Ryder and I watched some Twin Peaks last night. So unusual to find someone who not only remembers and watched it during the original broadcast, but still likes it. She even watched the entire second season at the time, a feat which I thought was limited to The Ex and I. She's not so fond of Twin Peaks Fire Walk With Me, but hey, nobody's perfect.

Ryder was there. Both of us would have been even if we hadn't stumbled across one another at Divas earlier in the week; Ryder goes farther back with Pam than I do. We determined that we've both been at Pam's parties in the past as well. San Francisco is a tiny, tiny place. Some of my coworkers were there, and a few pulled me aside, somewhat confused that the girl I appeared to be with was, in fact, not Vash. (They like Vash a lot, which is good, since I love her.) I met Ryder's wife Dusty, though I never saw her face, as she was in a costume which can be best described as "a cow and Mexican wrestler after a transporter accident." Ryder later informed me that her wife liked me a lot. Yay for good energy. Around five Dusty left for The Eagle, and shared a cab with Ryder back to their house. It's conveniently located within stumbling distance of The Dark Room, and stumble there I did around a quarter past seven to co-host Battlefield Earth for Bad Movie Night. By the grace of Muni, I finally got home around eleven, more than a little exhausted from one of those long, gloriously San Franciscan days.

12:51pm

Vash and I spent Monday evening together, working through recent events, figuring out where we are, where we're going, what we want. It was probably the most open and honest communication either of us have ever had in a relationship, and it was all good.

In the negative column, as we were bouncing around the 16th and Mission area buying props for my Twilight Zone episode (we had rehearsal at 10pm), I can't help feeling like I got more hostile looks than usual, including a couple of teenagers who snickered loudly, one of them saying That's A Guy! as we walked past. Already in a heightened emotional state, I did the worst thing conceivable: I talked back, saying no, it's not a guy, which of course didn't help one goddamned bit because my dumb stupid voice always gives me away, and besides, we all know that if you respond to someone who threatens or otherwise harasses you, anything which happens from that point on in is your own fault, right? We continued walking, and I listened for the sound of their feet—surely they wouldn't let such an obvious faggot talk shit to them, would they? There's a peculiar tightrope buzz that comes from the knowledge that at any moment there could be very strong, anticipated but unwelcome impact from behind, as they defend god and naturalness and heterosexuality from the mere existence of my sort. (Breeders, unite! Rise up against the oppression of diversity!) But, nothing. They wouldn't even take on an obvious sissy like me. I'll bet they the ones who take it up the ass.

Rehearsal went pretty well. We're not as far along as I would like considering the show is next week, but considering the rough gestation of this little play, it could be worse. So long as more of the elements work than don't work, I'll be happy.

Meanwhile, my other big project has been working on the company's MySpace profile. It still needs work, but I'm kinda proud of what I've done with it so far. Replicates the look and feel of our site pretty well, I think. Friend us, damnit.

12:55pm

The move is official, and will happen by the end of the month. I can hold out that long, right?

Maybe it was a delayed reaction to yesterday's office Cinco de Mayo festivities. I had a number of deadlines, and getting called away from my desk for to the compulsory activities was not helping. I'm fundamentally lazy, but ultimately, I like getting my work done. Also not helping was the fact that the booze was bring brought out earlier than was usual for a Friday, and I could bear the thought of being around the straight people when they started to drink. (I'm a prejudicial bigot who is afflicted by intolerance.) My grumpiness was palpable to anyone who cared to palp it. I finished my work, and when Vash called at three to let me know she was leaving her office, Officer Dave was kind enough to let me do the same.

Vash picked me up as I stood outside the buidling in a protracted telephonic argument, and we headed into The Beast. We misbehaved in Wonderland for while before heading into Berkeley to see Dav'id's play, first having dinner at what Vash assured me was a fairly authentic Jewish deli. I have to admire any culture which puts so much emphasis on spicy mustard,

So, really, after I left work on Friday, it was a perfectly lovely evening. I don't know what was wrong with me this morning. After getting home and attempting to nap (at eleven in the morning? yeah, right) and more successfully showering, I started to feel a bit more lucid. My head now seems to be mostly back to normal. Good thing, since Ryder's coming over in a little while.

Vash dropped me off at the gym this morning, the first time I've been all week. I'm not proud of this. I got out of the house too late for no good reason on Monday morning. Tuesday morning I got up at five, puttered around the apartment for a few minutes, then unceremoniously collapsed back onto my bed for another two hours. Wednesday morning I woke up in a Tenderloin hotel (a nice hotel, by TL standards) with Ryder, whom I'd met about six hours earlier. By the time I got home, I had to turn around and go straight to work, and didn't even make it to the office until eleven. Ironically, I parked my car Tuesday night in the the garage of a building which included a Crunch, but all my gear was at the Embarcadero location, and I didn't have a change of clothes. In any event, it was too early for that dress.

12:43pm

Michelle Tea asked me to read at TransForming Community II on June 20. The show, and I quote verbatim...

...explores the friction at the intersection of contemporary trans and queer communities. With a burgeoning transsexual community growing in tandem with a genderqueer movement, what are the issues that arise when non-trans queers share cultural space with transpeople and genderqueers? With distinctly different needs and identities, what needs to be worked out between the transsexual and genderqueer communities?

Heady stuff, especially for a show which happens in a little over six weeks. Though I haven't decided for certain what I'm going to read, I'm leaning towards a story about my involvement in a photoshoot for a graphic novel from a couple years back. Although there was no small amount of controversey at the time (my fall from social grace in many eyes can be traced back to it), I don't believe that particular dead horse has received the flogging it truly deserves.

have you ever felt so used up as this?

"...since [he] wants to do more writing...really great writer...excited to bring him in....have you read [his] blog?...funny and bright and energetic..."

This morning, as I was taking out my garbage (time to take out the trash!), I locked myself outside of the building. I closed the gate behind me so the neighbor's dog would make a break for it, but remembered too late that I didn't have my keys. Thankfully, the aforementioned neighbors were home—and have done it more than once themselves, so I didn't feel quite as embarrassed as I might have otherwise.

Not to jinx anything, but my new neighbors might be who I'm hoping, mutual friends of mine and Vash's, one of whom is in her writing group. They've seen the place and they've met my landlords. A good start.

Sunday afternoon, my gmail account received this:

From: Sherilyn Connelly
To: Sherilyn Connelly
Date: Apr 30, 2006 12:19 PM
Subject: Be More Careful

You don't know me. I'm logged onto a computer at BAVC. I'm not you. I could be. You need to be more careful about logging onto to personal password protected websites from publicly accessible computers. I'm a wicked nice guy so I'm not reading all your mail nor am I going to threaten the President from you email address - but I could and you would have a bitch of a time explaining to the Secret Service how you checked you email from this video place and some guy logged on as you and . . . do you see where I'm going? I'll also clear the cache so the next person won't be tempted. You, you be more careful. Feel free to reply, I'll get it.

Your welcome,
xxxxx

Feel free to reply, I'll get it. Nice try, but, I've changed my password, so no, I don't believe you will. Nee-NER.