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Monday, 20 June 2011 (known from the beginning) 1:06pm Oh, godsdamnit. Just got my first jury summons in...well, I'm pretty sure I was at NakedSword last time, so in over two years. Oh well. Not a bad run of avoiding my civic duty, I suppose. Plus I finally got my paycheck from last month, which means I can finally pay rent and estimated taxes and stuff. The whole "sleep, now" thing didn't happen at all on Saturday night, at least not until about one in the morning. As a result, I didn't get up in time to make it to a planned breakfast gathering in Pacifica with the bootcamp instructor. I made it to the wine bar thing last week, and there's a potluck Tuesday evening, so I'm doing pretty well in that regard. All the same I was nervous yesterday morning, half-expecting Davina to cancel. Not for any real reason other than the fact that sometimes plans fall through, and she's a wife and mother of two young children and a small business owner and just has a kazillion responsibilities, any of which could understandably result in her having to bail. I knew Mouse was going to be keeping an eye on the homefront (and that Ilene would be there to keep him company while his wife is on a date), but, still. Emergencies arise. No emergencies arose, and I picked her up at four as planned. It was surprisingly easy to find parking near The Dark Room at that time on a Sunday, and after dropping off our stuff, we went to Cancun for an earlyish dinner. Davina paid for my beans and rice, because it's my birthday and all. We returned to the The Dark Room and ate in the lobby, since there was a rehearsal going on in the theater itself, a rehearsal which had not been previously informed that there was a show at six. That happens sometimes. Davina tried some of my Valentina's hot sauce, since she's heard me talk it up so much. I've thought about bringing them a bottle next time Marta and I are there, but they're a Cholula household, and I'm the first to admit that would be a downgrade. The rehearsal left at half past five, and after I got the mics and general show stuff all set up, Davina and I went into the Green Room to change into our pajamas. Hers are a blue satiny material, and I was rather delighted that she'd decided to play along with the whole "sleepover" concept of the birthday show, since usually nobody but Rhiannon and I do. We made out a little before returning to the theater, because privacy and politeness and all. you taste like coconut. hrm. all i have on my lips is chapstick, so that might be my sunscreen you're smelling? ah, okay. i think so. i like it when you sniff me. it's animally. i like that. I'd put one of the tails I've been wearing onto my pajama pants, and one of the new Dark Room people, a guy doing marketing and promotion stuff and also helping with plays, asked me: okay, sherilyn, what's the deal with the tail? i've been seeing lots of people wearing them around, and i just don't get it. Davina confirmed that she's seen other people wearing them around as well, which I have not. I've seen plenty of animal hats—they're literally being sold on some streetcorners (along with ukeleles, for some reason), but very few tails, at least outside of specifically furry environments. Still, though, the question never makes a lot of sense to me, because the answer should be obvious, as it is obvious with any choice an individual makes about their appearance beyond basic clothing and hygiene: I think it looks good. We got rolling at a little after six, and while the crowd is often light for the first movie (because six is a weird time to start and a lot of people to don't pick up on the fact that we're starting early), even after eight o'clock there were very few paying customers beyond our core group of Dark Room / Bad Movie Night regulars. It's always great when your friends show up to your party, but still, these sparse crowds have been troubling me. Daisy also showed up, much to my pleasant surprise. The few strangers who did show were actually new to the show, including what I'm going to unfairly describe as a "fat redneck couple" who sat right behind Davina and I for the second movie. Which felt weird, because that's not usually the kind of crowd we get, but whatever, they paid to get in and enjoyed themselves. Davina and I cuddled throughout the movies (though she had to get a pillow to sit on after the first movie, not being accustomed to the ergonomic disaster that is The Dark Room's chairs) and kissed now and then, though we saved the full-on snogging for a few forays into the Green Room. Most importantly, she seemed to genuinely enjoy herself, even though Bad Movie Night can be rather overwhelming at first, especially in the front row at the birthday show. After the show, I gave Davina and Daisy a ride back to Davina's house, where Liam had joined Ilene and Mouse, and evidently Porter had been there earlier in the evening for what turned into a full-on game night. And as well it should have. I gave Ilene a lift to the House of Boxed Steam, then returned home. 3:37pm A cheapie heart rate monitor I ordered last week from Amazon last week just arrived. Neat. More and more of the stuff Rita and I have been doing actually requires knowing my heart rate, so this'll help. Which was the point of ordering it. (Duh.) | ||
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Sunday, 19 June 2011 (reserving comment) sometime after midnight your shoulders are so cute. thanks. the freckles seem very popular. yep, i like 'em. | ||
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Saturday, 18 June 2011 (nihil) 1:01pm At the Cinema Cafe in the New People Mall. Marta's at her shrink, and afterward we'll be heading out to the Black Light District. I'm not sure what we'll be doing for the rest of the day, and I have to get her back to the Mission tonight, but I get the impression that needles will be involved. 10:31pm No needles, but instead lots of sex, which is of course the next best thing. Then dinner, The Larry Sanders Show (I considered the Blu-ray of The Night of the Hunter I got as a birthday present from The First, but there was too much noise coming from outside), then I took her back home. Sleep, now. | ||
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Friday, 17 June 2011 (spiral insana) 7:23pm No such luck on having my birthday dinner at a place with "Spices" in the title, unless that's what one of the words in Aslam's Rasoi means, which I rather doubt. When Marta finally arrived at Borderlands, she was frazzled and angry, both due to external issues (primarily work and the housing search) and seemingly but actually not at me (though it felt like it)because I hadn't answered her texts, and when I showed her my phone as evidence that I had not received her texts didn't help matters too much, especially because I was mildly offended that she'd reached the conclusion that I was deliberately ignoring her, which doesn't speak too highly to her opinion of me, and, yeah. It became obvious very quickly that she was not up for a pilgrimmage to the Richmond and all the stresses that would involve, and that our best bet would probably be to just head back to my neighborhood and get Indian food to go. We ended splitting the differernce at Aslam's Rasoi, as it was across the street from Phoebe and Marta was feeling less breakdowny by the time we got there. And it worked out nicely, as the food was quite delicious. I didn't sleep very well at all last night, perhaps no more than three consecutive hours—it didn't help that I was a bit too stoned when we went to bed, and once again, I envy people for whom grass puts them to sleep—but I was up at five all the same to get to bootcamp by six. I seriously considered giving it a miss, but, no, that's not how it works. And, as usual, when it was over and returned home, I got back into bed with Marta and cuddled with her, and even tried to go back to sleep, but it just wasn't happening. I except the sleep dep to catch up with me in a big was this evening. And then the keyboard on my three month-old laptop stopped working (thank goodness for the Windows 7 Ease of Access on-screen keyboard which allowed me to even enter my password and get to the desktop), and the Dell support person I quote-chatted-unquote chatted with immediately told me that I'd have to order a replacement keyboard, it would cost me twelve dollars plus shipping, and it would ship next week. And, no there's no place locally I can get a replacement one so that my productivity doesn't suffer. I was more than a little pissed off by this, especially after they told me that, no, I couldn't just return it and get a refund in spite of the massive equipment failure, since returns can only be done in the first three weeks, even in the event of massive equipment failure that happens three months down the road. If worse came to worse I still had my old, practically-dead laptop, and I was considering just going to Best Buy and getting a new laptop entirely, one bought in person from a local (if nationwide and evil) store and to which I can take it back for repairs or whatnot if something as essential as the keyboard stops working. Thankfully, Marta was able to get the keyboard working again, by attempting to remove it following Dell's instructions, which would have to do when the new keyboard arrived anyway. While she was unsuccessful in getting the keyboard removed entirely (meaning we wouldn't have been able to replace it), when she put it back in and reconstructed the computer, lo and behold, the keyboard was functioning again, which is how I'm able to type these words right now. Saved me I don't even know how much time and especially money, since I really was prepared to go down to Best Buy and increase my credit card debt by several hundred dollars. Because of all this we were a bit late getting to our major appointment for the day: picking up a childhood friend of Marta's from the airport. On the drive out there, we continued a conversation from the night before about how the rest of the weekend as well as next week was shaping up. Marta again suggested that she could join me and Davina at my Bad Movie night birthday show on Sunday after she (Marta) and her childhood friend got back from a trip up to Napa, which had been the original impetus for me to ask Davina to join me at the show to begin with. I'd begun to really like the idea of it being just Davina and I, and the suggestion of Marta being there after all just triggered all sorts of my own issues and anxieties (including, among other things, what I perceive as Marta's disinterest in Bad Movie night, since she's been there about a half dozen times during the two years that we've been together even though she lives three blocks away from The Dark Room), while the fact that I didn't want Marta to be there triggered all sorts of her own issues and anxietes (including, among other things, the fear that I didn't want her there because I was planning on copping a feel on Davina, which is just not me at all), and the last thing Marta said before we picked up her friend from the curbside at the airport was that she was nervous about me what me not wanting her there implied and that she wanted to talk to me about it tomorrow, resulting in me seething and trying my best not to let it show during the drive back to San Francisco and lunch at Sun Rise. I dropped them off at Marta's place, parked across from Borderlands, and worked on Landing on Water for the next four hours. It's a chapter about Tiff which I don't expect to make the final edit of the book, but needed to be written anyway. Around five, Marta texted me to ask if I was chattable, and I tried for a while without much luck (Borderlands has no wi-fi and is largely a 3G dead zone, which is actually why it's a really good place for me to get writing done, especially writing which doesn't require internet access) including standing outside and trying to use the Google Chat on my iPhone, which is dodgy at best. Finally, she met me there, and with a few meltdowns along the way (one of which was triggered by the somebody brushing against her shoulder, as has been known to happen on Valencia on a Friday evening), we found a place to sit in Dolores Park and talk things out. I said things which hurt her and she said things which hurt me, but, well, that's the whole "honesty" thing, isn't it? You can either be honest about your own feelings, or you can dance around the other person's and not express yourself. And Oscar knows I've done way too much of the latter in my lifetime, and it's never worked out for the best. At the same time, being honest has always gotten me into trouble, without fail, but at least I'm getting into trouble for being myself. In any event, we got things sorted out, as we always manage to when we talk. I walked her back to her place and drove home, where I am now. I don't think I'll be smoking tonight, though. | ||
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Thursday, 16 June 2011 (it's doing me harm) 5:31pm Such a social week! Marta and I were at Davina and Mouse's place until about half past eleven, and, yeah, things are all falling back into place nicely. Or into a new place entirely, maybe. I was happy to see Marta kiss Davina goodbye as we were leaving, and of course I stole both hello and goodbye kisses—and it was a bit surreal after the hello kiss to look up and see her seven year-old son standing right there, but if that's okay by Davina, it's okay by me. Her pre-teen daughter emerged a few minutes later. What, I'm not in my late thirties now? The dinner Marta made was delicious (as always), and I was once again shocked to learn just how far back I was on Mouse's radar, so much so that he distinctly remembers me from Audible Irregularities I in June of 2002, not to mention the Gothnic a few months before that. Makes me feel terribly self-centered and unobservant, especially now as I'm getting involved with his wife (with his full consent and encouragement). But I am self-centered and unobservant, so it's no great revelation. Rita insisted on singing me "Happy Birthday" as we started on the treadmills this morning, and then a few more times over the course of the next hour besides. Her idea, not mine (I tried to remind her that she was violating copyright law, to no effect), and she assured me that it's quite an honor, because she normally avoids singing in public. Rita was also the only person there (besides our other Tuesday-Thursday workout partner) who actually knew it was my birthday today, and as I was leaving the front desk woman asked me if I'd swung by the party in the spin room. I told her I had not, and she assured that I should go back upstairs and do so, in a tone which sounded more conspiratorial than it actually was. The party in question was for June birthdays—the first time I've been aware of such a monthly party happening at the gym—and I have to admit, I was a little hurt to see that they'd gone so far as to see a sign with the names of the June birthday people, and that mine was not included. Why should it be? So I casually let slip that I was a June birthday as well, and when I was asked when, I mustered up all my casualness to say oh, today. Which led to yet another round of the song, though without Rita's involvement this time. As I had a cupcake (which I turned down twice, but I was informed that I was not allowed to not have at least one, and I gotta admit, it was quite yummy, but I was also coming off of forty-five minutes of pretty intense cardio), I talked with a new member, who said to me: i had no idea you were so strong! This of course thoroughly baffled me, and she explained that she was referring to yesterday morning's bootcamp, which she'd attended for the first time but had to leave halfway through because it was too much. I shrugged and said it was momentum as much as anything else—I've been coming to the class for, what? Eight, nine months now? It's always brutal, but I'm used to it, and like all the rest of us, addicted to it a little. She asked me if I'm ex-military, and when I said that I'm not (but that I love the romantic nature of the word "bootcamp," which is why I insist on calling the class that and not H.E.A.T., meaning "High Energy Aerobic Training," as it's officially called), she then asked if I'm a doctor, because, she was totally getting a doctor vibe from me. I don't pretend to get that one at all. Odder still, it's not the first time someone has asked me that. Marta didn't have to be at work until half past ten, and when I got back home at eleven, I tried to be productive and get some work-work done, failing miserably. After lunch, I napped for a couple hours. What the hell, it's my birthday. I'm allowed, or something. I'm at Borderlands now, and after she gets off work, Marta and I are going...somewhere for my birthday dinner. Haven't decided where just yet, but I suspect we'll wind up someplace with the word "Spices" in the name. | ||
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Wednesday, 15 June 2011 (searching for my mainline) 8:24am I did make it to bootcamp on time this morning, and as well I should. Now, to be productive, or something resembling it. 3:21pm Didn't as much work-work done as I'd have liked, since my energy levels are all wrong for some reason, but I did manage to get some important money issues cleared up—specifically, my financial aid and my estimated taxes. San Jose State University's confusing-to-me online system was unclear about whether or not my financial aid was going to be applied in time to my tuition, which is due in full this Friday, and my emails to the Financial Aid office had gone unanswered, so I mustered up my courage and actually called, which I loathe. I had to wait forever on hold (during which time their informative hold message told me that the college owns a lock of Beethoven's hair and a fragmen of his skull, because why not?), but when I finally got through to someone, they assured me that all my ducks are actually in their proper rows, and I have nothing to worry about. So, I can now say I'm officially enrolled f'reals in classes to get a Masters in Library and Information Sciences. Frak me, I'm going back to school. I don't even know who I am anymore. As for the estimated taxes, my second payment (for my 2011 taxes, hence the "estimated" part) is due today, but my empoyers pay me monthly and I usually don't get my paycheck until three weeks into the next month, so I really don't have the money right now. Say what you will about the IRS, but they're remarkably flexible when you're forthright with them, and the person I spoke to said they'd put a note on my account saying that I'd be paying late, and I won't be penalized or anything, just pay it as soon as I can, okay? Okay! Heading out soon to pick up Marta, and then we're going to Davina and Mouse's for dinner. Made by Marta, no less. sometime after midnight It's late and I'll be lucky to get five hours of sleep, but there's no way I'm not going to the gym tomorrow. Being my birthday and all. | ||
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Tuesday, 14 June 2011 (storing a cloud) 8:24am Due to an alarm malfunction, I awoke at a quarter to six this morning. I considered just skipping the gym, but no, especially considering how much I ate last night, so I managed to get to the Y by ten past. I'm far too proud of myself for that. No Marta tonight, but we'll spending tomorrow night togther. Tonight is a gathering of bootcamp people at a bar in Pacifica, one of two upcoming going-away get-togethers for our intstructor, who's going away soon. It'll be interesting to see everyone in their civilian garb, as I imagine it will be for them to see me. 9:51pm It was just the instructor and one of the regulars, who'd organized it in the first place. It was a wine bar, nice and cozy, and we sat in front of a fake fire and talked more about our personal lives and who we actually are than we ever get a chance to in class (and understandably so). Reminded of hanging out with Raphaela, actually, and how I always felt more motivated to work hard because I got to know her socially. Of course, the bootcamp instructor is leaving next week, so the timing's not so great. Alas. My tail was a big hit, as was my overall fashion sense, and they were both suitably shocked when I told them I'm turning thirty-eight in two days, both saying that they'd pegged me as thirty-one, thirty-two tops. I'll take that. | ||
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Monday, 13 June 2011 (mom says) 11:15am Another not-great turnout at Bad Movie Night, this time for Supergirl. I'm back to blaming Game of Thrones. (Damn you, Game of Thrones!) No Collette this week, though I'll have Davina with me for cuddling and such for several hours next week for my birthday show. I've finished up the latest defined project for my work-work, and now I'm back to the more amorphous projects, where I have to actually pitch stuff. And that's the problem with writing for a living: sometimes I have to decide what to write about, and that can be terrifying. My Agent has finished reading the two-thirds completed Landing On Water, and she really likes it. That's less terrifying. I'm having dinner with Ilene tonight, which is not actually terffying, but I'm far more nervous about it than I should be, probably because I'm worried that she's going to say i've come to the conclusion that you guys are way too much work, go to hell plz. Or words to that effect. 9:17pm Dinner with Ilene went very well, actually, the first time I've spent alone with her since April. She has not at all come to the conclusion I worried about above. Quite the opposite, and I have been largely forgiven for my trespasses. She's on the same page as Marta and I, and would like to work back to a place of what she calls "affectionate friendship"—cuddling and making out and such—though her and I won't be spending nights together again for the foreseeable future, especially not since Marta has recently officially broken up her boyfriend. (Marta and him are still going to be living together, since they do it well, but not as romantic partners.) So things won't go back to exactly where they were between us, but that's okay. They may end up being better than they were before. They usually do. | ||
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Sunday, 12 June 2011 (watch the body writhe) 2:51pm Lots of messy-even-by-our-standards sex this morning, eggy bagels for lunch at the Sea Biscuit, checking out an open house for a Mission apartment Marta has an eye on (for her and her boyfriend, I was just along for the ride), and now I'm at Borderlands with Marta. Lots of work to get caught up on, including new edits from My Agent, who continues to be pleased with the current draft of Landing on Water. I did the Pris makeup again last night, and as I was put it on I ruminated on the fact that I just wasn't feeling the same sense of adventure and determination as last month. That energy had more or less evaporated as soon as Marta collapsed to the sidewalk on our way to Wicked grounds that night, and never really came back, nor did I know how to get back into that headspace again, especially with all the events and shakeups of the past month and my general sadness of the past few days. Just gotta fake it 'til l make it, which is all I ever do anyway. It did help some that Marta had said it was okay for me to kiss Davina, which would help make up for not getting to smooch and cuddle with Ilene again. Yet. I think. Ilene and I are having dinner on Monday, so maybe after that? I don't even know who the decision is up to anymore, except of course that it's not me. Indeed, as always, it's making decisions for myself that got me into trouble in the first place. Marta toned down my ears, making them less poofy and top-heavy and just better all around. And, in spite of not leaving the house until a quarter of ten, we managed to park across the street from The Stud. We stayed in Phoebe for a few minutes longer, ingesting a fair amount of Frolic Powder, which had been another plan from last month which was deferred until now. I took considerably more than Marta who was happy to just have a mellow vibe, but I wanted to go beyond mellow. And it was just a few days after we'd done acid, but what the hell. Drugs make everything better! As we crossed the street, I thought about how I tend to be attracted to places and subcultures which are generally reviled—The Power Exchange, furdom, even the goth scene to an extent—but which don't necessarily want me around, either. A perpetual outsider, like an inverse of the Groucho / Freud / Woody joke about not wanting to belong to any clubs that would have someone like me as a member. There were familiar faces as we entered The Stud, like the methy misogynist kid from Tenebris's parties, and more signficantly, the boy Ilene danced with in April. He hugged Marta and I both hello, which I think suprised Marta a bit, and there was some vague talk about meeting up later on the dance floor. I know that Ilene (in addition to making sure he introduced himself to me at Tenebris's party in April) dated him briefly this past month and things didn't go so well, but, that's her and him, not me and him. I certainly have no intention of going so far as to dating him outside Frolic anyway. Not my type, and certainly not within the narrow, narrow limits of what my type of boy would be. Porter and Ilene arrived about twenty minutes later, followed in short order by Mouse and Davina—first fully sanctioned hello kiss in a while, and she kissed Marta hello too—and before long we were joined by a brown bunny with giant floppy ears and a disproportionately, almost kangaroo-sized tail with which he had to hold up separately with a strap. He focused in on me, and we yiffed, dancing close and nuzzling and groping and dry-humping and making animal sounds at each other, busting out my cat voice for what felt like was the probably the first time since the last performance of "The Last Dog and Pony Show" on September 11, 2009. I tried to be conscious (without being overly so) of the fact that he could see my face but I couldn't see his, and what I could see was essentially an animal caricature face, with no changes to its emotions or expressions. I wondered if that's what it's like to get close to someone who's had a lot of work done on their face, botox and the like, the sort of work where their face was is essentially frozen into one constant look. Quite frankly, I'd rather get up close and personal with a furry than with someone like that. I was breaking a lot of hipster / internet taboos, and there was some backlash because afterward I tweeted about yiffing wreaking havoc with my makeup—though in truth, nuzzling with a fursuit didn't wreak any noticeable havoc with my makeup at all, but it made for a better joke to say that it did—and some people don't care for the y-word and everything it implies, even people who wave the "kinky bi-poly sex-positive freak pride!" flag otherwise. There's a bottom rung to every ladder, and that's where I usually find myself, and all things considered I'm surprised I haven't gotten more static about it thus far. But, what, I'm going to start worrying about what other people think now, less than a week before I turn thirty-eight? Hell of a time to start. Ilene was very happy for me, though when the boy returned a little later inhis street clothes, Ilene decided to relocate herself. Seemed she didn't mind having him around or begrudge me at all for yiffing with him while he was suited—indeed, I had her to thank for it happening at all—but when he was out of the suit, she didn't care to be around him, which I could appreciate. I would have felt the same way if I was her. Other than the yiffiing, it was Porter and Mouse on the sidelines while the girls danced, me and Marta and Ilene and Davina, though when we got more intimate it was just me and Marta and Davina, lots of cuddling and making out between the three of us, Davina always throwing herself into snogging with a surprising but thoroughly welcome ferocity, and occasionally it was just between Marta and Davina for which I was more than happy to step back and let happen. And, I'd as promised her I would, I kissed Marta most of all. Every so often the three couples would return to their primary partners, as well we should, and as I am wherever Marta and I go, I was there with the sexiest girl in the joint. For some reason, I didn't really feel the E kick in until midnight, nearly two hours after we'd taken it, but when it did, I rolled with it and I tried to milk those moments for everything they offered. I also ordered a White Russian (Porter was buying) and shared it with Marta, but thankfully after a certain point I realized exactly where my limit was and stopped there. It was a particularly busy night at Frolic, and there were more tourists than usual, straight boys wearing the kinds of clothes straight boys tend to wear when they're on a mission to get laid, and they were particularly swarming around Davina. Trying to, anyway, and discovering that for some unknown reason, walking by her and raising a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon as a greeting didn't get her all hot and bothered. Around one in the morning Marta said her tiredness was threatening to veer into crankiness soon, so I suggested that before heading out we get some time in the chill room. The pool table was unoccupied, so I laid out my jacket and we laid down (lengthwise, because we were there first and there was no good reason for our legs to dangle off the sides) and cuddled and made out, eventually tearing ourselves away from each other and saying our goodbyes to the others. We left perhaps a little earlier than I would have had it been up to me, but halfway home I realized that Marta had timed it perfectly, because fatigue suddently hit hard. Last night felt like a reclaiming something that I was worried was lost forever. Things still aren't quite right, and won't be until Ilene becomes kissable again (the three of us had been doing just fine on our own last night, and certainly there'd been times before that Ilene had been happy to let Davina and I have at each other, but still, I wished she could have joined in), but I'm still pleased and relieved that our overall dynamic has survived the destruction I'm constantly raining down on it. | ||
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Saturday, 11 June 2011 (facing the crowd) 12:21pm I've finished up my work-work queue, finally. I'm back into less clearly-defined projects, which is kinda scary, but I'll do what I have to do. Frolic is tonight, and so far as we know, Marta and I are definitely going. That's what we thought last month too, of course, but I think it has a slightly better chance of happening this time. Ilene and Davina will be there, too, and I have no predictions about anything. Desires and wants, but no predictions. 10:44pm The view from the Frolic mirror. 11:32pm Yiffing can wreak havoc with one's makeup. (The way I wear my makeup, anyway.) sometime after midnight It occurs to me, somewhat belatedly, that I am not an inherently sympthatetic character in person or in my writing, but I tend to make myself even less sympathetic in my writing (to increase the drama and stuff), which is probably why Bottomfeeder hasn't found a publisher yet. Why would anyone root for me? | ||
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