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Monday, 28 February 2011 (the dreamer is still asleep) 8:21am They're back, and it sounds like the moving-out process is about to begin for reals. So, I relocate. 5:28pm I've been at the Greenhouse Cafe on Taraval all day long, and I expect I'll be spending much of the next couple weeks here, hopefully arriving when they open as so to snag my new favorite table. I was a little worried that I wouldn't be able to do my work-work as well on my laptop as I have been at home on my desktop, but turns out that's not the case at all. As always, hooray for small miracles. | ||
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Sunday, 27 February 2011 (a cold slow shock) 11:54am I picked up Ilene last night, as is becoming the custom on the twice-monthly dancing nights. Since I was trying L'Oreal's Infallible Lipcolour (Mulberry) as an experiment in allegedly kiss-proof lipstick (and she herself was wearing a different shade of the same kind), I suggested in the name of science that we test-smooch we a few times before we head out, with followup experiments throughout the evening. All, again, in the name of science. She agreed that it was an excellent idea. The turnout for Dancing Ghosts was surprisingly sparse, certainly compared to last month, and sadly Horehound did not make appearance this time. As with the last Frolic, the core dancing group was Ilene, myself and Davina (with Mouse present but sitting it out), and I couldn't help but notice that there was one other small group of girls who were clearly there dancing with one another, thus making it the single queerest goth club I've ever been to. And yay for that. Whether or not the three of us (and sometimes it was just Davina and I, or just Ilene and I, me wishing for not the first time that I know how to waltz) were dancing at any given time depended mostly on the feelings about the song being played, which for a Coil tribute was kinda heavy on the not-Coil stuff, though I insisted that if it was Coil we had to dance, even when Ilene protested that by any standard "Windowpane" is overplayed. Which it may be, but as evidenced by the video, it's never not fun to dance to. When not dancing, we usually group-cuddled along the wall, continuing the grand scientific experiment with Davina as well as Ilene. And damn if the stuff didn't stay on. I was wearing the long pink-and-white tail again, because I wanted to and couldn't think of a good reason not to, and tails just look good on me. (That is also based on science.) At one point a woman came up to me and said: i've been watching you all night, and i just have to tell you, i think your tail is absolutely gorgeous. is it real? It took me a few moments to process the question, largely because it tied into a discussion that I'd been having with Ilene earlier in the evening. She'd pointed out that a few of the people had long pieces of fabric, scarves and such, tied to the back of their belts. They clearly weren't flagging according to any known hanky code (nor were they flagging thong or flagging bit, though now that it's back in my brain, I want to start doing the latter again), nor were they necessarily meant to explicitly emulate a tail the way mine does, but there's no way they couldn't have known that what they were doing was vaguely tail-ish. In any event, I'd decided that those were faux-tails, whereas mine was a real tail. Thus making it all the more surreal when asked by a stranger if my tail was real. And I responded in the only reasonable way: define real. Turns out what she meant was whether it was real or synthetic horsehair, and she was very happy to learn that it was synthetic hair—even if not specifically synthetic horsehair as such, since it's sold as fake human hair—acquired from the Beauty Supply Warehouse on Fillmore. She explained that she was a vegan who also played violin profesionally, and had been looking for a good fake horsehair for her bow, and the hair of my tail seemed to be just right. Sure, okay. I wished her luck. And is your tail real? is surely one of the best questions I've ever been asked. Ilene was beginning to crash around a quarter to two, and there's a lot to be said for leaving before they turn on the white lights and start ushering us out, never a pleasant process. I dropped off Ilene first (getting out for a proper goodnight kiss, and confirming that she does in fact have a prior commitment this Thursday, though she assured me that she's free on Thursdays after that), then Davina and Mouse at their place, and finally back to the Black Light District, where I was pleased to note that my soon-to-be-former neighbors are still gone. It's nice not to have to worry about thumping around in the morning from above, even though the sun threatening to rise in a few hours was still a formidable nemesis. I managed to sleep for about seven hours, though, and am feeling quite well-rested. I'm currently planning on getting out of the house and into the Mission sooner rather than later, maybe getting in some cafe-writing time. We'll see. 4:27pm Yeah, no such luck on that. There's always things to be taken care of around The Dark Room, though. 11:31pm In spite of the big awards show, we got a great turnout at Bad Movie Night for The Expendables. Before the show, my self-described biggest fan told me that she's going to be leaving town for an indefinite period of time, but that she had to hit the show at least one more time. Oh, and that I've been losing a lot of weight and am just looking fantastic in general and to keep up the good work, okay? I assured her that I intended to. I turned to speak to another woman who'd been waiting there patiently, who started with: you always look great, though, then asked exactly what the deal was with the tweet about the tail. I'm pleasantly surprised more people didn't ask, quite frankly. | ||
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Saturday, 26 February 2011 (such radiant pollution) 3:58pm No snow! Not anywhere near my neighborhood, anyway. More fantastic morning sex, oatmeal sans hard-boiled eggs for breakfast, and then, we finally did my taxes. I'd started on them earlier this week, through TurboTax as I've done them for the past few years, but since I'm now an independent contractor or whatever it's all become much more complicated and I decided to wait for Marta to help me with some of the trickier stuff. And I'm glad she did, because she understand words like "standard decuction" much better than I do, and wound up saving me about five hundred dollars. I still owe over a thousand—and that's with having taxes withheld from my unemployment—but it's still a whole lot better than it was. This is the part of the independent contractor thing that I really don't care for at all. We had a late (and long) brunch at Sun Rise, and now we're at Borderlands at one of the common tables—well, they're all common tables, each one with a sign which pretty much boils down to be don't be a dick, let other people use empty seats and that would be fine except this old grizzled Santa-looking guy is sitting right across from me, and it's ooking me out. Totally unfairly to him, of course, but that's hardly the point. If nothing else, it's times like this that I'm reminded of the primary reason why I could never be a sex worker: most boys are icky, and I can't imagine how much money it would take to overcome that inherent ickiness. It's a thoroughly subjective ickiness, of course, but I have yet to shake it. Tonight is Dancing Ghosts at The Stud. Coil tribute! sometime after midnight Winning: arriving as well as leaving with the hottest girl in the room. I've won a lot these past couple years. | ||
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Friday, 25 February 2011 (momentum, thwarted) 11:24am I arrived at the House of Boxed Steam at about half past five last night. Ilene and I co-worked for a while, her doing her thing at her desktop comptuer and me on her bed using my laptop. I like work dates, even when they aren't likely to evolve into anything else. A little after seven, we decided to head out into the world to get food, both because and in spite of the building rainstorm. And, the only thing people have been buzzing about more than the Prince shows is the possibility of snow in San Francisco. Nobody is truly expecting it to happen, but it's fun to talk about, and it gives San Franciscans reasons to be snarky online. That's why I like isitsnowinginsanfrancisco.com better than isitsnowinginsfyet.com , but they each have their charms.) There was no sign of snow as we walked down Geary in search of tofu, just lots of rain. Nor was threre tofu to be found—all the places which sell tofu in her neighborhood had long since closed their doors for the evening—but we did score some brussels sprouts and broccoli and a cumcumber, and she made a delicious rice/tofu/veggie concotion for dinner, with a cucumber salad for starters. It'll probably be our staple meal, barring those comparatively few times that we go out for dinner (somehow, we never made it to Spices! II or any of the other locations when we were hanging out in 2008, which surprises me in retrospect), and I was kinda proud of myself that even though it was quite delicious, when I felt full halfway through the bowl I set it aside and didn't keep eating. Hooray for a metabolism which is finally behaving properly. Meanwhile, the wine I'd bought for a whopping seven dollars ($7! for wine!) earlier in the evening went unopened, since she's developed an allergic reaction to red wine in the time since we used to drink it together semi-regularly. Bodies are weird. I had Spalding Gray's Swimming to Cambodia on my laptop since she's never seen any of his movies and expressed interest when I told her about And Everything is Going Fine, but instead she put on what she referred to as the "mood lighting," and I put the laptop away. As is always the case with whomever I'm sharing a bed with at any given moment, I was awake before Ilene, which means I got to listen to the worst of the rainstorm outside. Which is the perfect way to hear a rainstorm, when you're safely away from it in a warm bed. And being a person who wakes up fairly quickly and a morning person in general, I've witnessed a lot of different ways that people regain consciousness. Some do it more gracefully than others. After Ilene woke, she went jogging—her usual Friday morning thing, which I didn't join her for since I didn't know she did it and thus didn't bring my gym clothes or even appropriate shoes, but which also makes me feel a little better about possibly skipping out on future bootcamps because at least I'd still be getting exercise those mornings, and the stretching she does afterwards is actually plenty intense on its own. Oatmeal and hard-boiled egg for breakfast, and we're co-working again, though I'm going to be leaving soon, both becase Marta should be back at her apartment from work by around one and that sounds like a perfect time for me to be back at the Black Light District as well, and also because I live in constant fear of wearing out my welcome. Ilene seems perfectly happy to have me around, but still, I don't want to take any chances. So. 1:01pm Speaking of taking chances, I had somehow not noticed that the otherwise unmetered parking across the street from her apartment is a two-hour zone on weekdays. Thankfully, it's not exactly one of those areas that the DPT monitors too closely, but still, I'm glad I finally realized it. 4:15pm Heading out now to pick up Marta. There are many things happening through the City tonight—and this is when the snow is really supposed to happen, f'reals—but we're going to make it a quiet evening at home, cuddling and getting caught up on our teevee shows and just being with each other. It's a night we both need, I think. | ||
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Thursday, 24 February 2011 (especially broccoli) 5:31am I usually think in terms of chapters, but considering the major changes in my life these past few months, I suspect this is a new book entirely. 4:12pm Yvette and I did the spin class today rather than our usual interval stuff, though we still stretched together afterward. She was predictably mock-indignant when I told her that I wouldn't be in on Friday, but it turns out that she hadn't heard the news: the regular bootcamp instructor is going to be gone tomorrow, and that we'll either have a substitute (blech), or she'll just post the workout instrutions on the door (equally blech). Instead, since I'm going to be spending the night at Ilene's tonight—the first of what we're hoping to be a regular Thursday thing—I intend to take advantage of the fact that I won't have to deal with the aforementioned "getting to the gym by six" issue. 6:05pm I buy alcohol in stores so seldom—twice a year, tops—I have no idea when I stopped getting carded regularly. Probably around 1999 or so. sometime after midnight i like the squid, and you're hot, but i miss your black hair. i really, really liked you with black hair. | ||
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Wednesday, 23 February 2011 (and some very strange birds are going to emerge) 10:13am Brutal bootcamp this morning, both because the instructor was working us harder than usual, like using eight risers (four on each side) under our Steps rather than the usual two or three, as well as what felt like near-constant sprinting, and all combined with the fact that I only got about four hours of sleep. Marta and I got back to my place from karaoke around a quarter past eleven, and while that's already pretty late for bootcamp night, we were still both kind wired. What we'd only intended as going to first base we ended up going all the way, which was awesome, but it also meant that we were up way past midnight, and I got up again at a quarter past four as usual as was thus battling sleep deprivation during bootcamp, making the usual exhaustion/endorphin haze much more intense than usual. I'm still surprised that I neither passed out nor threw up at any point, especially for having to jump higher than usual After dropping Marta off at her work, I went to the Trader Joe's in Stonestown (gotta stock up on hummus), where I ran into Davina. I actually walked past her at first, only thinking a couple minutes later hey, that looks like... I've never seen her out in the real world during the day. This city, it shrinks all the time. 1:01pm The Fall 2011 class schedule for the SJSU School of Library and Information Science has been posted. Shit's getting real, yo. 7:32pm Managed to be productive for most of the day, but the sleep dep is starting to kick in. I attempted a nap, but it refused to happen. I'd just begin the going-to-bed process right now, except that the new tenants and their dog are going to be visiting soon. So after that, then. In the meantime, I've gotten made up a little bit—just eyeshadow and foundation, no lipstick—and put on my boots and stripeys and generally tried to make myself look presentable. First impressions and all. I also have only the xmas lights on and I'm playing Coil's Time Machines, but that's more for my benefit. 7:32pm Okay, I think that went well. Their dog (whom my landlord has informed me is not in fact medium-sized, but a husky) was not present, but it's named Janeway—as in, Captain Janeway from Star Trek: Voyager. If that's not the defintion of a good sign, I don't know what it is. We talked a little about Voyager, about where they teach and about where Marta teaches and about the fact that I'm going to librarian school later this year (which my landlords were happy to hear, saying it sounded like a great idea) and just brief getting-to-know-you stuff. Again, I think it went really well, and that tremendous weight has been lifted a little more. Meanwhile, my old neighbors—who haven't been around since last Thursday at the most recent—are going to be moving out next week, and the new kids will be moving in the week after that, so I expect I'll be getting in a lot of cafe-writing time in the near future. I haven't actually attempted to do work-work at a cafe, but I don't suppose I'll have a lot of choice. Now, sleep. Hopefully. 10:55pm Or not. I should have been asleep for a few hours now, but my body's just not having it. On the plus side, I got to chat with Ilene a bit (itself a rarity, as she's nowhere near the chat/text/email junkie I am) and we confirmed that we're hanging out tomorrow night. She'd something at the Deco Lounge about possibly going to see Prince on Thursday, a show that everyone in town but me has been buzzing about, and I was also kinda iffy about Thursday as well, but we're on. (And she'd also said that she declined them because she had other plans that night, which I was pretty sure meant me, I'm not about to take anything for granted.) So, yay. | ||
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Tuesday, 22 February 2011 (one day your eggs are going to hatch) 9:21am Just got a call from my landlords which freaked me out a little, saying that they'll bringing the new tenants by at a quarter past eight. I called back to confirm that they meant a quarter past eight tomorrow night. Hell, tomorrow morning would be fine. Just not tonight, since plans have been made. Back at the gym this morning, working out with Yvette. We perhaps didn't push ourselves quite as hard as we might have otherwise, since she'd had a long weekend too. Work now. Got lots of it to catch up on. 5:13pm Clothing-wise, there's a fine line between "deliberate layering" and "a top that doesn't fit quite right." I frequently cross it. Heading to the Mission to have dinner and hang out for a bit with Marta, and then we're meeting with Ilene and whoever else shows up at the Deco Lounge (the former Jezebel's Joint, and surely other things in the meantime) for karaoke. 9:51pm I just slaughtered Lady GaGa's "Paparazzi," but at least I got it more or less out of my system. It's a damn catchy tune with just that tone of longing in the lyrics that always resonates with me, and it's been going through my brain relentlessly these past couple months. | ||
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Monday, 21 February 2011 (the stars have grown old) 7:13pm Even by long weekend standards, this was a long weekend. Really wonderful at times, but still long. There was much processing on the way home from The Dark Room last night, as there kinda has to be in situations like this, because things never go quite at the speeds both parties are comfortable with (and I have a history of wanting to go faster than I should), lots of talking and many tears and fair bit of negotiating, and ultimately ending with understanding and some new boundaries agreed upon and some really hot sex in the next morning, and it may well be the first make-up sex I've ever had, if I'm understanding the concept. After dropping Marta back off her at place, I met up with The First in Japantown. We poked through the New People Mall (which I'm suddenly at a lot these days, and wow, there's a certain look at Black Peace Now which I wanna do so much), and then we saw And Everything Is Going Fine at the Kabuki. We were both teary at the end, as is to be expected. From there I swung by The Dark Room to put up new Bad Movie Night flyers, went to the FedEx on Sloat to pick up the finally-arrived Ramona Flowers Bag (there was a brief moment where they couldn't find it even though the tracking site said it had in fact arrived, but then the clerk found it, and was openly embarrassed when she admitted that she'd looked right at it the first time), and then went to get Phoebe a smog check, which she thankfully passed, because i really don't think I could deal with that right now. It's bad enough that she still needs her back tires replace and brakes worked on. Plus there was something brought up a million years ago about Perdita's teeth. As I say, long weekend. | ||
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