My Face for the World to See (Part II): The Diary of Sherilyn Connelly a fiction September 11 - 20, 2003

Saturday, 20 September 2003 (please don't take my picture) 9:06am I was standing outside at the Litquake event last night when someone asked about the flyers I'd been handing out. I was confused for a moment, since I didn't even have any kittypr0n flyers on me, but then I realized she thought I was (e), who had been handing out flyers for her book release party on Thursday. Not the first time I've been mistaken for her, and probably not the last. Heck, if I got hair extensions like hers (and I'd be lying if I said the thought had never crossed my mind), when she goes on tour nobody would even notice she'd left town. Okay, that's not quite true. Chick Nite went well, I think. The turnout could have been better, and lord knows I did my part in promotion. It was a busy night all over the City; Litquake probably siphoned off a lot of the potential audience, even though it was over before Chick Nite began. All the same, it was fun, and even a handful of people can fill most of Spanganga's theater. Both Shauna and Annalee, neither of whom had heard me read since my birthday, said I've improved a lot since then. Yay. I hope so. I didn't even stumble over the new piece the way I was afraid I might. Charlie rocked as usual, and it was also great to hear Lauren read. That doesn't happen nearly often enough—or, if nothing else, I'm not there for it—so I cheated and booked her into the first night of the new club I'm doing with Anders, as well as the tentative one-off show at Dolores Park Cafe in December. And what's the point of doing these things if you can't get your friends involved? 12:21pm and oh so sick i am and maybe i don't have a choice and maybe that is all i have and maybe this is a cry for help i do not want this i do not want this i do not want this i do not want this don't you tell me how i feel don't you tell me how i feel don't you tell me how i feel you don't know just how i feel i want to know everything i want to be everywhere i want to fuck everyone in the world i want to do something that matters Last | Top | Next

Friday, 19 September 2003 (broadcast me a joyful noise) 9:10am Michael's right: aluminum does taste like fear. And the other way around. 10:17am With a mouth full of aluminum, I asked The Boss for a raise. What a dreadful feeling. I don't recall ever having done so before, or really needing to. I acknowledged that the company isn't in the best financial straits right now, but neither am I. Indeed, I'd say I'm a lot closer to being completely broke than he is. I didn't point this out, but considering that yesterday I had to dissuade him from plunking down six hundred dollars on Alpine Air Filter (scamscamscamSCAM), I think I've proven that I'm worth a dollar or three more per hour than he currently spends on me. Anyway, he seemed open to the idea, and told me we'd discuss it on Monday. He's said before that I need to take more initiative in following up with him. Well, Monday seems a perfect time to start. 11:32am Jesus. I just got called "sir" by a UPS woman. Not only am I wearing makeup, but for the first time in weeks I'm not wearing the somewhat androgynizing cowboy hat, which up until this morning had been necessary to keep the direct sunlight out of my eyes. Maybe if I wasn't wearing the dark glasses (the sunlight isn't direct, but it's still bright) she might have seen somewhat overly made up eyes, and...well, probably still called me "sir." It very seldom happens in person anymore, and I was so taken by surprise she left before I could correct her. Ugh. 4:06pm I didn't think it was going to happen, but I have a new piece to read tonight. Cool. I've also figured out how to configure SpamAssassin to actually identify spam in the subject line. (You might think that would be a default, but you'd be wrong.) Now all I have to do is figure out how to get pine to automatically filter it to a separate folder. You know, without breaking anything this time. Go me. I'm all l33t 'n stuff. sometime after midnght Long night, drama in many directions, good reading. So very tired. Last | Top | Next

I'm gonna make a mistake I'm gonna do it on purpose I'm gonna waste my time 'Cause I'm full as a tick And I'm scratching at the surface And what I find is mine And when the day is done, and I look back And the fact is I had fun, fumbling around All the advice I shunned, and I ran Where they told me not to run, but I sure had fun, so I'm gonna fuck it up again I'm gonna do another detour Unpave my path And if you wanna make sense What you looking at me for I'm no good at math And when I find my way back The fact is I just may stay, or I may not I've acquired quite a taste for A well-made mistake I wanna make a mistake Why can't I make a mistake? I'm always doing what I think I should Almost always doing everybody good Why- Do I wanna do right, of course but Do I really wanna feel I'm forced to Answer you, hell no I've acquired quite a taste for A well-made mistake, I wanna make a mistake Why can't I make a mistake I'm always doing what I think I should Almost always doing everybody good Why- Fiona Apple, "Mistake" Thursday, 18 September 2003 (the fifth mantra) 9:02am My body is all about the ironic timing: I have a canker sore. Upper inside lip, perfectly positioned to re-irritate itself against my teeth whenever I eat or speak. Wouldn't be surprised if I accidentally bit it open before the show tomorrow night. Of course, if I'm in pain, it'll just help me live up to Tarin's description of me in the current publicity: "Goth poetry without the high school." Heh. I love it. Not that I write poetry, but pick pick. We saw Whale Rider last night. The cleansing continues. There were a few other people in the theater, but nothing's perfect. 9:43am Today's a double anniversary for me. Both were arguably life-changing events. On September 18, 1998, I started on hormones. On September 18, 2001, I got laid off from CNET. There's no connection, of course. My position was eliminated because I didn't know better than to accept pay increases they'd given me over the years, thus making me being too expensive to keep when our department got downsized. I hadn't actually come out at work yet—I was going to be meeting with HR the following week to make the announcement—so it's not like they were picking on the queer or anything. It was just fate. Coincidentally, I've been going through a CD-Rom of stuff I burned off my old CNET computer on my last day, nearly three years' worth of accumulated personal stuff. Some of it's almost five years old, and there's a lot of pictures. Damn, but I was fugly back then. Among other things. 12:41pm From Spanganga's site: Night of the Living Dead is the classic low-budget sixties horror film that started a genre, busted race type-casting and then entered the public domain. See George Romero's all-time classic tale of the night Zombies walk the Earth in search of live flesh for food live and onstage. Free zombie make-up to all guests who want it. This show is highly interactive in nature. Your personal space will be violated. You will scream. You will be grossed out. Not for vegetarians. This event is sure to sell out so buy your tickets in advance. "Not for vegetarians." Great. Now they tell me. 11:39pm Completing our marathon, we saw The Magdalene Sisters tonight. What is it about female sexuality that so frightens the power structure? Yes, I'm being rhetorical. Last | Top | Next

Wednesday, 17 September 2003 (all that rises must converge) 9:27am After editing kittypr0n last night we went back to the Metro and cleansed our cinematic palette with a late showing of Dirty Pretty Things. It was hard not to feel a little guilty for keeping the staff there longer than they might have otherwise. On the other hand, for the second night in a row we had the theater to ourselves. Damn, I could get used to that. The funny thing was, even though we could have been shouting (you know, the way most moviegoers do these days) we still leaned in and spoke relatively quietly to one another, when we spoke at all. More often than not it was to ask if the other understood what the character just said, since the accents were kinda thick. I think we've been spoiled by closed captioning, which we have turned on even when we're watching American movies. That's how pretentious we are. Anyway, since Dirty Pretty Things was so dark (but very good, although I think Maddy was expecting less "dirty" and more "pretty"), we're going to see Whale Rider tonight and probably The Magdalene Sisters tomorrow night. Our possibly incorrect theory is that we'll be dividing two really depressing movies with one that's also heavy but ultimately uplifting. Gotta time these things carefully, especially given my current penchant for bringing my arms into contact with sharp things—I don't need another reason. (I kid, of course. Depressing movies are a reason to live.) (Not that I'm looking for reasons to live.) (Which is to say, I'm not specifically looking for reasons to live, because I am very much not suicidal.) (Oh, never mind.) I've been invited to perform at a tranny-oriented benefit for Tom Ammiano. That's pretty cool, although the timing may be tricky because of play rehearsals. Either way, though, it's nice to be asked. 11:04am My most memorable empty-theater experience was when The Ex and I saw The Cook, The Thief, His Wife & Her Lover. In addition to being alone we were underage (her sixteen, me seventeen), and not only did the manager know, but she was a friend and let us in for free. Ah, to be young lawbreakers in love. The Ammiano thing is in the evening, so there won't be a conflict with rehearsals, if I even have to go that day, which I might not. Yay. 3:31pm ...unless it happens during the run of the play, that is, in which case I won't be able to do it; the date hasn't quite been determined yet. Hey, that's showbiz. Last | Top | Next

Tuesday, 16 September 2003 (shouting at the ground) 10:02am Since it was Date Night, we were determined to go to a movie. Our original plan had been Winged Migration at the Red Vic, but going into the Haight sounded like too much trouble. Besides, we still have a bunch of UA passes from my mom, and they've been mutating into an arthouse chain, which is perfect. So, we went to the UA Metro in Colma, a relatively simple drive with plenty of free parking. (I had to deal with finding parking at Fillmore and Haight twice this weekend, so those were important details.) (No, taking the bus hadn't been option either time. What sort of silly question is that?) A great selection, too: Spellbound, The Magdalene Sisters, Swimming Pool, Dirty Pretty Things and Whale Rider. Can't go wrong. Unless you decide to go with one of the two studio films playing, in this case The Italian Job. (The other, an exercise in indirect misogyny starring a prominent figure in current California politics, was not an option.) Every so often I feel the need for pure entertainment, preferably something which doesn't look like it'll insult my intelligence in the process. And it mostly didn't. Mostly. It was okay. But as is so often the case with major Hollywood movies, we left it feeling unsatisfied, and wished we'd seen The Magdalene Sisters instead. I keep forgetting that I don't like the taste fluff leaves in my mouth. 12:27pm Will you live to 83? Will you ever welcome me? Will you show me something that nobody else has seen? Smoke it, drink. Here comes the flood, Anything to thin the blood. These corrosives do their magic slowly and sweet. 3:18pm My body's atrophying from lack of exercise. I didn't make it to the gym at all this weekend, and I don't get nearly enough exercise during the week. Yesterday and today I walked to the post office, maybe all of five or ten minutes, and my legs were really feeling it. Not pain, but more! more! Hopefully I'll be less of a slacker about going to the gym this weekend. At least I'm managing my morning stretchencrunch, even if my stomach still feels very round. Speaking of being a slacker, The Boss again told me I need to be more communicative. Which is probably true. By his own admission he tells me things on the spur of the moment and then promptly forgets them, and I need to follow up and remind him. Ugh. Sounds dreadful. He was also quick to point out that he's not dissatisfied with the job I'm doing, and thinks I'm very intelligent. I just need to apply myself more. Not the first time I've heard that. The term "sales leads" is used around here a lot, which makes me think of Glengarry Glen Ross. It's kinda disturbing. I have an idea for a new piece, but I'm not sure where to go with it. It's not an anecdote so much as Evidence From When I Was Young, which is a bit trickier to format. But at least it's an idea, always a cause for celebration. It also makes references to eighties pop culture, and who doesn't like those? Nobody. Nobody doesn't like those. Last | Top | Next

Monday, 15 September 2003 (black math) 11:35am My car's battle of attrition against my already mortally wounded bank account continues. It's at the shop today to have the banshee-like brakes chceked (they seem to work fine, but they're !!LOUD!!), so I drove Maddy's car to work. It wasn't quite as nerve-wracking as I was expecting, except for those ten or so Duel-like minutes during which a huge pickup truck followed me so close, it might as well have given me a prostate exam while it was in there. Anyway, maybe they'll say my brakes are fine, just noisy, and not charge me, or at least not much. That would be nice, and stranger things have happened. 12:32pm ...but they aren't happening today. It's going to cost considerably more than nothing to fix the brakes. And, unlike the crack in the windshield which I've had since my last day at CNET, this isn't something I can ignore. There's a lot of stuff in the apartment I really don't need, which other people might want. Indeed, they may even be willing to exchange currency for those items. 3:24pm I just got the schedule for rehearsals as well as the actual run of the play. Starting next week, I'm pretty much busy through the first week of November. Granted, I won't have to be at every rehearsal nor have to stay for the duration of each one I am at, so it's not quite as intensive as it looks at first. Still, though. Heavy. I'm reminded of that feeling when you put the tab of acid on your tongue: you're committing to a trip. It could go good or bad (though I've never had a bad trip on acid), but either way it'll be an adventure. Last | Top | Next

Sunday, 14 September 2003 (harmonic fragments) 11:55pm Maddy and I had sushi with Lynnee and his girlfriend Jenn on Friday night, and afterwards Lynnee and I went to the second night of the Homo Hop Festival in Oakland. Much fun, and I wish I could have gone to the other nights. One of the performers has a documentary crew following them around, so, seemingly inevitably, I found myself signing a release form. Since I'm tall and femmey but also tend to be logical, Lynnee dubbed me "Patsy Spock." He meant it as a compliment. (I have to admit, though, I've never cared for Absolutely Fabulous.) After editing kittypr0n for a few hours on Saturday afternoon, Maddy and I had sushi for a record-breaking second night in a row (and at her suggestion, which would have been extremely unusual once upon a time), and eventually found ourselves at the Lexington for the better part of the night. Y'know what that place needs? More gawking straight boys. Really. Tonight was the first of a new series Kirk Read is hosting called Lit at the Hive, at a new veganish/organic/raw foods cafe in the lower Haight called Urban Forage. Maddy wasn't too impressed by the food, but I dug it. It's a nice little space, and the turnout for the reading was really good. Kirk told me that the series he's currently running are both all booked, but that when he starts a new one, he wants me to read at it. That's so cool. There were some bad moments this weekend, but more good ones. Last | Top | Next

Saturday, 13 September 2003 (from bone to satellite) 12:36pm Okay, hit the reset button: Chick Nite on Friday really does start at 10pm, not 8. It currently says 8 on the official site, but, well, it's wrong. Last | Top | Next

Friday, 12 September 2003 (strange estate) 8:49am First Warren Zevon, then Leni Riefenstahl, and now Johnny Cash and John Ritter. Isn't it creepy how celebrities always die in fours? Last | Top | Next

Thursday, 11 September 2003 (the blind table) 9:37am There's a black mark on our calendar at home where I crossed out the words "Patriot Day." Fuck Patriot Day. 11:52am Well, I didn't break my email, exactly. SpamAssassin was installed on sfgoth some time back, and I was trying to set up pine's filtering system so that everything the program read as spam was put in its own folder. Except it didn't quite work, and not only did it move the majority of my mail into that folder, incoming mail (spam and otherwise) is now going there too. So I'm not losing anything, but I'm having to check two folders, and it's no better than it was before. That's what I get for not asking for help, but, generally, the people who would be able to help me don't like being asked to do so, and I was trying to respect that, to be all self-sufficient and stuff... 11:40pm A hot day in the Bay Area, translating into an beautiful, darn near Fresno-like evening. And that's a compliment, since Fresno summer nights are the best. The make up for the days, and that's no small feat. Kirk and Matt Bernstein Sycamore read together at Modern Times tonight. Introducing a piece, Kirk told about an incident while taking a phlebotomy class at San Francisco City College earlier this week. (It's to work with AIDS patients at the St. James Infirmary.) It seems one of his classmates started verbally harrassing him, actually using words like "girly-man" and "sissy," and even "queer" as a pejorative, for pete's sake. In San Francisco in 2003! The mind reels. Just to make the whole incident all the more schoolyard, the guy further taunted Kirk wth thinly veiled threats to not report him. Which, of course, is exactly what Kirk did, and long story short (if possible by now), the guy can't come back to the class until he talks to the Dean, and there's a possibility of expulsion. Oh hell yeah. Although it turns out that I would in fact have been free that night, the play having been pushed back a couple weeks, the Dolores Park Cafe has given the Friday in October which I'd originally been offered to someone else. Instead, I'll be getting a Friday in December. The first night of Chanukah, no less. Ideas are forming. 11:59pm Oh, and fuck Patriot Day. Last | Top | Next