Thursday, 10 October 2002 (rockets fall on rocket falls)
9:14am
My hair is black again, thanks to Chupa.
9:40am
Regarding K'vetch, in 19 parts.
- To heck with it. From now on, I'm going to sign up for the first slot. I've been going for
the third lately, but then nobody signs up for the first two and I end up reading first anyway.
So I'm just going to cut to the chase. Gets it out of the way, and the energy's better, even
if people are still milling in. On that note, I do need to break the "Oooh, who's that?" habit
of looking towards the front door every time it opens. Kinda unprofessional.
- Because, you know, I simply strive to be professional. To that end, I wore the gauzy orange and pink
Anya dress I wore to the last Writers With Drinks in August; I'd originally thought about going high goff,
velvet and flowy sleeves and the like, but decided since I was reading a piece in which me wearing black was
a plot point, maybe I shouldn't wear any black at all. Because...um...it would be, like, a juxtaposition. Or
something. Made sense at the time, anyway.
- There was a baseball game on that night. Baseball fans are only slightly less cretinous than football fans,
but I still never like being around them when they're drunk. (Or, perhaps more accurately, I don't like being around
drunk people to begin with, and it's worse when they're in fan mode.) Thankfully, K'vetch didn't actually begin until
the game was over and most of them had cleared out.
- Of course, there were a few hangers-on who weren't going to let themselves be chased away from their
bar, even if it did get invaded by a bunch of queers. ("We're GAY!" Lynnee announced at the beginning, in case
anyone missed the point.) A couple of them happened to be sitting right behind us,
and were talking to each other while I was onstage reading. Maddy shushed them, and, remarkably enough, not only did they stop
talking, they remained quiet.
- The response to my piece was pretty good, if perhaps not quite
as energetic as at Poetry Mission. Never can tell.
- Before I read, I apologized to Lynnee for how I diss cell phones in
it, particularly people who use them yet want to be viewed as punk. I assued her that even though he lives and dies by
her cell, he's still the most punk person I know.
- The Perils of Having a Trustworthy Face, Part I: Between the baseball game and neither Lynnee nor Tara arriving
on time, K'vetch started about an hour late. Because of
this, Erin Oh (one of the ForWord Girls organizers) had to leave before it began. Before she left, she asked if I could
possibly plug her upcoming open mic, Oral Fixation. (Friday November 8th at 7:30pm at Dolores Park Cafe, 18th and
Dolores.) I was more than happy to, and quite flattered that she trusted me not to blow it.
- Maddy tells me I announced it just fine, though I feel like I stammered my way through it and my attempts at humor
fell flat. As I was going onstage Lynnee told me to plug kittypr0n, which I hadn't originally planned on doing, but
what the heck, I had the blessing of the host. Lynnee actually did most of the heavy lifting from the back of the bar, describing
the show as being like a faux yule log, perfect for people who liked cats but were allergic to them. Which is as good a way
to describe it as any. And Lynnee being so enthusiastic about it is, let's face it, great cred.
- Although I'd put my full name on the signup sheet, Tara simply introduced me as "Sherilyn." Kinda neat.
- As it happens, the next person to read after me was Lynnee's mother. She was surprised that she would be reading so
soon because she'd signed up for the fourth slot, but then again I'd signed up for the third slot and went first.
- Lynnee's mother read a story about growing up in Germany during WWII. I love the fact that she reads at these
things at all. It's deeply cool.
- The feature of the evening was Max Valerio, who read from his upcoming transition memoir. It goes to show
what a boring life I've had up until this point that I wouldn't have enough material about my own transition to fill a book. People
keep telling me that I must have had an interesting life by definition, but frankly, I don't see it.
- One of the readers, Lynnee's current girlfriend, annihilated my ego. The words "classically luscious" come to mind. She could
have been a Vargas girl, or at the very least, painted on the side of a B-17. Ow.
The fact that she was less than a year off of heroin (she read about being a junkie) didn't help, either. She looked entirely
too healthy. No fair.
- The Perils of Having a Trustworthy Face, Part II: Afterwards, we went outside to find Lynnee and his mother engaged in a rather
heated debate. It seems that Lynnee had plans for after the show, but her mother wanted to go home. Which is fine, since she'd
driven herself, but she wasn't sure how to get to Bay Bridge from there and wanted to Lynnee to show her the way. Lynnee
asked if we could lead her mother out there. Sure, okay. The only problem was, I wasn't entirely certain myself, though I had
a pretty good idea. Lynnee told me a couple times, and I was mostly able to visualize it. Besides, I know the city well enough
to get from Point A to any Point B you care to mention, even if I'm a little foggy as to the exact location of Point B.
- We kept close to Lynnee's mother's car, usually close enough to speak to one another. Which was good, because
around Potrero and 13th she saw a sign for the Bay Bridge and insisted on following it. It wasn't the way Lynnee had said
to go, but I didn't feel quite right contradicting this feisty old German woman, either. (In retrospect, it was the same wrong
turn I'd made when we were taking Jennifer Blowdryer across the Bridge after her play's dress rehearsal. I knew it looked familiar.)
I continued to follow her, however—there was no way I was going to let Lynnee Breedlove's mother get lost on
my watch—and when we reached a dead end, I had her follow me once more, and before long we found an on-ramp.
Not the one that Lynnee had in mind, but it hardly matters. Although I know Lynnee will just be glad she got home, I kinda hope he
doesn't find out I let us get turned around, either.
- When we were finally heading home for real, we decided to stop and get food. It was at least ten and we hadn't eaten since
that afternoon, and besides, my self-image was still sore and demanding comfort food. And what better way to deal with feeling fat and unattractive than
eating? What a swell plan!
- We went to the Safeway at Market and Church, which can be a bit of a zoo
late at night. On the way in, a group of guys by the door made whistling and kissy noises at us. Whether it was garden-variety or because
they'd clocked me, I really don't know. It's difficult to tell sometimes. I didn't look too closely at them, but Maddy was convinced
one of them was a security guard. I wouldn't be surprised.
- The Perils of Having a Trustworthy Face, Part III: So we're in the cereal aisle debating the merits of various makes and
models of rice cakes when I become aware that we're being watched. And this isn't just the paranoia with which I've been afflicted
all my life (my mom can tell you stories, I'm sure); it's a girl standing just a few feet away, watching us with deeply stoned eyes.
She waits until we're finished talking and asks if we know where the corn chips are. There's no way we could possibly think we're
employees, not the way we're dressed. I tell her that I think they're a couple aisles over, then decide to walk her over there. I point
her down the aisle in question and wish her luck. When we see her again a few minutes later in a different part of the store, she
is lacking corn chips. Y'know, I announced Erin's show and got Lynnee's mother to the Bridge. I did my good deeds for the evening.
- The End.
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