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Sunday, 10 July 2011 (the wisdom to reconcile this thing) 5:04pm I don't know why it is that Marta and I keep ending up in the Haight on Sundays in particular—except that it's just more convient to get to places on the weekends, I supposed—but that's where we ended up, going to Mendel's to look for some fabric and connecty bits that we weren't able to find at the more conveniently located Fabric Outlet. And now we're back at Borderlands writing, because the things that need to be written never stop. Or, more accurately, they never write themselves. 11:21pm In the audience for Beowulf at Bad Movie Night were not only Daisy and her oldest son, but also Mouse and his daughter. I saw with them (since I wasn't on mic), and all four had a great time. It's so weird, friends actually coming to my show. I've been doing shows of one variety or another for nearly a decade now, and this particular one every Sunday for over five years, and I've never had friends come on anything resembling a regular basis. It's nice. | ||
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Saturday, 9 July 2011 (hear the song rearranged) 4:31pm Not that I can blame Marta at all, considering how tired I am today, far more than I should be, since even though I got bed around three I still slept for about seven hours, which should be more than enough. Of course, I also have a full-body bootcamp ache going on. Marta and I are at Borderlands writing, and from here we're most likely just going straight back to the Black Light District for dinner and to work on pony gear. Tonight is Frolic, but not only do we not have the energy for it, neither Ilene nor Mouse nor particularly Davina will be there, so we'll be giving it a miss as well. And next month, too, as Marta and I will be at the Leather-Levi Weekend 2011. Our tribe will regroup in September, then. | ||
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Friday, 8 July 2011 (a new take on faith) 11:31am The bootcamp instructor this morning was the boy who's done it a few times before. I don't really care for his style at all, plus I'm sexist and stuff, but I also have to admit that having him do it at least occasionally is not a bad thing, becuase it keeps my body guessing. Towards the end of class, we had to crabwalk across the gym. I was right next to one of the regulars, the girl who I want to be when I grow up (which is to say, her body is pretty much exactly the shape I want mine to be in), and she asked: can i go ahead of you? Because she always goes faster than me, and getting stuck behind me would have slowed her down. I wasn't planning on darting in front of her or anything, but she didn't want to take any chances, either. 2:22pm Got two work-work articles done today, which brings me up to five for this week. I'll need a faster pace if I intend to make ends meet this month, but it's a start. The official lineup for the Dore Alley Edition of Perverts Put Out on July 30 has been announced, and it still includes me! Cool. 7:04pm Standing in line outside the Castro Theater for Midnites for Maniacs, reading what is technically my first textbook for library school, and I just ran into what I feel is a transphobic line, inasmuch as it equates transsexuality with cancer and pipe-bomb instructions (all three of which being examples of subjects which people should be allowed to research without anybody else know). I have a sneaking suspicion that this isn't the first time it's going to happen in this particular Master's program, that transsexuality and related matters are treated as examples of outre subjects. Which I know they are, but, still. The methy kid is here, along with the host of the furry parties I've attended the last couple months, and the host mentioned yet again how much the boys were spooked out by the presence of a girl (that being me). Fine. Terrific. Okay. Message received: I am not unwelcome, but my presence is in no way desired. I will not be going back to those parties, unless specifically invited. sometime after midnight Midnites for Maniacs was The Last Starfighter, Gremlins and The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension. KrOB and Spy were there with me for all three films, and Marta joined us for Gremlins, though since it started relatively late (a quarter to ten), she fell asleephalfway through. Third message received, and lesson learned: I'm going to stop dragging girlfriends to late movies. | ||
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Thursday, 7 July 2011 (stomp gravity into the floor) 9:11am Worked out with Rita this morning (who, for the first time, asked me about my transition), and now work-work. I think I may have finally found my groove with this particular project, and will actually earn enough for rent and stuff. Kinda important, that. I'm also strongly considering accepting one of the subsidized Stafford student loans I've been offered. It's not strictly necessary, as my actual tuition is being covered by a state grant (whew!), but it would take a lot of the pressure off in the short term and allow me to actually focus on school. I utterly loathe the idea of going back into student loan debt, but, well... | ||
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Wednesday, 6 July 2011 (when you are old) 9:23am Bootcamp with the new instructor this morning (including sideways galloping!), and now I do work-work. I'm already behind on this month as it is. 12:42pm Collette just came by to drop off my keys and collect her fee for Perditasitting. We didn't really have time to chat otherwise, unfortunately, but she did give me some suggestions for food and litter upgrades for Perdita, which are long overdue. 8:35pm The Human Pony arrived today (sent to my apartment rather than NakedSword because it's book-sized and thus deliverable), and there's a pretty heavy and no doubt entirely necessary legal disclaimer at the beginning: Readers should understand that pony play, like all BDSM, carries and inherent risk of physical injury, emotional injury, injury to relationships, and other types of harm.Fair enough. | ||
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Tuesday, 5 July 2011 (lacrimae) 12:41pm Another Bottomfeeder rejection (while i appreciate the accessibility and humor of the prose, the writing didn't completely sing to me; also, with the story's focus on san francisco culture, i am not convinced that we could find this book a national audience), and I didn't get as much work done on Landing On Water in Fresno as I'd intended—not until Sunday afternoon, ironically enough—but I did write this article for PrettyQueer.com. So there's that. 8:54pm We almost didn't make it out of the house yesterday, as the stressed-out mood Marta had been in was not ameliorated all that much by returning to San Francisco (by her own admission at the time, being in the heat in Fresno was only about twenty percent of what was bothering her), particularly by being at the Black Light District, of which she's not entirely fond, but we didn't really have anywhere else to stay, and she wanted to spend Monday night with me as originally planned. By the afternoon, however, we decided to give a beach picnic that Ilene had organized a shot. And I'm glad we did, because it improved our moods considerably. In addition to Ilene, it was our usual group, Mouse and Davina (hello and goodbye kisses from her, including occasional and always pleasantly surprising cuddles and smooches) and their kids, Liam and Daisy with their kids (the older of whom accompanied Daisy to Bad Movie Night on Sunday for Dungeons & Dragons, I'm told), and a few others, including a particular girl and her boyfriend. The boyfriend has always seemed to like me fine, but the girl has never seemed to care for me, or at least takes an active disinterest in my existence. Which is fine, I supposes—it's nothing I'm unaccustomed to, after all—but, damnit, it feels extra awkward in these circumstances, and I was happy that she decided not only to join Marta and Ilene and I that evening after the picnic (by which time the fireworks were starting and did not stop) at friend's nearby house for some hot tub time, and then met us for dinner after that at King of Thai. Clearly she can't dislike me that much if she'd meet me for dinner, right? I mean, not just me, it was Marta and Ilene and myself, but still, it had to count for something. It felt like the ice was cracking, a little. And I don't even have any designs on her physically speaking. I just want her to not dislike me, is all. Worked out with Rita at the Y this morning, then back home for sex and napping, and then we spent much of the rest of the day erranding and generally bouncing back and forth between the Mission and SoMA, including a comfort lunch at San Jalisco (I was more than a little cranky at the rejection) as well as picking up a riding crop and helmet which Marta ordered off eBay and had sent to NakedSword, since we have a standing offer from Sister Edith to have things delivered there, since it's kinda impractical otherwise, especially when something requires a signature. Anyway, we also swung by the surprisingly deserted Stormy Leather, which a passerby informed us has been closed for two years. (Seems like the kind of thing Yelp would know, but evidently not.) And a trip to Mr. S confirmed what we'd come to suspect from the last time: it's pretty much all boy stuff now, and an employee confirmed that all that's left of Madame S and/or girl stuff is a tiny nook selling vibrators and pink restraints and other things easily found at just about any adult store in town. When I asked the employee (a girl) where one can actally buy women's leather/PVC/latex et cetera clothing (catsuits in particular, as I'm choosing to believe I'd look good in one at this point) in San Francisco, she said that everybody just orders it online now. Yeah, of course. What could go wrong with that? We also took another look at their bits, and came to the conlusion that Marta's more than capable of souping up my existing bit for far less money than it would cost to buy a new one, and of course it would be made to order. To that end, we went to Fabric Outlet and Thrift Town in the Mission, where we bought bits of fabric for ears and some black leather belts that Marta will turn into the strappy parts. We went back to Marta's place for dinner, and then I heaeded home. Again, not how I'd expected the past forty-eight hours to go, but I'm very glad it all went the way it did. | ||
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Monday, 4 July 2011 (the violent bear it away) 10:34pm I was not where I'd originally planned to be today, but it turned out to be my best Fourth of July in years all the same. | ||
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Sunday, 3 July 2011 (stella maris) 11:01am Change of plans: this much Fresno is not agreeing with Marta, so we're heading back to San Francisco tonight rather than Tuesday. This mini-vacation slash writing retreat isn't quite going how I'd hoped (among other things, I'd intended to focus on finishing Landing on Water today and tomorrow), but whatever. Adaptable cat is adaptable. 3:42pm I could conduct a tour of a certain three-mile radius of Fresno based entirely on which video games could be found where in the early 80s. 7:12pm El Toro Tambien, the Mexican restaurant at Bullard and West that I grew up on—it's only a few years younger than me, in fact—has been shut down. Failure to pay taxes, according to the scuttlebutt. Oh well. It had a good run. The Baskin-Robbins across the street from it at which I spent at least one formative summer's worth of evenings with Conk is still there, but it's changed, and doesn't feel welcoming anymore. So it goes. 7:34am Oka is open for dinner on Sunday, thank goodness. And their Pink Godzilla Roll (!) is quite delish. sometime after midnight Marta and I did some of the fireworks in my mom's driveway after dinner, and were on the road by half past nine. Home now. | ||
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Saturday, 2 July 2011 (the right thing) 1:34pm Marta and I went to lunch at Edo-Ya, the same place I went for dinner on Christmas with my mom and her boyfriend. It's really good, but it was actually our third option, after finding that Oka wasn't open for lunch, and Maroo was closed for a private party. Alas. We tried. On the way back to my mom's, we stopped at another fireworks stand, a slightly shadier-looking one in that it was set up in someone's dirt driveway, and bought more fireworks. Again: what the hell. If we're going to spend the Fourth of July in the County of Fresno, which has far less strict fireworks laws than the City and County of San Francisco (or the City of Fresno, for that matter), we might as well go all the way. 11:31pm We'd been planning on going to Club Flesh tonight, a monthly goth/industrial club at which an old high school friend of mine DJs, but it didn't happen. My mom's air conditioning is on the fritz, making the >100F temperatures that much more brutal, particularly on Marta. Oh well. Between Frolic and the (ugh, that name) Roundup, the next two Saturdays are already plenty busy as it is. We did make it outside for a little while after dark, walking around the neighborhood a bit, tossed around what I still insist on referring to as Quorra's Identity Disc (rather than Sam's) in Tenaya Park. So that was something. | ||
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Friday, 1 July 2011 (blue moon) 8:51am One of the wi-fi networks in my mom's neighborhood is called BORN 2 KILL. Oh, Fresno. I didn't bring Perdita along—Collette's going to be checking in on her on Sunday—by mom informs me that her own dog and cat still won't go into the room Perdita was in last time. That's my cat! 4:11pm Marta and I had lunch with my father at Di Cicco's, then did some running around, including going deep into the heart of Clovis—Fresno's adjacent wannabe cowboy town—to go to authentic horse supply stores, specifically Boot Barn and The Leather Factory. It was all rather fascinating, but we also realized that most everything we needed could be more inexpensively attained either by ordering it online or just making it. When we got back we did order Rebecca Wilcox's The Human Pony, because when you're entering into a religion, you gotta have the holy book. We also bought some sparklers, because what the hell. The stand in question was in front of the Salvation Army on Blackstone between Herndon and Sierra, which is important in my own personal mythology for being the first place where I worked up the courage to buy a dress as a teenager. The first place I remember doing so, anyway, which is close enough. | ||
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