I bit my lip three more times while eating lunch yesterday, and I'm still not quite healed up. It's resulted in the last couple of evenings with Collette being more subdued than they might have been otherwise.

Don't you hate it when it turns out a word doesn't mean what you thought? That's the case with me and "censure."

Though we've actually been running into each other at events quite a lot lately, it was the first chance we've had in a while to actually talk. Her and I used to be in a writing group together, until I was asked to leave last month. This was the first she's heard, as I decided to make my withdrawal as low-key as possible, and evidently nobody else is talking about it. (I loathe big exits, and as disingenuous as this may sound, I've been genuinely trying to keep the drama down to a minimum.) Like Lynnee, Meliza always helps put things into perspective..

The event got started late (as they always do), and I had to bail immediately after I read because I already had plans with Rimma. We watched the Mr. T opus The Toughest Man in the World, in preparation for Bad Movie Night this Sunday. It was, and will be, truly glorious.

4:42pm

When in doubt, there's always external validation. From Zak Szymanski's review of Good Advice for Trendy Young People of All Age in the 21 July 2005 issue of the Bay Area Reporter:

Polite and correct the book is not, which undoubtedly is its appeal for those looking to stand out in uber-conscious circles. Everybody needs a black friend, says NYC comedian Brother Man X, who divides "The Negro" into four distinct types. Meanwhile, male-to-female transsexuals should pursue genital surgery if it makes them happy, says local writer Sherilyn Connelly, but remember that "the waiter who called you 'Sir' yesterday will not call you 'Ma'am' tomorrow because of just because of your neo-coochie."

I've been chewing gum at work lately, almost compulsively. Unfortunately, I bit the inside of my lip yesterday, which tends to make chewing a little scary. Not soon enough, though—I had to bite myself three times, getting it all nice and gorey, before I wised up. My oral fixation misses it already.

sometime after midnight

So. Fucking. TIRED. Of. Livejournal. Drama.

Meliza suggested I read at the Dyke March Volunteer Appreciation Party tomorrow night at the El Rio, and Marilyn Wann has asked me to speak at the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance's "Big Enough For all Of Us" Convention in August on the subject of self-defintion and changing the culture through performance and simply being out. Though the ironies are undeniable, I've said yes to both. Irony is just how my life goes.

Both of the crosstrainers were occupied when I arrived yesterday, so after pouting for a moment, I headed for the Stairmaster, which I tend to only use if I have a little time after the crosstrainer. Y'know, people laugh about the very concept of it, but seriously—try going for half an hour on it at even a moderate level and see what it does to you. Indeed, shortly into the forty-five minute regimen I was more than a little hot and sweaty and winded, much more so than I ever was on the crosstrainer. Four hundred calories, five miles. I think I've found my new machine.

12:10pm

My diary is the highest ranking site in Google—nay, the only ranking site in Google—for Fish Balls with Saday Sauce. Fear me.

The final night of Lynnee's show, was a success. I finally really felt comfortable opening for him, and he noted that I was much looser. Good crowd for a Saturday night, not huge but filling the first few rows with enthusiastic laughter and applause. Annie Sprinkle came to show, even though it was her birthday Or maybe because.

Annie was diagnosed with breast cancer in March, and her hair was just starting to grow back from a recent chemotherapy session on Saturday night. We're both performing at Sizzle on August 19 at Femina Potens, and she tells me she'll be shorn that night as well. (Also on the bill for that evening is Kate Braverman. I picked up a poster for Sizzle while at Femina Potens last night for the Camp Betty show, and I still can't get over seeing my name listed alongside Annie and Kate. Really blows my mind.)

Lest it seem like I'm gossiping about her, violating her privacy in my damn blog, I should point out that I first learned about it on her Love Art Lab site, which is right out there in the world for all to see. She wants people to see it. That's one of the things I admire about her, how she lives her life out in the open, and sees everything, even a deadly disease, as an opportunity for art and beauty. That inspires the hell out of me, it really does. Even if the pictures are kinda squicky.

3:34pm

It can be easy to forget how pretty some girls in pr0n often are before they get misshapen by the industry. Like Jen X, for example. I've harbored a not-so-secret desire for blonde dreads like hers for some time, though Lynnee would probably never speak to me again.

9:56pm

Heaven help me. I'm not only watching the Battlestar Galactica remake, I'm enjoying it. At least I can take some solace in the fact that I'm a pirate (arrr!) and downloaded it off the internet rather than watching it on commercial teevee or even buying the DVD, and I'm therefore stealing money out of the pockets of everyone who worked on it. Take that, Edward James Olmos!

Sunday isn't giving up on me just yet: Tina Butcher has asked me to read at an event a Camp Betty Campout event at Femina Potens that evening. (The festival has been postponed, but the ancillary shows continue. Rock on!) Her thing's at six, Bad Movie Night is at eight, and The Dark Room is all of four blocks away from Femina Potens. So, naturally, I said yes.

sometime after midnight

Thanks to Lynnee, I can now add "Stuffed Animal Puppetry" to my stage resume.

There is no safe place. Got it? No such thing. Wherever you are, there is always the risk of intrusion, invasion, violation. Even in your home. Especially. A home is the most unsafe place of all, because it presents an illusion, a false sense of security. It can change at any time. You have no claim to your own piece of ground. The moment you declare it yours, it begins to slip away. Nothing is permanent, and nobody is forever, least of all who you are as a person. When you change, don't fight it, don't overanalyze it, don't pat yourself on the back for how brave you are. It's meaningless.

The sushi was delicious.

sometime after midnight

This was the second night of opening for Lynnee's solo show at The Dark Room. It went well. Wednesday night was not so good. I was in a bad headspace, and after doing my brief set, spent the rest of the show hiding in the Green Room backstage. Maddy's worked the door, so after the show I gave her a ride home, and then strongly considered going to The Mint. Then I decided I wanted a burrito, so I went back into the Mission, eventually ending up at the El Rio, where I'd originally planned on not going. But there it was, and there I was, and there I went. Saw Jim do a great acoustic set (getting the kind of reaction I'd wanted him to get at the final El Rio incarnation of Wicked Messenger, and he probably would have if anybody had been there that night), as well as my pal Jon Fast's teevee theme song cover band, The Six Million Dollar Band. He even dedicated "Love Is All Around" to me. (The Mary Tyler Moore Show theme, not the Troggs song. My brothers' band Sedan Delivery also used to play it way back when, no doubt because Hüsker Dü had covered it. I was both too young to go to their show and I was a boy at the time, so I doubt it would have occurred to them.) (R.E.M. covered the Troggs version on their '91 acoustic tour, with Mike Mills singing lead. Thank you, drive through.) It was a lot of fun, and more than a little inspiring, especially as I'm slowly putting together my own silly little novelty band.