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Tuesday, 10 February 2009 (they can have it) 2:09pm Monday is trash day, and when I got home on Sunday night, their can and the composting was put out, but my can and the recycling bin—which I didn't put anything in this week, and was heavier than I've ever felt it, which leads me to believe they're recycling the bowling balls they're constantly dropping on the floor—were still in the entryway. Whatever. I've always been amazed that they bothered to put out and/or bring in my can at all, and I've been expecting displays of passive-aggressiveness in the final weeks. (Taste of my own medicine and all.) When I got back home last night at a quarter to eleven, after work and an hour with Raphaela and watching the current Galactica with Pete and Sarah Goldie, I found the cans had never been brought back in. What's more, there were some large mailed packages just inside the entryway, missed delivery notices from UPS and FedEx, and a handwritten note on the gate: "UPS/FEDEX: DON'T LEAVE PACKETS NOT @ HOME." Their living room was also dark, which is unheard of for so early in the evening. Hell, I've come home at two or three in the morning to find them still up and around. When I went inside, I tried an experiment: I took out the earplugs. Braced myself. Nothing from upstairs. The plumbing was kind of loud, but I'm beginning to expect that's just how it is lately and I haven't noticed. The ambient sounds in my apartment feel new, such as the now seemingly thundering refrigerator, or the laptop that I'm borrowing from Jim until my new desktop arrives from Dell. (It's been delayed, again.) And, of course, the white noise generator and Buddha Machine in my bedroom. I guess I won't have to keep those at full blast anymore. And there's Perdita's voice. When she opens her mouth, sound comes out! I'd forgotten that. Haven't heard it for it a while. Before I went to bed, I chickened out and put the earplugs back in. I figure I'll wait another week, until I know for sure that they'll gone, before I start sleeping bareback. Until then, I can't trust that they won't suddenly arrive with the giraffe in tow in the middle of the night. It's happened before when they were supposed to be gone. At least there wouldn't have been any cutting this time. 8:11pm Second night without the bad people upstairs. It's taking a bit of getting used to, but in a good way. | ||
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Monday, 9 February 2009 (pictures that have come to pass) 5:34pm Respectable turnout at Bad Movie Night despite the rain and teevee competition. Not to mention the movie, The Devil's Advocate, which was pretty bad. Wore my shiny pants today, because I can. | ||
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Sunday, 8 February 2009 (perfected by blackened light) 3:57pm Went to the gym this morning—which I didn't yesterday because I didn't go anywhere at all—and am back home now, writing. They're being loud upstairs, as is their wont, but that's okay because they're going away soon and I'm not and that means I win. Heading out in a couple of hours for Bad Movie Night. sometime after midnight Ooh. Gorgeous, full-moonglowy clouds in a dark blue sky over the ocean. It's also cold as a witch's teat, but nothing's perfect. Also bringing the schadenfreudy awesome: how empty their living room is looking. (It's always been hard to miss, since their curtains are always open and their lights are usually on.) I guess they're leaving sooner rather than later. | ||
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Saturday, 7 February 2009 (winding out) 4:42pm Several years back at a Dirty Three show at the Great American Music Hall, I was interviewed for a documentary about the group. Though I've found bits and pieces online, Netflix doesn't carry it, and the one available on Amazon is both expensive and a little sktechy in terms of whether it'll work on a Region 1 DVD player, considering it's an Australian movie by an Australian company and has already been discontinued. Odds are they didn't use any footage of me, since I don't exactly qualify as an international luminary. Hell, I'm not even a luminary in my neighborhood. Anyway, in line outside of the Castro for Midnites for Maniacs last night, a woman was interviewing people for her master's thesis on midnight movies. Though she took quite an interest in the group of pretty gay boys (whcih is to say they were pretty and gay, though they were pretty gay, too), she never asked to speak to me. Pity, since while the boys had a lot to say on the first movie (Adventures in Babysitting), they didn't have any opinions on the concept of midnight movies. Of course, I've read Hoberman and Rosenbaum's Midnight Movies and can go on at some length about Kenneth Anger and Jack Smith and Alejandro Jodorowsky and can compare and contrast Eraserhead and The Rocky Horror Picture Show as movies which both defined and heralded the end of the golden age of midnight movies and how we go to where we are now, and hell, when she asked them if they go to rep houses a lot I'm pretty sure they didn't even know what she meant because they basically repeated we like Adventures in Babysitting a lot!, but, hey, what are you gonna do? Today as a Big Writing Day didn't quite happen, instead spending most of the day installing a new DVD/VCR combo I recently bought with the intention of converting the many boxes of VHS tapes which have been a fixture—and, to an extent, furniture—in this apartment since day one into a more convenient format. Plus, you know, one that people actually use, since on a consumer level VHS is qutie dead. I loved it in its day and still have a soft spot in my heart for it, no question, but it's time to move on. So I pretty much rewired all my electronics stuff and cleared out a lot of old cables which haven't served a purpose in years, which lead to some general housecleaning, which is always a good thing. Cesare came by a for little while, both to check out the garage sale outside (my landlord says their new final day is February 17, meaning, they're gone in a week and a half, oh my god they're gone in a week and half!) and to talk about some other stuff. Being the first conversation I've had in my apartment with another human being since...either Johanna last July or that time Sadie and I ended up out here, whenever that was and I don't remember which, but it meant I actually had to take out my earplugs while inside. That's going to be so weird, getting used to that again, not having to block out the noise of a hyperactive, constantly rampaging child. I feel practically institutionalized. Perdita, meanwhile, could not have been more mellow about Cesare's presence. It was weird. Usually she gets very loud and demandy when someone new comes in, and almost never any boys besides my landlord, but she took it in stride. That's my daughter. | ||
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Friday, 6 February 2009 (closed radiant) 5:11pm My landlord tells me that my can't-be-former-soon-enough upstairs neighbors don't have any particular time set for the moving process, and that they aren't taking much with them. They are, however, planning on having a garage sale tomorrow. In spite of this foreknowledge, I'm planning on staying home and writing. Lordy, sometimes I'm amazed by my foolhardiness. Both Ramah last night and Rapahela this morning commented (positively) on my bangs. If they hadn't said anything, or obviously didn't like it, that would be a problem. sometime after midnight Ah, going to bed at four in the morning. I feel like I'm thirty-three again. | ||
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Thursday, 5 February 2009 (rating over) 4:37pm Lux Interior, the lead singer of The Cramps, died yesterday. When Horehound and I saw The Cramps at The Fillmore in 2003, I was very much on Lux's radar. He even put his sweaty, PVC-gloved hand on my face as he sang the opening of "Fucked Up." That was pretty awesome. Between spin class last night and doing my usual hour this morning, there wasn't quite as much fuschia leakage as I expected, and most of it got soaked up by my sweatband, which is what it's for. I do believe that if I ever start a band (other than the Manson project, which is backburnered but not abandoned), the name will be Fuschia Leakage. And now, the squid gets tightened. | ||
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Wednesday, 4 February 2009 (firstlight) 9:45am The FOR RENT sign is gone from the upstairs window. I don't what that means, if the landlords have found someone new or the bad people aren't moving after all or what. I guess I'll find out soon enough. My roots are reblondified and my bangs are now purple—or, according to the Manic Panic jar, Fuschia Shock. What the hell. I'm thirty-five. Meanwhile, there's a lovely burning smell in the office. That always bodes well. 10:11am Didn't go to they gym this morning, since I got to bed late last night. My body demands proper rest, and gets it. I will be hitting Tyrol's spin class tonight, though. When I work out with Raphaela we always begin with me warming up for at least five minutes on the treadmill, and we usually bring each other up to date on the last few days. Unsurprisingly, on Monday all she wanted to hear about was the party on Friday, and she had that look in her eyes. Though no shirking violet, Raphaela was always fascinated by my adventures, however infrequent. so, tell me all about it. since i know you well enough to know what you really want to hear, it was pretty much how you've pictured it: a bunch of mostly naked girls on or around a bed, two or three sets of them fucking at any given time. it was a textbook all-girl orgy, really. the host, a cute little blonde genetic femme, commented at one point that she felt like a pot-bellied trucker who'd been granted his deepest wish. was that girl there, the one from last time? no, akima wasn't there. wasn't expecting her to be, either. so how many people were there? I had think about it for a moment. well, they came and went over the course of the evening, but at any given time i'd say there were about a dozen. which is a lot for a single bedroom. were you the only tranny? actually, no. counting myself, there were three, plus one other girl who's always set off my radar, but i'm not sure about her. the host makes a very big deal about it being a trans-inclusive event. Indeed, the Dos and Don'ts section of the website made it clear: "DO: invite transwomen. DON'T: let anyone bitch about any penises around." I couldn't help thinking about Maggie, who openly supported discrimination against pre-op trannies in women's spaces (biology is destiny), and thus would likely never attend this partricular party. Her loss, my win. i kept my panties on the whole time anyway. how did you feel about your body? From anyone else, that would have been an inexplicably weird question, but from Raphaela, it made perfect sense. really good, actually. i did feel a little nervous when i arrived before knocking on the front door, so i busted out my phone and brought up my diary, looking at the measurements from a few weeks ago. when i realized that i'd lost five percent of my body fat and about three inches off my waist since last time, i felt a lot more confident. Raphaela beamed. oh, i'm so glad to hear that. improving my clients' sex lives is the main reason i do this. I laughed. yeah, well, there's still no sex life to speak of in my case, but i tell ya, if i ever do hook up with someone again, i'm going to be so ready. oh, so you didn't get laid? nope. not even close. i mean, it got intense at times, but...well, at the beginning i massaged another girl, one of the other trannies, and it was nice, but i just kept thinking of how i miss being involved with one person, being alone with someone else who's into me as much as i'm into them. but that'll happen when it happens. anyway, there tended to be a lot of just casual contact, girls rubbing each other's arms and backs, and there's a level of implied consent to being there, but of course if anyone says no, that's that. so a little later i was sitting next to another girl, gently rubbing her arm and back, and she just sort of had this blank look on her face, and after a few minutes she turned and asked me to stop. she very kind about it, and of course i did, but, ow, you know? there were, like, six girls fucking in various configurations on the bed, and it was just so...pardon my unintentional britney reference, but it was just so typically me to get my hand slapped for the most chaste touch. it triggered so many deep and surface issues in me, the fear that what's okay for everyone else isn't okay for me. i sorta kept to myself after that, waiting to be invited rather than taking the iniative even though you're encouraged to take the iniative. i just sat at the foot of the bed, listening to the music and sounds trying to revel in the experience, aware that i had to find something to appreciate in every moment whether i was getting what i wanted or not, because abundance is a myth. even if nothing else happened, i knew i was still privileged to be there at all. a little while later, some space opened up on the edge of the bed and i was invited up. a new girl had just arrived, a small girl with dark eyes named penelope. she asked if anyone had expressed interest in being tied up. i raised my hand and said i haven't expressed it, but the interest is there. she looked at me and said okay. she got out her rope, and had me put my hands behind my back, hands in my elbows like when we're doing the tap-taps, and tyrol has us do something similiar sometimes in spin class. Raphaela laughed. nice to know what we do here came in handy. oh, totally. so, she tied me up fairly with a hemp rope, bent me over the side of the bed and went to town, most spanking and flogging, and with the occasional punchng. wait, punching? your ass? yeah. that wasn't all she did, nor did she start with it, and by the time she worked up to it, it just made sense, really. every so often she'd ask me how i was doing and if i wanted her to continue, and i'd usually say yes, please. at one point she said she appreciated how polite i was being, and all i could think was, why wouldn't i be? my mother raised me right, and besides, when this is over it's over for gods know how long. it's back to the drought, and even though this isn't exactly what i wanted, it's all i've gotten in a long time and may be all i get. what i wanted to say when she asked me how i was doing, but didn't, was that i liked it best when she would occasionally straddle me, when i could feel her body against mine, because that's what i'm missing the most: contact. warmth. but, as has so often been the case, it's easier to find someone to hurt me than to love me, so i'll take what i can get. how long did it last? i honestly don't know. time is kinda tough to judge in these situations, moreso because i had my eyes closed. i did open my eyes and turn my head at one point towards the wall, where most of the rest of the girls were sitting. at first i thought that they were rapt with attention. then i realized that while they were rapt, it wasn't with us. instead, they were looking past us to the other part of the bed, where the host was fisting another girl. of course. if i've learned anything over the years, it's how easy it is to be upstaged—there's always someone prettier, and two girls fisting is always going to be a bigger attraction than a bound tranny getting spanked. that's just the way of things. By this point I'd been on the treadmill for nearly ten minutes, so it was time to get to work. 9:19pm My landlord wrote this evening. The new tenants are a boy and a girl. They have one dog, and two cats. They will be moving in on the 28th of February.Friends, our long national nightmare is truly coming to an end. And they have kitties! | ||
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Tuesday, 3 February 2009 (only making it right) 6:36pm Hit the gym this morning, even though I didn't really get enough sleep—a little over five hours. I've been feeling it all day long, but I went again this afternoon, because this is the only way it works. Just now changed out of the plaid skirt I got in Fresno (which I've been having to safety-pin smaller because I keep shrinking out of it) in my old reliable long tiered velvet skirt (which I've also been having to safety-pin smaller because I keep shrinking out of it), and I'm heading over to Rhiannon's in a while for to reblondify my roots. We'll probably be coloring my bangs as well, maybe pink or purple, because why not? On Thursday night Ramah tightens the squid, and on Friday morning I have an appointment with Raphaela, which will be an adventure with the newly tightened squid already causing my endorphins to spike, but I'm not cancelling, either. | ||
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Monday, 2 February 2009 (time, truth and heart) 4:58pm Despite both the Superbowl and an odd Point Break backlash, we got a good crowd at Bad Movie Night. I also got unexpectedly declared Empress of Bad Movie Night, with Jim christening me with a lightsaber (in retrospect, I really wish someone had gotten a picture of that) and Rhiannon placing a duct-tape-and-popcorn crown of her own design on my head. It was extremely touching and sweet of them, even if the squid didn't much care to share headspace with the crown. Dyanne wrote to say that she's moving to California in a couple weeks. She's going to be in the Los Angeles area looking for work (movie industry and all), but she wouldn't mind at all if fate brings her up to San Francisco. I have no expectations. Coincidental to the point of meaningless, I have a gig the day before she moves at Cal State East Bay, some sort of show for the Queer-Straight Alliance. The timing works out perfectly, since I'm working on a new version of the AIRspace piece, and this means I'll actually get to perform it in front of an audience first. That's a good thing. Now I go work with Raphaela, and after that I'm heading to Pete and Sarah Goldie's place to watch last Friday's Galactica. I don't mind Mondays one bit. | ||
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Sunday, 1 February 2009 (more than just a number) 2:42pm I stopped off at Other Avenues on the way home from work Friday evening, and as dumb stupid luck would have it, I arrived at the same time as my upstairs neighbor, with his son in tow. Frack me. I found myself a place to hide in corner with all the canned goods, reading the label of a can of organic black beans like it was the last twenty pages of The Deathly Hallows, waiting for them to leave. The kid started running through the store, occasionally leaping, and particularly doing laps on the slight ramp leading up to the counter. thumpthumpthumpTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPthumpthumpthump Maybe it reminded him of the hallway directly above my apartment. I heard someone say: he has a lot of energy, doesn't he? I shuddered and thought to myself: dude, you have no idea. They eventually left, thankfully never making it back to my hiding place. When I went up to the counter. I decided against mentioning that the energetic child who had been in the store a little while ago lived directly above me and that he did that all the time and I had to wear earplugs to block it out. There would have been no point, since they'd likely be all oh, but that's just how kids are, they can't help it, it's cute and so on. They're gone in two weeks, which is all that matters. And even if the new tenants do have children, maybe they'll be from America, which slightly increases the chances that they'll have taught their children not to run around indoors. I gotta have hope. Or maybe I just have problems communicating with people, like they said in that douchey note they left in April. Again: they're gone in two weeks, which is all that matters. 5:20pm Hit the gym this morning, spent the day listening to noise music while writing, and Bad Movie Night is in a few hours. A perfect Sunday. sometime after midnight Empress regnant, bitches! | ||
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