My Face for the World to See (Part II): The Diary of Sherilyn Connelly a fiction April 11 - 20, 1999

I'm so glad you came I'm so glad you remembered To see how we're ending Our last dance together Expectant, too punctual But prettier than ever I really believe that this time it's forever But older than me now More constant, more real And the fur and the mouth and the innocence Turned to hair and contentment That hangs in abasement A woman now standing where once There was only a girl I'm so glad you came I'm so glad you remembered The walking through walls in the heart of December The blindness of happiness Of falling down laughing And I really believed that this time was forever But Christmas falls late now Flatter and colder And never as bright as when we used to fall All this in an instant Before I can kiss you A woman now standing where once There was only a girl I'm so glad you came I'm so glad you remembered To see how we're ending Our last dance together Reluctantly, cautiously But prettier than ever I really believe that this time it's forever But Christmas falls late now Flatter and colder And never as bright as when we used to fall And even if we drink I don't think we would kiss in the way that we did When the woman Was only a girl Robert Smith, "Last Dance" Tuesday, 20 April 1999 (halo five, track four) 11:23am Something's got to give. Something has to change. Whatever this elusive "something" may be, I'm doing it all wrong. The next impulse may be the correct one. It may not. I must follow it to find out. The universe will have no tears to shed either way. The ultimate outcome will remain as it always was. Only what happens in the moment itself is of consequence, and if nothing ever does, only I can be held responisble. "...spending too much time under the same influence." As apt a description as any. 4:08pm now i'm floating 'cause i'm not tied to the ground words unspoken seem to leave a hollow sound In spite of the fact that I shouldn't be spending any more money than is absolutely necessary (which is to say, food, bus fare and clubbing), I went to City Lights during lunch and got another Darcey Steinke book, Up Through the Water. It's her first novel, and I can't wait to start. I finished Suicide Blonde this morning, and was quite blown away. She really is a brilliant writer. A scary thing happened while I was there. The book was on the bottom shelf, and I guess I stood up too quickly or something because I nearly collapsed. The world went white for a second—I'm guessing my pupils dilated in a major way—and I became very dizzy. It reminded of that feeling I'd sometimes get when I'd taken one more hit of grass than I should have. Haven't smoked like that for a long time. Anyway, I grabbed onto the top of the shelf and steadied myself, waiting for it to pass, which it did in short order. Probably it was nothing, just my body telling me it doesn't like the way I've been neglecting it. On that note, I weighed myself the other morning and was astonished to see I'm still holding steady around 180 in spite of not having worked out for a few weeks, and not having done so on a regular basis for a few months. I'd probably be down to 170 by now if I had been. 5:09pm *blink* Summer is leaving the company. Wow. Wow, wow, wow. 5:21pm The ironic thing is, it's exactly the kind of job The Ex would be perfect in. Uh, no. I refuse to believe even my life can get that surreal. sometime after midnight Time and distance are out of place here. Space is warping. Time is folding in on itself. The past and the present are merging. Pandora was at Roderick's tonight. I don't know that I have the vocabulary skills necessary to express the significance. Or just how anticlimactic it was. We didn't exactly hang out together much, but we talked some at the bar. I think my presence unnerved her; she said it was the first time she'd gone to a club in four months, and me being there all decked out was surely the last thing she expected. We did make a point of dancing together when nine inch nails' "Get Down Make Love" made its obligatory appearance. I've always known it was her favorite nin song, which is just the weird way my memory works. Little details like that stick. It was closure, in a way, particularly that moment. Full circle. The culmination of years of her being a sort of role model for me, though she was probably never aware of it. (Surely that's for the best.) And this was it. The end. I'd made it on my own. My heroes have always been goth girls, and while I don't presume to be anywhere near her level, I'd still at least re-entered her orbit on my own terms. She said that Louise would be in town this weekend. Now I have a decision to make, to see how far I dare push my luck. Am I ready to see her again? I honestly don't know. Last | Top | Next

Monday, 19 April 1999 (spirit) 12:24pm you have to be very strong because you'll start from zero over and over again 12:49pm No hits. No calls. No messages. No contact. 1:14pm Performance review very shortly. I'm not too worried about it; based on the compensation review last week (seems kinda backwards), I'll do fine and it should be over quickly. All the same, this feels like the worst possible time. Psychologically, I'm not in a very healthy place right now. Breathing isn't as simple as usual, either. 2:52pm The review went well, as I suspected it would. The main criticism was that I need to "demonstrate more initiative in offering idea—her ideas are often very good but she oftens hesitates in offering them." Can't argue with that. (In fact the male pronoun is used, but I'm invoking my stylistic license.) Certainly it could be argued that I'm more passive than I should be sometimes for fear of completely screwing things up. Of course, that'll often cause just as much damage. Like right now, for example. 4:24pm The summary of the review (again, name and pronouns edited for stylistic reasons): "Sherilyn is a consistently high performer. Her work product is first rate, she is easy to work with and people express a desire to have her work on their projects." This last point is interesting, because it had come up in my review last week and I repeated it to my mother. Her response was that I don't know what people are saying behind my back. It took me a moment to realize that she was completely serious, that in her mind it was a serious concern. What people are saying behind my back? Who cares? What possible difference could that make? Of *all* the things in the world to get stressed out over, that hardly even appears on the radar. Oh, sure, I'm curious, and I'm always amused when something finds its way back to me—like, shortly after I started, one person who clearly hadn't gotten too close a look at me asked Summer about "the new girl." Beyond that, though, it simply doesn't matter. People will talk. No doubt the most immediate assumption made about me is that I'm gay. *shrug* I'd rather not be thought of as a drag queen if I can possibly avoid it, but it makes perfect sense that such assumptions will be made. No doubt it used to blow a lot of minds when The Ex would pick me up on a regular basis. The Fidget Queen was confused, that's for damn sure. He also strikes me as someone who'll probably never quite grasp the difference between being gay and being transgendered. Then again, not many do. I suppose it goes without saying that my mother and I still don't agree on most things. To what extent it was simply her trying to pop as many holes as she could in my balloon, I don't know. I told her I was going by the book as far as transitioning, she replied that the book could be wrong. (This based on the extensive research she's done, of course.) I told her that I'd seen a shrink, she replied that they're in the business of making money just like anyone else and can't be trusted. (When I pointed out that I'd seen my shrink for the bare minimum of twelve weeks and that they could have dragged it out much longer if they'd wanted to, she dropped that particular argument.) She was at least relieved when I said there was no guarantee that I would actually go as far as surgery, since it's irreversible. It always coufounds me that sooooo much attention is placed on the operation, until I remember that this is a very phallocentric society. What happens between the legs is considered very important. I don't entirely understand, but there's a lot about this society I don't understand. She may well have grasped my seriousness when I said that between getting a new computer (which I need in the worst way) and finishing electrolysis, I'd finish electrolysis. No contest. I think that drove it home for her. Last | Top | Next

Sunday, 18 April 1999 (tantrum) 7:17am I hate this. I hate being awake right now. I don't want to be. The world is offering nothing for me. Just being able to sleep and sleep and sleep...why can't I do that? Why did I have to be wired this way? Would it be so much to ask to lie back down and be oblivious until the phone rings and it's Sara saying she isn't coming over? when the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone, when you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on don't let yourself go, because everybody cries and everybody hurts, sometimes Sometimes everything is wrong. 5:03pm I forced myself to go back to bed, and managed to sleep (more or less) until noon. The phone never woke me up. Around two I realized that sitting around the apartment just wasn't working, so I hopped on the 71 and went into the Haight. Although I shouldn't be spending any money, what with the usual (rent and bills) and a zapping session this week, but I went anyway. I had some missions, one of which was to track down some white face powders Lee had recommnded, stuff which would be a little kinder to my skin than the near-chalk from Hot Topic. I was also book-hunting; The Rolling Stone Illustrated History of Rock and Roll is my current bathroom reading, and the few paragraphs on Leonard Cohen describe his song "Famous Blue Raincoat" as being an encapsulation of his first novel, Beautiful Losers, so of course I'm fascinated. No luck at the used bookstore, and I'd rather not pay full price. I'm also looking for anything by Darcey Steinke, a writer I'm getting into in a major way. She certainly seems a likely candidate for an Errata interview. No luck on any of the books, though I did get the powder. I also stopped in at the camera shop to get more b&w film. God forbid I should ever use color again. I was about to walk home when I realized my wallet wasn't in my pocket. I checked my backpack, since I often put it in there. Nope. Panic set in. The last place I'd used it was Presto Prints, so I retraced my steps, looking closely at the aggressive panhandlers I'd ignored the first time. Oh, wouldn't it be just perfet if I'd dropped it around them. Poetic justice, indeed. Thankfully, it was at the camera shop. The experience had left me a little shaken, so rather than walking home like I should have (exercise? whuzzat?) I hopped back on the bus. Getting home as soon as humanly possible sounded like a very good idea. I checked the messages occasionally while I was out. Nothing. Nothing when I got home. Likely nothing when I go back offline and check again. And why should there be? No reason I can think of. 6:53pm maybe that's something more than nothing Not having learned my lesson, I'm going out again, to The Black Lodge. I haven't been out dancing, or simply out enjoying myself, since Bound last week. It gave me the excuse I was clearly looking for to call Sara, who sounded interested but won't be attending. She'll very possibly be joining me for Roderick's on Tuesday, though. Either way, I'm going, with or without her. As it always was, as it always will be, world without end amen. 11:48pm Okay, so The Black Lodge was a bust. Dark Ambient may be fascinating music under the right circumstance (acid would surely help), but it's not too conducive to dancing, which is what I really wanted to do. I suppose that's what Roderick's and Shrine are for. I'm still glad I went, if only because it got me dressed and deep into the city of which I'd spoken so wistfully while in Fresno. Ironically, the club was directly across the street from a great little taco shop my sister-in-law and I discovered a while back. San Francisco is ultimately very small. I also scored in a used bookstore, finding a mint condition $7 copy of Darcey Steinke's out-of-print Suicide Blonde, the library book which I'm actually reading at the moment. It's pretty damn brilliant, perhaps even moreso than Jesus Saves. It's set in San Francisco and rather vividly describes areas I'm familiar with—The Castro, Post and Larkin, some of the seedier parts of town. (Not that the Castro is remotely as seedy as the Tenderloin, mind you.) The main character reminds me of myself in some very dark ways, her life taking turns mine might if I'm not careful. Or, more frightening, if I want it to. Sleep now. Last | Top | Next

Saturday, 17 April 1999 (the climb) 8:45am My mother and I went walking this morning, once a regular ritual of my visits which disappeared after the Hair Discussion last May, primarily because after that I started spending the night at The Ex's parent's house. Those days, of course, are long gone. In any event, it really does blow my mind to what extent she seems to be coming to terms with all this. She insists that I should have come out to her last May. *shrug* I'm not convinced, but maybe she's right. At the time, it seemed very much impossible. And it hardly matters now, does it? Haven't heard from The Ex yet, so I don't know if we're going back to SF today or tomorrow. Oh, please, let it be today... Danny should be here in an hour or so, the first time he's seen me in three years if not longer. Poor guy really doesn't have a clue what he's in for. Trying to process that I've lost so much weight *and* that I'm wearing eyeliner *and* that my hair is black with bangs and pigtails when he first sees me is likely enough to blow a couple circuits, and this will be without me even coming out to him. Good thing he already knows about The Ex and I. Unless he cancels. Wouldn't be the first time that's happened with him. If so, I may just finally write him off for good. For some reason this gets me thinking about my high school reunion, which should be in '01. I'd like to think I'd already be fairly unrecognizable to most of those people anyway, them not having seen me in eight years and nor having given two shits about me at the time. Oh, god. The Ex and I wouldn't be going together. I hate that, those little obvious revelations which strike me every now and again. I mean, duh, of course she wouldn't be. And, unless they combine our classes, hers will be in '02. Forget it. I can't even begin to think that far into the future. 11:52pm So I have my mother back. Considering that was ultimately the whole damn point of the trip, it was very successful. Danny and I talked for almost four hours; needless to say, we had a lot of catching up to do. Unfortunately, the shock value of my appearance was not as great as I was hoping, because as it turned out, he was expecting it, or at least that I'd look a bit femmier than before, because he already knew I was transgendered. Turns out last summer he was told by our mutual former boss, who had been told by my sister-in-law's cousin. Aaargh. It's not that I mind people knowing, or the word spreading—I'm a topic of conversation, there ain't much I can do about it—but dammit, of all the people I wanted to be shocked by seeing me, Danny topped the list. He didn't know I'd gothed out, or to what extent my appearance had changed, but still... Beyond that, it was great. When we parted company I extended my hand, but we end up hugging, something we'd never done before. Whether it was a boy/girl thing or just two old friends finally being reunited, I don't know and don't care. The drive back to SF was not so good, though. I spent much of it in something resembling a fetal position, sobbing. Nothing to do with my mother or Danny, but fighting with The Ex. My mourning continues, and the medication is wearing off. I called Sara as soon as we got back, at about 10:30pm. She was on her way out the door to go to a party—can't blame her for not waiting for me—but said she was glad I was back and that she'd call me on Sunday. *sigh* I may be utterly alone at this moment (The Ex has already left for the night) , but it's those little things that keep me going at all. On the same day I got the raise, Sara wrote and said she'd have to see me when I got back from Fresno. That put a big dumb grin on my face for the rest of the day. Yeah, I'm fucking pathetic. This I know all too well. I just need to be with someone. I don't know how much longer I can handle this. Last | Top | Next

Friday, 16 April 1999 (goth orpheus) 1:05pm So here I am. In Fresno, at my mother's house, in my old room which is now her computer room. I have no particular attachment to this room, actually; I only lived in it for about six months before I moved in with The Ex. My mom never did write back to make further plans about dinner tonight; I called her office as soon as I got here to... ...she just now called back, actually. (Finally she got a phone line dedicated to the computer. Couldn't do it all those years when I was a BBS geek and kept on getting knocked offline, but, sure, NOW...) Again, we were both very civil, just like last week. Anyway, as I suspected might happen she made an attempt to get us to stay in for dinner, using steak as a lure. Yeah, *right*. Steak could disappear off the face of the planet tomorrow and I wouldn't miss it too much. Looks like The Ex will be joining us, which is almost certainly for the best. My mom couldn't have sounded more pleased by the idea. Danny and I keep playing voicemail tag. He called last night while The Ex was online doing her taxes, then again this morning after we'd already left. So I left a message on his; he says he'll be gone all day, but I'm hoping we can get together tonight. There's a distinct sense of annoyance in his voice, and I don't really care. While I'm here, I'm going to make the most of it...and possibly get back to SF in time tomorrow night to go out with Sara. My mother won't be home for about another three hours, so I have some time to kill. (The Ex has appointments for most of the day, which is why she came down at all. Otherwise, we'd both still be in a city where the weather doesn't suck ass.) My immediate mission, one which is almost certainly doomed to failure: dig up and resurrect my Atari 800. Hope against hope that I can get it to work and that the floppies aren't completely decayed—gee, ten years, what are the odds?—so I can see the stuff I wrote back then. Continue my current obsession of connecting with my past (a la Astrid and Danny) in hopes of making sense of my present and future. This should be good for a laugh. 1:52pm Progress, in a manner of speaking. I found the computer and plugged it in; the light came on, which means something. Also present are the disk drive and all the cables connecting the peripherals to one another. And the big-ass 5.5" floppies. (5.25"? I can never remember.) I sealed them well, all right. Wow, do they bring back memories. Just from reading the labels. I have several simply called "text files," which is no doubt the motherlode. And I have a pretty good idea what's on the ones labeled "s*.* files." The Atariwriter+ disc is even there, complete with helpful boot instructions on the label. Very thoughtful of me. Now, I just have to find the cable to connect it to the TV, and a switchbox. Here's where it gets real tricky... 3:29pm Mission unaccomplished. The patient simply could not be saved. In addition to the lack of a switchbox, the disk drive was clearly toast. So I've salvaged the most important part: the disks. That's what it's all about anyway. If I hunt around enough I'm sure I can find a functioning computer in the city to use. Besides, my mother's going to be home in a little over an hour, and thanks to my most recent activity (rooting about in her storage shed) I look like shit. My hair is a disaster, and a shave would probably help. True, I shaved this morning and in all likelihood it won't make any difference to her, but it matters to me. At least I had the sense to change from my blouse to a t-shirt earlier. And, most of all, I need to relax. Oh, I finally spoke to Danny on the phone. We're getting together tomorrow morning. Allegedly. Either way, the moment of truth is approaching. 4:12pm Very soon now. Courage. Resolve. Faith. I can do this. 11:46pm God, I wish I was at Shrine with Sara. I miss them both. That said, things went very well with my mother. Much better than I could have expected. We broke through a lot of the horseshit we're always dancing around in email. Being face to face helped a lot, and she didn't seem put off by my appearance. I even got to ask some of the more interesting questions I've been holding back on. The answers: yes, I was a failed experiment. They'd been hoping for a girl. Indeed, if either of my two immediately older siblings had been a girl, I wouldn't have been born at all. No, me being transgendered is no consolation, as she quickly got over her initial disappointment. And my name would have been Jennifer. No way I'm going with that name NOW, that's for damn sure. Besides the fact that I like Sherilyn better and a lot of people already know me by that name, Jennifer is an extremely common tranny name. No thank you. But we really talked. She finally made her observation: that as a child I didn't seem much different from male children, certainly not from my brothers. I honestly don't know why she thought I'd get upset about that. The evening ended with an extremely troubling argument between The Ex and myself (alone, of course). Just my usual knack for finding a way to blow an otherwise positive day. Last | Top | Next

Thursday, 15 April 1999 (sycophant) 7:36am I just talked to Phil; he can't see me until next Thursday. *sigh* I was really hoping for Monday, but he's booked. So it'll have to be Thursday. That pretty well rules out Lilith, since if all goes well my upper lip will be red and swollen Friday night. But hairless, goddamnit. Guess I'll have to do Roderick's on Tuesday to compensate. 8:27am Speaking of compensation...after going relatively low-key this week, I was struck by the urge this morning to put my hair up in pigtails and go a little thicker on the eyeliner than usual. I don't know why; it just felt right, so I did it. I've also been experimenting with eyeshadow, going a little more raccoony. (The other day I realized I'd been unconsciously channeling Invisigoth from the William Gibson episode of The X-Files.) My boss just now came up to me and said that compensation reviews are this morning. So in a little while I'll be discussing my salary. Ah, irony. If I get a raise, it'll certainly come in handy when talking to my mom this weekend... 2:48pm The review did go well, and I did get a raise. It made me uncomfortable when he talked about how fond everyone here apparently is of me; I've always had a hard time accepting praise. I know myself too well. I'm damn lucky and I know it, though. I couldn't ask for a better place to work in terms of coming out, which I haven't "officially" done yet. The resident F2M (who is finally on the verge of choosing a boi name for himself) has talked to HR, and they've been very receptive and are willing to work with us ("us" being me, him and one other F2M, though I suspect there's a few closet cases floating around) to make sure we have all the proper paperwork when the time comes. Put another way, I'm not gonna get fired, which is the most common result. As I said, I'm not officially out, but I don't consider myself entirely closeted, either. If any gives it any thought at all. I'm probably just regarded as an androgynous goth. 3:49pm Sara's not upset with me. I didn't honestly think she would be—she's not that shallow—but it's hard not to worry about these things. 6:39pm So. Tomorrow is, as it were, the big day. I'm not nearly as anxious or nervous as you might think. I should be, but I'm not. It's just like one more thing to me now. Another inevitable source of stress, so I may as well just deal with it. Walk unafraid. If my mother wasn't willing to make this work, she wouldn't have seemed quite so eager for me to come down. I'm still her child, whatever else occurs. She seems to understand that. And Sara wants to see me when I get back. So I even have something to look forward to in that regard. Everything's going to be okay. Last | Top | Next

Wednesday, 14 April 1999 (diminished) 12:14pm sooner or later, it all gets real. walk on. I'm in mourning. I think that's what it is. It's the only word which seems to fit. Mourning the death of my relationship with The Ex. Death occured some time ago, true, but only now am I beginning to reach the point where I'm not constantly beating myself up over it and am able to really grasp the depth of the loss. For a long, long time, it was good, it was wonderful, it was my reason for living. She was my reason, and I don't think it's overly presumptuous to say I was hers. We were young when we got together, though. I was 17, she was 16. For as perfectly as we fit together, for as much as we continue to fit—neither of us will ever find someone else with whom we're so closely matched, period, not even her future husband—it just couldn't last. Even though we were, most likely, soulmates. And now it's gone. I don't blame myself as much anymore. I don't necessarily blame her, either. If there's any responsibility, it goes both ways. And it's hardly worth worrying about. She's smoking cigarettes and regularly enjoying male companionship in the biblical sense once again. I can't imagine why she'd want to give any of that up right now. Not to mention the possibility of getting married exists once more. Really, we were doomed once the engagement was called off. Just before the end, I considered seriously suggesting we run off to Vegas to get married, just like her parents did. As a last-ditch effort. I suppose I'll never know whether or not we should have. Probably it's just as well that we didn't. So now The Ex's away nights more often that not. She's even received an offer to housesit for a few weeks out of town. When she finally gets a steady job, which could be any time now, that'll likely be that. Everything is changing. 9:05pm Sara's sick. Yesterday she said she felt like she was coming down with something, and I didn't hear from her at all today, even after I wrote. So, in all likelihood she stayed home from work. And I probably gave it to her. Enough colds are going around right now, and I know well enough that her office doesn't exactly have the best air circulation, but...oh, tell the truth and shame the devil, huh? She got it from me. Same with The Ex, who's also ill, though while I was sick I had far less contact with her than I did with Sara. Still, why not assume it was me? If you're reading this and your nose starts to run or your throat gets sore, I do apologize. Sara and I had planned on going to see The Matrix Thursday night, with a possible stop by Stinky's afterwards, but those plans are obviously up in the air at this point. Unlike myself, she may well have enough sense *not* to go out when she's unwell. Either way, I suspect what happens tomorrow will be significant. My quest for Danny is not going well; I'm waiting to hear back from two separate people. I'm not holding my breath. I must see my electrologist Phil next week. Period. Just for one session, to get rid of the hair on my upper lip, perhaps the most tenacious of all. (The m-word repulses me.) No amount of shaving or makeup can get it to go away right now—this is a particularly thick and black cycle in its growth. Between rent and bills and the other usual stuff I can't really afford to go, but I will anyway. My facial hair disgusts me more and more every day. It shouldn't still be there. Fuck. This isn't right... Last | Top | Next

Tuesday, 13 April 1999 (low) 1:44pm Wait a minute: is it logically possible to have chosen something you claim to have had no choice over? Discuss amongst yourselves. 4:32pm After six months...roughly 5,000. After two months, and far less, I was worthy of being screamed at. 5:08pm Sheryl Crow is playing tonight. Two out of three down. Oh well, maybe I'll get to see REM in August. Probably not. Last | Top | Next

Monday, 12 April 1999 (vigil) 2:45pm I did call my mother yesterday, the first time we've spoken to each other (rather than email) since before xmas. It seemed the right thing to do, being her birthday and all. It couldn't have been a more cursory, polite conversation if we'd tried. No hint whatsoever of the recent bad blood. Which, I suppose, is what a birthday call should be. Anyway, I'm thinking I'll write and suggest we go out to dinner on Friday night. Hell, maybe I'll up the ante and offer to buy her dinner as a belated birthday present. Get her used to the idea of being seen in the world with me, even if it's not something that's going to happen much. I can't remember the last time just her and I went somewhere, though, not since the walk last May which devolved into the Hair Discussion. I suppose I could invite The Ex; it would almost certainly make my mother more comfortable, having a friendly face along. She'd probably decline. Can't blame her. Astrid said she could probably get Danny's current phone number; I'm going to take her up on that offer. It's been too damn long. 9:02pm I didn't ask for any of this. It wasn't my idea. Honest. While I have no regrets about choosing the path I'm on, the fact is I'm doing so because I have no choice in the matter. Get it? None. This is all beyond me. There are many times when I wish I could make it all go away, restore things to some kind of normalcy. Like when she leaves in anger. Right now, I want nothing more than to just make things the way they were when we were happy. When we were together. When we were happy together. Christ, how long ago was that? How many worlds away? It's gone forever. I know that. Things wouldn't necessarily be better if we were still together. They might even be worse. This is the way things are now. Must dry my eyes and move on. 9:45pm After my crying jag, I called Astrid. I'd been planning on doing so anyway, but talking to her just now helped a lot. Her voice is always comforting, like my one link to an ostensibly simpler time. Someone from the old days who's still on my side and always will be. She also complimented me on my pictures and was impressed by how I'm able to get my bangs so straight. As with most things, some days are better than others. (Look closely at pictures of Betty Page and you'll see that hers were often far from perfect. The legend dies hard, though.) If I have any secret, it's that I don't do anything special to them. No spray or gel or whatnot. I condition my hair when I shower, towel dry and brush. That's pretty much it. Astrid assures me I'm lucky in that regard. Anyway, she wasn't able to get Danny's number. I do have what I'm hoping is his parent's number, and I'll be giving that a try tomorrow. Oooh—oooh—duh! Yeah! If not them, our mutual former boss should have it... Last | Top | Next

Sunday, 11 April 1999 (countdown) 1:32pm Sara just left. Been a long and educational weekend which isn't quite over yet. Now I get to call my mom. 4:27pm In a world with seemingly no boundaries I somehow manage to find lines to cross. Some things are not for me. Indeed, perhaps most things. Two weeks and now I know. No expectations. nightswimmingdeservesaquietnight Pain and sensation. Imbalance. And not what I think. faceyourfearsandwatch'emdie If, when, is, was, never will be, might have been. Eternal recurrence. No regrets. Locked room. Tears. All the pain you can muster (itsallinthewrist) but a friend musn't be too loving. Mantra. Last | Top | Next