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Monday, 31 October 2011 (the chooser and the chosen one) 9:14am So-so turnout for Day of the Dead last night, but everyone who was there had fun. I stayed up for a few hours longer than I should have when I got home, though, so there was no spinning for me this morning. 7:59pm Got my annotated bibliography done and largely ready to turn in tomorrow. I'll probably give it one last hand-edit before I do so, though. I was worried that my upstairs neighbors might have a party tonight—some people are purists and insist in doing in on Halloween proper, schoolnights be damned—but there's no sign that's going to happen. Hooray for small miracles, especially since I intend to go to bed fairly soon and go to the five o'clock spin class tomorrow morning. | ||
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Sunday, 30 October 2011 (the executioner) 11:23am At Dash, working on my annotated bibliography. It's mostlydone at this point, I think, but, damnit, I'm determined to get 100/100 on this. So after the thing at the library yesterday (which was a lot of fun, though as I suspected I couldn't quite shake the "nerdy loser" feeling, since heaven knows there many there), I went down to the Embarcadero to meet up with my mom at about half past one. Her hotel was conventiently located on Steuart across the Ferry building, meaning it was just a short walk to and from the Amtrak bus stop. It was also conveniently located a block and a half from the Occupy San Francisco camp, which she very much wanted to check out, since she supports the cause. That she lives in Fresno and is not as skpetical of hippies and their participation in the movement as I am helps, too. So we walked around the encampment (of which I have photographic evidence), and she talked for quite a while with, of all people, a former Bad Movie Night regular who I was not at all surprised to see there, since she'd always been a bit daffy and way-leftist, and when in more recent years she's very much been in "corner people and go on about my current cause" mode, in that way that people who losing grip often will. From there it we went to the Ferry Plaza Farmer's Market, where I bought some excellent smoked jalapeno sauerkraut and a tomato for lunch. As I ate, we struck up an unfortunate conversation with the owner of a very cute dog. The owner himself was not so cute—well, he might have been if he'd cleaned up a bit, but as it was, it was clear that he not only hadn't had a shower for quite some time, but he was very, very, very angry at the entire world, going on about how many peoples' asses he's had to kick (or wanted to kick, anyway) since he's come to town, how bogus the whole protest thing is since they're not actually using violence, and his overall raging anger at all the people in San Francisco who just talk and talk and talk without ever doing anything. I chose not to point out that he himself was talking and talking and talking and not actually doing anything, since the last thing I wanted to do was give him an excuse to beat us up, or ages and apparent genders notwithstanding. He almost seemed to lose it when my mom opined that passive resistance was a valid form of protest. We got away from him unscathed—I'm not entirely certain he noticed we left—and after listening to the tail end of Michael Moore's speech to the General Assembly, we started walking up Embarcadero, for lack of anywhere else to go for the next few hours. Rather than going further into the heart of tourist country, we cut down Bay Street to North Beach, which was only slightly less crowded than Fisherman's Wharf would have been. We made it back to her hotel around five and were joined by Marta, and after a bit of rest we walked to the BART Station (and past a drum circle in full circliness at Occupy San Francisco) and headed to Civic Center. The plan was to have dinner at Ananda Fuara, conveniently located a block away from the Orpheum, but much to our surprise there was not only a wait, but a line stretching out the door. In the decade or so that I've been eating there, that's never happened. I suppose the fact that it was the biggest party night of the year had something to do with it (more and more people were in costume). It was also getting dark and the wind was picking up and the panhandlers were out in full force, including one who said shouted you're mean! when I lifted my hand and said that we weren't interested. (I get that a lot. Greenpeace signature-gatherers in the Mission have cussed me out for that. The lifting of the hand really riles people, but it works.) The collective stress level was starting to rise, particularly in Marta, so we started walking again in hopes of finding a decent restaurant that wasn't completely packed. We found it in the form of Gyro King, of all places, the first time I've been there since the pre-Dog and Pony Show food poisoning in 2007. No bad reaction so far this time, around, thankfully. (That I'm not nearly as heartsick this time around also helps.) And their dolmas were a revelation. So good. From there we went to the Orpheum, were we had to wait outside for a while before it opened, and the whole people-on-the-street gauntlet continued, but now complete with the well-meaning middle-aged liberals that constituted the audience for the show. I had to tell a couple different people that, no, I'm not in any kind of costume—this is how my hair always looks, and I always have a tail. They didn't buy it for a second, of course. It's the Peterson kid dressed as an iguana! The show itself was pretty good, and my mom particularly enjoyed it, which was the whole reason we were there. There was some controversy afterward between Marta and I about the best way to get my mom back to her motel and us back to Phoebe and how to kill as many of those birds with as few stones as possible. As is so often the case, Marta was right and I was wrong, and I was probably being overprotective of my seventy-one year-old mother. But it all worked out. 4:12pm Observation of hetero couples in daylight over the last forty-eight hours: for every five girls in a quote-sexy-unquote costume, only one boyfriend will be costumed at all. | ||
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Saturday, 29 October 2011 (agony of pleasure) 11:21am Dropped Marta off at her place, parked in the NakedSword lot, and am now on my way to the Main Library for the big event, Shock it to Me: Featured Creatures of the Bay Area. Marta's not interested and my mom won't be getting into town early enough, so I'll be there on my own. That won't make me feel like a nerdy loser at all, I'm sure, any more than being at Midnites for Maniacs by myself does. sometime after midnight Well, that was a spectacularly long day. | ||
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Friday, 28 October 2011 (solace from amateur hour) 10:09am The gathering last night was much fun, though as I'd suspected would be the case, I didn't feel comfortable at all when we went for a drink afterward at Gestalt, though. The staff made me feel exactly as welcome as I expected them to, which is to say, not at all. (Self-fulfilling prophecy?) (Nah!) On the way there, Davina and I talked about the recent changes in status and the fact that her and I won't get to play together again for the time being, and as it turns out, similar changes had been happening on her side. 'tis the season, apparently. But we both had fun while it lasted, the memories are strong, and she assured me that she'll be more happy to pick up where we left off if / when things change in the future. Can't ask for more than that. 10:43am The interview with the horror host guys is up, and if all goes well, I'll be meeting them tomorrow morning. My mom will be coming into town, too, and we're going to a show at the Orpheum that night. It's shaping up to be a busy Saturday. 7:01pm Marta and I are going to a Halloween party tonight at Davina and Mouse's. Davina's going to be Ramona Flowers, and will be using my purse and goggles to that effect. Looking forward to seeing that, I must say, but it's already overshadowed by the fact that Marta is gothing out. That's unprecedented. | ||
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Thursday, 27 October 2011 (raining twilight coast) 10:21am Working at Dash. I've noticed that I kinda need to come here by the end of the week, since my home-based productivity only lasts for a few days at a time. Speaking as I was yesterday of feeling like I'm in school—or, more accurately, like I'm in the academic world, particularly while I'm working on my annotated bibliography—my essay "The Big Reveal" from Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation, is in a University of Texas BFA student's art project bibliography, complete with a link to an awesomely lo-fi scan of the essay on Google Documents. That alone makes it the essay feel far more...I don't know, canonical or something, than it would otherwise. The bibliography itself is roughly the same as this one, which I stumbled upon a couple months back, but they're both by people in Texas, possibly the same people, so that's cool either way. Tonight is a birthday dinner for Ilene at Big Lantern. Marta will be getting there on her own since she'll be hanging out with Alicia in the Mission beforehand, and I'll be giving Davina a lift. Works out well, I think. | ||
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Wednesday, 26 October 2011 (the last shot) 10:11am The Google+ Hangouts meeting last night went well, I think, though I don't really like doing webcam stuff, nor am I convinced that there was any reason we couldn't have done it all over email or chat. But I guess it makes it all feel a little more like we're actually in school, or something. Gonna work from home today, then head to Marta's this afternoon. Doing a lot of that lately, which is a good thing. | ||
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Tuesday, 25 October 2011 (waves of fear) 8:12am Spun this morning—two days in a row, go me!—and in a couple hours I'm heading to Marta's so we can talk in person. I've got kind of a sinking feeling about it. However it goes, it can't last very long, since she has a (just-scheduled) shrink appointment at noon. 12:17pm At New People while Marta is at her appointment. She did not break up with me, as I was worried might happen. We are, however, going to be going back to monogamy for the indefinite future. For however long it takes. 3:31pm After her appointment we had lunch at the sushi boat place, and now I'm back home. I'm on a housecleaning and purging kick, because I've apparently reached that age. In a few hours I have a meeting on Google+ Hangouts with some classmates about our group project, and after that I'm going to Pete and Sarah's to watch movies, most likely The Night of the Hunter. 4:13pm I've been asked to read at Perverts Put Out next January. Hey, that's one gig in 2012! I'm less proud of the fact that I've had to bail on my latest review for make/shift. I'm just not going to be give it the time it needs, given how busy school is about to get (already is, really). 5:09pm I did, however, manage to finish my interview with the horror host-book guys, all online. My editor at the weekly is very happy with it, and says that at some point in the indeterminate future you and I will have a real-time talk about what you've been doing and what else you might do. So that's a good sign, I think. | ||
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Monday, 24 October 2011 (underneath the bottle) 7:11am Since my body's officially up for it, and I got to bed early enough last night, I went to spin class this morning. Probably because I was the only one who was enjoying it, the 6am Monday instructor isn't playing techno anymore. Figures. 10:31am My latest blog post for the weekly, about the original (and short-lived location) for Lucas and Coppola's American Zoetrope at 827 Folsom, is up. 5:33pm The French publisher is apparently not too keen on Bottomfeeder, but hasn't rejected it outright, and for all I know the French actually engage in that practice known as "working with the writer," which American publishers have evidently abandoned. It's also in the hands of a German publisher as well. Marta and I have been talking about getting our passports in order and maybe actually going to another country for a while next year, so maybe things will time out. | ||
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Sunday, 23 October 2011 (a resounding thud) 6:52pm Spent most of the morning and afternoon at Dash, starting to work on my next big school thing, an annotated bibliography. The security lady at Duc Loi has always given me the hairy eyeball—they've always seemed to operate under the assumption that everybody who walks in is a potential shoplifter, which I guess comes from doing business at 18th and Mission—but right now she is not taking her eyes off me. She's staying at the front of the store, but every time I change aisles, so does she. It's probably the fact that I have my gangsta-lookin' tokidoki hoodie up and my sunglasses on. Makes me look very suspcious, evidently. It does have a gun on the front, after all. 10:07pm Pretty good turnout at Bad Movie Night for Dead Snow. Never can tell. | ||
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Saturday, 22 October 2011 (the thing that should not be) 1:54pm At the Rain Tree Cafe for an extremely belated brunch. The fight has been continuing on and off since last night, and Marta's a little out of it, more exhausted than anything else. Understandably so. I'm tired of it, too. But this is how things get fixed. | ||
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Friday, 21 October 2011 (lost for words) 12:21pm Got some work done today, which is still an improvement over none at all. Heading to Marta's neck of the woods later. 7:39pm What was supposed to be an afternoon of renewed productivity at Dash got derailed when I said the wrong thing the wrong way, and we spent much of the time sitting at one of the tables out front, processing heavily. Not my favorite way to do it, but nothing new to me, either, and still not quite at the level of some of the streetcorner meltdowns Maddy and I used to have back in the day. If something's not worth fighting about in public, it's not worth fighting about. We're at Kiki now, because it's comfort food (and not packed like every restraurant in the neighborhood). | ||
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