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Sunday, 20 March 2011 (me, marlon brando, marlon brando and i) 11:23pm Low turnout at Bad Movie Night tonight for Godzilla: Final Wars, especially compared to the big crowd we got last week for Godzilla: Tokyo S.O.S., though I'd imagine the whole "donating the money to the Red Cross" thing helped. Oh well. I made enough for a tank of gas, anyway. | ||
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Saturday, 19 March 2011 (that someone is you) 9:34am My internets are all back up and running now. Turns out it was because it had been physically disconnected, and it had been physically disconnected due to the aforementioned late payment, but the disconnection happened after I made the payment, and the guy who does the disconnecting didn't get that particular memo. When I mentioned to the Comcast guy that it would have been nice to have gotten some advance warning—a phone call, an email, a fucking text—before they disconnected me, he brushed me off with: nah, if you haven't been payin', you KNOW you gonna get disconnected, so we don't need to tell you. I let that slide, because ultimately I was in the wrong, and what matters is that I'm up and running again. I do think he was a little freaked out by my apartment, but then again, most are. The plan now is get some work done, pick up Marta later, have dinner, and then go to Davina and Mouse's house to play poker. It'll be an adventure, I'm sure, since Davina's father will be there. I've already talked to them about whether or not kissing Davina hello and goodbye will be a problem in front of her father, and they assure me it won't be. Here's to hoping. sometime after midnight It was a fun night, Liam and Daisy were also present and Davina's father is a really nice guy who seemed to warm up to us quickly, but, yeah, there was no way I was going to kiss that man's daughter in front of him, at least not if she didn't initiate it. Which she didn't. So. | ||
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Friday, 18 March 2011 (alligator / aviator / autopilot / antimatter) 11:41pm Just returned home to discover that my internet is still off. Phooey. Time to deal with tech support, which thankfully can be done over chat. I stopped at a Russian market to get veggies and various canned goods on the way to Ilene's. We coworked for a while, me on her bed with my laptop table and her at her computer, moved Phoebe so she wouldn't get ticketed, then went out to get more groceries. Worked for a little while longer, had dinner (the rice/veggie/tofu concotion she's been making, heavier on the hot and spicy stuff for me because I'm me), and then cuddled together on her bed to watch Swimming to Cambodia on my laptop. We each listened to it through headphones via a splitter, since she tries to be as quiet as possible at night as so to not encourage her neighbors to be loud. Boy, do I get that. I wasn't sure how she felt about the movie until the very end, when Laurie Anderson's name came up in the credits, leading Ilene to say: how'd they get laurie anderson to do the music? because spalding gray's awesome? Success! It's so hit or miss with people regarding Spalding Gray. Normally she's against swapping spit while ill out of concern for the other person's health, but after a while she warmed to the idea, and I'm not afraid. If I'm going to get sick I'm going to get sick, and if I'm going to get sick from her it's going to happen whether oral fluids are exchanged or not. If I was that scared about it, I wouldn't have been there in the first place. The jogging did happen this morning as promised. It was already raining when we got dressed, and just got worse when we went outside. I decided it was like jogging in The Matrix, since Ilene's black workout clothes are comparatively form-fitting and she also wears Trinity-esque sunglasses. Quite hot, actually. Plus the rain made it all Matrix-y, too. I was just in my usual workout clothes plus the hooded sweater I wear to and from the gym but never actually while exercising, and I was thoroughly soaked by the end, but heaven knew I got a workout. Not quite Bootcamp, perhaps, but still intense. And we did a lot of yoga/pilates-esque stretching before and after, during which I learned that I'm nowhere near as flexible as I'd like to be. (I'm nowhere near as a lot of things as I'd like to be.) I suggested that maybe she can come with me to Bootcamp sometime, and she seemed open to the idea, if not hugely enthusiastic. I used her toothpaste, and brought my own toothbrush of course. Not quite ready to leave a toothbrush there, for some reason, though I'm sure she'd be fine with it. (We're already comfortable being naked around other, when getting in and out of the shower and getting dressed and such, probably because we occasionally did so back in '08 when we used to spend the night together more platonically.) I'm sure I can also leave my pajama shirt there if I want, but I don't want to, not yet, because it smells like her, and I like that smell. Same with the pajama stuff that Marta leaves here, which I also occasionally pick up and smell. For someone who's as easily turned off by scents as I am, I'm also a total pheromone junkie. When it's the right pheromones, anyway. 2:02pm My earmuffs have arrived. Let the blocking of noise commence! The Comcast tech could not figure out why my internet wasn't working—and they confirmed that my account was up to date, something I'd been worried about because I haven't quite figured out how to get Wells Fargo to properly inform me when a bill is due, and I recently had to make a lake payment—so they're sending someone over tomorrow morning. I guess I can make it until then. 7:52pm First Friday night at home alone in a while. Feels weird. Thankfully Marta is home at her place, too, so we can chat. 2:02pm | ||
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Thursday, 17 March 2011 (walk it back) 10:24am Working at home today, still trying to get caught up, not really doing a bang-up job of it. I did interval training with Rita this morning on the treadmills. We've been opening up more and more to each other—we gotta talk about something, after all, and as the endorphins and heart rate and everything else goes upward, the filters start to come down, and besides, we seem to becoming actual friends beyond workout partners, which is a nice thing. As was happening with Yvette, too, though she's been gone due to illness, plus I think there's things that Yvette wouldn't be quite so copacetic about. I finally mentioned to Rita that the girlfriend Marta that I've talked so much about is not the girl that I occasionally mentioning that I've been spending Thursday, both for clarity's sake and because I've been wanting to get something resembling an outside perspective. It didn't actually surprise me at all to find that not only was Rita not in the least bit judgey about it—her only concern regarded disease, and I assure her that all parties involved have recently tested clean and that we all keep it safe and stuff—and that she doesn't believe humans are wired for monogamy anyway. Or, at least, that some are and some aren't, and not being so is as valid a way to be, even if it's far less socially acceptable. But she made it clear that she accepts it, which felt nice. And it just makes me that much more fascinating, I'm sure, and I'm already the oddest person at that Y by a long shot. 12:33pm Not uncool in the least: Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation has been nominated for two Lambda Literary Awards (Lammies, don'tchaknow), in the LGBT Anthology & Trans Nonfiction category. Go us! Though if the book does win, I'm pretty sure it'll be in spite of my essay rather than because of it—let's face it, nobody's been referencing "The Big Reveal" as a cutting-edge example of gender politics, primarily because it ain't—and I'm okay with that, too. It also won a "Judges' Special Award in Nonfiction" from Publishing Triangle, which I'd never heard of before just now: The judges for these nonfiction awards have also voted to bestow a Judges' Special Award in Nonfiction to Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation, edited by Kate Bornstein and S. Bear Bergman (Seal Press). Carol Rosenfeld, chair of the Publishing Triangle said, "The Triangle is recognizing this anthology, which celebrates gender nonconforming people in all their beauty, humanity, and complexity, with a special prize. The contributors to this book confront gender issues with such vibrant, mind-expanding style that readers are urged to question the status quo of seeing gender in binary ways."So, again, not at all because of my essay, which never really questions the status quo of seeing gender in binary ways. Or maybe it does? How the hell should I know? In any event, I'm choosing to compare it David Cronenberg's Crash at the 1996 Cannes Film Festival, where it won a Special Jury Prize for (according to the poster) "Originality, Daring and Audacity." That's us, for sure. Also, as near as I can tell from both Google and Flickr, nobody has done a cosplay version of Rosanna Arquette in Crash. Challenge accepted! 3:45pm Heading to Ilene's, and just in time, since my internet just went kerboom. Thank you, 2011, for the ability to tether a 3G through a jailbroken iPhone. She's warned me that she's feeling crappy, so tonight would be a good night to start watching Spalding Gray movies like we'd been discussing. But she also jogging will happen tomorrow, for certain. | ||
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Wednesday, 16 March 2011 (mine smell like honey) 9:11am Rita came and left from the spin class yesterday morning before I could talk to her, and she seemed kinda groggy and out of it, so I decided that meant that we would not be getting together for pre-Bootcamp stretching this morning. Just as well, since Marta and I got to bed kinda late. And, as always, Bootcamp was as brutal as always, and the instructor informed us that she'll be gone for the rest of the month, which means I may well be too, especially since Ilene and I are going to jog for real on Friday morning. Meanwhile, Marta played hooky from work today, which I fully supported, both because it allowed me to spend more time with her (and not having to deal with getting in and out of the traffic quagmire which is the her morning job) and because sanity days are simply very very important. I hopefully made her feel better about it in general, especially since it used to happen all the time at Nakedsword. I know Officer Dave took his share of them. So Marta and I are going to co-work for the next few hours (I am so behind on my work-work for this month, it ain't even funny), and then I'll take her home, after first swinging by Bunnywarez on Noe. If I'm going to get a decent tail and ears, it's going to be there. 10:12pm Except that the Bunnywarez storefront is closed now, and they're apparently back to mail-order only. Phooey. I also ended up spending the better part of the evening with Marta, due to an unexpected processing session about everything going on, about boundaries and perceived inequities and the like. She said something, I responded honestly but perhaps not as diplomatically as I should have, and it kinda spiraled from there, as things will. (Nothing in my life has ever gotten me into as much strife as being honest.) But we're okay, as we always are at the end of these things, which is why this is the healthiest relationship I've ever been in: unlike in past relationships (Maddy being the most glaringly obvious, and things got there toward the end with Vash, as I suppose they almost always do when a relationship is crumbling), with Marta and I process or even fight, I know that we'll emerge out the other side healthier and stronger together than we were before. We also both changed our Facebook statuses to the super-zeitgeisty "It's Complicated," because it is. And it isn't a huge shift away from my prior status of "In a Relationship," since I wasn't able to say who I was in a relationship with anyway, since it would raise questions Marta wasn't prepared to answer. The only real disappointment of the evening was the fact that Mission Chinese Food is closed on Wednesdays, so we ended up at Big Lantern instead. Not quite what we had in mind, but it hit the spot just the same. That's a metaphor for something, I'm sure. | ||
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Tuesday, 15 March 2011 (every day is yours to win) 4:42pm When things fall apart, they all fall apart at once. I just ordered a new laptop last night because my current one is starting to death-rattle on me—granted, it's had troubles from the start, since I've never been able to install Vista SP1, nor has its search function ever worked—but they keboard is getting increasingly unresponsive, it's now officially missing the "5" key, and in general it's becoming less and less useful as a productivity tool, which is especially a problem now that, for better or worse, I seem to have shifted back into laptop mode in general. Admittedly, I should experiment with working from home again tomorrow, since while I have no idea if the new kids have fully moved in yet (and I can't say I've sensed Janeway's presence), they aren't doing it during the week, so I'll have the quiet that's been so goddamned difficult to find otherwise lately. In any event, the new laptop is at least something I can include in my taxes next year as a business expense. I also took Phoebe to the mechanic this morning to get her other two tires replaced, since one of them had a slow leak which I'm surprised I managed to keep from getting much worse. (Hooray for Fix-A-Flat, is all I'm saying.) That was a couple hundred more dollars, and that's what credit cards are for, right? Right. As she was being worked on, I got myself a table at Java Beach. I wonder if I just hadn't noticed before, back when I was there on a semi-regular basis just how...well, "working class," for want of a better way to put it. I kinda prefer the vibe at Green House, all things considered, minus the almost-always too-loud music. Because it's always fuckin' somethin', innit? (As I sit at the other Green House, waiting for Marta's train to arrive in West Portal in an hour and a change and trying to be productive in the meantime, I'm grateful for the fact that the music isn't nearly as loud at this one, and contemplating hitting the hardware store down the block to buy a pair of NRR 29 earmuffs into which I would transplant from the actual speakers from my beloved but decaying Sony MDR-V6 headphones in an attempt to follow these too-easy-looking instructions for DIY noise-canceling headphones. As I say, the instructions make it look far easier than it surely is, and my mechanical aptitude is largely nonexistent, but damnit, I gotta try something, because the problems I've been having noisewise these past couple weeks are going to come up again and again. | ||
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Monday, 14 March 2011 (oh my heart) 8:22am Yep. No band (which I obviously didn't expect there would be for real), and My Desk is mine again. 4:32pm Marc, real name Al Weiss (godsdamnit, I guess I should take his number out of my phone, huh?), has a tribute page now as part of "The Legends Project," meaning he's "been recognized as an BDSM Icon for the work they have done to make the BDSM/GLBT/Leather communities what they are today." That was him, pretty much. | ||
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Sunday, 13 March 2011 (überlin) 1:12pm Turns out the cafe there are far fewer seating options at the cafe at one on a Sunday afternoon than there are at eight on a weekday morning, which is no great shock. My Desk has long since been occupied, of course. But I found a table with an outlet, so I'm good. 1:32pm Uh-oh. A band is setting up. Nobody looks all that thrilled, probably because the place is filled with students just trying to get some work done. 1:45pm Fuck me, they have amplifiers and a drum set. Earplugs in, headphones on, Drone Forest cranked up to 11. That should just about block out the the band, and Lustmord's on deck if need be. Mind you, I've done enough shows at cafes with indifferent/hostile customers to feel sympathy for the band. But I get petulant when I'm writing. 2:38pm I'm trying, I really am, but in addition to the drum set and the amplifiers and the fact that the lead instrument is a saxophone and this place is really too small for this kind of noise, I'm finding it impossible to get any work done. Marta has invited me join her in the Mission, which is where I would have ended up had I not had the bright idea of keeping it local at first, so I'm outta here. 3:31pm Just parked at 18th and Mission. It's raining, and a stinking-drunk homeless guy just came up and started gibbering at me. I ignored him, then felt a surge of anger and flipped him off (the British style, of course). He started cackling and yelling at me, and I know I heard "man" in there a few times, which only angered me more. Gods, I'm feeling seriously aggro right now, and I don't like it. 4:08pm At Javalencia with Marta. The table next to the window was available, so we took it, because I'm not about to be a beggar right now. I'm still feeling all kinda of frustrated and hostile, though. Not towards her, and maybe it's just a comedown from the last two nights, though there have been external forces as well, like being referred to as a man three times in the last twenty-four hours. Last night when I was having dinner in Japantown a group of kids (early twenties, kids to me) at one of the other booths, three boys and a girl, and as near as I could tell, they were torturing the girl. It sounded quite like things I've heard at the Power Exchange and such, and I cannot believe she wasn't exaggerating the little-girl tone of her voice. All this in an otherwise respectable Japanese restaurant, mind you. It was pure performance on their part, they were actively trying to cause a scene and make the rest of the patrons uncomfortable, one of the boys even saying as they were leaving thank you, ladies and gentlement, for indulging us, and I'd let my curiosity get the better of me, mostly because I wanted to get a glimpse of these amateurs, and one of them noticed me stealing a glance and he said that guy has really wild hair. Fuck. And then there'd been the homeless guy a little while ago while I was parking, and just now as Marta and I were settling in there were aggressive petitioners roaming the cafe, and all I could do to keep my temper and my desire to just kick somebody, anybody square in the nads (and I came perilously close to doing so to the homeless guy, which I fully admit would have been the most vile act I'd ever committed, and I'm clearly a bad person for having even been tempted) was to raise my palm and look away. Y'know what panhandlers and petitioners and people who think they have to right to your attention hate more than anything? Exactly what I was doing. It pisses them off so much, it's so insulting, or at least that's what I've concluded based on how angry they usually get. I think it angers them more than if I just told them verbally to go fuck themselves. Anyway, this particular person huffed and said: nice hand, man. Again: fuck. But I'm determined not to let it ruin my mood, just like I didn't let it ruin my mood last night. After dinner I picked up Ilene from her office and we went back to her place, where we sat and talked as she worked on a new pair of ears for Davina. Porter showed up after a while, followed by Mouse and Davina. Porter remained costumeless, Mouse wore an excellent-looking pair of wolf ears Ilene had sewn for him (he wore them on a hat), Davina had her new blue/green ears, and Ilene went with her bunny suit. I'd decided to finally bust out the pony ears to go with the tail for the first time since '07. The main problem is their top-heaviness, which causes them to fall forward at the slightest provocation, so I wore a pair of welder's goggles in front of them to keep them up. The goggles weren't over my eyes, of course, and sadly I don't think they're even eclipse-grade goggles, but it's an old-school goth accessory I've always wanted to do anyway, and the Ramona Flowers connection doesn't hurt, either. And they worked even better in conjunction with the ears than I'd exected. The other problem with the ears is that people don't necessarily parse them as being pony/horse, which is reasonable enough considering that they're in fact very large rabbit ears which Vash had reshaped and painted, but that's not too big a deal. Still beats being called a godsdamned otter, and I didn't mind when we arrived at Frolic at Lisa said: steampunk bunny! My distaste for the whole "steampunk" hoohaa notwithstanding, I was just proud that I'd managed last week to talk Lisa into daring Frolic, and she was glad that I had, since she was having a grand old time, and even brought a friend along. She hung out with our group for a little while and bonded with Ilene (who regretted not having met her last week) then left early—well, not that early, especially since we'd arrived later than usual, and we soon headed out to the dance floor. Not as much group cuddling and kissing between Davina and Ilene and I, possibly because Ilene was getting a lot of attention from the full-on furries because she suited up (in what were essentially pajamas, it's true). We did dance together some and made out a few times, held hands while walking from Phoebe to The Stud and back again, but otherwise it was primarily Davina and I dancing together, and occasionally snogging, as we'll do. And, once again, the music this month just wasn't as relentlessly fun as it was the first few months I'd attended. I guess that's always how it goes. It's half past six now, Marta has long since left to spend the evening with her boyfriend, it's raining now, and I have to get to The Dark Room for Bad Movie Night. I haven't asked Ilene if she's going to come tonight, mainly because the answer's probably no. 11:32pm No Ilene (trois nuits avec vous est assez, n'est-ce pas?), but a great night all the same. Since we were already doing a month of Godzilla movies, and I'm too stubborn to change the schedule even after Japan gets devastated by an earthquake and tsunami, and even though the name of the freakin' movie is Godzilla: Tokyo S.O.S., we made up for it by donating the proceeds ($163 all told, which includes $20 Marta donated for the cause earlier in the day) to the Red Cross. So, that's something. Sleep now, and cafe tomorrow at eight. I'm almost positive there won't be a loud jazz band playing this time. Almost. | ||
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9:32am We found street parking on Valencia at ten in the evening. I took that as a positive omen. The others (Ilene and Porter, Davina and Mouse, and a few other related friends) were already at the club when we arrived. Also present was Marta's boyfriend with his date for the evening, which Marta knew was a possibility, as was the possibility of him being at the party later in the evening. His presence didn't make her uncomforable, nor the fact that he was there with a girl, since whatever, that's how they roll. What did bother her a little was when I pointed him out to Ilene—her and I had talked about him and the particulars of his relationship with Marta, because that's what you do whem you start to date in such a complex network—and that the word then quickly spread that hey, marta's primary is here! because as least in the context of the Floor Partiers, Marta considers me to be her primary. (god, she said, i hate these hierarchies.) The others didn't quite get it because it doesn't really jibe with most accepted theories of non-monogamy, especially the part where she didn't introduce him to anyone, but they didn't push it. I made my only major mistake of the evening when Marta asked me to hold her drink while she piddled, then Ilene invited me to dance, and when I said I couldn't because I was holding Marta's drink Davina then offered to hold it, and the coin toss in my head landed on the wrong side and I joined Ilene on the dance floor. Marta was a little upset to find me dancing and not holding her drink like she'd asked, but we worked it through soon enough. The greasy douchenozzle from Strangelove who had openly denied my identity as a cat and (by extension) my identity as a girl was present, and I thoroughly ignored him. Sara was one of the DJs, and as usual, she thoroughly ignored me, too. That's okay as well. I turned down the first few offers of a drink-drink, opting instead for orange juice. Then I realized that with where the evening was going to go, a little buzz could only be a good thing, that I shouldn't be embarrassed about artificially lowering my inhibitions. Indeed, it was expected and encouraged. Standing group cuddling, me and Davina and Marta, me and Ilene and Marta, combinations thereof. I kiss both Davina and Ilene, but Marta doesn't kiss anyone but me, not yet. Jessie was there, drunk and bouncy and somehow much shorter than I remember her. She mentioned that her and Ennui went to see the The Dark Room's James Bond play (starring Ennui's current boyfriend) earlier in the evening, which I was happy to hear, since it means that even as ex-girlfriends they're able to hang out as friends, especially considering how hard their breakup hit Ennui. It's good to remain friends—even though Ennui and I don't hang out at all, nor do I with Maddy or The First nearly enough, and of course I still live in a mild state of terror of seeing certain other exes, something which Marta doesn't claim to understand at all. An odd-by-hippie-standards hippie that's I've seen around for the past decade was also there, blowing bubbles, because hippie! I feel like he makes a point of blowing some directly into my face every time he sees me, which is probably not true at all, but I found it aggravating all the same. Sometime around midnight, after more drinking and dancing and general loosening up, the exodus finally began to the party, less than a block down the street. (That's one of the great things about events in the Mission—they're generally within a compact space geographically.) It was the same location as the last sex party Marta and I went to way back when, and we'd always had vague plans to return, but it never quite happened. There are more definite plans on the horizon, in the form of me and Marta and Ilene going to an all-girl party at the same venue on the night Marta and I return from New York. We'll be exhausted, most likely, but it also sounds like the perfect way to be welcomed back to San Francisco. That night will be just the three of us and has on the books for a while now, whereas tonight's excursion, at least as far as Marta and I going, only came up in the last couple days. Presently, we were a larger, more coupled group: Ilene and Porter, Davina and Mouse, myself and Marta. After we paid the cover and checked our coats, the decision was made to forgo the more redundant aspects of the party (the dancefloor, the bar, the various rooms for hanging out and whatnot) and just go straight to what Marta had referred to last time as "the scary room." It certainly can be that, but I'll forever think of as "the fuck room" thanks to Party Down, and why not call this song exactly what it is? An orgy is essentially a fleshy and frequently shifting jigsaw puzzle, especially when you're trying to find room for your party of six with certain conditions for coupling—at the very least, Marta and I wanted to stay together and not be paired up with Mouse or Porter, both of whom are very sweet but hold no interest for either of us. And once our group did manage to claim a sufficient plot of mattress (after disrobing to the comfort level of each individual, first just down to underwear for starters, and eventually to pure nekkidness for some as both circumstances and increasing body heat required), Marta and I did manage to always stay together, though our attentions were not always strictly on the other, which was the whole point. We always kept some level of physical contact, at least a hand, even as one or the other of us would make out with Ilene or Davina—it was Marta's first time kissing either of them, and she launched herself into full-on snogging with them with even more aplomb than I'd hoped and it made me very happy, both because it was just inherently hot (the straight boys aren't entirely wrong about the charms of watching two beautiful girls kissing, after all) and because of the fact it was Marta with Davina and/or Ilene, and because it meant that, yes, by god, at least in this moment in time, Marta and I could make this work, this was something that we could do together, because it's so very very very important to me that she not only not be excluded from my extracurricular activities, but that she be included and the activities become curricular, and without her getting that horrible feeling of distance that occurred when Vash fell in love with Dietrich and she started spiraling away from me, and one of my great fears is to neglect and hurt Marta the way Vash hurt me in those days when she forgot to save some of the fun for me (just not doing any of this at all is, of course, not an option, at least not at this point), and the big difference is that unlike how Vash's flame for me had already irrevocably dimmed, I have not lost my interest in or passion for Marta. And it's not to say there hasn't been some hurt, I've done the wrong thing more than once and caused Marta no small amount of pain, or that there won't continue to be sine in the future—the Thursday nights I spend with Ilene are a little heartachey for Marta, which I can completely identify with, and I know it'll sting Boy hands are occasionally on our bodies, sometimes immediately recognizable (I could usually tell it was Mouse's hand while I was making out with Davina, and that's fine by me, I've engaged in some light cuddling with him in the past and I often feel that Mouse would like me to pay him some of the more direct attention I do to Davina, and I wish I could, I really do because I genuinely like him as a person, and I would be fine with Marta making out with him or Porter, but much like myself she has a debilitating case of don't wanna! when it comes to kissing boys) (excepting her actual boyfriend, who had made the migration from Love Triangle before us and was already in the fuck room with his date when we entered, off to the side and still fully clothed—nothing was said, but he chose to relocate after a few minutes) and sometimes not (Marta, when her hand on Davina's breast: i found a nippe ring!) and for a while my foot is under another couple at the edge of the mattress, a white girl who is getting joyously fucked by a large black man, the mattress bouncing up and down as a result, and combined with the fact that something weird is happening with the lights in the room—maybe there's an electrical short as Mouse suggests, or maybe someone keeps leaning up against a switch, or maybe someone is just fucking with us, but the light keeps changing, sometimes going dark entirely (my favorite) and sometimes with a string of red light bulbs coming on and now and again actual white light (feeling like a police raid), often changing every ten seconds or so—I pretend that we're on a ship on a stormy sea that's going to crash into the rocks, there's no two ways around it, and we're having one last go before death. Which, really, is how sex should always be approached: let's hug and kiss and rub our bits together and revel in each other's bodies and souls, for tonight we may die. There is no clock in the fuck room, my phone is in my boot and I have no sense of time whatsoever, but eventually the group cuddle 'n smooch turns to more direct pairing, each with the person they're with, starting with Ilene and Porter—not that there's ever any exclusion, as when Porter puts gloves and starts working on Ilene the rest of us are still involved, Marta kissing her while Davina and I play with Ilene's nipples and other such combinations—and eventually Marta and I turn our attentions directly to each other, and as much as I like playing with Ilene or Davina (and while Ilene and I are both looking forward to our boundaries shifting, things are perfect right where they are with Davina, in that we cuddle well and I like the way we look at each other when we're dancing and she's a ferocious kisser who clearly finds me as hot as I find her, but we're not involved with each other the way I am with Marta or Ilene), and even if Marta was okay with me actually having sex with either of them, the fact that is I don't want to, not at this particular moment in time in this place, Ilene and I will no doubt get there eventually but she's here with Porter and Davina's with Mouse and my real energy is with Marta, my girlfriend whom I love deeply and with whom I generate a dizzying electricity which far surpasses even the heights I reached with Ripley—and indeed, I'd thought that it had to be all downhill after Ripley sexwise because of how perfectly suited we were for each other, and the perfectly silly fear of relapsing into her drug is one of the things that makes me keep my distance from her—and so it becomes Marta and I in the middle, with Ilene and Porter to one side of us and Davina and Mouse to the other side, until Davina and Mouse suddenly up and leave for reasons that I don't quite grok, leaving just the four of us. Well, the four of us plus the other people on the island of mattresses, including an older woman who'd complimented my red-and-pink tail both at the club and I was taking off my dress earlier, and now she's on top of a bearded man with glasses, and whenever I glance over at them as Marta and I are fucking, I notice that they are looking intently at us, not really gawking in that way which is forbade by the "no inappropriate looking under threat of expulsion" rule (which, again, as a Power Exchange veteran, I find terribly draconian and counterintuitive to the entire goddamned point of orgy/club sex—seriously, why even leave the house?) but clearly getting off on Marta and I and our considerable hotness and our obvious lack of self-consciousness. That's fine by us, and I also notice that when Porter is on top of Ilene suuuuure you need an XL, loverboy) but, wouldn'tchaknow, it fit him just right— that --> he's also keeping on eye on Marta as well, and as well he should, because she's beautiful and sexy and a wonder to behold when she's blissed out, loud and expressive and an embodiment of joy, and it probably came as a bit of a surprise since Marta can come across as shy or bookish out in the real world. And gods know having Ilene and Porter fucking right next to us is a distinct improvement over earlier when I looked to the right and saw the bubble-blowing hippie. Oh well. There's no doubt a subsection of Murphy's Law which clearly states that the guy you really don't want to be around in the first place is going to wind up next to you in the fuck room, and his presence ultimately didn't bother me so much as the fact that whereas he'd been sexing it up plenty before—homeboy's a chick magnet, and a couple different girls made it clear they wanted him to plant his native tree in them—now he was just lying there taking up valuable space, and worse, he was wanking under a sheet. I have no problem with wanking (though not attractive to me, I'm neither afraid of nor or offended by the male penis, nor do I feel the need for a "penis-free space" like Maggie, but I don't hate myself for being transsexual the way Maggie has always hated being transsexual (and it occurs to me that she may well be at the all-girl party next month, and I'm fine if she is, because the girls I'm with will be much hotter than the girls she's with), and wankers allow people like me to get in free at the Power Exchange, but godsdamnit, if you're going to do it in here, don't suddenly get all modest while taking up valuable space. Either wank in the open air (while wearing a condom, natch), or go the hell away. Marta and I were still going at it as things were beginning to wind down, my panties pulled down (not all the way because I kept my garters and fishnets on, but enough for full access) and Marta with her hand and the bottle of lube Davina and Mouse had left behind, and Ilene joined in now and again caressing my upper body and kissing me and remaining respectful of the standing boundaries, but still seeing what there was to be seen, as we all had with each other, which was simultaniously the point and a bonus, since ultimately nobody had known quite what to expect. With the possible exception of Marta and I, who were the only real veterans of this venue or even this sort of environment, though we hadn't realize it at first. And then fatigue finally kicked in, and we decided to call it a night. It was approaching three in the morning, which made me all the more relieved that we'd accomplished the usually impossible task of finding street parking in the Mission on a Saturday night, since our Plan B (the Bartlett garage) closed at half past two, so we would have been pretty well frakked now. I mean, we could have set the alarm on my phone at the party to make sure we left in time, but that would have been both impolite to everyone else and a mood-killer in general. It was better not to have to worry about it at all. We dressed, all our clothes and belongings at the foot of our bed right where we'd left them, including my tail sticking out my Ramona Flowers purse, because orgy people are trustworthy, and if you can't trust them who can you? Phoebe was also right where she'd been left, with all her windows intact—people on Valencia late at night are, on the whole, less trustworthy—and we gave Ilene and Porter ride back home to the House of Boxed Steam. As they were getting out Ilene forward and for our goodnight kiss, and as Ilene was starting to lean back Marta made it clear that she wanted a goodnight kiss with Ilene too. She got it, and I glowed a little for both of them. 5:32pm The moving-in noise didn't start this morning than later I'd expected. It hadn't begun by the time Marta woke me around nine (itself a weird experience, to be woken up by someone else—it hasn't happened to me in years), though it started after we both wrote for a few hours and had lunch we decided to attempt to nap, which itself turned into sex and then finally actual earplug-assistd napping for maybe an hour. About to head out now, to take Marta back to her place, and then I'm going to find dinner in Japantown, pick up Ilene from her office at eight and return the House of Boxed Steam to get ready for Frolic. I think I may even have enough energy for it. sometime after midnight I'd hoped to get to bed before four in the morning, but no such luck. Damn you, time change! (And, yay for having a nightlife.) There's just so much to get written... | ||
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Friday, 11 March 2011 (all the best) 8:41am Back home now, a few hours sooner than I'd hoped. The plan was for me to go jogging with Ilene, have breakfast, and then work for a few hours, probably leaving around eleven since that's when Phoebe starts running the risk of being ticketed. Except that there's a freakin' tsunami warning for the west coast (after a major earthquake and resulting tsunami in Japan), and the waves were estimated to start hitting a little after eight. By all accounts they weren't expected to be big enough to pose any major threat, and evacuations have not been ordered of my tsunami-zone neighborhood, but we're being told to be ready to bug out just in case the worst happens. I was already sufficiently inland at Ilene's place, but, well Perdita was not. I'd really been looking forward to going jogging with Ilene, and I'd even brought along all my workout clothes, but I also knew that the anxiety would just keep eating at me until I went home. So head home I did, as Ilene was heading out to jog. The Great Highway is closed off to traffic, and there's a very half-hearted attempt by the cops to keep people off the beach, but it isn't working very well. And as I was parking in front of my house, my next-door neighbor had just pulled into her driveway and was taking her three birds (each in separate cages) and her dog out of her car. She confirmed that they were in fact evacuees returning home. After checking in on Perdita (who was of course perfectly fine, if a little cranky that I'd been gone all night), I went out to the beach. Didn't look any different than any other day, especially for low tide. No work-work writing is going to happen today, I can already tell that much. Housecleaning, then, and my landlord is coming by later to do some work on my bathroom sink. 11:38am Great Highway is still closed to cars, which means there plenty of pedestrians and cyclists. A few people are jogging on the beach, and I saw at least one surfer. Just another day in the Outer Sunset, really. (It also occurs to me that I usually don't walk to the beach this often in one day unless I'm on acid or 'shrooms.) Nobody's concerned about much of anything. And even though they say that the "series of inundations" could easily last into evening, I'm heading out at four to pick up Marta, and operating under the assumption that nothing more will happen. We'll be returning here for dinner and napping and getting ready to go out to dance and have adventures with Ilene and the others. 4:37am They're reopening Great Highway to traffic. I guess that's that. sometime after midnight I really am grateful for my Power Exchange training sometimes. | ||
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