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Saturday, 20 November 2010 (the persistent sense) 9:32am The rain this morning was kind enough to wait until I got to the gym, and then be done by the time I left. Very considerate. Damiel was there this morning, which I think is unusual for Saturday mornings. (A little unusual for me, too.) He seemed impressed that I come on the weekends, and told me how proud he was of how hard I've been working. I needed that. 8:11pm The rain continued to not happen as I made my way to The Dark Room for Christmas in Hell rehearsal at noon, but returned with a vengeance as Marta and I drove out to the Black Light District in the evening. We were inside with a front-row seat by the time the thunderstorm started, though. That was pretty great. Not as great as overnight storm of September 1999, but that stands to reason. As a rule, everything in San Francisco was cooler a decade ago. I'm sure in 2020 we'll be complaining about how much hipper things were in 2010. | ||
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Friday, 19 November 2010 (an art of discipline) 10:59am In the plus column, I have a new dresser. With flames on it and everything! And I got it for free. Jim actually found it on the street in front of The Dark Room on Monday night, and was kind enough to let me claim it (and someone else was kind enough to load it into Phoebe for me). I've been needing a new one for a long time, as my old dresser began to fall apart almost as soon as Maddy and I bought it in 2001, and in recent years it's become little more than a bed for Perdita. Which is a noble purpose, to be sure, but it's also nice to have an accessible place to put clothes. Speaking of Perdita, I finally took her to the vet to get weighed again yesterday. She's put on .7 lbs, which is a good sign. Something's still going to have to be done about her teeth, but at least malnutrition isn't an issue at the moment. | ||
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Thursday, 18 November 2010 (accelerated decrepitude) 2:51pm At the gym this morning, one of the regulars complimented me on all the weight I've lost lately. That's three so far! And, between the two hours of working out and the sex with Marta when I returned home, I've most likely sweated out the deep-fried food I ate last night. (Well, I didn't know that Ten-don, by defintion, includes tempura. The menu implied that it was just regular donburi. Live and learn and stuff.) This afternoon, though, I got news which I really wish had arrived yesterday: neither Marta nor I got the San Francisco Arts Commission grant that we both worked so hard on. It would have been perfect to drown our frustration in wasabi. But even though we did the big night out last night, I'm going over to Marta's place this evening for commiseration. Plus dinner and teevee and cuddling. | ||
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Wednesday, 17 November 2010 (unpacking the negatives) 9:49am But I did make it to Bootcamp this morning, because that cannot be missed, nosiree. Except for the day after Thanksgiving, and my understanding is that the Y will be closed December 20-29. But otherwise, not gonna miss it. Ran into Ilene last night on the way to dinner. We talked for a while, and she asked me to define "whimsy" in this context of Frolic. Which is a valid question. I had to think for a while, because like porn, it's one of those things which I know when I see. I decided that it would have fallen into the whimsy trap had they played children's music, or derivations thereof, or anything which attempted to be "cute." Instead, it was fairly standard "gay boys grinding into each other music," which is just right. 8:11pm In Japantown with Marta. It's a good place for comfort food, and comfort browsing. Plus, Marta bought me a model of the original Enterprise from Japantown Collectibles as a belated birthday present. Between that and my model of the movie-era Enterprise and my Tribble and my two (2!) phasers and the communicator hanging from my keychain I nearly have all the Star Trek toys I so wished were available as a kid. (And they were commercially available, sorta, but not to me.) And, by god, I'm enjoying them just as much as I would have then. More, probably, since it's easier for me to have fun now than it was when I was younger. | ||
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Tuesday, 16 November 2010 (a bearer of unconditional things) 6:27am Ugh. I woke up at a little bit past four, realized I simply hadn't gotten enough sleep for a gym excursion (what with another lateish Christmas in Hell rehearsal last night), went back to sleep, then had really nasty nightmares. Including a crying jag which, if I'm not mistaken, occurred in the real world as well. I guess there's a lesson in there someplace. 5:11pm Haven't gotten any writing done, and my planned afternoon trip to the gym didn't happen. But I was productive all the same, I think, and one of my bits of networking seems like it might be paying off. Now, heading out to have a I Never Fucked Mrs. G thank-you dinner with Zeke and his girlfriend Michelle. | ||
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Monday, 15 November 2010 (gesture signal threat) 5:41am I don't like the new treadmills at the gym. The speed and incline controls are now covered by my magazine rack. Besides, change is scary. 9:32am Got home later than I normally care to last night (mostly because the Bad Movie Night feature, Dreamcatcher, was stupidly long), and though I surely got no more than four and a half hours of sleep, I was up in time to be at the gym by five. Because I can't not go on Monday mornings. Or Wednesdays. Or Fridays. Tuesdays and Thursdays are beginning to look a little more negotiable, though they shouldn't be. Now, mega-erranding, including a journey into the Stonestown Mall to pick up something at Brookstone for Erin. 2:17pm they're wearing ears. three dollars. We'd been wondering if we would get into for three dollars or seven dollars, the former being the "in costume" price and the latter being the "not in costume" price, since ears (and a tail as well, in my case) are kinda lo-fi by costume standards, especially since the person making that decision was in a full fursuit. But we were making an effort, and that's what mattered. I've always had a soft spot in my heart for The Stud, dating back to my semi-regularness there in '99. Though I've never felt uncomfortable in any of the gay bars in town—unlike, say, some of the lesbian bars where I've felt tolerated at best—it's always been my favorite, since it's always been the most offbeat. And it was even more off the beat for Frolic, filled with people in partial or full animal suits, both more blacklight than usual (complete with facepainting, not my favorite thing in the world) and more colorful colorfulness, and a just a generally cheerful vibe, but with no whimsy. It's a delicate balancing act in such a context to avoid whimsy (which I dislike almost as much as I dislike facepainting), but they pulled it off. Marta and I went straight to the dancefloor, where we were the only apparent females, at least if one operated under the assumption that was all men inside the fursuits. Which, at the risk of being binary and stuff, is a reasonable enough assumption. We danced (and bumped and ground and made out with each other) for nearly two hours straight, pausing halfway through to get beverages. We both decided to go the non-alcoholic route. In my case I always have the "I have to drive later" excuse, though one drink wouldn't come close to making me unfit to motorvate. But, empty calories and all that, and I didn't see any point in undermining all the exercise I was getting, not when I still have so many pounds to drop and circumference-inches to lose. Besides, I didn't feel the need to drink at all. Alcohol, I realized, was not the proper drug for this event, not at all. I've been wanting to go out dancing on E again ever since that eventful New Year's Eve, and by the gods, this was the place to do it. Some planning and forethought will be required, but it'll happen. I didn't recognize anyone from the cafe earlier, which was no great shock. (Sadly, Ilene—who's a regular, and brought the event to my attention in the first place—couldn't make it.) For as hugely fetishy as Frolic was, it didn't seem like there would be much crossover with the City's quasi-official fetish community, probably because this event was more targeted towards gay men. There was one gothy kid who mostly kept to the sidelines, looking like maybe he wanted to dance, but couldn't quite bring himself to. Part of me wanted to go over to him, grab him by the shoulders and say seriously, though? you're here. you made it this far. so loosen up and dance. you'll be so glad you did. But I didn't. Not my place. Whereas the kid gave off the vibe of wanting to get more involved in this weird world but not being sure how to, there were also some white-trashy types who seemed to be on a "lookit how adventurous we are!" excursion. I remember seeing quite a few of them on any given night at The Power Exchange. To their credit, they were dancing, even if they always seemed to keep a certain ironic distance from it all. Two of the three of them were dancing, anyway. The third stayed along the wall, chugging Pabst's Blue Ribbon, perhaps trying to get her courage up. Whether it was the courage to dance or the courage to simply not leave early, I couldn't tell. And, ultimately, it's easy for me to lose perspective on how strange something like a dancefloor full of people in animal suits can seem to the casual observer. It was certainly new for Marta, and I think she was overwhelmed at first, though she quickly got into the swing of things. After all, she's read my writing and went with me to the mildly disappointing cat-themed sex party last year, though this event was a different beast. So to speak. And then there were the certain non-suited boys who had no doubt or hesitation about why they were there: because they loved them some fur. Dancing with, rubbing, nuzzling, or just being in the presence of it. They equally entertaining and heartwarming to watch, especially when they would slow-dance with the furries (regardless of the relentless up-tempo music), or just hold them in long embraces. Said it before, gonna say it again: I respect the hell out of anyone who knows exactly what they want, and aren't afraid to get it. There was a clown there as well, but hey, nothing's perfect. 4:01pm Okay, I'm calling it: aside from the occasional cough, The Cold of November 2010 is over. | ||
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Sunday, 14 November 2010 (squalid criminals) 10:51am As always, my body feels a little weird after a late night, even when I've gotten enough sleep. That's always been the case, I suppose, and if I start having more late nights (which I very much want to, at least on the weekends, since it's part of what motivates me to get to the gym early in the morning on weekdays), then I'll get used to it again. | ||
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Saturday, 13 November 2010 (the darkest corners for having fun) 12:49pm As soon as I walked into The Dark Room today for rehearsal, Jim demanded that we hug, which I was more than happy to do. Keeping the air clear and the blood between us good is so very important. 2:41pm Rehearsal just ended, and Jim tells me that I'm doing that my great, that my performance is really funny. He doesn't say much about it during rehearsal itself, which is part of the code: no notes means no complaints. So, yay. Meeting up with Marta later. We're heading into Berkeley for an art opening at the Artbeat Salon & Gallery, and then back into San Francisco for Folic at The Stud. A night on the town! Two towns, even! 9:41pm Marta put her bunny ears before we left San Francisco, before we even made it to my car where my kitty ears were, just because. (That sort of thing is the among the reasons I love her so much.)People gave us weird looks as we walked through Albany and Berkely to Artbeat and to Kathmandu for dinner, but it was probably just because Marta had accidentally put her ears on backwards at first. Which looks kinda odd. Though her artist friend, whose opening we were attending, seemed quite taken with us. We're now at a beyond-hip cafe in the SoMa, one that I've heard a lot about but never actually gone into. Sitting here surrounded by people dressed mostly in black and various forms of fetish gear, as well as at least one older gentleman wearing nothing but a cock-sock, both makes me wish Bottomfeeder would hurry up and find a publisher, and makes me realize that I need to get back to work on Landing on Water, especially since there's a real possibility that it'll sell before Bottomfeeder does. (The material is, to say the least, less challenging to the casual reader.) Stopping at the gas station across the street from the Maritime Hall earlier this evening had that effect, too. In any event, the overall vibe of the clientele (though not the staff) reminds me quite of a lot of The Citadel. Kinda tightly wound, for want of a better way to put it. 11:25pm According to our blacklight-sensitive handstamps at Frolic, "yiff" is spelled with two Fs. I'd always pictured it as "yif," but I suppose it makes more linguistic/philosophical sense for it to be four-letter word. And there's definitely quite a bit going on here tonight. Dry-yiffing, anyway. 11:25pm Marta and I just watched a furry (whom we were dancing with) do The Robot. By the gods, we have officially lived. sometime after midnight Damn, that was a lot of fun. And I think I've finally figured out where I want to do Ecstasy next. | ||
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Friday, 12 November 2010 (bigger things to do) 10:49am I hate being sick. I distracted myself from it nicely last night at The Dark Room and this morning at Bootcamp, but now that I'm back to being stuck with myself...blech. And rumor has it it's a pretty nice day outside, too. 6:39pm Yeah, I'm losing my shit a little. I just had myself a little meltdown at Jim over Christmas in Hell rehearsal being bumped up against Bad Movie Night this Sunday, which brought up any of a number of not-so-dormant issues regarding my place at the theater and in the world in general. There a lot of good things and triumphs in my life, but after a while the bad stuff starts to pile up, too, and my Vulcan blood isn't enough to help me keep it all in perspective. Everyone else gets to be irrationally emotional at times, so I get to as well, right? Isn't that how it works? | ||
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Thursday, 11 November 2010 (smog moon) 9:52am No gym this morning, since sleep is allegedly a good way to cure a cold. Who knew? And I won't be going this afternoon, since the treadmills will be going away for a spell. And that's okay, because, quite frankly, I intend to be as low-energy as possible for the rest of the day. That's the road to healthiness! 4:34pm Unless I'm asked to go to The Dark Room for some emergency computer work, that is. So much for the low-energy thing. But duty calls. 9:12pm That wasn't so bad, and another proven way to move past a cold is to just ignore it—get dressed, go out into the world and do your thing. Don't give the cold your attention, and it'll go away. Maybe. In any event, I'm just glad I'm home in time to get enough sleep for Bootcamp tomorrow. I could theoretically not go, and the more sleep I can get the better, but godsdamnit, I can't miss the class. Not right now. Not when it's actually working. (I'm even getting good at tricept dips!) The next time I miss the class, it'll be the day after Thanksgiving because I'll be in Sacramento. | ||
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