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Wednesday, 10 February 2010 (wrong for so many reasons) 10:28am I've been invited to read at Perverts Put Out again next month. It's nice to be wanted. | ||
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Tuesday, 9 February 2010 (the reins of a waterfall) 2:39pm No spin class this morning. My head is still hurting from the squidtightening—the first night is always the worst—and I didn't get to bed until nearly midnight, since Marta and I watched Caprica with Pete and Sarah, and in general I've been needing at least one decent night's sleep. I'll be in Damiel's class tomorrow, though, since I'll be mercilessly teased by some people if I'm not. Indeed, I'll probably get some static for having missed the gym this morning. Which is fine. It's good-natured, and it keeps me motivated. Plus it means I've been accepted as a regular, which isn't a bad thing at all. What is a bad thing is the usual incompetence and red tape at the Pharmacy. In spite of my doctor's office having called them last Wednesday, they still haven't refilled me prescription—they say I have to bring in the bottle in in person. Frak, frak, frak. Even if I had the bottle with me today, which I don't, the odds of it getting properly filled before I leave for L.A. on Friday are about nil. So, I'll be without my testosterone blocker until at least next week. I actually have no idea if my employer offers health care as a benefit or not, but I hope they do, and i cannot wait to go fulltime. Even Kaiser was worlds better than this. Meanwhile, I helped someone with a computer problem a little while ago—I'm becoming a kindertech around here whether I want to or not— and when I fixed it, they said: hooray! thank goodness for youth! That's twice in as many days. I'm taking it to be a good sign. | ||
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Monday, 8 February 2010 (genes and hydration) 7:51am One of the regulars in Damiel's abs class this morning commented that I know a lot about classic rock for "someone your age." I asked her how old she thought I was (assuring her that I would not be offended by answer no matter what she said), and after examining my sweating, thoroughly unglamorous face for a few moments, she pegged me as being in my early-to-mid-twenties. She mentioned the smoothness of my skin and the lack of wrinkles. I guess those newborn crow's feet under my right eye aren't as obvious as I thought, and once again, I'm grateful to my mother for the awesome DNA. I'm not afraid of getting older—I mean, jeez, I'm in my late thirties, it would be a hell of a time to start—but I could use all the help I can get. 3:11pm I have no idea when I'm going to start working full time here, but even for only being part time right now, I think they'd miss me if I left. 5:55pm Time for squidtightening. | ||
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Sunday, 7 February 2010 (disrepresentation) 11:11am After making us dinner last night at my place, Marta reblondified my roots, and then we got started on Breaking Bad. Now, we finally fulfill our cultural obligation and go see Avatar. In IMAX 3-D, because I figure if you're gonna do it you might as well go all the way. And maybe, just maybe, because this is the day of The Big Game, the theater won't be packed. I can dream, anyway. 1:05pm Oh yeah. That theory didn't work at all—the showing is sold out. We're in, because I bought the tickets yesterday, but we don't exactly have a whole aisle to ourselves like I'd imagined. (I expect Marta will be teasing me with maybe we'll have an aisle to ourselves! for years to come.) We'd tossed around the idea of munching on a mushroom or two beforehand (since I've had some leftover for almost a year and a half—I'm really an inefficent druggie), since it's supposed to be such a hugely visual and trippy movie with a strong nature vibe, but, not in a crowded theater. 4:15pm So that's the highest grossing movie of all time, huh? 11:53pm As though Avatar (which really didn't do it for me) wasn't bad enough, then I had to sit through Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen at Bad Movie Night. That's what I get for scheduling the damn thing, I suppose. | ||
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Saturday, 6 February 2010 (clarity in reduction) 10:15am Annie Hall was written and filmed as a murder mystery, with the romance story intended as a minor subplot. During editing, the film was reshaped into greatest romantic comedy ever made. 12:21pm Initial recordings of Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" were in waltz time (my favorite musical rhythm, I might add). It didn't evolve into the more familiar version until much later in the sessions. 3:11pm Somewhat atypically for me, I spent most of last night and this morning at home continuing to edit down Bottomfeeder. I'm not usually very productive at home, especially at night, but I'm feeling really inspired and focused on this right now. The harder I work on it, the sooner my Agent will be able to sell it and the sooner it'll get published. (Granted, even if she sold it tomorrow there's no way it would be published before 2011, but still.) The awesome laptop table my mom's boyfriend built for me helps a lot, too. | ||
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Friday, 5 February 2010 (the long defeat) 10:15am Or not. My Agent wrote me sooner than I expected, and I spent most of yesterday working on edits to Bottomfeeder, as well as rewriting "Sloth and Loathing on the 71 Line" for submission to Instant City. Yay progress. 4:42pm Today was all about cutting. My agent asked me to reduce the length of the manuscript, reduce it to around one hundred and fifty pages, no more than two hundred. I've always known this was going to happen, that there was no way it would remain two hundred and forty pages, roughly seventy thousand words. Not an unknown writer in this economy, anyway. (Maybe if I was fuckable blonde genetic girl, but no, I'm a tranny with a squid on her head. Nowhere near as appealing.) So, I've managed to get it down to one hundred and seventy pages. Had to lose a lot of great stuff—bye, Zuki—and it's going to take a lot of getting used to, but I think it'll be stronger as a result. For as much as I've had to remove, there's still a fair amount of material which wasn't in there before, stuff which I hadn't been able to fit in before, so that's nice. What's most important is that all this will make it more sellable. That's kinda the bottom line. I trust that my Agent knows what needs to be done to make the book more appealing to publishers, because that's what she does for a living, and its in both of our best interests. It's how the game is played. And it still feels like my work—indeed, the words are still all mine, even if the structure and theme has changed quite a bit. Which is okay. Now, to home and nothing in particular. | ||
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Thursday, 4 February 2010 (windswept and downtrodden) 11:54am Marta and I had dinner at Tazaki Sushi last night, then came home and started watching Breaking Bad, which is probably my favorite of the currently running hourlong shows I watch (Lost, Caprica and Mad Men). I got up this morning at five to go to spin class—Cally's back, which I almost have mixed feelings about, since I was beginning to like her substitute quite a lot—and returned a little after seven, joining the still-sleeping Marta in bed. I'm so glad this is working out, that she's okay with me leaving and coming back in the morning. It's been an issue in the past. In 2000, Maddy had freaked the fuck out the first few times I tried to go to the gym in the morning, which of course was a symptom of the larger problem of her not wanting me to leave the house at all. I was finally able to start going on a regular basis after driving her to work in 2002, though my attempts to occasionally go in the evening were met with resistance. A few years later with Vash, her gym schedule cut somewhat heavily into our time together: she'd come over at eight or nine in the evening, want to go straight to bed, and then be out of the house again by half past five to be at her six o'clock spin class. Sometimes I'd get up too and she'd drop me off at work on the way to her gym, but either way, we had almost no quality time together. Which was probably impossible toward the end. In any event, as I say, I'm glad that Marta and I have found a balance. It helps that we both like being together, and also respect what's important to the other person. That's love, is what that is. (I loved Maddy and Vash, but, well, sometimes love is not enough.) At Mocha 101 now. My Agent is going over the latest draft of Bottomfeeder, so I'm going to turn my attentions back to Landing on Water. The Monster. | ||
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Wednesday, 3 February 2010 (rig delayer) 2:10pm I got to sit with Jim behind the soundboard last night at The Castro while Joel Hodgson and Trace Beaulieu and the other Cinematic Titantic riffed on a movie. At one point when Jim has to go outside for a few minutes, he left me in charge of the soundboard. Basically the instruction he gave me was to reset the board if there was a "feedback incident," and thankfully I didn't have to do anything at all, but still I for a few minutes I was supervising the sound for a modern incarnation of Mystery Science Theater 3000, my most favoritest show ever (and obviously the primary influence for my own Bad Movie Night). It was one of those moments where I just couldn't be more thrilled with the life I'm living, and the fantastic opportunities it presents. I wouldn't trade lives with anyone. My mood was at risk of dropping in a big way this afternoon, since I almost had to go to the San Francisco General Hospital Pharmacy. Which is normally bad enough, but I was going to have to cut my way through red tape, after standing in line for an hour and with cranky, unpleasant people all around. So after my whole pharmacy snafu in December, they ostensibly gave me a three month supply of both the spironolactone and estraidol. Except that they didn't—though they gave me plenty of the estradiol, the spironolactone just ran out. What complicates matters is that the label on the bottom says it contains the correct amount (one hundred and eighty pills, which, quite frankly, wouldn't have even fit in the smallish bottle), and when I called in the refill to the Pharmacy, they said that I couldn't get a refill because they'd given me three months worth. I tried to explain what happened, and they somewhat grudgingly told me to bring the bottle in. And I was prepared to do that very thing when I realized that I should go to Lyon-Martin instead and explain to them what happened, let them call the Pharmacy and deal with it. Besides, I wouldn't have to wait in a long line, and I'd even get to talk with a native English speaker, which makes a big difference. There was also a greater chance that they'd believe me, that they wouldn't think I'm running a scam. Anyway, I went to Lyon-Martin and talked to the receptionist who talked to my doctor who said she believed me (whew!) and that they'd call the Pharmacy to get it taken care of. Yay. That was close. Marta's coming over in a little while, because it's Wednesday and that's what we do. | ||
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Tuesday, 2 February 2010 (taking my business elsewhere) 1:37pm Made it to Damiel's abs class yesterday morning, and then spin class this morning. It's been the substitute for the last few classes, but she said today's her last day, so presumably Cally will be back on Thursday. Here's to hoping. I feel like my body's not reacting to the exercise as quickly as it should—I still can't fit back into the jeans I bought this past summer. Just gotta keep at it. There's just no way I can work out this hard for an hour a day five days a week without it actually having an effect. Faith and persistence. It's the only way anything ever gets done. making miracles is hard workTonight, much to my surprise, I'm going to see Cinematic Titanic Live at SF Sketchfest. I'd already decided not to, since I've seen them before and though I'm more comfortable than I was before I started this job, money is still tight. (Especially since I splurged on Richard Thompson tickets, and Marta and I are going to Los Angeles next week.) As it turns out, Jim from The Dark Room is working the sound for the Cinematic Titanic show even though it's at The Castro, and he offered me his plus one. So, yay. | ||
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Monday, 1 February 2010 (the only skew) 10:41pm Got an unexpected bonus evening with Marta tonight when she invited me over for dinner, and then joined me to watch Caprica at Pete and Sarah's house. I had to drop her off back at her place afterward, but still, I can't complain. | ||
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