So, note to self: no more serious movies at the Parkway. Comedies? Sure, why not? Especially since they have those comfy couches, even better than the Red Vic's for cuddling.

9:39am

The abomination that was the Rosario Dawson Sin City "big scary head with creepy tongue" poster (which I ranted about at the time) has been redeemed by her character poster for Rent. My level of disinterest for this movie is roughly the same as it was for Sin City, but damn, that's a hot picture—and not a hint of tits, abs or tongue to be found.

12:01pm

...i can still feel your fingers on my neck...

4:28pm

The shoot went well, and I think the resulting video is going to be a lot of fun; though it's being created primarily to be shown at our big holiday party in December, it'll likely show up on The Tim & Roma! Show. I blew at least one of the major dance moves, but I was far from the only one, and it's not like anybody will notice. (Especially if I keep it to myself that I totally fux0red the move where we spin and point our guns. Nobody will ever know!) It was the first time in a few years that I've done high/death goth, especially in regards to my eyeshadow, and I've come to realize that I miss it. Certainly I've never done it as a blond before, and I think it works. A few of my coworkers said I reminded them of Daryl Hannah in Blade Runner. Naturally, I took it as a compliment.

...if you read the essays as a personal glimpse into how different people learned to accept who they are and find a little peace in a chaotic world, then it makes for an interesting read. Though I don't have any intention of becoming a woman, I was really taken by Sherilyn Connelly's essay on how to make the transition from man to woman. It was an unflinching, unapologetic piece about how she became comfortable in her own skin, despite the criticisms of those around her.

Today, I resume my pre-tour intake of water and vegetables. My body's been missing both, among many other things.

3:20pm

maybe the next one, darling.

5:11pm

My first day back at work has been blessedly noneventful, and everything is pretty much where I left it. What's more, I haven't missed the holiday video shoot; it's this Thursday afternoon at DuNord. Looks like I'll be doing goth, either High or Punk Slash. Might as well go with what I know, right?

7:51pm

Haven't really talked much about the tour, have I? I'm still trying to gather my thoughts and notes about it, in hopes of creating a longer piece about it. That's what us self-described "writers" do, isn't it?

In the meantime, about the shows—

Portland. Okay show, if underattended, especially given the number of phone calls the bookstore says they'd received. Three of the seven audience members were there to see me, and if everyone I knew in Portland had actually shown up, the ratio would have been five out of nine. That those who actually knew me in person didn't attend probably speaks volumes about my personality.

Olympia. Great show, fun time, easily the high point of the entire trip. In addition to being able to go into full-on rock star mode thanks to Jennifer deciding that we didn't have to read from the book we were ostensibly supporting, I definitely could have gotten stoned and probably laid if I'd played my cards right. Unfortunately, the cards I held involved me being the only one of the three of us who smoked grass and/or drove, so I was not able to, as the kids like to say, "party." Clearly, I need to return there under my own auspices. Still, the memory of the night kept me going for the rest of the tour, which noticeably declined.

Seattle. Middling show, and at least one comment was made about me which I found equal parts of hurtful and unprofessional. Not that I'm incapable of being hurtful and unprofessional (and deliberately, needlessly cruel depending on who you ask), but the timing was really foul. I handled it with what I'd like to think was my usual aplomb, but I could be wrong about that. My aplomb may not be usual, and in fact may not exist at all. One familiar face in the audience, which was nice. Discovered that flagging thong may be the cruising equivalent of snipe-hunting, something which Vash and I must change. Also discovered that the home of the universe's most comfortable couch is not Vort, but Seattle.

Bellingham. Proof of something I'd gotten bitchslapped for observing a few days earlier: no matter how much you promote a show, actual turnout is a crapshoot. One (1) person was in the audience. At least it was in the afternoon rather than the evening, thus allowing us to start driving back to San Francisco immediately afterwards.

I'm so very happy to be home. I like seeing other places and need to do more of it, but I missed the Black Light District, mi vashita, my job (no, really), Perdita, my friends.

9:01pm

Go melt back into the night, babe,
Everything inside is made of stone.
There's nothing in here moving
And, anyway, I'm not alone.