gosh, that explains why you never ever get called "sir" or "him," huh?

Whooboy. Majorly mixed feelings. If I don't like the role and how it portrays trannies yet they offer me the part, do I take it? Is that selling out? Yes, I suppose so, because I'd be doing it for the money; don't know how much it would be, but surely it would be enough to at least pay back Maddy and the other people to whom I'm in debt. Then there's my student loans. And my credit card. And then there's the car. And...

It would be seen by millions of people in the initial broadcast, and then end up on DVD within a year, enshrined for the ages on the shelves at Target and racks at Blockbuster. I'd be in the IMDB, not to mention it would totally throw off my Google results. What might be a few days' work and the single largest check I've ever received would always be there, always need to be reckoned with, and surely require explaining for the rest of my career, or at least the rest of my life.

Then again, I suppose I'd get a lot of writing out of it, huh? I could get my Spalding Gray jones on. It might be even more controversial than my account of the Rent Girl shoot! Nah, probably not. Nothing could be as scandalous as that.

12:50pm

No, I'm not a transvestite. (I have nothing against transvestites. I'm just not one myself, though I identified as such for a while before overcoming the denial.) Nor am I Karen Carpenter as an angel, or a hyperintelligent pandimensional being taking the form of a mouse. But I've played those. It's acting, not making a statement about who I am personally. What's more, she said that they don't want to just use a regular actor, but rather someone who is familiar with the "lifestyle." For as much as I cringe at that word, I appreciate what they're trying to do, something a bit more thoughtful than just sticking a guy in a wig and a dress. And maybe it will be a positive portrayal, murder suspect angle notwithstanding. Stranger things have been known.

2:23pm

My bad. She isn't accused of murder; she witnessed a murder. Granted, she's a sex worker in the Tenderloin, a Motherlode girl who refers to herself in the third person occasionally. But, having read over the lines a few times, I think I'm comfortable with it. She isn't a total caricature, and the script refers to her simply as a tranny, not specifcially a transvestite—and much more importantly, refers to her as "she" and "her." That makes all the difference in the world to a pronoun fascist such as myself, as it implies that the sceeenwriter is at least trying. That's more than most.

So, yeah. I think I'm kinda wanting this.

6:13pm

It's exquisitely beautiful in my part of town right now, thanks to the dry September thunderstorm this afternoon. I'm not outside enjoying it, though. Lilah's coming over tonight to watch movies, and I originally envisioned I'd be spending the time before she arrived frantically cleaning the apartment, trying to make it as flawless as possible based on the probably erroneous notion that she gives a damn. As I memorized the lines on the train ride home, I realized that I was going to need the time to figure out exactly what I'm wearing to the audition, how I'm going to deal with the logistics of it at work (the obvious choice of my hooker dress is inappropriate even for NakedSword), and putt-putt my car over to Walgreen's to a print out what I hope will be a decent-looking headshot. I'm still doing those things, but wouldn't you know it, new script pages arrived. My part—well, the part, it ain't mine yet and may never be—has been rewritten, and is considerably shorter. That's the biz, I guess. But I still want the part.

sometime after midnight

After taking Lilah to the train stop (and having received her approval earlier in the evening for my audition wardrobe choice), I shaved my legs and armpits. Haven't done either in months. Evidently, I mean business.

Yesterday, I called Vash. She returned my call today. It's neat when it actually works that way.

Meanwhile, I've discovered Joan Didion. Okay, sure, I'd heard of her before, and my brother's roommate once had a cat named after her, but that's different.

To which I replied this morning, companywide:

Not to get all semantical, and I was surely difficult to understand when I called the office because I was gibbering like an idiot, but my car didn't *get* towed--I take a certain snotty pride in the fact that it has never been towed without me calling AAA first. [embarrassing emoticon] I did *have* it towed yesterday morning after it said "urp" and rolled to a halt, and this morning I learned the bearings in the water pump went kablooey, resulting in a Rube Goldberg-esque chain of motor events which resulted in me spending a few hundred bucks to get it running again not very well, on three out of four cylinders, shaking so much that the empty bottle in the holder rattles loudly, and though the mechanic says he got it up to 60 mph on the Great Highway, hills are to be avoided--rather tricky when your apartment is in the Outer Sunset but everywhere else you go, well, isn't. (My planned Northwest tour for this November is in major jeopardy, that's for sure.) I'm told it would be better to just get a new car than attempt to replace the valve or cylinder or whatever. Whee. Not that I could afford one even if the answer was "yes," but have hybrids been around long enough to be sold used?

It'll probably change as of tomorrow, but I'm listed on the The Dark Room's website for three different events. Neat.

sometime after midnight

is this how things are? this is how things are.

Speaking of lessons:

There are two types of engines that use timing belts. They are described as: "Interference Engines" and "Non-interference Engines" The difference lies in the proximity between the valves and the pistons. On an interference engine, if the timing belt slips even one notch, the piston can crash into an open valve causing serious engine damage by bending valves and breaking pistons. Non-interference engines will usually not self destruct, but in either case if the belt fails, the engine will immediately shut down leaving you stranded.

From there, I went to Ali's art opening. There was a brief temptation to just go home, especially since I was on foot, but I realized that was all more the reason to go deep into SOMA,. go into full-on urban warrior mode. Walking the city streets on a chilly September night can be quite invigorating. It's what living in this place is all about, really. Not much point if you aren't going to pound the dark foggy pavement now and again.

And, really, is there anything more quasi-urbane and pretentious than an art reception? Even if it is all erotic art, much of it with an S&M bent. (Which almost goes without saying in this town; if something is sexual, it's practically a given that there will be an element of kink.) (Then again, maybe that's just the circles in which I run.) I was there more for the social element than anything else, as was most everybody, being an Exiles event; I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer about these things, but I'm pretty sure I was cruised more than once. Spent much of the time talking to a woman I'm rather attracted to, Vash, whom I have reason to believe is interested in me as well. I guess it would be considered flirting, technically. Phone numbers were exchanged. (Ironically, we already have each others' email address, but the ritual should be kept alive.) I know better thank to think that'll lead to anything, but the signs are promising all the same.

Afterwards, I went with Ali and a friend to a nearby Thai restaurant for an excellent late night meal, then walked back up to Market together. All in all, a really terrific night.

Meanwhile, Jennifer Blowdryer has booked us some reading gigs in Oregon and Washington for the first week of November.

1:38pm

Everyone should try being a pariah for a while. It's an interesting experience. Puts things in perspective.

6:13pm

My hearing is dodgy enough without listening to six hours of Sutcliffe Jugend, but that's what the day required.

11:16pm

It figures that on the day I find out I'll be driving to Seattle (possibly even Vancouver) and back in the near future, my car's tape deck dies. There's going to be a lot of that sort of thing between now and then.

Sure. Once the knife is in, why not twist it a bit?

sometime after midnight

i just have this edge that needs to be taken off...

Oh, I almost forgot: fuck Patriot Day.