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Thursday, 20 October 2005 (a magic world) 3:25pm There. The wretched thing (aka the cell phone) arrived, I activated it, and it works. Now I just need to get it to stop beeping loudly whenever a text message comes through, or else I will have no choice but to destroy it.
Nah, I won't do that. But if by Halloween you haven't read about me losing the phone, that'll
just mean I'm too embarrassed to admit it. That's one of the reasons I went for the cheapest
one available: no point in spending a lot of money on something which I'm unlikely to
keep track of. We can't have nice things.
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Wednesday, 19 October 2005 (from whence i came) 9:01am my hands miss you. 12:37pm After half a year in the gay pr0n industry, there are still things can still squick me out, like Thirsty. That it's primarily men piddling into each others' mouths doesn't bother me. It's the $cr0tum-punching that makes recoil. I'm fond of the whole endorphin-rush-from-pain concept, and I'm nowhere near as sensitive about my 'nads as the typical genetic male, but they still hurt when they get hit, so, ow! Jesus! I do love my job.
I stopped by my local salon on the way home last night, an Asian-owned establishment I've been going to for a couple years now, and was quoted a very reasonable rate to bleach my roots. Though I've had a offers from people of varying levels of experience, none are as experienced as Taos, so I've decided to go with the salon. It won't cost that much more than to buy the supplies myself, especially considering the last time was in July,
and the convenience really can't be beat. So.
Slatterns!Slatterns! Slatterns! My favorite word!
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Tuesday, 18 October 2005 (ragged circle) 9:34am Received this last night: on behalf of the entire 2005-2006 berkeley vday staff, we want to thank you so much for your renewed interest in the vagina monologues this year. in our efforts to cut down the running length of the production, we have decided to only include one trans monologue in the show this year. we are so sorry, and we absolutely loved having you and Lynee as a part of the show last year and would be honored to have you both attend!So there you go. Just another failed audition, one of many. 5:23pm Ugh. I did it. I ordered a cell phone. Should arrive in a few days. What a painful process.
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Monday, 17 October 2005 (proper grounding) 11:16am I've never trusted drunk people, especially when they tell you how swell you are. Indeed, it's long since become a cliche: i love you, man! And yet, I want to believe them. Like on Friday night, when the schnookered head of Marketing cornered Ali and I at the office's post-work bar run and told us how swell we are, how we're part of the family and how our supervisor is always raving about what a good job we're doing and that they hope we stick around for a while. Ali's soon leaving the country for an undetermined amount of time, but other than that it was really nice to hear, and I'm choosing to believe it. For no real reason other than my own insecurities (fueled by having lost two jobs in the past eleven months), I've been feeling like the axe is over my head lately, like they're just looking for a reason. This will help me breathe a little easier, but not by much. Something more practical which should help are the Bay Area Video Coalition classes in which I've finally enrolled. For as much as the digital sound and video editing classes look, I'm taking Flash I, Flash II, Photoshop I and Photoshop II, classes which will make me more useful around here in addition to being good things to have on my resume if I do get shitcanned. Really, I should have learned them when I lost my CNET job four (4!) years ago, but, um, better late than never, ja? The timing of the classes is a tad annoying. The majority of the courses offered on on weekdays from ten to six, but missing work for them is not an option, even though they're for work. So, three of the four will be swallowing up certain upcoming weekends, ten to six on both Saturday and Sunday. The first class, however, will be from six to ten on Monday and Wednesday evenings for two weeks in November. It's after I get back from the tour, but the final night of the class is the day before Thanksgiving, which gums up some already tricky travel logistics. There's also the matter of el cumpleańos de mi vashita. Anyway, I though I'm sure her job is in no danger for her mostly promised return, I do find it amusing that shortly after receiving the drunken praise, Ali functionally played hooky from the evening's main event, a group outing to some sort of haunted house thing. I'd already RSVP'd in the negative since it was the same night as the Queer Open Mic. Upon hearing that I wouldn't be going on the office trip, but having already said she would be attending at the ticket presumably already having been bought for her, Ali bided her time and then joined me when I slipped away from the boozing and headed to the Center. Before leaving, I did speak to Mr. Pam about the shooting of the holiday video. I'd heard that it's being planned for the first week of November, which is when I'll be on tour. She said that if I'm not able to be there for the main shoot, then she'll do some pickup shots of me. Because I'm the center of the fuckin' universe, don't'chaknow. Me me I I! After the Queer Open Mic, Ali and I joined Cindy and Esther on a trip to the Cat Club. Now, I gotta say that being nonvehicular hasn't been nearly as bad as I'd feared. It's occasionally a drag getting home late at night when I'm bone tired, but other than that, it really does offer a certain counterintuitive sense of freedom, one which goes against the hyped myth of car ownership. Granted, it's different in a comparatively compact city like San Francisco than sprawling pits like Los Angeles or Fresno. In any event, not having to find parking is way up on the list of adventures to not driving. So, of course, I would up driving our group in Cindy's car deep into the heart of clubland on a Friday night. I love irony, and irony, she loves me right back. Though there was a slight learning curve as I negotiated the width of my boots with placement of the pedals, the drive was uneventful and parking was easily found. (Too easily, perhaps?) (Nah. Just easily.) The Cat Club is a nexus on Friday nights, the living and the dead intermingling in a largely chaste orgy of necrophilia and rejuvenation. Everyone winds up there sooner or later. At times a ghost will flutter by on the periphery, but if one is firmly grounded in their own reality, they need pay the lingering echo no mind. Though not an explicitly queer venue like the Lexington or any bar within a quarter-mile radius of 18th and Castro, us rugmunchers and donutpackers regularly claim the Cat Club for ourselves, hence my group's open yet ultimately nonaggressive disdain for a straight couple who were all but dryhumping on the dancefloor. The problem was not so much that there were getting hot and heavy (aesthetically displeasing as that may be) but that they were doing it smack dab in the middle of a queer space. If they'd been at least against the wall it wouldn't have been so bad, but they were taking up our space. And, really, queer mecca or not, San Francisco has many more straight-catering bars and nightclubs than gay, places where if a same-sex couple was doing the same thing, the response would not have been so...polite. The breeder-bashing bitchfest (BBB?) in the car afterwards made it all worthwhile. I'm sure that on some level it was ethically wrong of us, but last time I checked, queers don't physically bash or kill straights, so I don't feel quite so bad about it.
Getting back to the car was slightly ugly, as it had started to rain. Not that I'm fond of driving in inclement weather, but once rainy season hits, I suspect
I'm going to learn to really miss my car.
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Sunday, 16 October 2005 (along a back road somewhere) 10:12am Vash isn't going to have email access until at least Wednesday. Not that she's one for communicating via email on weekends anyway—I've spotted a computer in her home, but the word "disused" is apt, and she'd probably laugh her head off if I asked if she had net access—but these next few days are going to be weird. A good kind of weird, though, because I suspect I'm on her mind as much as she's on mine. 9:44pm So I was on a low but pleasant dose of Ecstasy and dancing with a couple of hottie femme dyke pals at the Endup today, and what do I do? Leave early, to their evident chagrin, because I have grownup things to do, like laundry and grocery shopping. I'm such a dork sometimes. 11:06pm what does it mean
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Saturday, 15 October 2005 (cheering the war) 11:58pm Spent the last twelve hours with Collette, the first time we've seen each other since I broke up with her on Folsom Sunday. We were originally going to drive to Santa Cruz (she was going to do the driving, natch), a pre-breakup plan, but I started getting majorly cold feet about it this week. So, we went out for lunch, then spent most of the day and evening watching movies about underwater Nazi zombies (or underwater zombie Nazis, depending on your point of view) and finishing up the third season of Six Feet Under. It was nice. There was processing, as there was sure to be, but it wasn't was bad as I'd feared. It was good, even. I think we're going to make the "friend" thing work nicely.
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Friday, 14 October 2005 (charity and rape) 8:53am I left my brush at home today. This makes me sad. Fortunately, my Hair Fu is strong enough (it had better be, after all these years) that I can do adequate pigtails freehand.
Due to health reasons, it's unlikely that Taos will be able to reblonde me anytime soon, so it's a good thing I'm pretty American Zen about the fact that I'm crossing the line from "blonde with roots" to "brown with blonde highlights."
This month's picture, taken at Folsom four weeks ago, says it all. And more.
On the public radio program “Fresh Air” several years ago, Terry Gross interviewed Gray about the piece and turned testy about his having left Renee for a younger woman, suggesting that other women would be distressed by this, too. Gross seemed to be saying that Gray’s behavior and its consequences weren’t clear to him, when in fact he goes on at some length about just that in the work. Gray says he was miffed that she assumed she had the whole story from an audio excerpt. “She was acting as though everything’s in the monologue,” he says. “I’m 58 years old and the monologue’s an hour and 40 minutes.”Yes. Once again, I'm finding myself wanting platinum blonde dreads. My apparent inability to maintain a simple bleach job notwithstanding, the idea just keeps burrowing its way into my brain. Of course, this being San Francisco, there will be those who charge me with cultural appropriation. Tell me, though: whose culture is she appropriating? (Noodlety warning: tits 'n tang.) Sometimes I think the fact that it'll piss certain people off is the perfect reason to do it.
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Thursday, 13 October 2005 (managing layers) 9:39am Maddy and I got stoned, ate a lot of sushi and saw Serenity last night. First time for her, second for me, having attended one of the not-so-secret previews earlier this year. She offered to let me crash at Unimatrix Zero afterwards, since she lives a hell of a lot closer to my office than I do. Tim asked everyone to be at work early for the arrival of our nemeses, so I took Maddy up on the offer. Completely platonic, for those of you keeping score at home, and you know who you are—though I slept in the bed which Lynnee and I drove down from Fresno in December of '03, I remained fully clothed, since in addition to the aforementioned state of platonia (nowandforeverworldwithoutendamen), that place gets seriously cold at night.
Thankfully,
a top I'd ordered from Target a few weeks back had arrived that afternoon (shipped to work), so I actually had something
resembling a change of clothes on hand. I'm also in a pigtail kinda mood today, and damnit, hair moods must be respected.
If Tim doesn't think that a cami top and pigtails
(and the first makeup I've worn this week) isn't sufficiently professional-looking for our adversaries, he hasn't said a word. And he's not usually
at a loss for them.
That is all.
I received this most wonderful card from Vash today, with glitter and smeary ink and the slightest olfactory hint of nail polish remover...
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Wednesday, 12 October 2005 (welcome to dead space) 1:54pm The casting agent just called. I didn't get the part on the teevee program. Oh well. So much for the solo show. 4:29pm Our biggest competitors are visiting the office tomorrow, for a summit meeting of sorts. This has of course resulted in a mad rush of cleaning and polishing and rearranging. At least we don't have "de-porn" the joint, like when our more straight-laced corporate clients visit. There's been an influx of plants, however. Evidently, Tim felt the way to strike fear into the hearts of our rivals was chlorophyll, and lots of it.
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Tuesday, 11 October 2005 (best to hide) 12:41pm After a few down hours this morning, my work computer has been resurrected. With a cd burner, no less. Neat. 5:18pm Vash is leaving for New York tomorrow, and will be gone until a week from Saturday. The day after Halloween, I'm going on tour with Jennifer and Alvin. We've only been dating for two and a half weeks, but we can already tell we're going to miss each other. I guess that's what some would call NRE, though I prefer to think of it simply as "being really into each other." (Especially because I remain uncomfortable with the R-word.) It'll last however long it lasts, and I intend to enjoy every moment of it.
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