Sherilyn Connelly > Diary > January 1 - 10, 2009



12/13/08
My Face for the World to See (Part II):
The Diary of Sherilyn Connelly
a fiction


January 1 - 10, 2009

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Saturday, 10 January 2009 (abandoned stories)
5:43pm


Went to Stompers Boots today to try on the boots I've had my eye on, to replace my rapidly disintegrating Fluevogs. They're not going to work, not going to work at all. Feh.

Tyrol's Saturday afternoon spin classes have been cancelled. Man, that's going to throw off my schedule something fierce.

6:11pm

Linda Thompson sang it, and I'm feeling it (which is usually how these things go): I want to see the bright lights tonight. So, I'm going to Divas. It's a ghetto, perhaps, but it beats not having a ghetto at all. And speaking of bright lights, this is the night of the perigree moon, the brightest full moon of 2009. All the more reason to go out.

10:52pm

The dancefloor at Divas is still one of the better-kept club secrets in town.

11:44pm

I came, I danced, I left. (I'll bet that looks really boss translated into Latin.)

sometime after midnight

The people upstairs still have their xmas tree lit and decorated. What? What?

No matter. The night sky is a gorgeous dark blue, especially over the ocean, thanks to the perigree moon. It's going to be extra-sparkly and beautiful when the moon descends low enough to reflect directly onto the water, but unfortunately, I won't be awake to see it. My energy level's not so great, probably because I didn't get as much sleep last night as I needed. Alas.

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Friday, 9 January 2009 (a perfect fit)
7:20pm


At Midnites for Maniacs, which tonight is gracing The Castro with what is surely the best. Marquee. EVER.

And, the view from the back row, always the place to be.

sometime after midnight

The three features were Watcher in the Woods, Stand By Me and The Candy Snatchers. It was the first and last movies which intrigued me the most. Watcher is from that bizarre Disney period of the late seventies through the mid-eighties where they were getting experimental and frequently dark, resulting in movies like The Black Hole, Return to Oz, Tron and Something Wicked This Way Comes, the latter two which being the only ones I saw at the time. That I'm getting to see them all now projected at The Castro—on 35MM film and everything!—reaffirms my love for my City.

I had unexpected companions for the first two films in the form of Darlene and her boyfriend. Darlene was a girl whom I met at Bad Movie Night a few months back (The Black Hole, ironically), and from whom I rediscovered it's entirely possible to have a girl invite you upstairs for wine and have it mean nothing more than her just inviting you upstairs for wine. Which is cool, since she's nice and I'm enjoying introducing her to stuff like Midnites for Maniacs and Ask Dr. Hal. I'd never met her boyfriend, but he's a really sweet guy.

They left after Stand By Me, just as KrOB was arriving to join me for The Candy Snatchers. That film, very much not Disney, is textbook grindhouse: tits, guns, girls in bondage, blood, and not a brain in its head. Snatchers was born the same year I was, 1973, offering further proof that it was the most messed-up year in history. Watching it made me wonder: how the hell was I, or anyone, conceived? The loads which resulted in both me and the movie were shot in 1972, and seriously, everyone looked horribly unsexy back then. Survival of the species is a powerful thing.

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Thursday, 8 January 2009 (smaller than life)
6:41pm


Oh, right: stinky hippies and gutterpunks. Now I remember why I hate Berkeley. (And certain parts of San Francisco.)

11:38pm

I was in Berkeley this evening to see Beowulf: A Thousand Years of Baggage at the Roda. The Dark Room has been my home base for so long, I tend to forget that most theaters seat more than forty-nine people and have stages which are much bigger than. Not that it matters because I'm unlikely to ever act in a play anywhere else (and every time I do act in a play it's liable to be the last time anyone asks), but I like our little black box.

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Wednesday, 7 January 2009 (false embargo)
5:56pm


Feeling better enough today to declare it over. Went to the gym this morning, and I'm going to Tyrol's spin class this evening. Back on the wheel, literally. Sorta.

10:11pm

Tonight during class, Tyrol referred to someone as having an odd name, like they're on battlestar galactica or something. I laughed, and kept it to myself.

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Tuesday, 6 January 2009 (containment of substance)
9:05pm


I canceled on Raphaela last night—the first time I've done so, though I did cancel on Cassiel back in November for the same reaso—and I didn't go to the gym this morning. I did go to work, however and was able to get more or less into the swing of things. I know how this works. I give myself one day of rest, which was yesterday, and after that I just burn through it. Unless I wake up feeling worse, I'm planning on going to the gym tomorrow morning, getting back into the daily routine. Besides, I just finished Tales from the Bed: A Memoir by Jenifer Estess, and I got Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher and both Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking and The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference by Malcolm Gladwell, and I'm looking forward to tearing into them. I also recently started on both The Conviction of Richard Nixon: The Untold Story of the Frost/Nixon Interviews by James Reston, Jr. and Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress by Susan Jane Gilman, but I couldn't get into them. The latter's a surprise, since it's the sort of book I've been devouring this past year. Go figure.

I suspect 2009 is going to be a lot like 1999 was for me, although I'll no doubt make different and bigger mistakes. At least one will be visceral.

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Monday, 5 January 2009 (the fall of the world's own optimist)
4:12pm


Though not my personal best Bad Movie Night—I was under the weather, and my timing was lousy—we had a full house, and the audience had a blast. Probably my best curatorial decision has been to start each year with Snakes on a Plane. Gets 'em every time.

Stayed home from work today, in hopes of getting back over the weather. A somewhat ignominious way to start the work year 2009, perhaps, but heaven knows I've always been conservative at best with taking sick days, so I'm not worried. One of my clients won't be happy with me tomorrow, but hey.

At the show last night Bunny mentioned that she's been feeling a little unwell since New Year's Eve, and that she thinks the nitrous may have had something to do with it. I'm not so convinced myself, but you never know.

After a very yummy dinner at Nirvana, Bunny and I walked to Chicken John's place for Ask Dr. Hal. (I'd parked Phoebe there earlier in the evening, knowing that I'd want her close by after the show and that the less I had to deal with looking for parking, the better.) On the way, I took a deep breath and told her in the most passive way possible that if she's feeling up to it—no pressure if she isn't—but if she is, I'd like to do the traditional New Year's Even midnight kiss...but she can totally think about it, she doesn't have to answer right away and I won't be offended if she says no, but, yeah, I just wanted to let her know that if she wants to, I'd certainly like to. Exhale.

She looked at the ground (a mannerism that reminds me a lot of myself, especially when I'm being praised) and said that this sort of thing embarrasses her, but, yes, she'd think about it.

There. Done all I can do.

We got a bottle of champagne along the way, and I also had a shot of Fernet during the show. Chicken gives Fernet to people whose questions he especially likes, but he was giving it to practically everyone, so I don't think it meant much. Still, though, between a show of Fernet and a half a skull-goblet of champagne (Bunny buys things like skull-goblets), that was as much as I'd drank in a while.

The shot of Fernet was nice, especially since it got me onstage during the show and I thought I was looking pretty good—better than I had during the last run of the show earlier this year, to be sure, back when I didn't know Bunny yet and Ennui and I were in each others' lives—but what I'd been really hoping for was a KrOB moment. That involves the questioner sitting in a chair on the stage, and taking a hit of nitrous while KrOB plays psycho-discordant music and epilepsy-inducing lights while electronically slowing down Dr. Hal's answer, which itself is generally much more psychedelic than usual. It's always looked like fun. Rhiannon got to do it once.

The show ended around a quarter to midnight, and the countdown began. Bunny was in another part of the room when midnight struck, and a few minutes later she came over and said: how about a compromise hug? I accepted it, because if I didn't know it before (and I did know it beffore) I knew then that I would never be anything more with her (or anyone else, who can say?), and I accept that in famine conditions, I don't hoard or take what isn't mine and instead I must be grateful for what I can get. Besides, she's a good hug.

A little while later I joined KrOB and Pete Goldie on stage, where they were doing nitrous. I didn't get to have a KrOB moment, and havent' done nitrous at all since the final party last April, so I took a few hits. (This belies the fact that I still have some at home, a box of Whip-Its that must be at least four years old since Maddy and I bought them together, but I almost never remember that I have. Besides, I have a thing about doing drugs alone, specifically that I don't like it.) As I explained to Bunny when she came onstage and saw me in the throes of a hit: i didn't need those brain cells anyway, right? She gave me a look which I initially took as disapproving, but evidently wasn't since she joined in.

I was sitting in Dr. Hal's chair, and Bunny sat on my lap as she took her first hits. I put my arms around her waist and my head on her shoulder, to feel her body, her warmth, that which I've been without for the last half of the year. (this girl is catlike) She neither tensed up nor necessarily relaxed into it, and stood back up a few minutes later. I took another hit and wished she would sit on my lap again, but she didn't. The sense of need was similar to being on E—I'm never doing E again unless I have someone to be get physical with—but nowhere near as strong, and of course it fades quickly. I considered telling her that nitrous kisses are the best, which is true (they're ideal when you're both on acid and/or E, but they're quite nice by themselves as well) but no. She'd made her decision and established her boundaries, and I intended to respect them, especially since over dinner she'd told me about recent male clients who'd made passes at her. When I'd heard that, I'd almost considered not asking for the kiss at all. One could argue that it wouldn't have mattered, but nobody can say I wasn't trying. The famine will end when it ends.

Chicken finally kicked us out a little after one, and Bunny and I headed into Chinatown with Puzzling Evidence and KrOB for that all-important first bad meal of the new year. Gotta start it off right.

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Sunday, 4 January 2009 (sad for the rest)
5:34pm


Went to Rimma's going-away party at Inner Mission last night. It was nice to hang out with Ilene for a little while, but I didn't stay long, mostly because I didn't want to push my health. As I knew would be the case, there were a few people there who have had me on their enemies list in the past, and probably still do. Sure, it's been four years, but my high crimes (breaking up with Maddy, not to mention that silliness with the Rent Girl shoot) are pretty darned high. Pure evil, I am.

After the gym this morning, I went to a photographer's studio on Folsom, one that I haven't been to since the 2005 Folsom Street Fair when he was doing first-hit's-free digital portraits. Today he was doing a first-two-hits-are-free session to test out his new camera, and I once again need a new promo picture, plus I've been getting into shape and stuff and maybe they'd actually look good. Stranger things have happened. I'll have to wait a few days to find out, though.

Like the last time, he spent most of the time giving me incredulous looks, usually followed by snickering and shaking his head. Yep, that's me, pretty much. A funny mystery.

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Saturday, 3 January 2009 (memory gospel)
4:25pm


Woke up slightly congested and with a sore throat this morning. Didn't I already have a cold, a few weeks back? Yeesh. It isn't enough to keep me off my feet, though, so I went to the gym. Didn't sweat it out of my body like I'd hoped, but at least I got some exercise. I'll just go on about my business until I'm back to normal.

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Friday, 2 January 2009 (overland)
12:12pm


Worked with Raphaela this morning. At half past eight, it was the earliest we've ever had a session, and I learned a couple things. Firstly, while getting out of bed and going straight to the gym is fine for cardio, it doesn't work for training. I need to eat substantially first, and the bag of vegan jerky I had before wasn't quite enough. Secondly, pilates is enough of a bitch, but alternating between moutain climbers and planks is just inhumane.

8:01pm

I've been at the office all day, mostly working on my applications to the Edward F. Albee Foundation and the Blue Mountain Center. (I've decided to put the McDowell Colony on the backburner to concentrate on the ones I have a better chance of getting into. Besides, their application is due in less than two weeks, and yeah right.) The Blue Mountain Center application is pretty much done, just waiting for a manila envelope and sufficient postage. I have a bit more to do on the Albee application, including getting the second of two letters of recommendations, but there's no reason why I shouldn't get it in on time.

I'm also looking into the Tin House Summer Writers Workshop this July. Unlike artists' colonies—which are all about solitude—this is more about working with other people and getting feedback and networking and whatnot. Plus it's only a week, and it's in Portland, meaning I can drive Phoebe there. I just need to make sense of the application process. My brain hurts.

Which is why I'm heading over to Pete and Sarah Goldie's house to watch 2001: A Space Odyssey with them, Dr. Hal and KrOB. What better movie for a hurty brain?

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Thursday, 1 January 2009 (chord sounds)
9:19pm


After a late night with Bunny, Puzzling Evidence and KrOB, I didn't get to bed until five this morning. Knowing how tricky it would be to sleep with the sun rising soon and the giraffe awakening not long after that, I put the Black Light District into full-on environmental lockdown. Of course I already have both windows covered with two sets of blackout curtains, plus my earplugs and the Buddha Machine and the white noise machine going, as well as the blacklight and lava lamp and blue xmas lights in my bedroom on. That's not enough in these situations, so I also put on the blacklights and xmas lights in the living room. The idea, is to overpower any sunlight which leaks through the curtains, and some inevitably does. I also covered the clocks, because knowing the time just messes me up that much more. Thankfully, it worked. I got up at one in the afternoon.

I don't know what's going to happen if I start dating someone and they want to stay over. Though ideal for me, I'm not sure another human could sleep in these conditions, nor am I certain I can sleep here otherwise.

Didn't go the gym today, instead spending most of the day cleaning the Black Light District. That's a workout in and of itself.

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