I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up!

That's right, people. Milty loaned me the new Harry Potter book on account of she was done. It was all I could do to not sit and read at my desk this afternoon.

I have to say: First 30 pages? Amazing.

I am falling into a Harry Potter hole and I may be there for a week or so, people. Rehearsal. Harry Potter. Eat. Sleep. Work.

That is all. Do not attempt human contact. I will likely not respond. See you on the other side, Muggles.

MRI All Clear!

Yesterday was a blur.

I woke up at 2pm (which I never do...The show went until 3 and then we hung out until 3:30) and proceeded to do a bunch of work on my Beastwomen piece, I read a ton of "plotlines" from my friend Boyish (she's got this serial going. It's fascinating), watched some tube (half of Pret-a-Porter, the Altman film about Paris fashion week. Two great tastes that taste great together) and then Desperate Housewives and then took myself to bed.

But not before chatting with E for like an hour about her latest boycrushling. She is a great friend for me for this very simple reason: We can both obsess over people we like and people we are dating and be crazy dramatic about it and we never judge each other for this. In fact, it is great because we provide sane, level-headed advice for one another on these topics and still manage to let the other person be nuts. It's a great example of loving someone unconditionally.

Pause to eat a GIANT bowl of pasta and then feel exhausted.

(burp)

So, Milty loaned me Harry Potter today. SO excited. I was pissed when the train came to my stop by work because I was sitting in a warm patch of sunlight reading my little heart out. Can't. Wait. To. Get. BACK. Home. And. Read. More. (I have rehearsal tonight.)

Oh, and the MRI results were totally normal. Turns out I have spinal fluid on my brain. No big whup, apparently. And I got a two-fer while I was in the office--My doc spontaneously suggested a gyne exam, as long as I was there. What a great doctor! So I got my ladyparts examined and requested the battery of STD tests that I need to get done. It's been more than two years, so it's about time. AND I got a prescription for Wellbutrin. I will fill it tomorrow and proceed on the latest efforts to quit smoking. I think that Wellbutrin will work better. It totally killed El's cravings. Oh, AND, I am getting a baseline mammogram. Hooray! Time to squash the girls between plates of glass like a grownup. It's official: Middle age is fast upon me.

Okay. Must jump now and blow up balloons for rehearsal. Mas later.

As Tears Go By

I am really, really enamored of Marianne Faithfull. I think I need to get a biography from the library. I decided that this version of this song should accompany my video piece. She is so sad and earnest here and her voice is so amazing. It's definitely not her later, more smoky and tragic style, but it definitely works for what I am getting at.



P.S. I want her whole "look".
P.P.S. Paul Anka is SO energetic in this!

Writing, Writing...

Okay.

I have to write a draft of the text for my performance video for Beastwomen. This is a first draft of that. Let me give a little background on this. This is going to be a video piece to accompany a dance performance. I'm not going to get into too many details, here, because it is still largely unformed, may change, and because of the originality problems I've been experiencing lately.

The other act was not as bad as I thought, P.S. But it WAS sort of derivative of my other signature act...But the other performer was so lovely and gracious last night that it's not really worth hammering on anymore. And plenty of artists do get the same idea at the same time.

Anyway.

The idea of the dance act is a vintage-style dance to Feelin' Good by Nina Simone. Not terribly original in musical choices, but I love that song and it fits the idea of the act. The song is very melancholy and while she is singing ostensibly about Feelin' Good, you can feel that she does not quite buy it.

The idea of the act is to reveal a little personal narrative about my kids. About how I used to be a parent and how one grapples with the idea of having that taken away. The conclusion is that all someone can do in a case like this is to stay the course and keep dancing.

Okay?

Here's the text. It will be interwoven with photos of my (ex's) kids. (each line is its own text page on the video)

The performer you are about to see
used to be a mother.
Let's pause to consider that.
Used to be a mother.
Not many women can claim that.

The performer you are about to see
is a bit of a pariah.

The performer you are about to see
is a lesbian.
She had children with her ex-girlfriend.
Her ex-girlfriend bore them.
When they broke up,
her ex-girlfriend denied her custody of their children.

The performer you are about to see
"broke up a perfect family"
in the eyes of many women
in the lesbian community.

The performer you are about to see
has spent the last two years processing this,
drinking too much,
crying,
and making very bad choices about her life.

The performer you are about to see
does not know how
you just get over being a mother.

She lost fifty pounds
on the whiskey diet
(the one where you drink
and don't really eat.)

She has been
violently angry,
massively depressed,
completely furious,
achingly lonely,
and just about everything else
that you can feel.

People's reactions to this performer
range widely.
She has been told
that other people have it worse,
that she should just have her own kids,
that she uses this event as a crutch,
that she needs to "just get over it",
that she is obsessed with this issue,
that her ex is a bitch,
that she should sue for custody.

People really like to give her advice.

Sometimes people don't know how to react.
Sometimes people say that she looks great
and asks how she lost the weight
Sometimes people ignore her in public.

The performer you are about to see
knows how junkies, encarcerated and
some poor women feel now.
She understands what it is like
to lose your children.

She did not ever want to understand this.
She did not bargain for this kind
of knowing.

The performer you are about to see
worries that this piece is
too self-indulgent.

"There is no way to get over this,"
She thinks.

"Nobody wants to hear about this,"
She worries.

What can she do?

She misses those children
with an ache that borders on
physical. With her whole heart.

The only answer;
the best answer
is to just
try to find joy again,
to make art,
and to keep on dancing.

(writing this made me cry.)

Not a Date-Date

Oh, well.

So, last night ended up not being a date-date. But it was a lovely evening, nonetheless.

We went to Pizza D.O.C. and then I suggested a walk to Chase Park to see E.T., which was showing there. Over dinner, we caught up on the six or so odd years since we had last talked. We chatted about everything: My ex, babies, her exes, theater, Dyke Mic, dating, everything. It was great.

Then we walked to Chase Park and watched E.T. What a cute movie. I had forgotten how adorable it is. We both cried (when E.T. died) and chatted throughout.

Overall, very nice mellow evening. She thanked me about 15 times for thinking of the outdoor movie. I told her that Big Wholesome Fun is how I roll. I am ALL about the "free city opportunities". There is no reason that I have to sit in a bar to have fun.

I am really looking forward to getting to know her better, as friends. I asked if it was a date at the end of the night and she said that it hadn't really occurred to her. It was awkward for a minute, but I smoothed it over via email this morning. I basically said that sometimes the "excitement over new friendship" feels romantic to me (because it is similar), that I could have gone either way about dating her (because she definitely has got it going on) and that I was comfortable being friends with her. I think that we will become fast friends. Oh, and I also said that I didn't want any awkwardness. I was really just checking in and it's fine either way--and I want to bring her in as a friend.

Today, I am very excited to go out to the 'burbs and hang with my sis & hubbie & kids. It's the girls' birthday party and while I have no present (gonna make them some cards) I want to go and wish them well and hang. Then it's off to Doodle's birthday party and my burlesque show tonight. Very excited about that, for sure. I am doing my balloon act and a special one which-shall-remain-secret until after tonight. Then tomorrow, I am going to Bellydancer's house to make her and her lady dinner, to borrow her sewing machine for a month (to work on my Beastwomen costume and cocoon) and to make sure that my idea for how to make the cocoon is structurally sound. Bellydance is a great sew-er.

Yesssssss. Weekend = Awesome!

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

A photo of me, from the day that ButchPants had her birthday party and I had Bell's Palsy and was in a terrible mood.

She began the dumping process, sending me home early from her birthday party, mere hours later.

Pretty perfect.

Inside the Tube

So, I had the MRI last night. No big deal.

I was, frankly, most concerned about them giving me an IV and having it bruise up my arm. When I went to the ER, i sustained a bruise that is still there and I hate walking around looking like a junkie. And plus, I have a show on Saturday night and I like to be as "mark free" as possible when I am stripping out of my clothing.

When I got into the room, the MRI lady laid me out on a little table with a foamy pillow and let me put in earplugs. Then she put another foamy pad underneath my knees (so my back didn't hurt). Then she gave me a little rubber thing to hold in my hand in case I needed to call her. It looked like a bulb syringe that you use to clear out babies' noses when they have a cold. (I was really good at that when I had kids. I was the fastest snot-clearer in the Midwest.) Then she put a big plastic frame around my head (not unlike a hockey mask) and used these padded vicegrips to hold my head in place.

Then she used her remote control and whizzed me into the tube. The tube itself was lit from the back with a not-unpleasant florescent light. Above me, it was white with a brighter white stripe down the center.

She then informed me of how long each picture would take. As I was lying there (I totally just took the time to do some MRI meditation) I first counted how long it was taking. Then I got bored with that and decided to see if I could detect patterns in the noises. (Having an MRI is kind of like being in a lit tube and listening to Kraftwerk's early tracks.) My sister told me that when she had an MRI, she counted the noises and numbers of clicks, so I wanted to see if I could do that. (Conclusion: My sister is a total nut--I couldn't count anything, too close together. I told her so last night when we talked on the phone.) Then I just closed my eyes and got all thought-y.

All of this medical stuff has forced an examination of the ways that I move in the world and the necessity of drama and my general emotionalness. It has really made me much more mellow. Time will tell, but I think that it was the wake-up call that I needed to allow things to roll off much more easily.

This week, I emailed my friend Jacket to try to get together with him before he skipped town. I had "broken up" with him as a friend a few months back and he decided in the intervening months to move out to Washington state and make a go of it with this woman he's been seeing. She asked him to co-parent her child and move in with her. On the face of it, it's totally crazy, but I really have appreciate his willingness to go for it--I am like that, too.

And I have forgiven him for not choosing me. That was always the crux of the issue: He didn't pick me and I was never-endingly questioning why. Jacket emailed back that he would have loved to get together with me, but that he was getting on the Superbus tomorrow. And that he was so glad that we could reconcile before he left.

I feel really peaceful about that and I really do hope that he makes his way in his life and that it makes him really happy. He deserves it. And I will always treasure the moments that we had together. You do not trade nearly 1,000 emails with someone in three months and have that not affect your life. He is special to me and always will be.

And I feel really peaceful about the ButchPants breakup. While I still feel like she was totally tacky and retarded for not talking to me in person, it was really for the best. She is a pretty negative person and is very moody and it really brought out all of that in me. I have resolved that my next relationship will be with someone who is sunny, positive, excitable, funny and who thinks that I am the shit (and vice-versa).

I have also decided that while I am sure that we will be friendly in the future (on account of having common friends), that I don't really need to pursue some kind of crazy-making attempt to be good friends. Sometimes, it is OK to not be friends with people and pull them really close, especially if you have issues with the way that they communicate (if she wanted to be close with me, she would really have to take a look at her intimacy issues and actually work through that shit with me. I'm not willing to sweep that shit under the rug). And you know what? It does not mean that I am doing my "turn and burn" thing. It just means that I am making smarter choices.

She accused me of "not being able to handle" being friends with her in her email and told me that I was going to repeat my disappearance pattern, as though she knows me so well after a few months that she would be able to predict my behavior. It is one thing to do that unconsciously as a part of an extreme emotional response and a very different thing to make thoughtful choices about who you do and do not allow in your life.

Then before I knew it, the MRI lady was putting the dye into my IV, so that they could have "contrast" pictures of my brain. Apparently, according to my sister, they have different dyes that go to different parts of the body and the dye KNOWS WHERE TO GO. Science! Amazing! The lady put me back into the tube, letting me know that it would only take five minutes more.

Then I started thinking about my date tonight with Milty. Very excited about that. She seems very nice and since we have known each other peripherally for about six years (maybe longer?) we will have plenty to talk about. She and I worked together on the Lesbian Theater Initiative back in the day, when we were both in major relationships and I had a crush on her back then. (OK, everyone did. She's really fucking hot, smart and artistic.) And even if she is not interested in dating-dating, I want to get to know her as a friend. This seems like a good place to be about the whole thing.

And I am also excited about my show tomorrow night and about my nieces' AND Doodle's birthday parties. It's going to be a real marathon day, but I think that I can keep my wits about me and have a really fun day/evening.

Then the MRI was over and the lady wheeled me out of the tube. I stood up after she removed my Hannibal Lecter mask and the vicegrips and got a little bit dizzy, but it went away quickly. The nurse took me into her station and removed the IV thingy.

After that, I got dressed and left. I had walked from work to the MRI Place (1.5 miles) and I walked back to the train along the Chicago River. It was a beautiful night. I sat down on a bench by the river and read some more of my trashy novel (Trading Up by Candice Bushnell). Then I got up and walked to the train. (On the way, I saw the cutest scene--an angelic little boy, maybe 3 years old, petting an adorable puppy excitedly.)

It was a good night. I did some laundry, called my sister, talked on the phone with SnakeDancer and visited with Politica and her roommates. They had a little birthday party for one of their friends, who is 8.5 months pregnant, last night.

I get the results of the MRI on Monday morning. Will keep the updates coming.

MRI Tonight

So, I am going at 5:30 tonight to get my brain MRI.

I am actually not too concerned about the whole thing and I hope that I can get some images of my brain to
have and use in some way in an art project. I think that a picture of my brain is probably a really good analogy for something. I haven't decided what yet, but there's got to be some application for this. I wonder if I can get copies, digitally.

Hilarious. I just had the notion of standing around at some party and someone is showing photos of their kids and I'm like, "Oh! Do you want to see a picture of my brain?" Hahaha. My brain is like my child at this point in my life.

In other news, Dixie went out of town for the weekend. I have not heard from Miss Milty yet (I asked her out for tomorrow. I'm beginning to think that probably won't happen. Easy come, easy go). I did get a nice email on the MySpace from CCC (PhotoJ) and we are going to brunch a week from Saturday. As for Mathy, not sure. She dropped me a nice little message on MySpace, but I feel like she might be waiting the requisite 48 hour period before contacting me.

ADDENDUM: Heard from Milty. Have a date tomorrow night. Whee!

She and Boyish invited me to a show last night (to drop by after my show), but I didn't go. I wanted to do yoga (which I did) and be at home and blog instead. Plus, I want to seem a little bit unavailable. I know, it's sort of game-playing. But I guess it doesn't hurt to be strategic about these things.

Also dropped Sweet Em an email about how I miss her and I want to see her soon. Yes, still pining. Yes, want to hang out with her. No, I will not let myself get as frustrated as I did before about her lack of action in the romance department. She wants to enjoy close romantic friendships and I can do that, as long as I know that's what it is.

Wild Horses by the Rolling Stones just played twice in a row on my iPod. This is the song that I most strongly associate with Sweet Em--for some reason, she is the person that the song's narrative applies to in my mind when I sing it aloud.

That's about it. More about MRIs when I get back tonight.

Man, I Love My Life!

Tonight was the second installment of Dyke Mic 2.0. Know what? Listening to women (especially a wide age range of pretty diverse perspectives) of all ages (they were 15 to 50 tonight) share their words and music feeds me.

It was a great night. A youngun named Deja Taylor shared her words, song, and rhymes. She is wise beyond her seventeen years, has an amazing command of language and how to turn a phrase and play with words, and has a lovely voice, a bad-ass MC style, and great stage presence. Then a hip-hop/funk/jazz fusion band called Molly Sue Africa played. I saw them at the Dyke March this year and they were amazing as always.

THEN halfway through the show, our CultureLady (the woman who brought us to the spanky swanky new space at the Center on Halsted) pulled us out of the show and offered us $50 each per show until the end of the summer then a bit more with the offer of a contract through December. And in the theater space, where we got kicked from until the end of August.

Yesssssssss.

She's going to look for underwriting and she tracked the ages and demographics of the people who came tonight for reporting purposes. She is smart about marketing (which I totally appreciate) and she is working for us. It's good, because I got a tetch bitchy with her on a conference call earlier this week.

Guess that shade of "bitch" gets shit done.

But the long story made brief is that I felt really good about the show tonight. I read the Brady Piece (and I always have reservations about being the earnest white girl in the room when there are amazing hip hop and freestyle artists performing) and I really committed to it. And people loved it.

Guess loving to hear about having sex with Marcia Brady is universal. And I just have to be who I am. Comfort with that (and representing the show as diverse in style as well as race/age/gender expression) makes it easy for me to move in many circles.

This is something that I feel pretty good about at this point in my life--My ability to have a comfort about race and whiteness. I mean, I know it's trite and maybe a little pollyannaish to say so (especially as a white femme who can "pass" in so many ways), but I think that my ability to really hear people (to listen to work that could be challenging for me and to really hear and get it), to be who I am no matter who's around, and to have "commitment to diversity" that gets reflected in action (like planning programming and booking a wide range of acts) make this feel easier for me than it ever has in the past. And I think that people respond to showing, not telling.

Blahblahblah diversity is important.

Also, I was very very happy to see Sweet Em in the audience. I was totally surprised to see her (although I had this weird notion that I might see her tonight as I was driving over--based on hearing Todo Cambio on a CD I'd made and based on this weird idea that she might just "drop by" somewhere I was supposed to be---she has done that before). But I really thought to myself, "Oh, that's ridiculous."

Then there she was. Adorable, as always. Looking very together and seeming mellow and centered. We chatted for a bit after the show and it was amazing to see her. Makes me pine a little bit--I was always sad to have to let her go as a potential romantic interest. Really, we have/had the potential for such greatness, the sticking points were my mania about scheduling, her actual schedule, and her disinterest in being physical, at the moment. I would definitely be lying if I didn't say that my elbows were not tingling the minute that I saw her. (this is my weird physical manifestation of attraction--the elbow tingle.) We had a great, if too-brief chat after the show. She is doing really well. Her migaines are under control at the moment, she's taking Spanish, she's working on her graphic novel again and she's enjoying her summer.

Oh, well, I feel like the romance door might be closed now, but it was great to see her and I hope to spend another marathon session of hanging out with her again soon. I have to get that scheduled. Hahaha.

I guess that's all the news that's fit to print at the moment. More tomorrow.

Originality Part Deux

Got an long and emotional email from OtherDancer this morning. She wonders why we can't both just do our acts.

Oy vey.

The answer is because the acts are so similar that the second person who goes (with a sex toy hidden in a purse that you are secretly singing to) will have the suspense ruined for them. And the question remains about originality and using other peoples' ideas. I think that it's annoying that she doesn't get that I've been doing this act for six years and that if someone gets there first, you really shouldn't use their ideas.

I mean, I would not (for example) take any of the following ideas, because other local performers do them: do a balloon dance to a French song with helium balloons, do a snake dance, do an act to a cardboard stand-up of William Shatner, or do a dance with a huge whip and capri-short-garters. I will, however, re-use a song this weekend that I saw someone else do an act to once. It's called Banana Split for My Baby (the people in question made a sundae onstage and ate it. But it was a drag act duet and there was no stripping). I am planning on taking off my clothes, dancing around and making a sundae on my seminude body.

But I wonder how diva-tastic it would be to ask this chick to not do this act again.

Addendum: Pretty diva-tastic is the answer. I'm not going to force the issue. The point is (again, remembering my commitment to less drama and more expansiveness and understanding) that I want to remain friends with this woman and probably it's not as similar as I think it will be. I've got another idea (as mentioned above) and it's not worth the stress and ego-maniacal craziness that pushing it would cause. I have let it go.

Beast Women

I had another banner night last night. I swear, if it keeps going like this I might just have to be resigned to being a truly happy person.

I auditioned for this show about three weeks ago: Beast Women. It is billed as a performance art show for women (with "no male bashing allowed"). And despite forgetting my lyrics halfway through one song, I made it (as did my BFF Poetess). It was a good shot in the arm for the performance ego, because they saw a lot of people.

So last night I went to Lincoln Square and attended the organizational meeting for the Beast Women (at a restaurant called "Feed The Beast" Haha. Perfect.) It was great. This was actually the makeup meeting, as the first original meeting was scheduled for that day that I spent in the ER.

It was so much fun. I got to chat up a girl who worked formerly with one of the performance artists who I was in a performance collective with back in the day, met a comedienne who just killed me with her hilarity, and conversed with a 50-something poet and visual artist. It was fun, they fed us, I had one really excellent glass of Pinot Grigio, and I met four great ladies.

The organizers (whom I love. Love.) told us the basic format of the show, explained every else's performance genre and told us that we are "the Best of the Best". It's nice to be called that; it made me feel really special and acknowledeged. We are having a benefit at Elbo Room on August 8 and I'm super excited because they asked me to be one of the performers.

I have a few ideas up my sleeve (and I need to get to work on my piece for the show. It involves video, some stage set pieces that I am going to build, an elaborate costume, a performance of a vintage dance from the 1890's, and Nina Simone. It's like six great tastes that will taste great together!) and I am so jazzed to work on something with an actual run. The show goes from late August through late September, it is paid, and the other women seem fantastic. It will be fun to work with a new group of ladies and to see all of the amazing talent that this City has to offer.

And to not have to sweat the producer duties at the same time. Yeah.

They were saying that if the run goes well that they will try to bring the show to New Orleans (where the original producer lives) and if that goes well, that they might try for a tour. But that is way down the road. But still? Super excited and jazzed about the opportunity.

Now I must jump to get to work early. I am leaving the office today at 1, spending the afternoon on the beach with Poetess, and doing the Dyke Mic tonight. I swear. I am so happy, I can hardly stand it. Love life.

Tomorrow. MRI. Should be interesting.

The Originality Problem

Okay.

I am trying to not trip out right now, but I am getting annoyed about something and I need to get it off of my chest. There is a problem in this City (but it doesn't just relate to Chicago) and it relates to one of the communities that I perform in and the idea of originality of acts.

I just had lunch with my friend SnakeDancer and she and I were talking about some act that another performer is planning on doing this weekend. She is a performer who I have worked with before and who might have not seen me do this, but her act is the same exact concept and props as one of my standard acts--one that I have been doing for about six years.

However. The show that she performs with regularly is a show that is run by a chick that we kicked out of my show last year. This chick, we'll call her Fatty (because that is how she would define herself. She goes around telling people that she's the "token fat chick" in any given show she's doing), is still pissed at me for both kicking her out of the ensemble and for cutting off our friendship when she became a great energy suck.

And this is the second time I have heard that someone in one of Fatty's shows was (let's just say) using one of my ideas. The first was last winter and when it happened I confronted her and asked her to please stop having her performers use my work without asking. She never addressed it and wrote back with some kind of crazy emotional reaction.

And before you think I'm playing some big ego trip, it's not just a matter of originality or being a Diva. I work hard to bring a new twist to a classic form and my imagination and my ability to create new shades of meaning is something that I pride myself on. And really? It's intellectual property and the idea that someone would take that away just willy-nilly is disheartening. Especially since this is someone that I mentored, who I was close to at one time, and who I stuck up for in the community when other people were saying the same thing that I am now about her.

I guess there is both a piece of me that is pissed off that someone is stealing my ideas and there's a part that can't quite believe that someone would be as vindictive as this woman. I can't believe that she is so lacking class (this seems to be a theme this week: Lack of Class) that she would do that and I can't believe that she's so short-sighted that she thinks that I won't hear about it.

Sigh.

It's frustrating because everything in me just wants to let it go, but there is a small part of me that wants to make a big fucking stink and smear her name throughout the community. I won't do it because I want to have less drama in my life these days, but it is really fucking tempting because I am PISSED. OFF.

As for this weekend, Snakedancer is going to tell said dancer that she can't do her act, because we need all acts to be original and because I asked her to do my act first. That seems pretty fair. But I have to say that this is certainly making me feel way more careful about who I tell about acts that I am working on and keeping things under a lot of wraps until it's ready to be performed.

Keeping my hand closer to my chest? Good idea all around, methinks.

Addendum: I think that it's going to work out OK. I left a message for the chick with the act (in thinking about it more, I bet that she's never seen my act before) asking her to call me. If there is one thing that has become crystal clear in recent months it is that it is far better to talk things through live and (preferably) in person. But if not, over the phone. I am awaiting her call back, but I think that I will be able to diplomatic. And armed with the knowledge that what I really want (remembering intention is important in these situations) is for all of us to have a great show, for said show to be kick-ass, and for us to try to work it out amongst ourselves (and avoiding stressing out the producer further) respectfully. We shall see what happens, but I feel good about the approach.

Dyke Dive Night

Last night was so much fun--I do not think that I have had a show that good in a while.

It was "Dyke Dive Night" at some random bar in Edgewater. These two adorable girls in their 20's just randomly started putting together programming and helping the owner of this bar to bring in people on a few nights a week. And it worked so well that he basically gave over all evenings of the week (except for the weekends) to them.

I performed with a girl named Diva Kai (no lie) who was yet another earnest girl-with-guitar in her 20's. Adorable. Big-eyed. Many songs about heartbreak and heartache. I return to the idea that there must be a big book of folk music topics somewhere and GWGs have to choose from the topic list. The only major exception (that I know of here in Chicago) to this being, as I mentioned of course a few months ago, my friends who play in Congress of Starlings.

And speaking of those ladies, one of them, Boyish, came to see me last night. It's great because I had hung out with her girlfriend at my birthday party and last night I had a chance to hang out with her. I had emailed them a few months ago telling them that I would like to make friends because I have known them for so long and I never really hung out with them and they seem like great people. And I'm making a point of making friends with people that I like, who seem down to earth and who it seems like could be worthwhile and important friends for me.

And last night, Boyish brought her totally cute 41 year old single friend. Yesssssss.

I hung out with them all evening and chatted up the single friend (we'll call her Mathy right now--she is an accountant for a great non-profit). It was really fun. We commiserated about the extreme lack of 35+ single women in this City. We talked about how to navigate just dating (which is what I was doing before BP told me that she "didn't do monogamy" and I went for it). I offered her my advice: be honest, if it doesn't work for someone then don't force it and to just keep communication open.

She didn't even know if she would be able to balance dating more than one person at once, but she's fresh (well, a year and a half) out of a major 11-year relationship and she just knew that she had to have a chance to be single before committing to someone again. I told her that if the people she was dating couldn't hang with it that she might have to just say "it's not the right time" and do what she thought was right for her.

We also discussed the extremely retarded topic of email breakups. It is sort of universally agreed (between myself and my friends) at this point that email breakups are tacky. It is really interesting to me, because it used to be that breaking up over someone via the phone was tacky, but there has been a kind of paradigm shift in what constitutes an insulting mode of communication for the breakup. It used to be that the phone was the worst you could do, but now it's like "You couldn't even make a courtesy call?"

Dixie noted that I should not have been surprised that I was broken up with over email, given that most of our relationship occurred over text. She does have a point.

It was pretty funny. Mathy also had had an email "breakup" (hers was the pre-breakup conversation--the "I'm not sure if I can do this" one. At least BP had the wherewithal to do that in person...) in the last week, so there was much commiseration about that.

But the show...Amazing. There were about 15 people there and I had the sense of having them in the palm of my hand. It is great when you can really feel the audience being with you. I was having a great night and that really translated into a great set. I love reading my work, especially the old stuff. I read a piece that I hadn't read aloud in maybe six years (Old Fashioned Fuck Poem) and read a good mix of old and new.

Of course, the Brady piece went over well and the Cubs poem was good. I enjoyed re-visiting my piece about wistful wanting and heartache (Home of the Blues) and reading Detasslers.

I just had this amazing sense of feeling totally hot and smart and talented and like I have really got it going on.

So after the show, I hung out with Mathy and Boyish until about 11:30. I got free drinks all night and while I did not drink too, too much, I did have a few PBRs. We all shot the shit and laughed and had a great time. They invited me to a show on Wednesday night (gonna have to see if I can stop by after Dyke Mic) and told me that I should come to Michigan with them. (Considering it. Might be a slut-astic time.) At one point, Boyish went to the bathroom and I asked Mathy if she wanted to go out on a date sometime.

"I'm not trying to seem opportunistic here, but I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me sometime. I think you're cute and cool and I'd like to get to know you better."

She said yes. Of course she did.

I gave her my info (thanks for the fabulous business cards, CorporateJob) and I feel like she's gonna call. Awesome. I am a dating fool.

Brain Scans

In other news...

I just scheduled my brain MRI for Thursday after work. Trying to be brave about it and remember that it's probably nothing, except for maybe drinking too much pop (which I have totally given up. I am pretty proud of myself for going cold turkey like this)!

Hopefully, we will finally be able to get to the bottom of the reason that I am SO CRAZY! Hahaha.

More as it develops.

AM Report

I woke up early, before my alarm. It was actually at 5:45 AM, which is sort of a crazy hour, especially since I had a little bit of trouble falling asleep last night (chalk it up to having been up until 3:30 the night before.) I finally passed out around midnight.

I woke up thinking about the state of my life. For once, it was all happy thoughts. I have been (for at least a year now) considering going back to school to get a PhD. It doesn't seem like I will be able to teach what I want to teach (performance art, feminist theory) unless I do that.

Bumping into MistressO at that party the other night put it back on the front burner. It's actually time to make the decision, because if I want to go back to school, the deadline for application is in October and there are things to do in the meantime, like re-take the fricking GREs (it's been ten years and I don't think that my scores are still good) and do informational interviews with people I might want for doctoral advisors.

I'm pretty excited about exploring this path. I'm not exactly sure that it's what I want to do, but I think that I should leave no stone unturned. Even if it seems impossible, it would be a shame to regret not making this decision through apathy or inaction for the rest of my life. And it wouldn't be even starting until Fall 2008. Plenty of time to choose to do it or not.

In the meantime, my job still rules. It is great to be in a place where I am excited to get back to work on Monday mornings. And I think that I might soon move off of Auto Row and back by my PMs. I think that I would get far more work done and I would be able to ask questions more easily and chat with them more. And while I will miss Thomas Jones, GayCubemate and Miller, I think that being closer to my team would only be good.

I just put on my 70's genre this AM while I blog and I have to say that 70's lite rock is amazing. I just heard Too Much Time on My Hands by Styx and now it's playing Hey Nineteen by Steely Dan. I love this damned song. Yes, I am geriatric.

So, after I got up, I did AM Yoga with Rodney Yee. Goddamn it, that man is hot. (More on the hot theme.) It was a very good way to start the day. I was feeling all cramped up from sleeping twisted up (as is my way) and sleepy from the early rising.

The song is on "the Cuervo gold, the fine Columbian, make tonight a wonderful thing" part. Yesssssss. Yes, it does, Steely Dan.

So (where was I? Oh, nevermind. Yoga rocks.) My sister emailed last night. I had emailed yesterday afternoon and invited her and the girls to come into the City and run around Millennium Park with me and maybe go to the beach and I needed to schedule my niece's Big Thrift Shopping Day with Aunt Jeanne (and I wanted to update her on my dating adventures and the fact that my face is much better). And she emailed back with some dates AND the fact that she wants to come into the city alone and have a Fun Sisters' Night Out and sleepover at my house with me! I'm so excited I could pee. That was one of the things I was doing last night when I couldn't sleep--planning out our date and all of the cool things I could take her to do, where we might go, when it would be, what I would wear, how we could treat ourselves, because she and I both deserve some relaxation. We have really come a long way in six months: from almost completely estranged to friends for the first time. Amazing and great.

The Spinners are on now. I love the Spinners. I think I might need to load this playlist onto my iPod before work.

So, I think I am gonna jump here. Need to get going on the showering/lunchmaking/breakfast-eating/getting ready for work thing. Looking forward to performing at "Dyke Dive Night" tonight and hanging with some cool writer ladies.

Yoga

Just did a twenty minute yoga relaxation and stretching tape and I feel all relaxed and oogy. It feels really good. I have that tape and one that is an AM and PM routine. I'm going to do that one tomorrow in the AM and in the PM and see how that helps my stress. It is all about TCB and taking care of my body. I have not had a diet pop since Friday (and I only had one that day), while I did drink beers last night at the party (and smoke a little. Blech.) I am back on the "moderation train" today, and I ate good solid meals today.

Man. Yoga. Why was I so resistant all these years?

Now I am going to go lie down again and read Yo Mama's Disfunktional by William Lee. I started it last summer and never finished it. Very excited to dig into something brainy for an hour before bed.

Addendum

I went digging around for my Burt's Bees coconut foot moisturizer a while ago here and couldn't find it. So I decided to look in the crate that lives in our bathroom, in case I had dumped it in there. No such luck, but I got all wound up in the crate in the meantime.

I just finished cleaning it out (it has had crap piled in it for decades, I swear) and I found the following items left from Dixie's last roommate. Psyched! It's like going to Sephora and dropping a chunk of change on products while in the comfort of my own home...

• Three kinds of chunking pomade for the hair
• Three different tubes of sunscreen
• A fancy pot of cocoa butter. Yums.
• About five dozen heavy metal and pop star trading cards from the 80's (I am going to make them into business cards with Avery labels and my paper cutter.)
• Two brushes and two combs.
• Three pieces of cute ribbon for wearing in the hair, I think.
• Extra backup containers of the following: Saline solution, deodorant, dental floss, Tums, lotion, sunscreen, and razors.
• Some hair accessories.

I love free shit.

Word of the Day: Hot

Hoo-doggie.

What a great weekend. I have to say that I have not had a weekend like this one in quite a long time. I feel totally peaceful and excited about life and rejuvenated. Face is almost all the way better. Gonna schedule the MRI tomorrow. Dealt with more financial crapola yesterday AND I DID NOT RECEIVE ONE CALL FROM A CREDITOR TODAY! Success!

Yesterday was fun. I did a whole lot of cleaning and a whole lot of loafing around. I watched Dirty Dancing on the Free Movies on On-Demand and came up with the idea that Chances Dances should use that theme sometime (Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner). I bumped into three of the organizers last night and told them and they may use that for the next month. And I also learned that Dixie is joining the Chances Dances planning committee. OMG. So cool. I feel very hip now, by association. And again, I love that fricking movie. I have to say that I had the time of my life.

I then chatted with Poetess about the show. We worked some shit out. Felt good. Love her.

After Dirty Dancing, I played around more on the MySpace (re-doing my profile. It was time for a new color scheme and a mid-summer song change) and then I cleaned house some more. I made good headway on the boxes on my porch, got everything to a MUCH smaller pile, created a "donate" pile and located my bustier and "Daddy" the Dildo (which I need for next weekend's performances). I also busted out my laundry (and made my sheets smell like lavender and vanilla. Yum) and did some personal hygiene maintenance (cuticles, leg shaving).

Then I laid down and watched Swingers (a movie I love, no matter how many times I screen it). Dixie came home and made dinner. I finished watching that and then started on Men in Black. (I was a movie-watching FOOL yesterday!). I made it only 30 minutes into that one before I started to get ready to go out.

By 9:30, I was lookin' super duper hot. There was an ulterior motive for this: I'd been trying to chat up a chick who is a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Firecracker on the MySpace and I knew that she was supposed to be at the party last night. (She was not--she got called out of town for work--She is a photojournalist. Awesome.)

But then it was off to the party. EVERYONE from Girlie-Q was there. It was Old Home Week.

I hung out with K and her Boyfriend Drunk-a-Ling. DD told a hilarious story about how he was drunk (as always) the previous night and he found someone's dentures on his front stoop. He passed out with them in his hand and K woke up and he rolled over and they fell out of his hand. She SCREAMED. Awesome. K also told a story that involved her witnessing some motorists last summer who used a WHIP to whip out the windows of a car next to her. (It worked) Crazy. And Drunk-a-Ling also recounted the details of a "bum fight" he witnessed the other day in the middle of Western Avenue.

I also chatted a little bit with Mr. and Miss Holly Wouldn't and Clare De Lune. Clare and I commiserated about dating and how lame people can be. She's had this crazy on-again, off-again thing that I coulda SWORE was gonna turn into something last winter that's been driving her nuts. It was good to chat with her. I think I need to hang out with her more.

I also got to hang out with the Crump. I love love love The Crump. The last time I saw him, he was doing an act where he did an "interpretive dance" in crushed velour bootcut Apple Bottom pants while trying to seduce an audience member and painting on a canvas that was taped to his chest. He's an amazing comedian and an all-around good dude. He's getting married in August and I'm going to see if I can get to Buffalo for that, maybe, and work it into a few more days at the P's (with the idea that MAYBE I would be well enough to enjoy it this time.) We shot the shit about nothing in particular.

Who else? SO many people. The Chances Boyz, particularly Firecracker's old roommate Pappas. Mistress Overdone. Marianne Mouthfull. Mr. Firecracker. Some random people, including a dude who I'd never met before, but who goes to the church I want to go back to (where I grew up) who has an ADORABLE two year old girl (I saw a photo).

Miss CuteyPie (who is K's good friend. We do lunch sometimes). I got her to give her digits to a dude that had been eyeing her all night. (Before he left, I intervened, saying, "My friend, Miss CuteyPie would like your number. Can I have it for her?" He made a beeline right over to her and put her number in his phone.) We decided that the two of us should only date people who are as hot or hotter than us from now on. (Yes, this is shallow and a little bit snotty. But I decided that's going to be my tactic. I mean, of course I would only choose people with whom I have things in common. But having hotness, too? Why the fuck not?)

And so, speaking of hot, PhotoJ did not make it. I sent her a little note today on MySpace, saying that I was sad that we hadn't got the chance to chat in person last night and asking her out to dinner or for drinks. Feeling brave, feeling confident, feeling hot and totally on my game. Yes.

I was actually bolstered in confidence because I sent another (hot) old acquaintance (who found me on MySpace a few weeks ago and who I had bumped into at the Fancy Lesbian Party at the MCA a few months back) an email when I got home last night, asking her out for dinner and she responded ASAP with a happy YES! and calling me a lovely lady. It's cool. I had a huge crush on her six years ago when we were both in serious LTRs.

Whether or not either of these is actually a date date remains to be seen, but it is fun, it is good, and I am excited. I really, really like dating and the options available to me as a hot single lady who has got it goin' on feel (as most things do these days) expansive and vast. I think that I actually might be happier when I am not tied down in a monogamous relationship. This is something to remember and keep at the fore.

And if they are not dates? I could do a whole lot worse than having two friendly dinners with hot ladies who are interesting, smart, and artistic. (Girl #1 is an actress with some kind of serious day job, PS)

Today? Slept in (I went to bed at 3:15 AM!) and then dragged ass out to do errands. Got groceries for the next few weeks, purchased some cheap disposable fashion (blue tank top with white polka dots, CHEAP faceted clear plastic heart earrings) and got some hair dye and my favorite conditioner (the avocado hair treatment from Burt's Bees. Smells good. Does WONDERS for the hair). Rehearsed. Got super excited about all of this week's shows.

Right now, I am just waiting for the dye to finish and then I will take another glorious shower and then go lie, supine, on my bed and finish both Men in Black and then Nacho Libre. Yes oh yes. Tonight: Gonna organize my writing stuff, maybe enter in some old work that I don't have on the computer (found a ton of old work yesterday when cleaning the porch), and veg out.

Weekend? Delightful. Word of the day? Hot.

Notes For Saturday Morning

I woke up in a fantastic mood. My face, by the way, is seriously on the mend. It only looks abnormal if I try to grin really wide and my eyes are totally back in good working order.

Last night, when I got off work, I decided that the $30 I had was burning a hole in my pocket. (I had earned $20 of that at Dyke Mic on Wednesday, so it was time to reward myself.) I took myself to H&M and I shopped for a sexy new outfit for the party tonight. I really like that new really bright electric blue color that's in this summer, so I bought myself a tunic tee in that color, a very short and light blue denim mini and (bonus, thanks H&M!) got a free purple tank top thanks to their denim special which was "buy anything denim, get a free tank top" (duh).

Then I came home, ate leftovers, and played around on the computer a bit. I reactivated my personals profiles (why not, right?) and traded a few notes with Doodle on the MySpace. Then I modeled my new clothes for myself again (fun!) and noted that the blue color was doing great things for my eyes. Definitely wearing that outfit to Firecracker's going-away party tonight. I looked hot.

Then I plunked down on my couch for a few hours to veg out. I got to see a new episode of my favorite show (What Not to Wear) and then I spent an hour anally cleaning my keyboard to my computer. And I mean ANALLY. I took the whole thing apart, cleaned it with anti-bacterial cloths, a fine paintbrush, and a knitting needle. I wiped down every key and put the whole thing back together, apparently in the right order (otherwise this might look a little weird and garbled.)

After that, I was tired, so I took myself to bed and slept through until 8.

Now I am trying to decide: Do I leave my house and go to the garage sales I had planned? Do I loaf around some more and maybe go to the library and check out books? Do I go for a bike ride? Whatever I end up doing, I have a great sense of expansiveness this morning. Like I could choose to do anything or go anywhere and it's all up to me and my desires and whims.

At the moment, I think I'm gonna go make some breakfast and then hit a farmer's market. Then, who knows? But I do know one thing: It's all my decision. And that, my friends, feels awesome.

Executive Summary Update: This Week

So, so much to report. It has been one hell of a week, people.

This week is notable for many reasons, but the most important is that is the week that Dyke Mic 2.0 started. I was excited about this and seeing the show happen for the first time reminded me of important reasons why this kind of venue/format/show is important:

• There are very few venues in Chicago where younger women (under 21 years old) can go and experiment with their work.
• Sometimes, those under 21 year olds are very, very good artists. I saw a woman (well, let's call her a young woman) who was 17 read a piece way beyond her years and then sing a duet with a friend that was touching, on-pitch and full of inspiring harmonies.
• Even if said young-uns are not great artists, there is a need for space for creative expression for the young-and-queer.
  

I think that this was one of the strong points of Dyke Mic in its original incarnation. It was great to see younger ladies have a space to flourish and create community. The whole evening really brought me back to why I did the show in the first place: My ability to mix genres/ages/styles of queer lady art; the idea of fostering artistic community is the most important tenet of my existence; I enjoy multi-tasking and running around like a chicken with my head chopped off; and I love sharing community/words/art with others, particularly when the art might not be exactly what said audience members might be used to.

Things of note:

• Only half of the people in the audience knew who Ann Coulter is, in reference to LaKathie's amazing piece. I suspect that the smarter young ladies in the audience who didn't went home and looked her up.
• LaKathie had never heard Kay read before. How amazing.
• Kay read some powerful work and showed how her stage style has really evolved. She is amazing and since she was one of the first DM features, it felt so important to have her there as a point of connection between past and present.
• I was awed by the work of my co-host, Poetess. Again. And always. She is so good at what she does, it makes me want to be better.
  
• Mae the Bellydancer brought "the sexy". It was good and she also brought a little audience participation exercise. Her having been there sets up the expectation that there will be more than just spoken word at this show.
• It is fun to run a show again, especially with a great and amazing co-host.
• I need to do breathing and meditation exercises before each show to calm the fuck down. I was very nervous. It is funny how I don't get the stage nerves before taking off my clothes in front of people, but when I have share words? The sweat starts a-rollin'.

Other things from this week:

• Good to get back to work on Thursday and Friday. I love the people I work with, I love my job, and it is good to be good at what you do and interested in it.
• I realized that even though I had previous plans to go camping this weekend that were cancelled unceremoniously, that I still have social things to do. I had turned down two party invites to go camping, so I'm actually psyched that I can go to these events now.
• My roommate Dixie is a princess. I love her and I am glad that she is in my life. I made a delicious meal for us to share last night and she and I watched a ton of CSI this week and lounged around together.
  
• I feel happy to have reached a calm equilibrium with myself about dating and relationships. I don't feel crazy, I don't feel desperate, and I just feel hopeful and calm about my future. Whatever that might be; alone or not.
• I am slooooooooowly dealing with all of the residual car/registration/license crap. And I got the student loan people off my back this week in a way that worked for all. And I got my bills taken care of. Again, generally what most people do, but having been unemployed for a year in the last year and a half took a toll on my finances. Again, I am happy with myself and pleased and proud to be handling it all so well.
• I realized (thank you, E) that maybe the "spots on my brain" have to do with drinking too much diet pop with aspartame. I cut that out this week, too. Can't hurt, right?

Onward and upward (as was my junior high motto), people. Tomorrow I have a busy day of garage-sale-ing planned (I planned out my route via Google Maps. Nerd), then Firecracker's having a going-away party. Sunday is all about TCB and relaxation. Next week's gonna be a doozy. Three gigs and two meetings! At least there will be some cash and some fun times. Yeah!

Feeling Slack

I've been trying to avoiding being too dramatic about everything that's going on. It's a lot: Health stuff, breakup, trying to scramble to find another roommate, financial stuff...I made some really good headway on that yesterday. I am feeling pretty damned proud of myself about my ability to take care of business. Actually, I'm pretty proud of myself in general for just rolling with the punches, for making great and smart choices for myself, and for taking it all with a grain of salt.

It's serious progress.

And I don't want to dwell on this, but I have one little haiku for this week. I can't resist. I wrote this on Monday and I think I'm pretty funny:

A Haiku Celebrating The Email That Announced Our Breakup
A list of my faults
pasted across the wide screen.
Not what I needed.
The end. Definitely more this weekend when I have more time.

Maybe a Song to Sing When I Want

Cracklin' Rose has got to be one of my favorite songs. Ever. Hands down.

And Petula Clark, she is an instant mood-lifter.

My iPod is being good to me today.

Other News...

More drama on the car front. Got an email from the Ex just got a bill from the City for parking tickets on the old car. Which she sold me. Which I sold the dealership. Good god. (And I paid all my tickets in January.)

Just called the dealership to try to handle this. Yet again.

Addendum (one hour later): It is amazing. I actually just communicated with my Ex-girlfriend and it was successful and mellow. It is a breakthrough. Might not seem like much, but emailing back and forth about this problem--turns out it was on her Michigan plates and the City doesn't have those listed as having outstanding tickets--is the first calm communication I've had with her in probably two and a half years. Makes me remember why we were such a good team when we were--our ability to navigate the day-to-day together and the amazing way that we moved in tandem when we were not struggling against one another.

She always approaches things with a cool, logical head (when she is at her best) and I really appreciate that--of course, for someone as emo as me, it was sometimes crazy-making, but the things that we love about people are often the things that wear thin (front of the hand, back of the hand) in the bad times. And she just appreciated me and articulated that she was happy I was handling this stuff right away--a definite change in the patterns for the better on my part. It made me feel acknowledged and proud of myself for trying so hard to get stuff done in a timely fashion.

Maybe there is hope for friendship (or at least civil communication and friendliness) after all. It maybe just takes a whole lot of time and water under the bridge. Anyway, it makes me happy and much more at ease about her than I think I have since I left.

Dykes to the Mic!

OMG. Woke up at 6:30. So excited about tonight: the thrill of it all without the usual angst-about-people-coming. And my face, while it is not totally better, it is starting to look somewhat normal again.

When I first started the show, I used to get terrible, paralyzing fears about nobody coming. This was when I used to take it personally if people didn't show up for my shows. I had to give it all up at some point and just chill out about it. I realized a few things in that moment:

• I perform all the time. People will come and see me sometime.
• If nobody shows up for a show, yes, it sucks for the featured artists. But sometimes a small audience is awesome and if truly nobody comes, then at least the artists can read their work for each other and it can be turned into a feedback session.
• I couldn't take so much so personally. It was overwhelming.
  

Maybe it just has to do with getting older, but I am so much more chilled out than I used to be. Yes, I will still spin my wheels occasionally, but I am able to let it go so much faster than a decade ago.

I guess progress is measured differently depending on where you've been and where you're going. And how much you like to process and just how you accomplish that.

But, yes, in a very sunny mood about it all: The rooftop networking reception with its potential yielding of power dykes in suits (sigh. love the bourgie ladies with their perfect highlights and un-scuffed shoes (from stores where you don't just go to your size in the aisle.)) and free snacks, seeing Kay Barrett (one of the gals who original series and who is POWERHOUSE) perform for the first time in maybe five years, performing with Mae the Bellydancer again (she's one of my Girlie-Qs) AND getting to hang with LaKathie and The Rink in more comfortable social situation.

Oh, and Poetess and I came up with an amazing contest (haha. Maybe we should call it a "cunt-est") for tonight. Guess the theme of the pre-show music and win a prize.

More later. This is gonna be a great day.

Dyke Mic, Two-Point-Oh, Baby!

Spent the evening just hanging with Doodle & Poetess. So much fun. They are good "hang"ers.

They got here around 4-ish, so I stopped working and hung out with them. We talked a bit about DM stuff. Then we ran out to Jewel and scoured the Wicker Basket for copies of the Red Eye. Dyke Mic is listed as a "Hot Pick" for the next few days in the Red Eye and on Metromix.com





















Can you see it there? Upper Left-hand corner and fifth in the list!
Above the fold. That's a BIG DEAL in the internet marketing.

I made turkey tacos (we even bought the pre-shredded iceberg and shredded cheddar so we could have the authentic experience of "my people") and I made them some yummy drinks (Jumex and white wine) while I sucked down more water in the ever-present mason jar.

I haven't really been drinking or smoking cigarettes at all in the last weeks (1.5-drinking; 2.5-smoking)

OK, there was a bit of wine on Saturday night after the pre-breakup to the E-Breakup and a few smokes, but I think that was deserved and totally forgivable, given the circumstances of being sent home from your girlfriend's birthday party in the middle of the festivities.

But I think that the cutting down and not really doing either of these activities anymore is doing wonders for my moods and I'm starting to feel much more healthy, already. I also lost my greyish tone to my skin and the wrinkles and dark circles under my eyes are getting less prominent. And I think I would already have some repair to my taste buds, but the Bell's Palsy is taking care of that by making my tongue numb. I can't taste much.

We mostly got together to talk about Dyke Mic, so I could see the flier that Poetess made, and so that we could kind of go over the schedule and the plan for tomorrow. It was also a good pre-DM-bonding experience. We also talked through BeastWomen and what they're doing. She filled me in a bit.

After dinner, we ate some of those totally fake and yummy popsicles I got for my nieces and BigHead, who were here for my birthday party. Flav-or-Ice. I love those. Gross and totally fake and synthetic and probably GAVE me Bell's Palsy (haha. Not really. But they do taste fake!), but so. delicious. Like frozen toxic kool-aid in a plastic envelope. Yummer.

We were gonna watch Nacho Libre, as was mentioned before, but me and Poetess ended up playing "dirty word Scrabble" while Doodle fiddled around with my computer.

Upshot? Happy. Super excited about Dyke Mic 2.0. Glad to have a collaborator with absolutely no weirdness or residual drama (like with SmartMouth and Jacket) and super duper happy that she has herself together and made a flier and can take some of that work off my hands. It's really nice to not have to teach someone how to do that stuff for a change.

So I have posted this everywhere else in the world, so here goes my posting for here. If you get there at 5 or 6 and pay $20, there's a free networking cocktail reception with great food on the roof of the building. And you get into the show at 8 for free! (Well, not really. It's $20 for the package. But it will be so long ago and you will be so full of finger foods and wine that you might have forgotten by then!):

Dyke Mic 2.0
Featuring Kay Barrett (poetry), Kathie Bergquist (multimedia prose) and Mae the Bellydancer (tribal bellydance)
$10/$8 with a student ID
Tomorrow Night, Doors: 7:30, Show: 8 SHARP
Center on Halsted, 3656 N. Halsted
Chicago, IL 60613

Hip hip! Hooray!

"See you at the Cent', Lezbos."

Just What I Needed

Last night was fun. Sometimes, it's the simple things...It started out at about 5 pm, having arrived home from the doctor. Things are okay, but there are some spots on my brain that they want to take a look at. No cause for alarm, they say. Just want to look at it. I'm getting an MRI to be sure.

Something that is extremely cool that my sister was telling me about--they are going to inject dye into my body via iv or just via syringe and the dye knows where to go! Basically, they have figured out what kind of dye (haha. I almost typed "dyke") will be absorbed by what part of the body. So they will give me dye that the brain will absorb. Coooool.

And when I arrived home, there was requisite checking-in-with-my-stakeholders about both the doctor's appointment and about The Breakup.

There was an email yesterday. Don't want to detail it all out here because I feel like some things are private, but suffice it to say that there was an email breakup yesterday. I mean, I suppose it wasn't a post-it note ala Sex in the City, but I do think that breaking up over email is pretty unclassy. I mean, really? Is that all that I'm worth? That is all I will say.

The stakeholders? Poetess, E, My sister, K, and Dixie. All were supportive and kind. All were pretty level-headed about both things. All agreed that The Breakup was probably for the best. I talked with E on the IM for about a half hour. It was fun.

And I will say that there was a very good moment yesterday morning when Sweet Em texted me. I think it was actually the night before, but her schedule is always whack, so I never know when she's texting me from. She knew about what was going on, because we'd had a tentative plan to grab a meal on Sunday because I was planning on hitting the fabric store by her house. Obviously, I couldn't do that because I was in the ER all day. But she asked how I was doing (following up from Sunday's text-message-convo) and was funny and kind. She is a good person and I am glad for her in my life. Despite the not-being-able-to-get-together-scheduling-bonanza we always seem to experience, I feel clear that I want to keep being friends with her.

Then I had a call that had been previously scheduled--I talked with my tranny musician friend about his feelings about inclusion in my show. It was a really good conversation. I told him why I err on the side of inclusion. He told me about where he feels his group fits in the scheme of "dyke culture" and a "dyke community". It felt good to have thoroughly processed all of this stuff for myself, to have an opinion that feels open and inclusive while still allowing for the idea that some people (particularly men who are or who have transitioned or who identify as men despite having made a choice to not take T) might not feel comfortable being swept up into a container called "queer ladies". We made a decision to see if, in the fall, we could do a special show (I call it "Dudes who Dig Dykes") for all of our friends and allies who don't fit under the banner of "Dyke" but whose work we like anyway. Gotta run it past Poetess, of course, but I think it's a great idea.

After that call, which was really positive and amazing, I talked to my Ma again. I told her about the spots/lesions and then The Breakup. She joked with me, "Now can I say mean things?" It said to me that she got the conversation from the day before, but that she was still vigilantly protecting me. I explained to her (gingerly) that it wasn't the best idea to villianize people that I am or was dating for a few reasons: 1. I might get back together with them (not in this case, but it's always a possibility) 2. There was a reason that I liked them (loved them) in the first place. They are not terrible people. It just wasn't a good fit for whatever reason. 3. When I am going through drama or angst, it is not a good idea to come at me with negativity. It does not help.

It was a good conversation. I told her that I thought that I understood where she was coming from: I mean, I am her first-born child and she wants to shield me from harm. She said, "Yeah. I just don't want anyone to hurt you." That innate protective sensibility? I get that. I have it for my friends and my sibs. It's a fierce loyalty. But I told her that I try to temper that a bit sometimes.

I think that she understood and I felt good about the way that I communicated with her. I think that my ability to communicate with family members in a way that feels authentic while still honoring them and how important they are is evolving. I mean, I never would have said anything before. It would have felt too disrespectful.

Pause to download some files for work--I'm working from home for the rest of the week. All praise the Sweet Baby Jesus for an understanding manager.

So back to the evening. We were supposed to have two potential new roommates (yes, we are still looking for a roommate. Will it never end?) stop by. One girl got caught up at work. The other drove by and called and said, "I don't want to waste your time. This neighborhood isn't for me."

At 7, I made myself some dinner. Which was good, because I haven't been very hungry in the last week and I haven't been eating much. It was delicious. Chicken garlic sausage in homemade pasta sauce with pasta (duh).

I laid down to watch Wife Swap and then my sister called. I muted the TV and we talked (again) for an hour. She is a trip. She went to the dentist today with her three kids (she just let 'em run around willy-nilly--her husband is out of town and the dentist put her in the last appointment slot) and had the dentist look at a tooth that's been abcessed for three months. She told me that he refused to just pull it and that she told him that she wanted him to just pull all her teeth (because they are so bad--she also grinds at night and her enamel is shot) and she'd wear dentures. She was like "Just give me the Polygrip!"

We had a good laugh over that.

The guy refused and she called him a "Savior of Teeth". He has a complex, apparently, where he wants to save all teeth at any cost. I called him a "Messiah of Molars". We laughed about that too.

One thing that is good about my sister is that we really crack each other up. My mom and dad, too. It's a very good thing. Humor is one of the most important things to me and the ability to make each other laugh is vital.

We talked through my doctor's appointment and she told me about the MRI stuff. It's good to have a reassuring voice out there. I don't know much about medical stuff and I think if everyone in my family wasn't in the medical profession, I'd be a real basket case right now with all that's going on with my body.

After that, I got on the phone with Poetess. We talked through the show and decided that she should come over today because 1) she is unemployed at the moment 2) she has no internet (the installation dude failed to show up on Friday and she had to reschedule him) 3) I am working from home this week, so I can take breaks and hang with her. 4) We need to watch Nacho Libre (she has deemed this necessary).

At the end of that conversation, Dixie and Dr. Cuteness were home. After a long processing session about Just What Happened on Saturday (they were around for the small breakdown I had and Dixie was like, "What the HELL happened?"), they decided that we were all going to watch a special on the Science Channel about the search for Hatshepsut's mummy. She was a female pharaoh and her body had never been found. There was some mystery surrounding its disappearance. It was a fascinating documentary. For real, no lie.

They decided to use CAT scans and DNA testing to find out the match to Hateshepsut's family. First they scanned all the bodies and made 3-d pictures of them. Then they made a composite image of three of her relatives. They compared the four mummies that they found that they thought were her to the image.

There was a lot of technology (and some hilarious sound effects) but in the end, they wound up putting a sealed box of organs into the CAT scan machines (they knew that that was Hatshepsut's organs, but they couldn't open the box without damaging it) and they found a molar inside. That molar led them to the right mummy.

After that, Dixie was lying on the couch. She was in a silly mood. It was hilarious, because she was lying in this supine pose on her side with one leg crossed over the other and her hand above her head. She was slapping her thigh. I asked her what she was doing and she drawled, "Makin' music."

Then she started slapping her thigh again and moaning, "wooooo---maaaaannn" She told me that this was her "poetry". She did it for about five minutes, with different pronunciations of "woman" (whoa-man, whoa-mine (with a Y), woo-minn). I told her that she really should come to Dyke Mic and perform that in the open mic segment. Then she started in with other things she could moan ("Real Precious", the email name of a potential roommate who has contacted us TWICE. She is a lesbian gym teacher.) I added "Dyke" but she vehemently dismissed that idea. She hates lesbians and the word "dyke".

It. Was. Hysterical. We couldn't stop laughing. Me, with half a face.

It was a good night. It was funny because Dr. Cuteness said that I was really funny when I was ill--that I should get sick more often. I responded that I wasn't sure that it was because I was compromised (although I am generally hysterical when drunk or sick) but because I thought that I was relieved and actually happy. Happy to be on my own again.

I think it's just what I needed.

MEMO: Bill O'Reilly is Nutso

Lesbian gangs! Everyone PANIC!



P.S. I am going to start a lesbian gang. If anyone wants to join me, we shall have matching lavender satin jackets, swarovski-encrusted switchblades and the initiation will be very hot.
P.P.S. If anyone involved in la policia is reading (which I doubt) I am kidding. Everyone knows I don't start lesbian gangs. I just band together rogue groups of lesbian and bisexual and transgendered art freaks. They don't hurt people, they just make stuff.

Really Didn't Think it Could Get Worse...

But it did. Something SO disgusting and utterly uncontrollable and so humiliating happened at work--I just spontaneously lost control of my bowels at my desk. It started, I ran to the bathroom, I finished up in the toilet, I wiped down. I told my bosses I was leaving.

I do not know what is going on with my body. It is freaking out.

(Thank goodness my workplace is understanding)

I am back home now, going back to bed. New doctor's appointment for today at 3:15. I am not sure if I can go--my eyes are whacked. I had to drive home from the El with one eye covered and my glasses off because it was too bright to deal. Dangerous.

Going back to my dark hole of a room now. G'night. Again.

New Day

Well, I slept almost 11 hours, waking once in the middle of the night for about an hour...I guess that the best thing to do is to focus on my work today. I am feeling pretty whacked out still (tired, dizzy, one eye is all blurry from the patch I wore all night) but hopefully once I get the prescriptions filled and get back to work, things will seem better.

It is really too bad that my vacation was spent with a weird illness, that the weekend of coming back was a terrible re-entry and that I do not feel at all relaxed or refreshed. I think that I am worse off than I was when I left.

All there is to do is just take care of business, stay on target and keep going, despite the sadness. I know how to do that.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation or the Incredibly Craptastic Week I've Had

Hidee-ho.

I went on summer vacation to my parent's house last week and (dum dum DUM DUM!) contracted Bell's Palsy.

What's Bell's Palsy, you ask? Don't feel dumb. I didn't know either until two days ago.

Bell's palsy is a form of temporary facial paralysis resulting from damage or trauma to one of the two facial nerves. Bell's palsy is named for Sir Charles Bell, a 19th century Scottish surgeon who was the first to describe the condition. The disorder, which is not related to stroke, is the most common cause of facial paralysis. Generally, Bell's palsy affects only one of the paired facial nerves and one side of the face, however, in rare cases, it can affect both sides.

I was at a movie with my parents last week (Sicko. Apt.) and I noticed that it was really hard to drink from my bottle of water. I chalked it up to a wide bottle mouth and went about my business. But not before dribbling about half of it on my front and having to hold my mouth closed with my hand.

Then my tongue felt numb. I chalked that up to having taken a bunch of painkillers in some probable lethal combination (my Dad was yelling at my all week about mixing the Alleve and the ibuprofen. I always confuse ibuprofen and tylenol and acetominophen. I can never remember what's what). But I did mention it to my parents. They monitored it for the rest of the trip. It got worse. I made an appointment to see my doctor when I got back--this coming Wednesday.

Enter Butchpants. I emailed her and called her (from my 'rents phone) about the weirdness in my face. She had me call her on my parent's phone and yelled at me to go to the emergency room. I was standing on Broadway about to go to a show that my parents had paid a lot of money for and she was yelling at me over the phone--and we had hardly talked all week. I got upset--it was not helpful.

My parents saw the whole thing go down. They started in with their usual incredibly unhelpful and uncompassionate berating of my choice in partners. (My mom, in an annoying gay-woo tone, "You really need to find someone who just has their career together and who has found joy in life." My Dad, bitter and crabby, "She doesn't sound like she's very supportive.") They do this whenever ANY of their children has trouble with a boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse. They are not willing to not takes sides immediately. But it's irritating, because any small comment you have made ("She is not happy in her job", for example) becomes fodder for what you SHOULD be looking for that they have decided (in a snap moment when you are either complaining about the person or you are trying to explain why you feel like said person is moody/crabby/etc.) said person does not possess. I yelled at my mom about this today. I told her that she was too harsh and that she needed to back off of her commentary about my partners.

I got back on a plane the next day and came home. On BP's birthday.

Despite extreme exhaustion and a near-constant dizziness and spaced-out feeling, I put on a game face as best as I could and went out to see Harry Potter that night with BP, her sister Evil and their mother. It was, after all, her birthday.

The next morning, I trucked out of her house (on her request--she had "things to do" and I had errands to run anyway), but there was not so much as a "good morning" from her before I left. It felt pretty bad, but I tried to push it out of my mind. Birthdaybirthdaybirthday.

I went to the DMV first. I needed to renew my license, I assumed, before I could cash my paycheck and handle some bills. Still bank-account-less, these things are pure hassle and take about five hours every two weeks to take care of. It is annoying, but I'm trying to make sure I get things done.

I drove out to the DMV on the West Side. Immediately preceeding entering the DMV, I spilled about half of a cup of coffee on my white t-shirt. Bad start to the DMV experience. I get in an interminable line. They whisk me back out of the line quickly. I have brought everything I needed. I checked it all twice before I left the house and even brought extra stuff, just in case.

I got seated in a waiting area. It wasn't long (25 minutes or so) before I got called up. "I need to renew my license." I said and slid the lady my paperwork.

She looked me up. She tapped her fingers for a minute and then said, "Do you own a Honda Accord?"

"No. I sold that car a year ago." I gritted my teeth. This outstanding title issue has been the death of me. I had to leave my car at the auto yard for three extra days this winter because my dealership has dropped the ball on getting me a title. This issue, about which I call Carr's Honda once a month and a woman named Jennifer assures me (EVERY TIME) that "it's getting taken care of", rears its ugly head every so often, throwing a wrench in the works.

"Well, that Honda hasn't been smogged." Are you KIDDING me? I don't OWN the car anymore. "The EPA puts a hold on licenses if the car hasn't been smogged." She drones. She starts talking to the lady on her right. She's laughing and digging through her drawer.

Fuck.

"Fill out this form and send it to the EPA. And then come back here after three business days. You can get your license then."

I start to hyperventilate. Even if I do this on Monday, I think I won't be able to cash my check. Which means every payment will be late. Which means a whole round of calling creditors all afternoon. And I have to go to BP's birthday party. And I was going to get her a present.

I leave the DMV and call my dealership. The manager (who gets on the phone after I angrily demand to speak to him/her upon hearing that the "title and license clerk" isn't in the office on the weekends) drops this on me, after I explain how I've been very patient and how Jennifer keeps telling me that it's getting handled and how I don't understand how they can run a business that way, "Well, I don't know your situation. So you will have to call back on Monday. I can't speak to that." He keeps giving me the runaround in the most patronizing and demeaning tone. I will NEVER buy a car from these people again. You would think that with the ripoff loan I have that they might be nicer. Especially since I am sure that they made a BUNDLE off of my Honda after they refurbished it.

I truly do not know what to do. I have a big fucking fit in my car (I pound the seats in a fury and scream at the top of my lungs. My face is frozen. I am broke. I do not know when/if this will rectify. I do not want to leave my house ever. again. I have to.)

I go home and lie down and weep. It may not seem like the biggest deal, but after nine solid months of roadblock after roadblock, I just want things to calm down and be easy. I am so fucking tired of struggling all the time. It is exhausting, it is working every last nerve, and it makes me sad. I don't know what to do.

--There is much intervening drama involving butchpants and the text messaging and phone conversations and her birthday party.-- The upshot? She decided we need a break. I do not know how long this will last or if it is permanent. But I feel really incredibly sad. I cried myself to sleep last night after a two hour conversation with my sister and 200 text messages with Dixie.

So, then, I woke up this morning and my right hand was numb. Not numb, really, but with pins and needles. I also felt incredibly light-headed (I chalk this up to wine I drank last night) and spacy. More than before. I called my sister and told her what was going on and she told me to go to the emergency room. This time, I listened to someone.

I went to Northwestern Memorial and spent seven hours with dozens of people poking me, prodding me, and asking me to "follow my finger with your eyes" (their favorite game) and "pull away from me. Now push towards me." (second favorite.) There were two shift changes and in total I had two residents (Er and Neurology), a fourth year medical student (ER rotation), one ER attending physician, five nurses, and one Neurology Physician-on-Call. I had an EKG, a Catscan, and blood drawn. They ruled out a stroke, brain lesions (someone actually came in at one point and said that I had "small lesions on my brain, but it was probably no big deal." Then left me there to simmer on that for another hour), and neurological disorders. I think that they are probably ruling out MS (something my sister brought up in one of our twelve thousand conversations today) and thyroid issues, as well.

What I learned today in the ER:

• I need to get my thyroid and B12 checked by my primary care doc.
• I probably drink too much (no news there).
• They have hot blankets. I want a hot blanket every night.
• I have Bell's Palsy. (duh) A classic, mild case of it.
• My hand was probably tingling because I "slept on it weird".
• It takes a long-ass time to get a diagnosis when you have one symptom that does not fit.
• Steroids and valtrex are the medications for Bell's Palsy.
• If you sit somewhere long enough, you will start to trust the doctors in the short white coats, too. Simply because you want to leave.
• It is very scary to go to the ER alone. I think that was the most lonely I have felt in a long long time. Achy with loneliness.
• My sister is a princess among women. I suspected this for a while, but today was the icing on the cake. She would have been there with me if her husband hadn't just left town to travel for work. And she lives an hour and a half from the hospital I went to.
• DO NOT TALK TO MY MOTHER ABOUT MY LOVE LIFE. It just got WORSE today.
  
• Eyepatches are necessary to wear at night when you have Bell's Palsy. I got a cool blue plastic one. This was the best "takeaway". I might wear it to work tomorrow.
  
• Drugstores in bad neighborhoods do not have pharmacists on duty on Sunday nights.
• I can and I will take care of myself. I can. I can. (repeat until I know this like I know breathing.)
  
• Sometimes, when you have burrito from Chipotle after 24 hours of not eating (and thinking that you might actually have to eat your arm for sustenance), it will be the most delicious thing you have ever eaten.

Things I saw/heard in the ER:

• A dirty homeless dude pass out at the triage station. It was like the show ER how they all came running over and put an IV in him and gave him the little paddle electric thingies and yelled "Clear!".
  
• A woman (from behind a curtain) moaning a most deathly moan.
• A women who had her elderly mother with her (dyed blonde hair. Not from here) put in her own feeding tube through her nose.
• A tale of drunken fighting with one's boyfriend at Pitchfork last night from one of the groovy-looking nurses.
• A long tale of woe from Feeding Tube's mom about her luggage. Over and over and over. She kept calling people and repeating it.
• A man who had just had gravel removed from his lip, chatting up and flirting with the nurses. So suave. So bloody. He tried to chat me up as I got wheeled past him, too. "We're not doing good today, are we?" I swear he pointed his fingers at me and made a little shooty-gun.

Overall, the trip to the emergency room was a cherry on top of a fucking fantastic weekend. I saw Politica on the way in the house tonight and she was like, "Hiiiiiii! How are you?" I was like, "Terrible. I think I got dumped. Just spent seven hours in the emergency room." and ran in the house crying. I'm sure she thinks I'm a headcase, but whatever.

The end. Bedtime.

Bicycle Queen Cont.

She woke up sore and dizzy, tongue swollen inside of her mouth. She had been crying in her sleep. She knew that--she had that post-crying blank feeling--grey and empty. She gulped a few times, trying to rehydrate her mouth. It didn't work. She got out of bed and went to the motel bathroom to get a glass of water.

She unwrapped the glass highball. It bore a thousand scratches from cheap booze and motel ice. She felt like that glass--used and re-wrapped a zillion times. The glass retained a tiny bit of class, but it stayed sad. It was like the glass was meant to be a better one, something crystal and sitting on a mahogany shelf in someone's country home. The lino countertop and the depressing florescent-lit bathroom mirrored the cup's life perfectly.

Jeannie looked in the mirror. She didn't recognize herself. Somehow older, worn. The lighting in the bathroom was designed by the devil himself--she looked grey and purple. Her hair was wild. She had slept like a whirling dervish, fitfully and winding the covers round and round herself. She reached for the faucet and filled the glass and took a sip.

She turned off the flicker florescent, exited the bathroom, and set the cup on the nightstand. She plopped down on the third-rate mattress and glanced around the room. Peg's bag was gone. She noticed this only now. She'd expected Peg to be gone, but somehow Peg's things being gone hadn't occurred to her. She went back into the bathroom like a madwoman. She flicked on the light dramatically and looked in the shower.

Still wet. No shampoo--the hemp one that smelled like Aveda that Peg liked--no body wash. No razor. Small leg hairs decorated the tub on the end where Peg had shaved.

Peg had stopped to shave? When had she had time?

Jeannie left the bathroom again. She sat back down on the bed and thought back to the night before. It came in flashes, not like a connected whole.

Peg invited her down to the motel's bar after work. This trip was for Peg's work. She was a paralegal at a quickie-divorce firm and she'd had to go down to Florida to check up on a client's wife. The wife, it turned out, had been married previously in Key West and had never divorced. It was sticky.

Jeannie tagged along because it was winter in Chicago and Key West was warm and smelled like flowers. And because Peg invited her--Jeannie liked Peg a whole lot and it sounded like a lark. Florida in the wintertime. She was a snowbird. She packed three bikinis and got on the plane.

At the motel bar, Peg got a call midway through her glass of pinot grigio. She had to go, she told Jeannie. Take care of something. She'd be back in an hour or so. The gay bartender, Bradley, had poured the wine again and again. Jeannie was broke, as usual, and he waved away her attempts to pay. She got drunk in that hour. She was bumming one of Bradley's Newport lights when Peg came back.

"I want to go to dinner." Peg announced. "I want to go somewhere expensive and I don't want to feel bad about it." Peg knew Jeannie was broke. "So what I will do is this. You give me $20 and then I will pay whatever's leftover."

They walked to the restaurant. It was a swanky seafood place. Jeannie ordered something cheap--fish and chips--as a matter of habit and because she didn't want to be beholden to Peg.

Over dinner, Jeannie realized that she was drunker than she thought. She forced herself to eat--she thought that maybe the grease would do her good--soak up some of the cheap wine.

Somehow the topic came around to their relationship. Peg wanted to keep things light and non-committal. Jeannie, as always, wanted more. She was not sure how it got to this, but Jeannie got mean. She was drunk, that might have explained it a little bit. Perhaps there was more hostility there than she had realized. She started explaining how it would go down if they broke up.

"I will leave you and I will leave no trace of myself. I don't leave evidence." Her father had done this. She was endlessly repeating his pattern. It was like she had no choice in the matter, it was a threadbare and comfortable blanket to wrap around herself. It was autopilot central.

"It's like I am one of those people who goes into the wilderness and leaves it the same as it was before I got there." She was trying to be clever and it was not working. It just came off as sad and defensive.

Peg didn't say much. She just finished her fish, paid, and they left the restaurant.

They walked back to the motel. Peg opened the door for Jeannie and followed her in. Once inside, she threw Jeannie on the bed. Peg was larger than Jeannie and mashed her frame into Jeannie's.

Peg was being kind of rough. It was exciting. Jeannie, drunk, liked it. Peg ripped off Jeannie's dress. She pinched her nipples. Hard. Jeannie moaned and twitched. Peg coated her hand in lube and popped her fist inside of Jeannie. She screamed.

Peg started fucking her, hard, with the meaty fist. Jeannie twisted on it.

Then something went wrong.

Peg slipped her hand around Jeannie's neck. She started squeezing. Jeannie thought for a second that it was some kind of exciting nod to erotic choking. She thought it was sexy at first. Then it wasn't. It started feeling scary; it had turned a corner. Peg had a steely and determined look in her eye. She was pumping her fist and squeezing Jeannie's slender neck with her other hand.

Jeannie came and pulled Peg's fist out of her. Peg released her grip on Jeannie's neck. They rolled away from each other with a hasty "goodnight."

Quickly, sleep came. Peg left sometime in the night. Leaving no trace, except for some small bruises on Jeannie's neck, a throbbing ache in her cunt, and a more damaged heart than she had started with.

tomorrow

I am seeing the new show: Xanadu (the musical!) which opened on Broadway in NYC yesterday, people. (I read about it in the NY Times, which my parents had lying around) My Dad got us tickets to sit on the stage.

I. am. so. excited. I can hardly breathe. I love my parents for their indulgences of me. Yesterday, they gave me Wonder Woman underoos for my birthday, which we celebrated with a wee cake and fruit soup for dinner.

OMG. Roller skating musical. On Broadway. In its first week.

It's just too bad that ONJ is not reviving her role.

Part Two: Bicycle Queen

This will be written in no particular order. I've been trying to figure out how to make a neat order out of the long-form story, but I'm not sure that it has an order and my writing hero, Anne Lamott says that you have just write "shitty first drafts" so here goes.

July 2007
Jeannie had spent hours going through the archive at her parents' house. In the back of an upstairs closet, in a box marked "Walters: Photos" there was a wealth of photos. Her grandfather, Ralph, an amateur photographer, loved to document his young wife. She was a model to him; he always said that when she was younger she looked like a movie star. It was even written in his neat hand on the back of one of the black and white photos.

"Another reason she's my cover girl"

The photo in question was one where he made her stand close to a pine tree. He positioned some needles in the sunlight above her right eyebrow. He pulled the branch down in front of her face, just so. He asked her to hold it, with her hand out of view of the camera.

In the afternoon light, the needles cast a row of spiny shadow on her face. The effect was artful. It was pure Man Ray. His feet crunched the brown needles underfoot, cast off from the tree above, releasing a deep pine odor. Feral, elemental, like his love for her. He was a romantic, that Ralph. And he loved his Jeanne. His cover girl. As he snapped the photo, she smiled the megowatt grin, sparkle in her eye, dimples in her cheek.

Her family always said that Jeannie resembled her grandmother. She could see it around the eyes, especially in how the left one was lazier than the right. You couldn't see it as you looked into the black and whites, but it would become more pronounced as Jeanne grew older.

She made mental notes as she studied her grandmother's face. The smile. The teeth. How they were shaped and how they pointed--what would become her grandma's overbite. The mouth. Same as hers. The face shape--different--More like her mom's. Eyebrows. More heavy but still plucked into a perfect arch. (She thought, "Maybe I should let my brows grow out a bit.")

Hair--same color, even in black and whites. She knew this. All of the Dunne-Walter women had the same shade of brown hair, no matter what color it was dyed now. Photos of her grandmother in a cone-head of rollers. Photos of her grandmother at the beach in Virginia, where he was stationed midway through World War Two, until he shipped to Germany--Just in time to liberate concentration camps. The stories she'd heard as a child from her grandpa were filled with heroics. She hadn't noticed the love between them until just this moment, frozen in time. Summer, 1943.

It is hard for children to recognize love between old people. It's just not something that you really think about when you are seven or eight. You're far more interested in fitting as many black olives as possible onto your fingers at Thanksgiving dinner, for example. Or maybe engaging your grandmother and cousins in a rousing game of Yahtzee.

Sometime in the The Early 80's
There was one moment that Jeannie remembered vividly from her childhood. A good time, but also a moment of recognition of larger more adult themes. She was up in Wisconsin at her aunt and uncle's boat. They had a boat. This was their big claim to fame. Later it would be her uncle's famous alcoholism and how ugly her cousin got as they got older. That's not nice, but it really was the truth. Such a pretty little girl, too. Something happened her. Jeannie and her sister often joked that maybe someone hit her with the ugly stick. It was mean, because mostly they were a pretty attractive family.

But this isn't about her cousin. It's about Yahtzee.

Her Grandma Jeanne loved to play Yahtzee. Well, that and Bridge. But she was too young for Bridge and never really understood it, either. Yahtzee was something her grandma taught her and they played together endlessly.

In the summers, when Jeannie would visit Grandma Jeanne for a week they would usually have a familiar pattern: Whatever she wanted for breakfast; some daytime activity (usually Long Grove or the candy store or Woodfield Mall); lunch out; then a long afternoon of alone time where she usually read fairy tales out of the huge book of fairy tales from all cultures that her grandma kept there for her or a new Nancy Drew book; and then dinner (her Grandma always made it) and then an evening of Yahtzee.

It was their favorite. They would play and play it together for hours and hours. Hours frittered away at the kitchen table that resembled a high picnic table shaking the dice in the little plastic cup and trying their luck for straights and full houses.

At Grandma Jeanne's, sometimes Grandpa would play with them. He would always peter out, though, early in the evening and go to bed before we were done. During those times, they devised a simple muffling mechanism for the Yahtzee cup. They stuffed the bottom of the cup with paper towels, so it wouldn't disturb him as he tried to go to sleep. Yahtzee, if you have never played it, makes an unholy amount of noise. It is five plastic dice that get shaken in a nubby plastic cup and then dramatically (in the case of Grandma Jeanne) dumped on the table. Three times per turn. When Grandpa was trying to go to sleep the half-flight of stairs in their split-level, they dumped the dice much more quietly. It was an art, trying to get the dice adequately tumbled and dumped without making too much racket.

Her Grandma Jeanne taught her Yahtzee strategy. She taught her to never take her "Chance" roll until the end. She taught her about probability and how to assess what would make a good run. How to figure out when you should take your three or four of a kind. Taught her the terms, too. Flush. Straight. Three and a Four of a kind.

But the big deal was getting Yahtzee. Yahtzee is the name for five of a kind. Grandma Jeanne always got so excited. She'd jump out of her seat and yell "YAHTZEE!!", her eyes would bug out ofer her head and she would smile so widely her bridge would show.

On the particular afternoon in question, the whole family (Jeannie's auntie, the ugly cousin Patti, boy cousin Chris, Grandma Jeanne and Jeannie) was playing Yahtzee in the cabin of the sailboat that her Auntie and Uncle parked in the Racine harbor.

They were all huddled around the small table that was serving as a game place for a rousing game of Yahtzee. Everyone kept accidentally dumping the dice too vigorously and they kept skittering across the brown textured carpet on the floor. Her Grandma Jeanne was taking a turn. She dumped the dice out of the red cup.

Three sixes, a one and a three. Good start.

Grandma Jeanne grabbed the dice, and plunked the one and the three back into the cup, held in her right hand. She covered the cup with her left palm shook it again. She slipped the dice onto the table. Another six and a two.

The family leaned in over the table.

Keeping the cup in her right hand, she grabbed the die marked two with her left. She popped it into the cup, covered it with her left palm and shook it. Her voice was other-worldly as she moaned "coooooooome ooooon, SIX!" while she rattled the die inside its plastic chamber. She popped it out of the cup. It rolled off the table and onto the floor. Cousin Chris picked it up with his thumb and index finger. "It's a SIX!" He yelled.

"YAHTZEEEEEEE!" Grandma Jeanne screamed. The family began to whoop. A giant "SPLASH!" came from outside the boat.

Auntie was the first to notice the noise. "Hold on! I think someone fell in!" She yelled above the Yahtzee din.

She leapt up the steps of the cabin. Everyone ran after her. We all piled onto the aft of the deck. Out of the corner of her eye, Jeannie saw a figure treading water, her Auntie and Uncles' dinghy overturned next to the figure and an expensive camera held aloft.

Jeannie's uncle was already there. "Get the camera! Get the camera!" Grandpa Ralph was yelling at Uncle Al as he tread water with one hand.

Uncle Al grabbed the camera by its strap, lifted it out of harm's way, and set it on the deck. My Auntie grabbed it and put it on the seats in the front of the boat. Grandpa continued trading water, but with both arms now.

What happened next was a blur. Al threw a life preserver into the water. He guided Ralph to the side of the boat where there was a ladder. Then, somehow, Ralph was standing on the dock, soaking wet and fully clothed. Someone threw a towel around his shoulder. It might have been Grandma Jeanne.

The first one to speak was Auntie. "You know, Dad, if you want to go for a swim, you should really wear your suit." Everyone cracked up. They were a family of jokers.

"What happened, Ralph?" Asked Grandma Jeanne, worry thick in her eyes.

"Well, I was going to row out to the front of the boat. To take some pictures for Lynn and Al." He explained.

The family was rapt; a captive audience. "So I got my camera into the boat and I untied it. Then I was stepping in with one foot and the whole thing tipped over."

He continued. "But I got my camera! Then I fell in the water and well, you saw the rest."

Grandma Jeanne's expression stormed from worry to anger. "Ralph, you could have drowned." She folded her arms and pursed her lips.

He looked at her. "I'm OK," he reassured lamely.

"Next time, take Al with you." My Auntie advised. "He's used to the dinghy."

The family breathed in with one collective inhale and didn't let it out. The thought of Grandpa Ralph drowning, especially to the cousins, was inconceivable. He was their glue. The man that had made them happen. All thirty of them, in a tightly knit clan. All loud and messy and given to hysterical fits of Milton Bradley.

Cousin Chris tugged at his grandpa's wet arm. "You know what's weird, Grandpa?" Grandpa Ralph bent down, "No, what's weird, Chris?"

"Right at the same time you fell in, Grandma got Yahtzee!" He looked excited. "It was SO COOL!" With that, Chris broke the tension and the family exhaled together.

Vacation: Days 2 and 3

Okay. (Deep breath)

There are things that are extremely good about being on vacation and things that most decidedly do not. I was lying in bed stressing just now, so I think I need to vent and write some stuff down. So I can get it all off my chest and so that I can sleep. Because right now, without any chemical intervention (and I think stealing my Grams' oxycotin would be ill-advised), I think that sleep might be a long way off.

Things that are bad about vacation, at the moment:

• Avoidance of curriculum-planning. I'm in classic procrastination. I've been avoiding it for six months. I am extremely terrified to stand up in front of a group of people and impart my knowledge. Right now, in this moment of terror, I feel like I know nothing. My class, Electronic Commerce (aka Internet Marketing) starts two weeks from Wednesday. I know I will pull it together (as I will have to). But right now? Scared. Need to get more ideas flowing, start creating Powerpoints, think up exercises (and make some handouts) and gather readings.
• It is hard for me to relax. There are multitudinous reasons for this (such as the aforementioned curriculum-avoidance), but it is difficult to achieve relaxation at the moment. I feel panicky about it (the inability to relax), because if I don't spend my vacation RELAXING, then when will I do it? and that just makes it (the non-ability to relax) worse. It is a vicious circle and I'm not sure what to do about it.
• Body issues: The bed I am sleeping in/pillows I am sleeping on are causing neck and back pain. Bad. I knew I should have brought my special pillow. Add to that the fact that I did something to my knee about two and a half weeks ago and it is extremely achy. My parents bought me a brace for it, but it still hurts and I feel really sedentary and gross. I watched five hours of TV (elevating and trying to stay off of it) today. Not good.
• My Grams is driving my Dad crazy who is driving me crazy. She complains about something (for the umpteenth time) and he comments snidely about it in a hushed tone that he thinks she can't hear. It upsets me, though I understand his frustration. Then my Mom plays interference and tries to change the subject to something "pleasant" and complains to me privately about the same thing as my Dad afterwards. They are being driven crazy by her. I get it, but I also understand that it must be really hard for her at 95 (not 97, as I had thought) to still be alive and to have been ripped away from her home and be living in a tiny room with not much for entertainment or excitement.
• My Dad can't see a lot of the time and it's hard to remember and difficult to deal with. He's extra-cranky when he can't see something and it's very frustrating for him. It is hard to watch my parents age and become disabled. It makes me sad because I know that he won't ever see any kids I might have and he has lost a lot of the things that make him happy, like reading.
• I am having a lot of angst about "my life" at the moment. The details are buzzy and stressful, but I hate being patient and that is what I have to do right now. And there is present buzziness and worry over some current events. Nothing that won't blow over (as the events will be over and they will go however they go) but it's stressing me out.
• I know when I get back, there's going to be a LOT of catching up that has to be done: We need a new roommate by August 1, I am leaving town again the weekend after this one, my show starts next week, and I have two extra shows between now and August 7. And my knee hurts and I am afraid that I won't be able to do them as well as I want.
• Day Nine of quitting smoking. I feel good, but there's not a chemical buffer between me and my feelings. Ditto on the drinking. I haven't had a glass of wine since Friday night. And while that might not seem like a big deal, I think that I rely on a glass or two of wine to unwind every night. Not good, I realize, but it is making it hard to unwind without it. I need to learn better destressing & coping mechanisms.
• Trading vague emails with some trans artists I know about my new show. I fear that they think that it's "problematic" for them to perform at my show. I care not, but I really don't want to process about it. They want to "get together in person" when I get back to discuss. Sigh.
• My Effing period started today. Crampy Clot Day! is tomorrow.
• I miss ButchPants. Even though I would probably have not seen her last night or tonight. Still, the idea that I can't see her makes me miss her.

Things that are good about vacation:

• It's pretty here. The landscape is very scenic. I sat on the porch this morning and had coffee and stared at the mountains.
• The hot tub is amazing. I went in it last night. Very beautiful and relaxing (the one moment of pure relaxation I had) to sit in the dark surrounded by trees in a hot tub. I was in there for an hour last night.
• My parents are taking me to see Sicko tomorrow night. ButchPants saw this without me and I was pretty sad about not being invited to go with. I'm glad to see it with my p's as they are the second-most top choice of people to see this movie with. I think that we will have good conversations about it.
• I did see a choice episode of Beverly Hills 90210 where Chandler from Friends (pre-Friends) plays a rich preppie tennis star who wants to kill his dad. And one where Brenda thinks that she has breast cancer. Awesome. Like two amazing after-school specials in a row but with Brandon and Brenda in Season One or the beginning of Season Two and with amazing bad 90's fashion. Brenda is so luminous in every scene.
• In the five hours of television, I also watched two episodes of Saved By the Bell. Enough said.
• I learned lessons today from television about the following: general lessons about rich kids and their problems (sometimes their parents don't understand them); how important breast cancer screening is, even for young teens; that the SATs are stressful and can make you think you're stupid; sometimes not doing well on tests can mean you have a learning disability and how that's okay; how sometimes dating people in wheelchairs can be challenging; how confining gender roles can be (Saved By the Bell...The slightly butchy character who replaced Elizabeth Berkeley wanted to go on a date with Zach); and that, in the end, it is good to be more feminine to catch a man.
• I have read two books (Like Son, Manhattan on the Rocks) and four magazines (June Allure, July In Style, this week's New York and last week's Newsweek). I think I might start on the Re-Enchantment of Art by Suzi Gablik next. I have been meaning to read that for years and my mom has it.
• I have gotten a lot of booking work done for Dyke Mic.
• Ditto on the DM MySpace site.
• I got asked to read at another series in Rogers Park at some point. Very flattering.
• I watched The Closer with my parents tonight and it was a great show. Kyra Sedgwick does a nice job.

That's about all that is fit to print. Okay. I am starting to feel more relaxed and I think that the Alleve I took is kicking in. (My neck feels slightly numb now instead of the jabby, stabby pain of all night.) Mas Manana.

The Squirrel and Chipmunk Show, or Day Three of Vacation

(THIS IS A FRAGMENT OF AN ENTRY I NEVER FINISHED)

Well, as I suspected, things here are very mellow. I arrived yesterday afternoon and I got taken out for pizza...

Wood-fired. Pretty good, but not quite as delicious as the Pizza D.O.C. I ate with ButchPants* last week--I got the same pizza to do a taste comparison between Newburgh, NY and Lincoln Square. Turns out that Lincoln Square wins. The Quattro Staggioni that I got here came with little slices of ham, not proscuitto, and the olives were not kalamata. But I love pizza and I am definitely not complaining. I could eat pizza for every meal, really. It was funny because I was discussing this with my parents and they feel the same way. SO much so that my 95 (she's not 97--I was corrected yesterday) year old grandmother complained to my uncle D that she was "a little tired of pizza" in re: her food selections while living here.

...but the pizza was pretty good and there was enough leftover to have a slice today for lunch (with a big salad that I made).


The main feature of being here, besides my Grams and my parents, though--the main "performance", as Gram calls it--is the presence of small, woodland creatures that eat the seeds that everyone throws onto the deck. This seems to be (besides reading and napping) my Gram's favorite thing to do. She yanks open the deck door, throws out a handful of seeds, and then watches the chipmunks and squirrels come up to eat them and narrates as they do so.


"Oh...Here comes that guy. Look at how he's eating the seeds! Jeannie, he gets all the seeds from between the cracks. Here comes his friend. Oh, they are having a fight now." (And so on.) There is also the naming of the birds, "There's a goldfinch. There's a white breasted thrush."


It is, as BP would say, Enjoyable Occasions. (Good times.) I wish that she were here for a few reasons:

1. She would like the wooded surrounds. It is very serene and it is in the middle of nowhere"
2. My 'rents shower has one of those rain heads AND a "BJ Bench" as we call it. She would like the shower head and we would laugh about the bench.
3. There are Buddhist monks building a retreat center down the road. (I forget what it's called, but there are signs all up and down the roads to my 'rents house protesting and supporting it. I told them that as Buddhists that they should put up a "Buddha Rules! Jesus Drools!" sign, but they poo-pooed me.)
4. There is plenty of scenic walking to do. She would like that and I suspect her dog, Zouz, would appreciate it too.

The end.

Contents of my Suitcase

(Of course I wasn't going to leave town without obsessively posting again)

I am cleaning and packing and getting ready to go and I just opened up my suitcase and these were the contents:










That's right, people. A black maribou feather, a teensy bottle of whiskey and a AA battery. I think that about sums up the first six months of 2007 accurately.

Oh, no WAIT! There's more...(front pocket was not checked before I posted.)









Yes, yes, y'all. Lip gloss completes any look. (And the best part about said lip gloss? No. Idea. Where it came from. I sure didn't purchase it.)

Food, Friends, Day One of Vacation

Today is the first (official) day of my vacation. It feels pretty good to be home on a weekday, having just cooked myself a delicious breakfast (an egg scramble with parmeseano reggiano, fresh basil from ButchPants' flourishing basil plant*, and some roasted garlic), and now sitting down to write. I hope that it is a harbinger of the vacation to come.

It's nice to actually have paid time off. It's been a long time since I had a week to myself that my employer paid for. And I have a FULL MONTH of vacation to use before December. I love my job. Especially when I am not there.

Last night was fun. I went to Poetess and Doodles' SkyCabin. (They live on the 12th floor near the Lake in Roger Spark.) It was a really cool place. The window that looks out onto the fire escape has the best view I think I've seen from someone's apartment building. Land spreading wide to the west and a bird's eye view of the Lake to the east. Poetess says that there's a great view from the roof, but being afraid of heights a bit, I wasn't about to venture out onto what she describes as a "rickety last ladder up". But, she claims, there is a full-sized white leather couch up there. Maybe someday I will be brave, just to check that out. (How did it get there? We were speculating...)

Poetess made some effing delicious fried chicken and mashed potatoes (no bones in the chicken, thanks lady. Bones in meat creep me out. I don't like to be reminded of where it came from). It was so good with all of the seasoning and the meat was so moist...sigh. I love it when my artist friends cook. (Back on food. My favorite topic...) There is something about the moments when creative people make food that translates into delicious meals made and eaten.

I dunno. Maybe something sneaks over from the curious spark or the driving force behind creativity. Whatever the reason, a delicious meal was had by all. I brought a bottle of the delicious French rose (La Ferme Julien, 2005) that LaKathie and the Rink turned me onto. Me and Dixie looked it up and found out it was $6! and from Trader Joe's. I got three bottles last night (two came home, unopened). While I am no wine snob, this rose is deliciously fruity, not too sweet, cheap and non-headachey. That's all I really ask of wine.

Doodle said that the chicken was better than the Colonel AND Popeye's and was almost approaching Church's. Apt. Then we went to the beach and made a pile of rocks (there were many rocks) and discussed ideas and get-rich-schemes. They have some good ones. Then we went back to their house and we watched "Pootie Tang".

I have to say that I was skeptical about watching that film, but it was pretty great--funny, campy (without the self-consciousness that usually accompanies camp) and pretty astute.

Over the last few days, I/we have been busily trying to book Dyke Mic. It's going pretty well, but some people are pretty slow to get back. It's hard to deal with artists sometimes. They drag their feet, act unprofessionally, and don't respond to basic requests (like "We'd like to book you for pay. Please email us.") Luckily, we got the first week all set, so we can fire off a press release now. But boy, it was slow-going.

Artists. Pft.

Yesterday, I made a MySpace page for the show. While it kind of resembles my own a little bit too much, I'm pretty proud of it. And we have 34 friends in less than 24 hours. I think that's the fastest I've ever gotten something like that going. It's here.

I took a buncha photos last night on my way into and out of SkyCabin...

*But, before I launch into the photo series, I must mention the basil that ButchPants gave me. I am VERY impressed with her green thumb. I can't keep a plant alive to save my life. Honestly. And I took Horticulture in high school. I had a YEAR of a lab science teaching me these skills--it's just that when it comes down to it, I do not have the long-term attention span it takes. I still haven't planted my figurative garden for this summer. Oh well. Maybe next year. But ButchPants' basil? Delicious and impressive. And she has about 2' square in which to grow things and it's like a fucking farm out there.

And now, for your viewing pleasure, details from the SkyCabin:

Looks like a painting! This is the hallway
walls and floor. I liked the color combo.

Funny sign. I didn't snap a photo, but there was
a matching smiley elevator sign on the
back elevator.

The lobby just before dusk. Looked like
there should be an old white dude in
a leather chair, announcing the
latest Masterpiece Theatre showing.

La Lobby, 10:30 PM. LIGHTS! SO glow-y.

The front door's ironwork. Pretty!

Old sign. I liked the lettering and the
fact that it was made of wood, maybe?

The end. More once I get to the NY outpost aka the Rents'Ranch.

Sweeter Each Season

Well, the birthday party was fun. Many people came, including some folks I hadn't seen in a while (DominiqueTrixx and her son & hubbie; K; My Sis) and some people with whom I have spent a lot of time lately (LaKathie and the Rink; OldStyle (my new name for GrizzleDyke. She would hate that name and I think she would love to have the monniker of our mutual fave cheap-ass beer); and of course ButchPants.)

There's not much to tell: just a fun, drunken time in the yard, great food, going in the pool (it was a POOL PARTY. I was hellbent to get in the pool), and a LOT of dishes at the end. I am still eating black bean salad. Had it with lunch and dinner last night.

In other news, I am very excited to leave town for a whole week and smack my ass on my parent's couch for my annual trip to the middle of nowhere (no cell phone signal, nothing to do but sleep, eat & read) Adirondacks and spent time with my Dad and Grams.

I am excited about spending time with my Mom, too, but my Dad has had a lot of medical issues lately and my Gram just moved in with them in the spring. She's 97. Hence, my mentioning them but not my Ma.

It will be nice, I suspect. Just a mellow and relaxing week of nothing to do. I really need this. I've been working like crazy since I left grad school and the two extended periods of unemployment were not relaxing. Anything, but, in fact.

No, there was the two or three days that I spent in Florida with Jacket in January but besides that, there has been nothing resembling a vacation since I went to my parents house a year and a half ago for Christmas (and I was riding the breakup wave at that moment. Lots of weeping that trip). And before that, I think that the last time was San Francisco with Magdalena in 1999.

Oh, there were plenty of trips to Ann Arbor and Detroit and Union Pier (god, it took me five minutes to remember the name of that town. Talk about blocking something out) in the intervening years to visit El's family, old friends (read: judging and mean ex-girlfriends whose homes I was forced to stay at), and bourgeoisie lesbian friends at their "weekend getaway homes", but I don't consider those vacations, per se. I was constantly monitoring myself for inappropriateness and generally not feeling relaxed on those trips. We always fought on those trips, my strongest memories are of not wanting to be there and crying alone on air mattresses and in hotel rooms, and it was nearly always terrible and not fun. I was always happy to get home and return to work, so it would be over.

So, yes. Looking forward to the trip.

I really like to travel alone. It's something that I always forget about until I am about to do it. I mean, this is not really traveling alone, as I will be visiting my parents. But when I was 21, I took a trip to California to visit some graduate schools and I traveled alone for a few days in San Diego and then made my way to San Jose, where I stayed with my Aunt Donna.

Those few days in San Diego made me want to run away from home and start completely over.

I was two months shy of graduating from undergrad and I got to San Diego on a Friday night. I went to the airport and picked up my rental car. It was nice (to me); it had a sunroof. I had been driving a Toyota Tercel that smelled like cat pee for five years.

I remember I had no idea where I was going. I had to get from the airport to my hotel. I drove down the highway, I thought in the right direction. I have no idea or recollection of whether or not it was right. I just have intense sense-memories from that trip.

This is cheesy, but that song, "Walk on the Ocean" by Toad the Wet Sprocket was playing. Something about flesh becoming water and wood becoming bone really resonated as I was driving down the highway with the ocean on my right. I could see the water. There were other cars driving down the highway--some with surfboards on the top. The air smelled like the ocean and what I think now was jasmine. At the time, all I could think was "this city smells delicious. Like delicious flowers and the ocean."

It was warm; about 75 degrees and sunny. I had driven two and a half hours from Urbana on the back roads to my parents in Naperville and it was cold and grey. And I think it was doing that drizzle-snow, but I could just be being dramatic in my recollection.

I remember I got to my hotel and it was like one of those commercials (well that one, anyway) for depression medication (prozac, maybe?) where the person is in the dark room and then all of a sudden, they throw open the shades and the window and the room just floods with sunlight. Yes. It was like that.

I spent some time hanging out in Balbo Park while I was there. I went to the art museum and then I just sat in the park, working on my freckles. I remember it feeling like the Gerald Stern line "I wish I were in a Moorish movie house in Los Angeles", not particularly because anything about the experience felt Moorish, but because it was just about the most "other" experience I'd had at that point. There were Latino and African American toddlers and kids running around in a fountain and there was an orchestra in a giant gazebo playing some kind of music unlike what I was used to. And i had just seen a Martin Puryear show and he was like my favorite sculptor at the moment; so elemental and perfect. It was a revelation to sit in that park, surrounded by people speaking all kinds of languages. After three years in Urbana, IL, I was ready for something new. I tried to write a poem there to capture it, but it ended up feeling like a Gerald Stern ripoff. It's funny, because he's so into writing poems to philosophers and composers and such--I probably should have just written a poem to him in his own style. Maybe I will try that soon.

Also, the food there was delicious. I found a fish taco stand and I ate there three times. I took myself out for two fancy dinners in the "old mission" area (I could be recalling this wrong). I visited with a UU friend that I had met in MN the summer before and she fed me black beans for the first time in my life.

I visited the campus of SDSU and loved the facilities and the campus itself. (That campus was beautiful. Like UC Berkeley or California College of Arts and Crafts (CCAC)--in terms of levels and hills and lots of stairs and buildings built into hillsides) but more rugged and tropical.) I wanted to go there, but I never ended up doing it.

It is funny, the things that will stick with you for 15 years. That trip was a turning point. I was nervous to go all by myself halfway around the country and if I hadn't had that experience, I think I would be a whole lot more timid today. But it gave me fearlessness. It gave me some great memories that I hold dear.

And it gave me the sense that I could be a self-sufficient adult. I guess maybe that's the important piece, here. The self-sufficient adult part. I think that I lost that piece of myself in three long-term relationships practically in a row since I was 23 and I think that the notion of self-sufficiency coming back. Or else I am having my "mid-life crisis" but it's taking the shape of making better decisions for myself, trusting my instincts and tapping into that fearless part of myself that took a trip to San Diego by herself at 21. At any rate, it feels most important and I think that will have to be my "something to think on" for 36.

How to remain my own person and stay self-sufficient while in a relationship with someone else--yes, that feels healthy, urgent, and primary. And if I can make it work? It will be like driving down the highway in San Diego on a 75 degree day with the radio blasting and the smell of the ocean and jasmine in the air. I'm sure of it.

We don't even have pictures
Just memories to hold
That grow sweeter each season
As we slowly grow old

"Well, We're Dying Each Others' Hair..." or Just How Uninterested I am in What You Are Doing Today, Potential Roommate

Napping on the couch is one of my favorite ways to spend an hour. I just had a delicious nap while I watched "The Stepford Wives" (those kinds of movies are my secret shame. I delight in terrible Hollywood movies with overplayed stars.) But in this case, I "watched" with the movie on mute and my eyes closed. Deliciously decadent, napping on the couch.

So then I woke up (in a good mood) and I called a potential roommate. She had asked me to call her and set something up with her for today. So I called her (I hate the phone in general; cold-calling even more) to set it up for 6:15 tonight and she was like "Uhh...Well, I'm going to my cousin's." (mood darkening.)

Uh. I didn't ask you what you were up to. I am not your friend, sussing you your level of busy-ness. I asked you to come by my house because you need a place to live and we need a roommate. This was something that you initiated by emailing me from Craigslist.

She asks, "Can I come later than 6:15?" I say, "Not much later." (I need my Sunday nights to chill and get ready for my week, not wait around for people who seem pretty uninterested in moving in. Getting more crabby.)

So, I gave her my schpiel. I was like, "You know, we're seeing people at this certain time. And we hope to make a decision tonight. So if you can't come by or you don't want to or whatever, no hard feelings, but we need to get this taken care of."

Response? "Oh, well, we're dying each others' hair and I'm not sure how long it's going to take. "

Again. I do not need a dissertation on how you are spending your day. I don't much care what you are doing today or how long it will take. The thing is, if you really wanted this apartment, you would come or just say "I can't make it tonight, but I really want to see the place. Can I reschedule?" And the other thing? We are almost 98% decided on someone else. Your lack of interest is losing you points.

She said that she'd call me if she wasn't going to "drop by". I may call her before then and tell her not to bother.