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Thursday, 20 September 2007 (soon after the chapel) 3:20pm Since she was in the mood for Italian, Ennui and I met up at Caffe Trieste in North Beach. As she drank her latte, we marveled how there's possibly nothing more old-school San Francisco Hip than meeting up for a date at Trieste. (Old-school, as I say. The more contemporary equivalent would be Ritual, I suppose.) From there we walked around the corner to Firenze By Night for dinner. It's not the fanciest or most expensive Italian restaurant in North Beach by any stretch of the imagination, but still—I'm a thirty-four year old gainfully employed college graduate with no arrest record or history of drug use, and yet when I walk into a place like that, I immediately feel like a teenager. I couldn't pass as a teenager if my life depended on it, and Ennui's roughly my age and dresses more like a grownup than I do (especially since she'd just come from an office with a dress code), but I was convinced that people were looking at us and thinking awwww, how cute! they're on a date! is it prom season already? The food was really good, though, even if DiCicco's in Fresno makes a better lasagna. 6:38pm I was just getting settled in at the Three Dollar Bill Cafe this evening and really looking forward to brushing off an aggressive panhandler who was making the rounds when a guy sitting nearby re-introduced himself to me. He was at Transforming Community last year, and had liked my piece so much at the time he came up to me afterwards and talked at some length about it. Seems it's still on his mind a year and change later, especially what the culturally seditious things I said about my weight (short version: I want to be thin) which is really touching. In fact, he was preparing to be in a panel upstairs at which he was fully expecting to get burned at the stake for similarly unpopular views. I wished him luck and assured him that there are worse things than being burned at the stake, and that I've survived and walked away from it more than once. Like the title of Fiona Apple's second album says, hen the Pawn hits the conflicts he thinks like a king What he knows throws the blows when he goes to the fight And he'll win the whole thing 'fore he enters the ring There's no body to batter when your mind is your might So when you go solo, you hold your own hand And remember that depth is the greatest of heights And if you know where you stand, then you know where to land And if you fall it won't matter, cuz you’ll know that you’re right. Pretty much. Meanwhile, the panhandler did eventually come up to me, and before he could start his spiel, I said: forget it. don't even bother. Man, some serious daggers flew out of his eyes. Hafta admit, it was kinda satisfying. Part of surviving being stake-burned is accepting that some people will think you're an asshole, and if I didn't learn that lesson when I broke up with Maddy in '05, it would mean I'm not capable of learning anything at all. After dinner last night we returned to Ennui's. She didn't call ahead to tell Jack or his boyfriend that we'd be there, and they didn't seem to care. I mean, they like me and were happy to see me, but were nonplussed otherwise. Jack's boyfriend had gone elsewhere by the time Ennui and I retired to her bedroom, but Jack was still there, doing his thing around the rest of the house while we did our thing. It was obvious that it was just how things were done around there, and aside from making sure that my volume wasn't louder than Ennui's, it wasn't difficult to adjust to at all. Collette and her husband had a similar arrangement in '05 (and still do, I'm sure), but this was a lot easier to work with, especially since I was never entirely uncomfortable with Collete's husband's presence. A nice enough guy, but he always...um...unnerved me. And, presently, I certainly preferred it to hearing the giraffe upstairs. For that matter, the parade of fascinating sounds from the street outside Ennui's window didn't stress me out the way the pounding above my bedroom does. They worked themselves into my dreams in interestng ways.
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Wednesday, 19 September 2007 (little white truths) sometime after midnight i think i'd like some pain tonight.
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Tuesday, 18 September 2007 (on and on and on) 10:37am I started on female hormones nine (nein!) years ago today, on September 18, 1998. When I dropped off my car at the mechanic this morning, I'm pretty sure he called me "sir." 11:20am There are a few things are more pathetic than constantly checking one's phone and being all "oooh, did ___ text me back yet?" But not many things. 6:38pm Took my car to the shop this morning, and picked it up this afternoon. Not Vash's new person, but the same one I've gone to the last couple times, in my part of town. I have to say, I don't not trust him. His theory was that if he reset the "Service Engine Soon" light so it wasn't blinking, I'd pass the smog test. So I took it back to the somg place, where it failed the test yet again—the guy said I need to "drive it for about half an hour at fifty-five miles per hour on the highway" to get it ready for the test. Oy. I don't take it on the freeway, let alone at fifty-five miles per hour. I'm convinced that's why it's lasted as long as it has. So...yeah. I guess I'll drive it around a bit these next few days, then take it back. Or something. And start seriously looking into getting a new car. I'm a slave to both Wells Fargo and AAA; one of them can surely help me, right? Right. I swung by The Dark Room earlier to drop off the DVD for next Sunday's Bad Movie Night (Sin City), and wouldn't'chaknow it, there was Vash across the street.. Not a coincidence; we'd been talking on the phone earlier, and I'd mentioned I was going to The Dark Room, and as it happens she was going into the Mission anyway to meet up with a friend, so she decided to stalk me, just like the old days. We had dinner at Cancun, then parted company. I'm at the Marsh now, with a bunch of hand-edits to type up. It's November, and the second act has begun.
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Monday, 17 September 2007 (what light) 9:12am After sleeping late and going to the Sea Biscuit (I'm so very happy that ritual has been resurrected), Vash and I did some frame-shopping yesterday afternoon for her Open Studios stuff. She then dropped me off at Mission Creek, where I worked for a while before being joined by Ennui. We had dinner then went to The Dark Room for Bad Movie Night, where Vash rejoined us. Also present for the show was Ennui's boyfriend Jack, as well as the other girl Ennui's dating, plus said girl's own long-term partner. Ah, you gotta love San Francisco. Of course, I was in the front row on the mic, Ennui and her polytribe were a few rows back, and Vash spent most spent most of the movie in the lobby working on the painting we were frame-shopping for earlier. I was rather envious of Vash, since the feature was Four Rooms. That movie hurts so much. (Tarantino sucks! There, I said it.) Vash and I then to the Black Light District afterward, where she fitted my ears to ready them for painting, and then we crashed.
I've wised up and pushed back my solo show to the first three weekends in December. It just makes more sense that way.
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Sunday, 16 September 2007 (leave me (like you found me)) 4:03pm Oy. Rimma's party last night was at a place called The Irish Bank, which calls itself "one of America's most authentic, historically accurate and romantic Irish pubs." I'm sure that's true, since from the moment I walked in I felt like I was going to get my ass kicked. Many pairs of eyes followed Vash and I, especially after she drew a rather elaborate beard (spelling "unlucky" in reverse) in accordance with Rimma's "mustaches required" policy. I chose to buck the policy, 'cuz, again, I was getting enough weird looks as it was. Even though a drawn-on or fake mustache would have looked, well, fake, the last thing I wanted to do was tempt fate any further by letting the hooligans see what I might look like with facial hair. The squid is festive enough, thank you very much. The party itself was held in the back room, at a long table filled mostly with members of the Vampires, the motorcycle club Rimma's boyfriend Ziad belongs to. Which is cool, they're really sweet folks and some of them have even come to Bad Movie Night while Rimma was cohosting (they turned out in the greatest numbers for Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo, which would surely make Sonny Barger's head spin). It was the group of...(German? Russian? Norwegian?) tourists at the next table who could not stop staring at us that go on my nerves. They were drunk and friendly and ultimately meant no harm, but, ugh. And I couldn't even tell them to take a picture, 'cuz they did, and still kept starting. After a while it was a game, seeing of them staring (with a huge grin on their face), and I would shift around so they couldn't see me, then they'd move so the could see me, and so on and so forth. Whee. We had a good time, though, and I'd still rather go to a party there on "Faggot-Stomping Night" than any night at Fluid.
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Saturday, 15 September 2007 (hate it here) 2:29pm At Citizen Cupcake at the top of the Virgin Megastore, one of my more favorite places to write these days, what with the free wifi and avaiable outlets and splendid view of Fourth and Market. Probably going to be here until eight or nine—sooner if they kick me out—at which point I'm going to Rimma's birthday party deep in the bowels of Financial District. Vash and I went to Costumes on Haight last night to get bunny ears, which she'll be repurposing into pony ears. It's how she made her pair. She painted hers burgundy, and mine will probably be blondish-pink to match the Squid. From there we walked into the Upper Haight to buy stripeys (god, I hate gutterpunken so much), and back to Fillmore to have dinner at Hanabi (god, I love their Crunchy Roll so much), then unexpectedly stopped in the Inner Sunset for look at Jupiter through a Sidewalk Astronomer's telescope. Finally we returned to the Black Light District to watch Cronenberg's The Fly, which I've been wanting to show her ever since I wrote "Crashing into Coma" last year. She's at the Gay Rodeo with Zoe, and will be joining me at Rimma's party later. My solo show is scheduled for October 13, 20 and 27 at The Dark Room, but I'm beginning to doubt whether it's going to ready by then, at least as polished as Jim and I had been talking about, and memorization just ain't gonna happen. A work-in-progress reading, perhaps. And it isn't becuase I haven't been working hard; it's just that it keeps wanting to be bigger, and I have to honor that. The focus and themes shift a lot, too. I'm as curious as anyone to see how it turns out.
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Friday, 14 September 2007 (please be patient with me) 3:10pm Venice and I had dinner at the Chinese place across from the LGBT Center, which is also conveniently located a few blocks away from the Power Exchange. It was the first time she'd been there in about four years, and it was quite hopping for a Thursday night—gearing up for Folsom, perhaps. We started out tentatively, testing the waters, but we worked together well. Sparky would have been jealous, I'm sure.
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Thursday, 13 September 2007 (shake it off) 5:47pm While I fancied my last phone as looking like a communicator from the original Star Trek, my new phone is more reminiscent of a Star Trek: The Next Generation-era tricorder, and that's not a step down at all. It's a Sanyo Katana, which I specifically requested in Polar White—it's taken a few years, but I've finally learned that I lost track of dark objects faster, especially in my bag or in my apartment. And, though I've never coveted the slim phones, it fits inside my boot. In addition to being hella sexy, I'd like to think that greatly reduces the chances of losting this one on the bus. Vash and I went to the monthly Pony Munch last night. It was fun. Met some nice people, including quite a few we'd seen at the Dog and Pony Show back in April, and I think we made some good connections. Tomorrow, we're going shopping for my ears so we'll be ready for Folsom at the end of the month. (This year will be different than last year, oh yes it will.) We're also getting matching stripeys to go with the semi-matching flapper dresses we'll be wearing the wedding of one her coworkers next weekend. If we're going to have to drive all the way to Yorkville and shell out for a hotel room, we're damn well gonna wear flapper dresses.
Tonight, Venice and I are going to the Power Exchange to see what happens.
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Wednesday, 12 September 2007 (side with the seeds) 3:38pm Two business days from Sunday does in face mean Wednesday, as the replacement phone arrived. It's different from my old one and I'm not sure how I feel about it right now, but I'll adjust.
Maddy says my binder has surfaced at The Dark Room. It's nice to get back lost stuff. Happens so seldom.
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Tuesday, 11 September 2007 (sky blue sky) 11:10am Six years ago today, CNET had planned to formally announce staff cuts and distribute pink slips, and I was one of the people slated for downsizing. They ended up postponing the announcements and layoffs until the following week. I'm glad they did. September 11, 2001 would have really sucked otherwise. 7:16pm Though the evening of September 11, 2007 hasn't been one of my better ones, either. It's like this: I don't give a shit if you breed. Go right ahead. Stick it in, jorm, and see what miracles deveop. I understand that it's a biological compulsion necessary for survival of the species, we've conditioned by almost every institution ever to think that it's the right thing to do—as much as I'd like to reflexively blame capitalism, I know it goes back much farther. Again, the whole "survival of the species" thing. Besides, I'm sure your spawn will be different. Just don't fucking move in above me and ruin my life. As a grown-up person who has decided not to create or otherwise be involved with children, I made the conscious decision to not have them in my life, for a very specific reason: I like peace and quiet. You don't get that with children. So I don't want children, I don't want to be around children, I don't want them anywhere near me. Is that so much to ask? Yes, of course, I know it is, and I had luck on my side for a number of years. But I've run out of luck in a lot of ways this past year. My replacement phone didn't arrive today. I guess, I hope, "one to two business days" means Wednesday.
At the Sea Biscuit, having been run out of my hope by the giraffe and its screaming and crying and running and jumping. Which is what they do, and aren't they adorable?
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