Anyway, we talked for a while. She said that my piece really spoke to her (yay!), and even helped her find the wherewithal to start writing again (double yay!). It makes me really happy to think that I've inspired others to express themselves, especially considering how often I've been actively discouraged from doing the same.

sometime after midnight

Okay. In fairness, I have to admit that it hasn't happened a lot. I've received more positive feedback and encouragement than censure, and I'd like to think I haven't let the censurers (?) slow me down as much as they'd like.

After Thanksgiving dinner at Tony Roma's (a place for ribs, hence being out of pasta alfredo), we drove back to San Francisco. She had to work on Friday, unfortunately. I did not, but took the muni out to my office in the afternoon anyway, as did Jezebel. (We'd had plans for her to get her bangs cut at my usual salon, but they were closed for the holiday.) Vash picked us and took us to Wonderland, where her and Jezebel made various baked munchies for a small afterparty. The party in question was for after a reading at the AK Press Warehouse for We Don't Need Another Wave. I'm not in the book, but the organizer Elizabeth Latty was kind enough to ask me and Cindy and a few others to participate in the readings.

Not only was it Jezebel's first time at one of my gigs, but it was also Dietrich's—the first time I'd met her at all, in fact. We didn't even know she was going to be there until we arrived at the Warehouse and saw her standing in front, smoking a cigarette. There'd been some uncertainty about when/if I was going to meet Dietrich, if Jezebel was going to be at the show, what the comfort level would be with all four of us in the same place at the same time, and the net result was the four of us plus Dietrich's girlfriend (whom Vash had never met) squeezed onto a couch. Given the sheer number of fires that could have been started, it actually went quite well.

Dietrich and her girlfriend weren't able to join us for the afterparty at Wonderland, but Cindy, Charlotte, Elizabeth and a few others did. It was quite nice, and Elizabeth was kind enough to give Jezebel a ride back to San Francisco. Vash and I spent the night together, and I took BART back into the City. For a while it had been looking like Vash and Jezebel would be doing a pr0n shoot on Saturday, but it fell through thanks to the not-at-all atypical flakiness of the director.

I spent a few hours at the Sunset Cafe working on the fashion piece (which is slowly, bit by agonizing bit, coming together), then drove the Power Exchange, where I made a point of parking around the corner on 12th so I wouldn't have to worry about moving the car at four in the morning. All I would have to worry about was it getting, like, broken into and stuff.

I walked to Femina Potens for the second We Don't Need Another Wave reading. The show nearly ended up moving to The Dark Room because we weren't able to get into Femina, but when Jezebel and I were literally twenty feet away from The Dark Room's front door on a scouting mission. I got a call from Elizabeth saying they'd finally made it in. Afterwards, Jezebel and I made the traditional (for me) tacqueria run, then went to the Power Exchange. (Ironically, a number of the other readers went to Pop Roxx at the DNA Lounge, where unbeknownst to me, Vash was on a date with Dietrich. I mean, I knew she was out with Dietrich, just not there in particular.) We stayed until five in the morning, reveling in the filth and fluids while never getting a satisfactory answer as to whether forty-seven is a prime number. I mean, yeah, the answer seems obvious now, but at the time, cuddling on the jormy circular mattress in the Blue Room, we couldn't say for sure.

As we headed back to the Black Light District there was a slight temptation to just ride the second wind and stay awake, but aside from Jezebel wanting to make me pancakes, we couldn't think of a good reason. Attempting to go to sleep at half past five in the morning is usually a lost cause for me, but thanks to the darkness of the season and the brewing rain, the bedroom stayed sufficiently dark and my brain was able to fool my body into resting. Jezebel fell asleep before I did—par for the course, as I'm not sure I've ever shared a bed with someone who takes longer than I do—and we managed to sleep for five hours, which was just about right. Instead of making pancakes, which would have required going to the store and buying stuff, we went to a restaurant which, despite stupid popular opinion, is located in the hippest neighborhood in the universe. From there, we swung by Costo (Jezebel has a card, I have a car, it works out nicely and give the Norms plenty of staring opportunities), and I then dropped her off at her place.

Vash came by the Black Light District a little later, and afterward I went to Java Beach and made a few more paragraphs magically appear.

It went, as I say, something like that.

sometime after midnight

The kittens and puppies are getting a good night's sleep. The rest of us, not so much.

So the piece for the big fashion anthology is due in...er...soon. What the hell. I've slammed 'em out faster than that.