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Tuesday, 20 May 2008 (nowhere friends) 11:44am Of course, it didn't occur to me until I got home last night and was in doing vast quantities of laundry in the remarkably available machines that Monday is usually when Ennui and I hang out. Ugh. She pinged me around six as usual, and was gracious when I officially flaked. At least The Black Light District is cleaner than it's been for some time, or is likely to be in some time. Nine years ago today, I was preparing for my CNET office to move, and was happy that I wouldn't be too close to The Fidget Queen. NakedSword's long-delayed move to a new space will probably happen in the next year or so, and just like with TFQ then I hope now that I won't be too close to my archnemesis. Yay maturity! I also notice that it was Maddy's first real appearance in the narrative, after an obscure passing reference to her a few weeks earlier in (coincidentally enough) my first entry about The Power Exchange. Everything starts somewhere. sometime after midnight i like how you look with your glasses on. it gives you a "sexy librarian" sort of vibe. | ||
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Monday, 19 May 2008 (something fundamental) 3:08pm Spent most of yesterday writing at the front desk, except for the part early in the afternoon where Jim and I watched the last couple episodes of Battlestar Galactica (it's become our thing, or at least my thing, to watch it together on The Dark Room's screen), or later in the afternoon when I was getting frustrated because the words weren't flowing like they were supposed to, so I went back into the currently empty theater to watch the most recent episode of The Office. Sometimes you just have to walk away a little bit. Bad Movie Night had a much better turnout than last time, possibly because the feature (I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry) unexpectedly became relevant what with the whole gay marriage thing earlier in the week. Good crowd, high energy, a lot of fun. Ennui was there with some friends from out of town, and Bunny sat up front with me. Her and I are doing the movie/dinner/drinks on Tuesday. Wednesday night, I'm going to see Derek Jarman's Sebastiane at the Artists' Television Access, and Thursday I'm probably hanging out at Pirate Cat. Tonight, though, I spend one of my occasional evenings at home, cleaning and being with Perdita and (heaven forbid) doing laundry. Didn't check the machines last night, but I'd wager that whatever was in them then still is. | ||
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Sunday, 18 May 2008 (throw it on the fire) 10:27am At The Dark Room. Managed to get out of the Sunset before the Bay to Breakers hit. I slept at Ennui's on Friday night, and on Saturday morning her, Jack and Imet up with Rhiannon at the Formerly Sony But Still Evil Metreon for Speed Racer: The IMAX Experience. Good gods, I had a blast. I kinda get why it's flopping, but it's a shame, because it's so much fun. (I can even forgive the Wachowskis for the last two Matrix movies.) I couldn't quite tell what Jack and Ennui thought of it, but Rhiannon and I are planning on seeing it in the theater again before it disappears. From there I parted company with the others and went to The Castro for the Moonraker/Black Hole double feature, with KrOB joining me for the latter. I was happy to get to see The Black Hole in the theater (albeit with a faded, reddish print), but not having seen Moonraker in a few decades, I'd forgotten how plodding and just plain lousy it is. Both of them will be featured at Bad Movie Night this November for "Red-Headed Stepchildren of the Jedi" Month. Afterward, after briefly considering going to The Bad Seed, I decided to do something I haven't done several times this week, instead heading downtown for a a John Shirley and Daniel Marcus reading. Shirley has agreed to read at Working for the Weakened in September, which is pretty cool. I sat with my old pal Michael Layne-Heath, whom I haven't seen for quite some time, and who's also going to read at Weakened. It's coming together nicely. It was a little after nine, and I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself. Phoebe was parked in the Mission and it was getting kinda cold, so at the very least I had to return to her to put on a longer skirt (I usually keep a day or two's worth of clothes in Phoebe's trunk), and after that my impulse was to go to The Dark Room to see if there was any kind of group excursion after the play. There did seem to be one, but I wasn't invited, and I figured that was that. I'd hang out with Rhiannon and/or Jim during the ten o'clock show, which would be just as good. I was standing out front enjoying the still-warmish weather when Leni emerged. We chatted for a bit, and she mentioned that she wasn't really in a huge rush to go home, so I asked her if she wanted to get a drink. She said yes, I ducked back inside to dance a little jig in front of Rhiannon (i'm getting a drink with leni!) and grab my bag, then headed back out. Leni asked if I might have an extra shirt, since it getting chillier by the minute and the top she was wearing was not quite sufficent. I didn't—at least, not without having to go two whole blocks in the other direction to Phoebe—so I gave her my ubiquitous black cardigan, and we headed off. We found a table and Amnesia (she said about it: i can't remember the last time i've been there, and then rightfully teased me when I didn't pick up on the glaringly obvious joke), each had a cocktail and laughed and discussed our pasts and foibles and everything and nothing. The she gave me a lift to Phoebe, contiuning to talk for a while in the car, and we said goodbye and hugged and I went home. | ||
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Saturday, 17 May 2008 (what there was to work with) sometime after midnight Today went pretty well the way I'd expected it would, and was quite wonderful. I capped it off with going for a drink with Leni, the girl I have a crush on. I don't get to have her as a lover (and when I allow myself to think about it, I imagine it being as physically intense as it was with Ripley), but we have the potential to be good friends, and as I said before, that's the next best thing. | ||
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Friday, 16 May 2008 (the territories of the lost girl) 12:10pm I started out at Pirate Cat yesterday afternoon, but after a while I began to feel uncomfortable on several levels, some but not all having to do with the sweltering nature of the non-ventilated studio, I so apologetically bailed on Bunny (asking her to call me later if she wanted to go for that oft-delayed drink) and headed over to The Dark Room for opening night of The Bad Seed. Because, really where else? After the show I sat at the front desk and wrote for a couple hours. Bunny did call, and though she did sound disappointed that I'd left, we made plans to get together on Wednesday. Around half past midnight Sadie appeared online, and after a brief discussion, we decided to walk to the Castro to check out the impromptu "yay we can get married now give or take a month" block party. The party as such was long since over by the time we made it there, but there were still plenty of people around, probably slightly more than you'd normally find after midnight on a Thursday. And it was just neat to be going on an adventure walk with Sadie at one in the morning on a schoolnight. We walked around, ate wait too much at Escape From New York, and I made it back to The Dark Room a little after two. I briefly considered just spending the night there, and it's been made clear that I'm always welcome to crash on the couch in the lobby or the Green Room, but after a brief talk with Rhiannon—who herself arrived just a few minutes after myself, having been out on her own adventure—I decided to just drive home instead. At least there I could wear my jammies and be in my own bed with Perdita sleeping in her usual place next to my head, and also make sure the next morning that Perdita would be set for me to be gone for a while, since I suspect I may not be home again until late on Saturday. Tonight I'm seeing an oft-mentioned play at an oft-mentioned theater with Ennui—where we go from here, it seems, is where we've been before—and I have a lot of moviegoing under consideration for tomorrow, definitely including the IMAX version of Speed Racer (I didn't want to see it until it became a massive flop, and then my interest was piqued) and possibly a double feature of Moonraker and The Black Hole at The Castro. Sometimes, I reckon, Saturdays are for relaxing. | ||
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Thursday, 15 May 2008 (inflexible music) 11:46am It's one of our occasional hot days, at least by San Francisco standards. Pushing ninety, even. People just don't know what to do. There's a small yappy dog in the office. I so wish I could bring Perdita in. 12:31pm So the State Supreme Court says gay couples can marry. Again. For however long it lasts this time. Oy. I'm not sure I could feel more apathetic about it if I tried. 5:13pm To use as intros for the show in June, Meliza has asked us to provide "songs that you identify with or relate to your piece, along with any images, especially photos of you or you with folks in your life." I don't have the foggiest idea what I'm going to use as a picture, but it didn't take long to decide that the song would have to be the one that's been at the top of this page ever since the text was tiny: "The Book" by Sheryl Crow. Says it all. It occurs to me that I kinda showed my hand last night with the girl I have the crush on. I'm pretty good at keeping myself together around her, only occasionally going into eager puppy mode, merely being friendly and respectful otherwise (she says, willfully ignorant of the fact that she's as transparent as oxygen). But when I opened the door for her at The Dark Room last night and saw what she'd done with her hair, back to looking like it had looked when I first developed my case of the hots, I'm pretty sure I swooned a little, and I'm pretty sure she noticed, especially because after I regained my composure I said i like. Which gets the point across, I should think. And she gave me a look when she was leaving after the show confirming that she knows, and that she knows that I know, I that she knows that I know that she knows that I know that she knows, and thing of it is, it means nothing. It's irrelevant and ephemeral (as all things are: nothing ever happens twice) and wholly lacking in substance. We're both naturally flirty and she's unavailable and it wouldn't matter if she was available. It's just nice to feel that way again if only for a moment, of something like reciprocity (her knowing that I know that she knows et cetera), since it's as close as I've gotten in a long time or are likely to get in an even longer time to that sensation...and I guess the last time would have been that first date with Ripley, when we hugged outside of Cha Cha Cha and almost kissed. I think she was expecting to, or at least hoping, but my old anxieties kicked in so it didn't happen. Then that sense during dinner of this is going somewhere, of marveling at how there was nothing about her face I didn't like (while flashing back to that first date with Vash two years earlier where I was equally shocked at my good fortune that someone as lovely as her might want to get involved with someone as questionable as myself) and that she would be a drug I would want to OD on, all while being aware that my glands were already starting to secrete whatever crazymaking chemicals they secrete when all of one's aesthetic buttons are pushed and the sexual desire shoots straight into the red (again very like two years earlier, not so much the first date but as the following night, Folsom Friday, when we had at each other and emerged bruised and bitten and scarred and madly in love). And OD on Ripley did, and as destructive as the maelstrom we created was, goddamned if even now I don't find myself thinking that, you know, even though we tried and tried to make things work between us emotionally and were unable, maybe it would be okay to go back—even though she'd almost certainly say no, as well she should—just to feel the needle going into the vein once more, a little bit of the stuff to tide me over until the drought ends. Bad idea, not gonna do it, but the want doesn't go away. | ||
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Wednesday, 14 May 2008 (the sinking of the titanic) 11:27am Like this morning, for example. I drove into the Mission, finding a place to park near Dolores and 22nd, then walked to the 24th Street BART Station, rode to Powell, then walked the rest of the way to the office. I'll probably move Phoebe closer to The Dark Room when I get out there this evening, and not do much more driving. It's more than I was doing on those nights and days when I would take over the table at the Sea Biscuit, but still not too bad, I guess. Since 2008 is feeling like 1999 redux in a lot of ways, I've been revisiting my diary entires from that year. Looks like much of May 14, 1999 was spent recovering from a major meltdown the night before, a crying jag in The Ex's arms. I remember it vividly, especially how sore my jaw felt the next day from crying so hard. (Coincidentally, though my jaw feels just fine, I woke up with eyes that were practically crusted over. I had what I believe was an allergic reaction yesterday to a new kind of liquid eyeliner, specifically the Revlon ColorStay "Black Shimmer" Liquid Liner which I'd bought during my wanderings on Monday, my eyes getting all red and irritated and with a jormish goo occasionally leaking out of the edges. Though a tad dry they're doing much better as I write this, and I'll be sticking to good ol' non-allergenic Cover Girl, thank you kindly. But my icky eyes last night didn't stop me from being at The Dark Room for Bad Seed rehearsal and/or hanging out with the [monogamously married] girl I have the crush on—the one whom I discovered last night to be Vash's age, a meaningless coincidence which somehow explains everything—and who seems to genuinely enjoy my company. Win.) I also started getting a little better after that night, as you should when catharsis works. I feel somehow different than I did then, and also exactly the same. I just have a lot more...experience. I was still adjusting to the estrogen at the time, not to mention dealing with my first major breakup, either of which would have bordered on overload by themselves. And I certainly wasn't the old hand at breaking hearts the way I am now. Which is not a boast. I did email Augusten Burroughs, and received this in response: Hi Sherilyn,Neat. I wasn't really expecting any response at all. I've also been gathering performers for Working for the Weakened, and in an attempt to take the high road, I'm going to try to lose some old grudges. 5:12pm I've been banging my brain against the essay for Coming Out...Again for the past few months, and actually on screen for the past few weeks, without much luck. I've started it seven different times, some of them just a few sentences and others several paragraphs before I realize that it just isn't working. Three thousand, five hundred and fifty-six possibly unuseable words thus far for an essay which should be roughly ten minutes when read aloud—and that usually comes out to no more than two thousand words long. This is my process, I suppose. But, finally, a breakthrough. I was walking from BART Station to Phoebe a little while ago, reading the fantastic analysis of memoirs in the Acknowledgments section of Dave Eggers' A Heartbeaking Work of Staggering Genius (which has been knocking around Phoebe's trunk for quite a few weeks, and which I mainstarted reading today because I left Prisoner of Trebekistan at home) when it stuck me what was missing, the hook which my essay was sorely lacking, the angle that will make it interesting and unique compared to all the other state-of-my-union rants from the past few years. It may still suck—all I can do is work hard and try my best, which is what I always do, and whether or not it's any good is in the hands of the gods—but at least it'll suck in its own way. It's possible that some of the things I'm planning to say in it might get me into trouble. Or not. Never can tell. 7:42pm Oh, lordy. She's killing me. (This is going to be a long haul.) 9:59pm But it's in a good way. I mean, when she was through with her role and came out into the theater to watch the rest of dress rehearsal, she sat right next me. There were forty-odd other seats available, but she sat where she did she could talk (respectfully sotto voce, natch) to me. It's the next best thing. | ||
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Tuesday, 13 May 2008 (debris hubris ambergris) 10:21am Bunny did make it to Bad Movie Night, sitting in the front row with me even though the I wasn't one of the hosts. Membership has its privileges, don't'chaknow. The show was spectacularly unattended, a whopping six paying customers, which Jim chose to blame on the nice weather outside rather than the rancidness of the feature, Daddy Day Camp. Yep, I sure can pick 'em. After the show, Bunny went home and I stayed at The Dark Room to watch the last couple episodes of Battlestar Galactica with Jim. I took Phoebe to the Saturn of Colma yesterday for both routine maintenance and to replace her leaking water pump. It was eight in the morning, and the employee said he'd call me in a couple of hours to let me know how things were going. (He also compared the odometer to the last time I was there and said: wow. you don't drive very much, do you? That made me kinda proud. Though I drive most every day, it's on average a twelve mile round trip between the Black Light District and The Dark Room, or eighteen if I'm going all the way to the office. I guess that's not much compared to most drivers.) Though there were plenty of places to sit and fire up my laptop at the dealership, I decided to walk around a bit in hopes of finding a non-Starbucks mocha. It turned into an entirely pleasant hike of the hills of Colma and Daly City. I walked up Serramonte Blvd to Gellert, took Gellery to Hickey, Hickey on down to El Camino Real (while getting a fascinating look at the backyards of suburban South San Francisco, wondering about the stories going on behind the windows), El Camino Real down to the newish Trader Joe's where I sat and read for a while, El Camino Real back up to Serramonte, and Serramonte back up to where I started and beyond. In addition to at the Trader Joe's, I read for pretty much the entire walk (Prisoner of Trebekistan is a page-turner), except for a bit of El Camino Real which is seriously inhospitable to pedestrians. I haven't done the math yet to figure out how much I walked, mostly because I'll probably be disappointed with the number. When I told the employee later about my hike, he commented that my boots must be extremely comfortable. I assured him they are, and he added: they certainly do make a statement. I was sitting with my legs crossed, my velvet skirt up above my knees and showing a fair amount of fishnetted leg, which when combined with the Fluevog boots do make a statement, I suppose. He'd been mildly flirting with me all along—or maybe it was just that fabled Saturn friendliness?—but that was about as overt as he got. I'm not exactly a fine piece of ass by any appreciable standard, but I was probably the most openly sexy customer he'd had in a long time. Or that day, anyhow, judging from the others in the waiting room. I didn't get the newly shiny Phoebe back until mid-afternoon, so instead of going to work—I'd already informed Officer Dave that I might be gone all day, and nobody at the office today has said word one to me about—I ran some errands and then went to The Dark Room. I attempted to write for a couple hours and failed miserably. Around six I drove into the Castro for the Augusten Burroughs reading. Ennui had written me earlier in the day to say she wasn't going to make it, and by the time I got to Books Inc. and saw the line, I decided I wasn't going to attend either. I just wasn't feeling up to dealing with that kind of crowd, even though I had a pretty good idea of what I would say when he signed my book: i'm a fledgling writer. i have a few pieces published here and there, nothing major. anyway, i'm working on my first memoir, and i just want you to know that your work has been really inspiring. so, thank you. Or words to that effect. Maybe I'll email it. Or not. So I returned to The Dark Room, as I so often will. Ennui had suggested maybe getting cocktails later in the evening, so there wouldn't have been much point in going home. And besides, the night was still young, the sun was still up and the Bad People would certainly be prowling. They scare me, so I stay away. I scoop Perdita's box and refreshen her food and water every morning before I leave, so I wasn't worried about her. Rehearsal for The Bad Seed was just getting underway when I arrived, so I didn't even bother trying to get any work done, writing off the day productivity-wise. Oh well. I'd gotten a lot of exercise, which is also good, I guess. I sat in the seats and watched the rehearsal, at one point holding the glasses of a girl in the cast whom I still have a crush on, even though she's monogamously married. (These things can take a few days/weeks/months to get over.) But we've become friends, and I'll always accept that as a substitute, even if it's usually suggested as a hollow gesture. Hayley had said we'd still be friends, but neither of us have spoken to or even seen the other in almost a year. So it goes. Ennui pinged me a little after nine to say she was ready for company, so I headed to Cassandra. We went to a bar in her neighborhood, where we drank and had a Big Relationship Talk. Nothing new was said (what we want and what the other offers aren't quite complementary) nothing was resolved (what of it?), and I don't know where we go from here, if anywhere at all. | ||
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Monday, 12 May 2008 (singing so loudly) sometime after midnight and it's kind of too bad, because we could have had much more fun | ||
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Sunday, 11 May 2008 (contiguous for twenty-two) 1:05pm Good heavens, but this has been an indulgent weekend. By my standards, anyway. After The Birds on Friday night, Rhiannon and I (platonic) went to The Pork Store on Valencia with two more traditional couples (Alexia and Sean, Mikl-Em and Danielle). Many fatty appetizers were consumed, and I had two (2) Bloody Marys. They had them with celery, for pete's sake! How could I not? Rhiannon and I returned to The Dark Room, where I dozed on the couch in the lobby until I was feeling up for driving. Dumbly, Phoebe was parked right out front on Mission, which had been convenient earlier in the day but now just meant that I couldn't crash there for real, since streetcleaning was at four in the morning. (The Power Exchange all over again: everything being scheduled around having to be gone, or at least capable of moving the car, by four.) I set my phone's alarm to go off at a quarter to four, but ended up leaving by two, since Jim started watching that night's episode of Battlestar Galactica out in the theater. That was enough to sober me up sufficiently—not to mention being in my own warm, red bed with Perdita sounded much nicer than The Dark Room's couch—and I got home perfectly safe. I returned to The Dark Room on Saturday with the intention of writing, but it didn't work out that way at all. Spent a long while talking with Jim and Erin and Rhiannon about theater stuff—among other things, they want to train me to run the light and sound, to be a kindertech—and Rhiannon and I went for an earlyish dinner at Coriya Hot Pot in the Richmond. She was amazed how much I put away. I was too, kinda. We poked around Clement for a while (and I avoided an old friend in a couple different stores because I just wasn't feeling up for talking to him, and I'm a bad person in general), then headed back to the theater. After the final performance of The Birds, I tagged along to the cast party at Doc's Clock. Only had the one Bloody Mary this time, since I definitely wanted to be able to drive home at a reasonable hour. (Granted, said reasonable hour ended up being around three, which was much later than the night before.) After the bar closed, we did what everybody does: got a Mission Dog from the vendors on seemingly every corner. (This feels like a relatively new phenomenon to me, but Sadie insists they've been around for a couple years now.) There were five of us (me, Rhiannon, Sean, Alexia and Sadie), and Sean bought six. Sadie doesn't eat meat, leaving the two extra dogs. Sean and Alexia split one of them, and I ate the other, mostly because Sean offered it to me. Between Coriya Hot Pot and two (2) Mission Dogs, I think I ate more meat yesterday than I have all year along. I'm not proud of it, but there it is. At The Dark Room now, as always, and I'm hoping to finally get some of that writing done today. Bunny will be at Bad Movie Night tonight, and said that we may hang out afterward, depending on how her cold's doing. I have no idea what Ennui's up to tonight. I know she was in Las Vegas earlier this week, but that's all. I did email her about going to hear Augusten Burroughs read at Books Inc. tomorrow, so here's to hoping. 3:31pm On my Mom's birthday I email her, but on Mother's Day, I call. Go figure. It occurs to me: when she dies, I'm going to take it really, really hard. Oh, she has a few more decades in her—and I should be so lucky to be as healthy and feisty at her age—but, damn, that is going to suck. (it's called mortaility, kid. get used to it.) | ||
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