with her, and yet still had plenty of energy for the show at ten o'clock that night. Monentum and adrenalin can work wonders. Did an hour this morning, and signed up for Tyrol's spin class this evening. (Haven't seen Seelix on the schedule for a while, unfortunately.) Tonight will definitely be a go-home-and-crash kinda evening. Especially since I have a busy weekend ahead of me. Not quite as busy as these last two weekends, but with late nights all the same. The weird one is going to be the Folsom Street Fair Formal Leather Gala on Saturday night. NakedSword is a major Folsom sponsor, so we get a table. Heaven knows I wouldn't pony up the two hundred bucks to get in even if I had that sort of disposable income, which I don't. I figure I should get a Medialoper article out of it—my first since the GayVNs article back in February—and it's a fancy meal for free. There's also bound to be a spectacle, but those aren't so hard to find in this town. The dress code is formal, described as "formal wear, dress leather and high-fashion kink wear." That means it's time to bust out the Pris makeup. For starters. 8:52pm Heaven help me, I'm actually drinking Gatorade after a workout. (It's got what plants crave. It's got ELECTROLYTES!) | ||
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Tuesday, 16 September 2008 (setting the woods on fire) 10:41pm Went to the gym this morning, and again after work. Then, instead of going straight home, I hung out with Pete and Sarah Goldie. See? I can work out twice in a day and not be completely exhausted that night! Go me. | ||
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Monday, 15 September 2008 (window shopping) sometime after midnight The slate gets cleaner a little bit at a time. Slowly, slowly, so slowly. This is the only way it works. | ||
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Sunday, 14 September 2008 (slipping transmission) 3:55pm All told, Working for the Weakened was a success, and we made enough at the door that I'll be able to pay the perfomers above average for this kind of gig. Of course, average for this sort of gig is usually nothing at all. Between Working for the Weakened and Bad Movie Night and a couple of Dark Room benefit shows this weekend and Meliza's SF Fringe show, I've been busy these past couple of weeks. I've enjoyed it, but I'm also glad that things are slowing down just a little. It helps that I know they'll pick up again soon. A couple months back I received a jury duty summons for tomorrow, and it took me until yesterday to remember that I've already done the jury duty thing this year. As usual, I got summoned twice because my name is on the voter rolls twice, once as "Sherilyn Connelly" and once as (ugh!) "Sherilyn R. Connelly." At least it means that, like the last couple of times this has happened, I can show them both them summons letters as well as proof of my name having changed, and I should be excused right away. And, who knows? Maybe someday I'll only be on the voter rolls once, with my proper name. Hey, I can dream. | ||
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Saturday, 13 September 2008 (fragmented waves) 12:13pm According to the laws of irony, I should get laid this weekend. Or, fail miserably in the attempt. Irony's a tricky thing. 11:10pm for the love of the gods, don't look at me like that unless you mean it. | ||
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Friday, 12 September 2008 (AM bifurcation) sometime after midnight I got cockblocked at a bar by a shaggy guy wearing a green trucker cap and a dirty white shirt, carrying a Pabst's Blue Ribbon. If i had any game, I'd be off it. | ||
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Thursday, 11 September 2008 (speeding across my hemisphere) 10:27am Fuck Patriot Day. Back to the real world: two of the performers weren't able to make to last night's Fringe show at The Garage, so it ended up being just myself, Meliza, and Vixen Noir. I've known Vixen for a few years and she always seems happy to see me, which feels nice. It was the first time we've been in a lineup together, and between the three of us it was a solid, compact and very diverse show. Afterward, a girl came up to me and said she'd seen me perform in the same space a few years back, reading a piece about "change" while wearing a blue satin dress and carrying a suitcase which spilled open. I don't own a blue satin dress, and I don't do prop material and cetainly nothing involving a suitcase, but like I told her, if it was praise I'd accept it anyway. She'd seen Charlie Anders, maybe? We've been mistaken for each other. Daphne Gottlieb referenced something similar at Working for the Weakened on Saturday night (the first time her and I have really spoken or spent any time together since our falling out four years ago, and it was nice to get to hang out with her and put the past behind us and maybe even be friends again), how her and I have been mistaken for each other in the past, and the fact that we now both have dreads isn't going to help. i'll have to tell people: no, i'm daphne, because i have the black dreads. sherilyn's the blonde. The director of the Fringe was in the audience last night, which sent a bit of buzz amongst the three of us when we found out before the show. Well, more Meliza and Vixen. I didn't give it much thought, since I'm frequently way too ignorant to be spooked. As it turns out, I already knew her. I'd met when she came to see Attack of the Killer B-Movies and was introduced to her in the context of her being the Artistic Director of The Exit Theater, and saw her a few months later at The Exit in Her Majesty with Sean Owens. After that show, a group of us had gone to a Thai restaurant, where we chatted for a bit and she witnessed Alexia and I massacring "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" in a karaoke. After that, her watching me perform my own material was no biggie. Not that I was aware it was her during the performance, but, you know, if I had. Joe, who runs The Garage (the name of which is not a Zappa reference, but ought to be), spoke to me at some length after the show about me doing a solo project for the AIRSpace residency program. It's been on my radar ever since it was a the now-defunct Jon Sims Center, and at Joe's urging I sent in a very basic proposal a couple months back. That was enough, and it's pretty much a done deal that I'm getting into the program. It also sounds like there's also a very good chance that my show proposal for the 2009 National Queer Arts Festival will be accepted. And if it isn't, then I'll reapply for 2010. Heaven knows I'll be keeping busy either way. Though he says he's always liked my work and my performances (awwwww), after last night's reading Joe seemed especially excited about the possibilities. He'd like to see me off-book, which is to say not reading from the page, and using a lot more motion. I do tend to move my arms quite a bit when I'm reading—this month's diary picture, for example—and act out what I'm reading rather just reciting it. It's just how my style has developed over the past six years, owing to both my natural nervous energy and the fact that spoken word is visual as well as auditory. If it was, then it would be radio. Anyway, he suggested focusing more on movement and working with a choreographer. I'm down with that. When this will happen it still uncertain, but it'll probably be within in the next six months. After the show I hung out with Meliza and her boyfriend. We went to Cable Car Pizza at 16th and Valencia, and collectively decided against going to the Lex. Fine by me. I haven't been in a long time, and don't particularly miss it. As I was driving them back to Meliza's, she made a reference to her and I having both dated the same pr0n star. I was nonplussed for a minute, then I remembered: Meliza hooked up with Ryder shortly after I did. How on Earth had I forgotten that particular detail? I guess it's impossible to remember everything all the time. I introduced them to each other, in fact, the same night Vash and Ryder met (hitting it off splendidly), two weeks after Ryder and I started dating and about a week or so before Ryder disappeared. It wasn't until after Meliza and Ryder fucked that Ryder casually made reference to the fact that she was dating me. Evidently she'd figured that Meliza already knew. She had not known—there's no reason she would have—and she checked in with me the next day to make sure I was okay with her getting involved with Ryder. I told her I was cool with it, which I was. I wasn't about to get possessive about a married pr0n star I was seeing on the side, after all. Meliza also hadn't known that Ryder briefly resurfaced last year. I told her about our two not-so-great dates, how things had changed too much between us and Ryder herself had been through way too much trauma while she was gone, how lightning only strikes once. I don't know Ryder is now, but I wish her well. 7:00pm At The First's apartment in Oakland. She's in the other room putting her son Xander to bed, and I'm in the kitchen on my laptop. I'm very pleased to see that even though she has a child now, she still has the signed picture of Nina Hartley on her living room wall. (She says that Xander is frequently fascinated by her Bettie Page calendar.) It's next to the signed picture of Gypsy from Mystery Science Theater 3000, which if memory serves she got at the convention in 1996. I also noticed that a lot of Star Trek DVDs, including the entire original series and all the movies. Considering I was the one who got her into both Trek and MST3K, it gratifying to know I had some positive impact on her life. | ||
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