someone's hair is fancy tonight, all pink streaks.

heh. thanks. someone's just living out her dale bozzio fantasy.

or ziggy stardust.

...actually, it's dale bozzio.

Vash and I went to The Power Exchange last night after the official premiere of our Twilight Zone episode, and someone asked me if I'm twenty-four seven—i.e., if I live full-time as female. It's never going to be obvious, is it?

Best Theater of the Absurd
Nobody going to the Dark Room is going to the theatah, meaning no one is pulling out nice snacks and preordering wine for intermission (and God help you if you must use the bathroom during a show). But co-owners Jim Fourniadis and Ty Mckenzie aren't out to lure the highbrow Union Square crowd: They just want their kids. The duo ushers in weird shows by the truckload, such as Impossible Productions' improbable episodes of Batman and The Twilight Zone , along with inspired versions of The Princess Bride and the game Clue. The Gong Show , The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and Fun: The Concept (starring Zippy the Pinhead) have all had successful runs, but many Dark Room hits simply feature local folks armed only with their wits; spring's The Sex Diaries , for example, presented everyone from Will Franken, Sean Owens, Sherilyn Connelly, and Mike Spiegelman onstage, sharing tales of life between the sheets. And the crap films in the theater's weekly Bad Movie Night continue to be popular, no doubt due to this evocative line from the Web site: "Patrons are allowed to brown bag their own refreshments."

Somebody at the Weekly likes Spiegelman and I, since we tend to get namechecked in connection with The Dark Room. Not that I'm keeping track of my press or anything. Because that would be wrong.

12:10pm

Just had coffee (well, a mocha) with Christa Faust, who's been in town this past week for the World Horror Convention. It was nice to get to spend a little time with her before she headed back to Hollywood, because even if I could have afforded to attend the convention (which I couldn't), I've been entirely too busy with my Twilight Zone episode. There are worse reasons to miss it.

Last night was the big official dress rehearsal, with an audience and everything. It was good. A few glitches here and there, nothing too unusual for what was essentially opening night. Some minor adjustments will be made tonight, but the audience responded the way they were meant to. The snozzleberries tasted like snozzleberries. I have to admit, though, that while I'm quite happy about The Dark Room got the Weekly nod, I'm a little less personally thrilled about the concurrent article in the Chronicle, which describes last week's Twilight Zone show as such:

When the lights go down and the show begins with the eerie soundtrack from "Twilight Zone," it's clear that most of the 30 or so patrons in the tiny theater with mismatched chairs are regulars. They hoot when their favorite player comes on, applaud wildly, eat and drink without trying to hide it. It's not unlike being at a friend's house for a night of watching bad movies. (And in fact, the Dark Room has Bad Movie Night every Sunday. Its motto: "Only $5 ... and still a waste of money!")

About half an hour before showtime last night, I emerged from backstage to see Ryder and Vash sitting in the audience, talking. We knew that Ryder was going to be attending, and both were looking forward to meeting the other. It was still weird to them in the same place at the same time, the circles converging, my girlfriend and my lover. (Ryder calls me her "goomah," which she says is a Sicilian word meaning lover slash adulterer slash mistress. I'm sure the fact that she's a huge Sopranos fan is a coincidence.) I was obviously backstage when Ryder arrived, and Vash recognized her from the suggestive but non-explicit pictures on the pr0n movie site. Apparently the movie in question is a hit in Europe, showing at what I'm assuming are a number of more open-minded film festivals, and Ryder's becoming quite the pr0n star in the Eastern Hemisphere. Neat. Anyway, her and Vash hit it off fabulously, as I somehow suspected they would. After all, I'd like to think I have fairly good taste in women.

After the show, the three of us went to the Lexington, followed after a while by Meliza, who's doing a commercial between my episode and Dav'id's. Posted around the bar were flyers for an event later this month benefiting the Jon Sims Center, which is undergoing some severe financial trauma; my San Francisco in Exile show there on June 2 almost had to find a new home as a result.) Ryder said that she was going to be auctioned off at the benefit; the winner would take her out on a prearranged dinner date, with no expectations or obligations beyond that. Vash replied that she wanted to be auctioned off, and Ryder's eyes lit up in a way which reminded me uncannily of Summer. (The physical similarity between Summer and Ryder is something I try not to think about too much.) So, Ryder quite literally took Vash by the hand and led her to the owner's office downstairs and had her signed up for the auction. My life is too weird for words sometimes, and I couldn't be happier about it.

Meliza had joined us by this point, her and Ryder quickly going into hardcore flirt mode. It was fascinating to see, probably looking not unlike Ryder and I did the night we met two weeks ago, though my interest was more taken with Vash. We left Meliza and Ryder to their own devices, returning to the Black Light District to use ours.

I've been all sorts of productive today, and to show for it, Sherilyn's Grindhouse is now open for business. It's not exactly work-safe, but it is wank-safe. (Get it? Get it?) I don't expect to make a red cent, not without a lot of promotion and pushing that I'm not up for, but I'm glad it's there anyway, even if it does scream i passed Photoshop II, barely!

To the semantic sticklers such as myself: yes, grindhouses did show pr0n, during the post-Deep Throat seventies. Neener.

I'm sure there are people who are glad I'll finally be shutting the hell up. I don't blame them. I've been squeaky-wheeling like mad for the last couple of months to anyone who'll listen. Vash heard a lot, and I even k'vetched about it to Ryder, which is highly uncool considering we've known each other for barely two weeks. I got what I wanted, and the wheel has been greased.

Saturday evening I met up with Vash at Adobe for an Instant City reading, followed by The Problems at The Dark Room. (It was a Bucky-riffic night, it was.) From there we zoomed back to Wonderland, and she spent much of Sunday morning working on paintings for my Twilight Zone episode. There were originally only going to be two, but consensus amongst the cast and the artist was that more were needed. In my overly passive way I hadn't wanted to ask for more, but Vash was plenty willing, even enthusiastic. Boundaries are such eternally tricky things.

Sunday afternoon was our first rehearsal with stage lights. I think it looks pretty good, I hope. I've found that I've lost all objectivity, which is somewhat dangerous for a director a few days before opening. It could be fantastic or it could suck, and I can't tell the difference, though my immdiate inclination is towards the latter—it's something I'm doing, after all, so the odds of it being good are somewhat slim. Tonight we'll have the sound cues worked in and a few more paintings from Vash, and Wednesday is the dress rehearsal, and the actual run of the show is Thursday through Saturday, then it'll be no more.

4:53pm

So far, so good. I like my new place. I have less space, but I'm generally more prone to office agoraphobia than claustrophobia, and listening to the programming boys geek out about video games is a comparative relief.