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Sunday, 20 June 2004 (charity and hope) 12:33pm I haven't woken up in makeup for years. have you ever felt so used up as this? I'd forgotten how hotly trashy it can look, even though I'd cried off most of it from around my eyes by the time I finally fell to sleep. It was an emotionally intense night, to put it mildly. Gotta hand it to Max Factor Lipfinity, though. My lips still look great. Reminds me fondly of my babybat days. 8:20pm Maddy and I went back to Elisa's Spa today. They put us into #3 rather than #2 this time, and while the hot tub itself was a better temperature and not quite as heavily chlorinated, the sauna—the real attraction for us—was uncomfortably warm, so much so that the bench and walls were almost too hot too touch. All of that, combined with our not-enough-sleep hangovers (I only slept for a few hours, and my renewed sobbing woke Maddy up shortly thereafter) and neither of us having eaten properly resulted in us not having as much energy as we'd anticipated, so things were kinda cut short. It was fun while it lasted, which is generally the most you can hope for, to get a little pleasure before the screeching halt. The universe chewed me up and spit me out this weekend. It does that sort of thing, I suppose.
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Saturday, 19 June 2004 (bombay blood) 9:32am One of my favorite parts of town is the west side of Valencia between 23rd and 24th, a few doors down from the old Good Vibrations location. Amidst shops which are so nondescript I can't remember any of them (a print shop, I think, and one which seems to be a dumping ground for small auto parts) is a wall perpetually covered with homemade posters, usually leftist, with a lot of pure art and poetry thrown. As far as I'm concerned, it ought to be in all of the tourist guides. Then again, maybe not. The tourists are doing just fine at Fisherman's Wharf. Anyway, Claud, I hope you realize that if you break Ripley's heart, you're gonna have to answer to a lot of people.
(This may be my most inside entry ever.)
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Friday, 18 June 2004 (sans soleil) 12:30pm damn. i thought you were being metaphoric. 1:12pm So it occurred to me a little while ago that when Throbbing Gristle reunion came and went last month, and it didn't even cross my mind. Which is a good thing, since it means I didn't have to be disappointed at the time that I was missing it. It's over and done with. I can move on, and keep an eye out for the inevitable bootlegs. Except it isn't over—it didn't happen at all. It was canceled, and the bastards rescheduled their performance for next April at All Tomorrow's Parties, a festival I've always been curious about. Oh, great. Now I have another ten months to be bummed about the impossible logistics of seeing it. P-Fuck P-you, P-Orridge!
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Thursday, 17 June 2004 (through the night softly) 10:24pm First, an important announcement: on page 16 of the schedule for 28th San Francisco International Lesbian & Gay Film Festival, is a picture of Lynnee topless. Not that there's anything especially rare about this phenomenon, as anyone who's gone to a Tribe 8 show can attest. Now stop lookin' at his pecs, you perv. Maddy and I finally saw The Saddest Music in the World tonight. I'm really glad we were able to see it in the theater. It'll look fine on DVD, I'm sure, but unlike CGI-laden films, it's very filmic, very analog, and demands to be projected. It didn't make a lot of sense as a narrative, but dreams seldom do. | ||
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Wednesday, 16 June 2004 (preliminary impact report) 6:03am Let's see. The Lumiere doesn't have weekday matinees, so the earliest showing of The Saddest Music in the World, a movie I simply must see based on the title alone, isn't until at quarter past seven; the Museum of Modern Art is closed on Wednesdays; the Art Deco exhibit at the Palace of the Legion of Honor is fifteen dollars, though yesterday it only would have been seven; and high tide, the best time for visiting the Wave Organ, isn't until eleven this evening.
To top it all off, I'm feeling glum. I don't think it has anything to do with turning thirty-one, I really don't; more likely,
I'm still bummed and off-kilter about last night. I'll get over it.
Not much has changed at the gym. Same ratty equipment, same clientele, same speaker directly above the crosstrainer playing a classic rock station a little too loud. (Isn't it weird how you can slip right back into an old pattern? Sometimes in dreams I find myself back together with The Ex, or at one of my old video stores, or even the house we lived in until I was ten, and it seems like the most natural thing in the world.) I did observe a note taped to the stereo: "No Metal No Techno No Hip-Hop." That's one form of progress, but to paraphrase Dylan, I still wish they wouldn't clap so loud.
When I'll be going is a mystery I haven't quite solved yet. Besides right now, I mean. I managed dig up my old workout clothes,
and lo and behold, they still fit. (Look, I'm pathological, okay? We knew this already.) Last year at the Sex Workers' Film and Video Festival,
Maddy won a coupon for a free lunch at my favorite Japantown buffet. She's not so crazy about the place, and I'd been strongly considering using it today, but this seems a better use
of my time and body. The arithmetic demands it.
Still not sure what we're doing with the rest of the day, though. Sushi at Hamano afterwards, and then there's a scheduling meeting at The Dark Room for Zippy, but after that, I don't know. Smack Dab at Magnet, perhaps, and a friend (the "What's your genre?" guy) has a show at the Off-Market Theater that looks interesting, and...don't know.
My mom got me the How Loathsome hardcover. Could she be any cooler? Really don't think so.
Elisa's was the right choice. We were able to get an outdoor rather than indoor hot tub, as there isn't much competition at two in the afternoon on Wednesday. (Private, of course, complete with extra-high fencing.) Weren't too impressed by it, really, though it didn't help that the sun was shining down on us and the water struck me as overchlorinated. I'm not sure exactly what we were expecting, but this wasn't entirely it. Oh well, worth a shot. After half of our prepaid hour was up, we decided to give the accompanying sauna room a try. Looked just like in the movies, with the wood interior, hibachi with charcoal, the whole nine yards. We weren't sure what to do with the grill, nor could we find a light switch, so when closing the door behind us, it grew very dark. Not pitch black, but certainly lightless enough that I was surprised Maddy didn't mind it. Quite the contrary, really. Closing the door and finding ourselves alone in a dark, sweaty, private place...yeah. So many adjectives I'd never quite understood before, usually for advertising pr0n, began to make sense. "Hot" and "sweaty" and all that. Growing up borderline asexual in a desert climate, it's just not a connection I'd made until now.. We're going back soon, at night (the view of the stars must be gorgeous when it's clear), and not spending nearly as much time in the water. An hour can go by quickly, and we don't want to waste it.
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Tuesday, 15 June 2004 (a gently chilled blade) 5:56am Just for the record: although the reading is tonight, my actual birthday is tomorrow. 11:52pm Allegra, Cas, Claud, (e), Kelly, Lilah, Lori, Melinda, Meliza, Rimma, Serena, Shauna, Ted and of course Madeline. I love you all. (Especially that last one.) I have no idea how I feel about the reading tonight. Lauren and David were fantastic, as I knew they would, but I was in a weird place. I was feeling more anxiety about this show than I have about any other in a long time. (Any other actual feature, that is. The Morbid Curiosity reading doesn't count.) Timing continues to be an issue. When I found myself speeding up I was usually able to slow back down without derailing, but I know I was difficult to understand at times. Saying big words too quickly is a very bad thing. Once again, though the crowd was small (tonight's available culprit being the RADAR reading at the library), those who were there had a good time. I think. For the most part. There were a few faces I couldn't quite read. To think, I actually believed it would matter whether or not I had new chapbooks ready to go. As if. After taking Maddy back home and attempting to find a find a decent taqueria with Meliza, I wound up at Annie's with Rimma and Ziad. Not the best idea. The place felt very alien. I don't know why. Didn't last long too there. I have Wednesday, the actual day of my birthday, off from work. To do what? Yes.
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Monday, 14 June 2004 (the fertile loam) 8:46am Without a doubt, the best line of last night's Wicked Messenger came from Juba of Deep Dickollective: "Even though I've never been here before, it feels like home, because Sherilyn's already seen me naked." Pity more people weren't there to hear it. Big huge thanks to everyone who did make it—especially that couple in the front row who had actually come to see Clue, which is only on Friday and Saturday, but decided to stick around and see what this "Wicked Messenger" thing was all about. They seemed to have a great time. Everyone did, really, which is what matters most. Although I do feel guilty when artists who are gracious enough to perform at my little exhibition play to a two-thirds-empty house, getting a lot of asses into seats is ultimately not as important as what asses are there being well entertained. Makes it all worth it, I think. I hope. 11:39pm There. I did it. I canceled my T-Fucking-Mobile service, and within what the paperwork calls the 14-day "Return Period," so there's no cancellation fee. Unfortunately, the employee insisted on referring to it as the "Buyer's Remorse Period." Wrong. This isn't buyer's remorse. The service just isn't worth the thirty-odd dollars I'd be paying per month for it, especially since it doesn't work at The Dark Room, where I'd surely be using it the most. Of course, they went through the script and pushed plenty of buttons, almost making me feel bad for wanting to cancel ("Did we do something wrong?"), but I held my ground. And she didn't call me "sir," so I can't complain.
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Sunday, 13 June 2004 (kinda i want to) 11:13pm Note to self: by a half an hour past showtime, whoever is going to be there will have already arrived. Constantly looking up and down Mission in search of a familiar face (ooooh! is that her?) won't make a difference.
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Saturday, 12 June 2004 (more than this) 11:13pm Well, it's as official as something can be before it actually happens: my piece "Two-Sixteen-Ought-Four" is going to be published in I Do/I Don't: Queers on Marriage by Suspect Thoughts Press, due out this September. This will be my first time appearing in an anthology, or, for that matter, in something resembling a real book. Neat.
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Friday, 11 June 2004 (growing up) 1:01pm Ghoulardi!
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