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Tuesday, 20 January 2004 (this day drags hard) 10:01am fine. i'm here. happy? good. 11:03am Maddy and I stopped by Lost Weekend Video on Saturday night. Inspired to a large degree by hanging out with Orky, I was looking for The Last Starfighter or 2010: The Year We Make Contact. Neither were in, so I settled for Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, a movie sublime in its awfulness.
To quote Allegra: love me, for i am a sexy nerd.
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Sunday, 18 January 2004 (slip back to another day) 11:21am The pictures were in fact video for Orky's Operation: Meat Puppet. Hopping, Slinkies and The Bionic Baking Brigade Pieing People were all involved. It's shaping up to be a weekend in front of one camera or another, and today's photo shoot is more traditional: Maddy and (probably) myself will be modeling as prostitutes for Rent Girl, a graphic novel based on Michelle Tea's stories about being a sex worker. See? Traditional.
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Saturday, 17 January 2004 (the sun beats so hard) 12:20pm There was a book release party at the Jon Sims Center last night. There were chairs, but I wasn't in a sitting-up-straight kind of mood, so I sat on the ground against the back wall, soaking it in. It was inspiring, perhaps moreso than usual. In fact, I came away from it with some new ideas. Nothing directly related to what she said; my mind just started working, a wonderful and entirely too rare thing. Orky's on his way over, and pictures will be taken. Somewhere.
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Friday, 16 January 2004 (this light glares hard) 10:58am Went to Lynnee's last night for the second comedy group practice. Went pretty well. Naturally, I'm worried that I suck and will get booted before it really even gets off the ground, but that's just how I am.
We also talked about the possibility of Tribe 8 playing at
wickedmessengerfour in
February. Our original band Pepperspray
had to cancel, and for arcane accounting reasons (seems even for Sunday night in the dead of winter the
show still isn't doing enough business) we really really really need to replace them with an act that'll pack 'em in.
A bill which Tribe 8 fits nicely, I think. Their rhythm section is a state of flux at the moment, and they generally
get paid a little more than we've been able to give performers, but Lynnee sounded confident that we can pull it together.
Besides, if nothing else, it'll be easier to fit four short-to-average height dykes on the stage than six tall drag queens.
It also sounds more aesthetically pleasing, but, again, that's just how I am.
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Wednesday, 14 January 2004 (my trail of disgrace) 8:57am I recently burned my thousandth mp3 CD. The vast majority of them are filled with complete albums, an average of seven to ten per disk, downloaded from the usenet. I've spent more on blanks over the last couple years than new music CDs, and, quite frankly, I haven't spent that much on blanks. On the rare occasion that I do buy new CDs, it's usually from the merch table at the artist's show, or from places like Aquarius or Amoeba. Of course, there's the annual fee for the usenet service and the monthly DSL bill, both of which I consider to be overhead. In other words, it's not for free; it's just all severely discounted, and barely any of the money is going to the RIAA. Which means, of course, that I'm a pirate and I'm stealing. Arrrr, I say. Arrrr.
Meanwhile, I'm reading Clinton Heylin's
Bootleg: The Secret History of the Other Recording Industry (which I'm borrowing from
the library, ergo stealing from the publisher) and came across this quote:
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Tuesday, 13 January 2004 (mercy of the fallen) 9:04am Reverend Michel's Wicked Messenger 3.0 pictures are up. I didn't feel especially frumpy in that sweater—I kidded myself into thinking I was doing a vaguely schoolgirl thing—but, man, I sure looked it. 3:28pm I said it Sunday night, and I'll say it again: Max Voltage's violin is the Gothest. Thing. Ever.
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Monday, 12 January 2004 (neither here, there nor anywhere) 9:08am It's dark and foggy today. 11:47am I stumbled a lot this weekend, but I only fell once: last night, at Wicked Messenger, in front of the stage, in plain view of the audience. It was right after I'd read the new piece, the one I'd read the night before at Perverts Put Out!, and it seemed to go over well even if the crowd wasn't skewed in quite the same direction. Anyway, in spite of that I was looking like a dork because I didn't have Steven's intro ready, so I had to hold up the show and get it out of my bag, which was on the floor just off stage left. Anders was onstage, so it wasn't completely dead air, but I still felt very unprofessional. As I was walking back in front of the stage to my side, I slipped in some (presumably spilled) water on the ground. I'm not exactly sure of the logistics, but even though Reverend Michel mostly caught me, I still banged up my knees. And, of course looked like an even bigger schnook. Tristan assures me that I recovered admirably from it. I'll have to take his word for it. 3:03pm Nothing is personal. Ever. 3:41pm Finally. I can practically see my email again.
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Sunday, 11 January 2004 (glide) sometime after midnight Wicked Messenger was great tonight, if exhausting and at times manic, neither of which are necessarily bad things. Earlier in the day, Maddy and I heard Bill Corbett, Kevin Murphy and Mike Nelson speak at the "The Mystery Science Theater 3000 Symposium," part of SF Sketchfest. Kevin said that not only were they all willing to revive MST3K (which was canceled five years ago, as weird as that feels) if given the funding, he considers it an "inevitability." Yay.
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