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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
sarah katherine lewis' LiveJournal:
| Monday, August 10th, 2009 | |
| 12:42 am | and now it's on Who wants to live in Ann Arbor for super-cheep (your own bedroom, your own full bathroom, your own separate office, free wi-fi, free cable, free phone, free utils (incl. heat and a/c), two blocks from downtown/public transportation, for $700, with a lovely quiet responsible non-smoking, non-pet-owning roommate? Craig's List ad forthcoming, but I thought I'd ask you-all first. E-mail serious inquiries only to markedformetal at yahoo dot com. I'm thinking September or October. Craig's List ad here! Current Mood: hopeful |
| Sunday, August 9th, 2009 | |
| 12:20 pm | sunday sunday sunday At work. Managed to peel my sleepy little kitten eyes open. Also managed to score a cubicle against the far wall, out of direct management supervision. Today is already much more tranquil than yesterday--plus, The Hummer isn't working. Oh, blessed silence! I don't mind overhearing conversations and the sound of my coworkers' clicking keyboards. After all, I'm a huge click-offender myself. It's just aural hum-rape I can't tolerate. The girl sitting behind me is a supposedly "recovering" anorexic, but I've walked past her monitor several times and noticed visual "thinspiration" that she quickly minimizes if she thinks her viewing material is being scrutinized by an unsympathetic outsider. The photos are standard shots of severely ill women; the knobs of their spines clearly visible; their cat-like anuses unprotected by any buttock fat or muscle. It's not a look I'm into, but hey--I really do think everyone has the right to customize their bodies however they see fit. One person's anorexia is another person's abortion, is another person's pornoriffic Triple D tit-job. Just because I wouldn't do it to my body doesn't mean you shouldn't be allowed to do it to yours. Of course, you could argue that an anorexic is causing physical harm with her choices--but you could make a similar argument about a woman who chooses to terminate an inconvenient pregnancy. At least the anorexic has a chance of survival and recovery--the fetus, not so much. I need...what? Coffee? Perhaps. Trucker speed? Now you're talking. I like working weekends a lot--there are way less coworkers here and the pace is way slower. Now if I'd only take advantage of my circumstances by WRITING MY SEX COLUMN, which was due yesterday. Well, apparently Hunter S Thompson liked to work right up against his deadlines, too. Too bad I've got no mojo wire and not 1/1000th of his mad genius. Current Mood: lethargic |
| Saturday, August 8th, 2009 | |
| 12:02 pm | gotta warn you right now, i'm gonna be a total post-beast today I'm stuck at work and while they ban Facebook and Twitter from our Internet access, they tragically forgot about Livejournal. Ha HA! Blog-happy nerds win again! Remember when "nerd" was occasionally spelled "nurd"? And then "nerd" won? This was way back in the '80s, kids. Seriously--with a u. One of my coworkers keeps humming and I want to go over and punch her in the face. Do people really not understand that humming is an aggressive act of total war? NOBODY WANTS TO HEAR YOU HUM, EVER. Well, maybe your infant child. But if you're at work and you're humming you need to stop now, and never start again. No no no NO to public humming. If this chick doesn't stop humming I swear I'm gonna start white-girl rapping, complete with farty mouth-made beatbox noises. Oh yes, there will be more. Right now I'm going to go make some coffee and put on a sweater, woo woo. Current Mood: maddened |
| Thursday, August 6th, 2009 | |
| 8:19 pm | back in the saddle All right, Livejournal. I have something to admit. I hope we can both be adult about this and resist recrimination and petty name-calling. You may have noticed my absence. I really haven’t been around much at all, and when I am here, I’m skimming, lurking, and rarely Commenting. That’s because in the past two months, I moved my primary focus from Livejournal to…yes, I’ll admit it: Facebook. I honestly believed my allegiance to Livejournal wouldn’t shift with occasional Facebook use, but I have to be honest: it has. (If you’d like to befriend me, I’m there as Sarah Katherine Lewis of Seattle, WA.) Despite my new social network flirtation, Livejournal, my abandonment of you was wrong. I owe you much more than the occasional half-assed interest I’ve shown you over the past couple of months. In reality, I owe you the fullest of all possible asses; big, round, and virtually luminous in low light. I consider many of you my “framily”—that’s friends plus family—and I’ve missed you. I’ve also missed the medium: a longer format allows deeper introspection and more personal communication. I’ll still be updating my Facebook profile, but I’d like to move my primary focus back to Livejournal. I want to apologize for my sudden disappearing act. I’d like to forge a stronger connection between the two of us in the future. I can’t promise I’ll write every day, but going from a fingernail-sized sliver of assed-ness to a full harvest moon again will take some time. I don’t expect you to welcome me back with open arms, but I hope that you’ll find some interest in my updates and Comment, if you feel like it. A lot has happened over the past two months. I’m not sure what you know and what you don’t know about the current state of my life, and I don’t want to start writing chatty updates without giving you a chance to feel at least a little caught up. So here’s my offer: hit Comment, and ask me anything. I’ll answer. In fact, now’s your time to ask me anything you want—Truth or Dare. I promise I’ll only pick Dare occasionally (but I’m safe-wording any activities that might result in arrest). Now I’m going to start reading your updates going back as far as I can, because I want to know what’s been up with you during my…um, hiatus. I’VE MISSED YOU. I hope we can still be friends. Facebook's doesn't hold a candle to you, dear Livejournal. Current Mood: full of pep |
| Wednesday, May 27th, 2009 | |
| 4:18 pm | hot girl with pink bike  (Click to enlarge.) There's no ulterior meaning. It's just a hot girl with a pink bike. I thought I'd be nice and share. :) Current Mood: tickled...pink |
| Saturday, May 23rd, 2009 | |
| 12:25 pm | facebook, the devil's pink-flake cocaine I joined Facebook. Add me if you like: Sarah Katherine Lewis, of Seattle, WA. Write on my Wall, or whatever it is you kids do. Don't send me videos though, because I never watch 'em. The home of my heart will always be blogging, though; never fear. Current Mood: sell-out-y |
| Thursday, May 21st, 2009 | |
| 5:56 pm | this just in "The Academy" (see my book, Indecent: How I Make It And Fake It As A Girl For Hire, 2006) just got BUSTED. I hope none of my friends were working at the time. Honestly, I'm surprised it took so long. Management was making some really dumb decisions and a significant portion of the prostitutes who worked there did not believe that what they were doing was against the law, due to the quasi-Eastern "spirituality" mumbo-jumbo in which the sexual services were veiled. Most of the practitioners knew exactly what the clients were paying for (hint: would you like your root chakra adjusted a little faster, baby?) but a sizable percentage of them believed that by paying lip service to the spiritual stuff, they'd be protected against prosecution. Unfortunately--whether you call it a "donation" or not--accepting money for sexual service is against the law, whether you're wearing a sari or a g-string (and usually, we wore both). Furthermore, operating a whorehouse (pimping and pandering) is a great big federal offense, and I have no idea if management was square with the IRS but my guess is that as a "church," they were probably playing pretty fast and loose with their taxes. The individual operators, of course, have always been responsible for their own tax reporting--but if the feds demand records, a lot of women could be in a lot of trouble. I am fascinated to see where this goes. [EDIT: Thanks to  dafnagreer for the tip-off.][2nd EDIT: Oh man, there's more. Yikes. Current Mood: yikes |
| Wednesday, May 13th, 2009 | |
| 5:50 pm | p0pmatters interview! How It Could Be Different: An Interview With Sarah Katherine Lewis, by Nicole Solomon. Thank you so, so much, Nicole. You are an amazingly talented interviewer, and I was honored to spend time with you on St. Patrick's Day! Next time we're meeting in person, and I'm buying the whiskey. If you are Daphne Gottlieb, Fran Varian, Gordon Edgar, Bucky Sinister, Stephen Elliot, Jim Goad, Jim Hogshire, Shannon Barber, Kristin Casey, or Stephen Hapy, Jr.-- --I totally name-drop you in this interview because I think you f*ckin' RULE. Feel free to link to this article in your own web sites or for any publicity purposes. Happy. Happy. _____ [EDIT: For all you tattoo fetishists out there, check out my awesome tattoo-talkin' interview with the luscious red-hot mamacita Carrie, at Beer Can Hill. Carrie, I'm your total tattoo fan-girl and I've adored you for years. I only have one question: Wow! Did those hurt?] _____ [2nd EDIT: Also--check out my pic and interview in the print edition of the June issue of Curve Magazine--coming to your queer-friendly newsstand any minute now! (Watch how I skillfully weave male-on-male anal sex into the body of my interview--a first for this best-selling lesbian magazine?)] _____ [3rd (and hopefully final) EDIT: Here's me interviewing three fabulous feminist women I admire greatly: (You may see boobs or butts if you click on these links, so beware if those frighten you.) Let's Talk About S.E.X. with the legendary health educator and rebel-girl, Heather Corinna. The Art of the Striptease, with the certifiably brilliant Austin exotic dancer/writer, Kristin Casey. The Queen of BDSM, the goofy and glorious Mistress Saskia.] Current Mood: happy |
| Wednesday, April 29th, 2009 | |
| 7:54 pm | surgery  My last moments on Earth as a potential Mommy. Scared out of my mind. Not of the sterilization. Scared of the procedure being painful, or of the OR staff taking pictures of my pubic area giving the "thumbs-up!" gesture, a la Abu Ghraib. If you see my vagina on the Internet standing on a box with a pillowcase over its head, I'm suing for a sweet, sweet upper middle-class income for the rest of my childless life. _____ [EDIT: I'm sterilized. I got Essure. That means I have to take three months of birth control pills while scar tissue builds around the little steel implants they inserted in my Fallopian tubes. But I'm all done, and ideally, I'll never have to do this again. I have a headache from the anesthesia and I'm feeling pretty beat up (women: think intense menstrual cramping; men: think I have to take a massive, baby-sized, Taco Bell crap but am ten miles from the nearest men's room)--but I have painkillers and Diet Coke and a nature show featuring the Alaskan moose on TV, so I'm all good. I wish I'd done this twenty years ago. Current Mood: fatigued |
| Tuesday, April 28th, 2009 | |
| 2:11 pm | slash and burn I'm getting sterilized tomorrow. I gave consent for either Essure or the classic tubal ligation, depending on my anatomy. (Because I've never had children or been pregnant, my doctor could have difficulty performing the first procedure, which depends on access to my Fallopian tubes through my cervix.) If I get Essure, I will be sterile after a sufficent amount of scar tissue builds up in my Fallopian tubes, creating physical blockages. This usually occurs after three months, but can sometimes take up to six months. Until this happens, I will have to use back-up birth control (of course, this is purely theoretical--I'm thinking condoms, should the opportunity for a romantic interlude present itself). If I get a tubal ligation, I will be sterile immediately following the operation. This means: after over 20 years of being on the Pill (off and on--mostly on), I will no longer be on hormonal birth control. I got my first prescription for Pill at the age of 15, exactly one month prior to losing my virginity. I'm 37 now. That's a lot of artificial hormones--so much so that I haven't menstruated since 2005. I may or may not start menstruating again once I'm off the Pill. I actually look forward to menstruating, though I remember it as inconvenient and messy. I remember enjoying the knowledge that I was sloughing off a month's worth of cells, washing them away clean and giving my uterus a fresh start for the next month. If I do start menstruating again, buying "feminine" products will probably feel like an exciting novelty, at least for the first month or so. I remember them as being expensive. I haven't gone down the "feminine" aisle in the drugstore or supermarket in a long, long time. I remember lots of gushy pink and Georgia O'Keefe-style "mighty vulva" flower imagery--I wonder if that's changed? Wasn't there a sanitary napkin with "wings" that folded around the cotton gusset of the wearer's underwear, ostensibly to prevent staining? I'll be starting from scratch. I remember using--and liking--Instead cups, those little plastic diaphragm-like gadgets that you wedge behind your pubic bone that gently cup your cervix and hold half a day's worth of blood before leaking. I'll probably buy those again. I'm ambivalent about shoving my fingers up my own pussy again--will I remember how to do it? I remember being really fast--I'd pull the Instead out, empty it, rinse it, and shove it back in with very little fanfare in the bathroom of the peep show on Westlake, all ready for my next private toy show. Maybe I'll get that fast and sure again. How I feel about never having children: Normal. The same. I've never felt particularly maternal; never felt the pull of any so-called biological clock. I don't like children or babies--I find them smelly and inscrutable, for the most part, and have never been particularly charmed by their various learning and socialization processes. I don't like cleaning up human shit, and I don't like getting up early. I struggle with depression and would not be able to consistently mother another individual without full-time help, and even with that, I'd feel a lot of guilt for passing along my faulty genes. A tendency toward very poor vision, accumulation of adipose tissue, and crazypants major depression on both sides of the family? Great. Even with a college fund, that's quite a handicap. I wouldn't wish it on another human being--how cruel to knowingly have a child that will suffer the same things I've suffered? No amount of love or money in the world can make up for deliberately breeding someone who will almost certainly be tortured by her own brain chemistry. I never asked to be born, and given the choice, I wouldn't have been. Only once did I seriously consider having children with someone I loved, but ultimately, we couldn't afford to marry and raise children. He was unemployed and my income from writing was low and sporadic. We didn't have the money for a larger place to live, or for medical care for me during pregnancy. A baby would have been the wrong thing entirely--a millstone around both our necks. I still wonder what it would be like to have had his child, but that's like wondering what my life would have been like had I been born wealthy or heterosexual or born-again Christian or any number of things I'm not. It would have turned me into a completely different person, unrecognizable to the person I am now. Sometimes I think about raising a beautiful daughter and both of us trying to protect her from the world with so little resources, and it almost breaks my heart to picture us losing that battle, which undoubtedly, we would. The world is not set up to allow writers and artists to stay home and raise a child thoughtfully and well. This isn't the world's problem. I accept that without complaint--it is what it is, and if that isn't exactly what I'd like it to be, what choice do I have? Insisting upon having a child and then being forced to give her to the ugly, racist, stupid bureaucrats that control state-run daycare and public school wouldn't change anything--it would only change my child into yet another socialized tool. It takes money, societal support, and leisure to raise a child morally, and I don't have those things. Why bother imagining what it would be like if everything were different? Frankly, I'd rather daydream about traveling the world and being rich and famous. So how I feel about my loss of potential motherhood is primarily, relieved. I've never felt like a mother. I'm not good with head lice, stomach flu, scraped knees, patience, and regular nutritious meals. I like cocktails, travel, flexibility, creativity, spontaneity, and cultural immersion. I like reading library books all day and having cookies for dinner. I like going on dates with fascinating strangers. I like my flat stomach the way it is. I can't imagine my intimate parts being wrenched apart by another human's cranium. I can't imagine giving my life for someone else. I'm not done with mine yet. So tomorrow I'm getting sterilized, and I would like to celebrate somehow--maybe not tomorrow night because I might feel too tired and beat-up from the anesthesia, but sometime soon. Maybe I'll take myself out to a fancy dinner, even though I'm getting laid off and I shouldn't spend that kind of money. I'd like to buy myself something new to wear, or get a new tattoo, or maybe just get my hair done. I'm not sure--but I want to celebrate this. This is important--a once-in-a-lifetime decision; momentous. This marks my change from potential mother to...something else. I have never not been a potential mother. But after tomorrow, I will be that new thing. Good-bye, birth control pills! Good-bye, imaginary baby! Good-bye to any potential suitors whose idea of partnering includes reproduction! Hello to the new thing--the never-mother, the never-been-pregnant, the just-one-thing body. I am all I have or will ever be. My body will never make another human being, though my writing might live past my own lifetime, if I'm lucky. And that's a totally okay thing. A good thing. Hello, new thing. [EDIT: This post is in no way a slam against people who have children, or people who want children, or children themselves (well, okay, I did call them stinky, and I stand by that). Some of my dearest friends are mothers, and my own mother is incredibly precious to me. This isn't about me judging anyone else's choice--this is about me making my own. You would think this goes without saying, but in the world of the Internet, strangely, it doesn't.] Current Mood: optimistic |
| Friday, April 24th, 2009 | |
| 9:49 am | happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday! p0stmdrnpr1mt1v, I am honored to know you and so grateful that we are friends again.Congratulations on the publishing of book you co-wrote, The Trickster's Bible. This handbook is an amazing, inspiring source for artists as revolutionaries, and should be read by everyone. Thank you for reminding me to listen to my heart in all moral matters without getting stuck in the emotions people will try to sell you. Thank you for your brilliant art. Thank you for your love and support. Thank you for your humor. But mostly thank you for being you, and making it to another birthday. Happy, Happy Birthday!, darlin'! :) Current Mood: happy b-day! |
| Tuesday, April 7th, 2009 | |
| 3:37 pm | I'm dealing with some pretty serious diminished capacity to due depression right now. Having a hard time eating, bathing, exercising, and communicating. When I'm not working, I'm sleeping. I feel constantly exhausted and mentally slowed down. If you've called me, please understand that I haven't been able to check my messages in several weeks. I can't talk on the phone unless I'm on autopilot at work, with a script and specific information I'm seeking. Personal chat is beyond me. I honestly don't know how to answer even the most solicitous expressions of care. If you've e-mailed me, please be patient. On bad days I can't boot up my computer. On medium days I can boot my computer up and see your unread e-mail in my Inbox. Only on good days can I both read your message and respond appropriately. I understand how incredibly frustrating it must be to attempt communication with me, then to wait as the days tick by with no response. But I'm asking patience. Or if you can not be patient and have to move on, at least try to understand that I'm doing my absolute best to recover from this. I remember having inspiration and energy, and I imagine that at some point I will have those things again. Meanwhile, I'm doing my best to respond to my e-mail and to honor my commitments. I'm also trying to find help, which is difficult and frustrating. The State of Michigan seems to have no resources set aside for mental illness care, and I am not able to apply for Disability without assistance, which there is also no budget for. In spite of this, I'm doing the best I can. I still have two part-time jobs, though I'm terrified of being laid off or fired for health-related reasons. It's embarrassing to post this publicly, but I'd rather admit my struggle with depression honestly than to continue my humiliating and ultimately unsuccessful attempts to cover it up. I can no longer pretend that I can overcome this through sheer force of will. I can't. I need help. Mostly, I need patience when it seems like I'm being flaky or uncommunicative. Again, I know this is frustrating, particularly for those of you dealing with me on a professional basis. Right now I'm only committing to what I know I can do, and that may be less than you would wish, but I've tried overextending myself and that didn't work either. I'm disabling Comments because I know that you care, and I feel incredibly blessed by that, but I want to avoid a flurry of new e-mail. Also: if you are suffering from debilitating depression, you are not alone. I am here. I've got it too. If I can offer you any comfort, or just make you laugh at how long it's been since I've been able to brush my hair, I'm here. Current Mood: very tired |
| Wednesday, March 18th, 2009 | |
| 2:25 pm | feeling like a lazy-ass because i have ISSUES I'm taking the day off to nap, rest, drink water, and read my new library book. A little bit later I'm going to the vitamin store to buy some DHEA to treat what I believe to be adrenal fatigue. Thanks to those of you who have pointed out that yes, I've been under massive unrelenting stress lately and no, I haven't really rested since I hit the ground running here in Michigan. Between working 60 hrs/week and trying to acclimate to a new and unforgiving natural landscape, it would be absurd if I weren't exhausted. At the vitamin store I will also be re-upping my supply of calcium citrate with vitamin D, because I'm all out. So I'm taking a Sick Day--staying in, laying around, reading, and sipping water. I took all my supplements (a multivitamin, an additional B-complex "stress" formula, two teaspoons of fish oil, various herbs and spices) and I'm having Serious Issues about "wasting the day," but I'm telling myself it isn't a waste to rest. I'm tired. I have a new library book. It's okay to read it. It was never okay to be sick or tired when I was younger. Now, it's really hard for me to feel like I'm lying around being profligate with my time. I feel worthless and despicable, like I'm squandering valuable minutes that should be spent striving for...something. My inner voice is accusing me of that cardinal sin, LAZINESS. I feel like I should be working, writing, pitching ideas, "using my time"--that's the problem with being self-employed; you're never really off the clock. Shouldn't I be producing something? Working toward something? But no. I'm resting today. I took a long walk downtown yesterday, made beef curry, brainstormed on the logo and visual "feel" of a hush-hush site I'm working on with a friend, and did a two-hour interview for PopMatters (thank you, N.! I loved talking with you!). Today I'm resting. Resting. Vitamin shop later. Reading in bed now. I made blueberry muffins and ate some, so that's breakfast/lunch. Leftover curry for dinner tonight. I probably need to work on getting more protein--I may roast some chicken and add it to the curry. That's all later though. I feel neurasthenic. Current Mood: determined |
| Tuesday, March 17th, 2009 | |
| 11:58 am | what's the opposite of adhd? because i think i have it OMG WTF, I have brain-fog and I can't wake up. I am in a twilight haze of sleepiness that no amount of caffeine will dissipate. I feel like I've been drugged! I'm not kidding! I feel this huge artificial sense of body- and brain-exhaustion, confusion, lethargy...utter fatigue. Isn't spring weather supposed to energize? But instead, I feel like I'm wading through warm syrup. My eyelids are heavy, my head is involuntarily nodding...can't concentrate. Am I still typing this? Can't type much longer--it's not the fine motor skills I'm lacking, it's the clarity and intention. I'm going upstairs to take a nap but I'm freaking out because I have bunches and bunches of stuff to get done today and I don't even have the energy to get dressed, let alone do my errands. Current Mood: somebody put me to bed pls |
| Friday, March 13th, 2009 | |
| 9:26 pm | watchmen I saw it. I really, really liked it. ( Don't read if you're gonna be a big baby about spoilers.Collapse ) Current Mood: crochety & persnickety |
| Wednesday, March 11th, 2009 | |
| 9:50 am | cooooooookies Does someone have a good, moist, sweet oatmeal cookie recipe they really like? No offense, but I don't want a dense, "healthy," hippie-tasting cookie full of designer nuts and grains. No whole wheat flour, no "sprouted" anything, no expeller-pressed oils, nothing dark-brown or grainy or fibrous or co-oppy. I just want a good old-fashioned American oatmeal cookie, chock-full of butter and brown sugar and white flour. I hate raisins and will be substituting butterscotch chips. I'd use the recipe on the side of the red, blue, and white oatmeal container but I have a box of off-brand oatmeal that doesn't have any recipes on it, so I'm at the mercy of the blogosphere on this one. Also: eyes are doing well. I have my one-week follow-up appointment on Friday. There's some concern about one of my eyes possibly needing to be re-done (the corneal flap re-lifted and scraped, gah) due to cell build-up at the incision point, but there's nothing I can do about that so I'm just not thinking about it and I'll know more on Friday. Some cell build-up is okay; lots of cell build-up is not. I still can't wear makeup and washing my face is really tricky, because I'm not supposed to get water in my eyes. I end up kind of scrubbing my cheeks and my forehead separately with a sudsy washcloth, then rinsing out the washcloth and wiping the soap off with water, avoiding the part of my face that would be covered by a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles-style bandanna. My eyes feel crusty from all the eyedrops I have to put in, and every so often I can clean them with damp Q-Tips, as long as I'm super-duper careful. You never really realize how much you reflexively rub your eyes until you're absolutely forbidden to do so. The snow's melted here in Ann Arbor, which is very nice. Goodbye, Snow! F*ck you right in the face! Currier & Ives, my fat ass. You look pretty for about an hour, then you turn into ugly gray boulders of ice that attack my car and make brisk, dignified walking impossible. Supposedly spring is coming, and my Michigander friends tell me this will make a difference, though they don't say how. I'm just happy the big gray snow-turds are gone. This state is definitely a hard one to love. Michigan, the Charmless State--new license plate slogan? Michigan--You'll Come For the Jobs, But You'll Stay For the Weather? Ahahahaha. Yeah, you'll stay because the salt will gobble your car up like a fried clam strip. Michigan: The Revenge of the Big Three. That one I like. Michigan: The State That Shat Where It Ate. Haha. At least big boxes of off-brand oatmeal are super-cheap here. _____ [EDIT: Exactly-Right Oatmeal Cookie Recipe found, thanks to themagdalen! You had me at two sticks of butter, plus brown and white sugar. :) Current Mood: gotta get to work |
| Thursday, March 5th, 2009 | |
| 7:40 pm | Posted using TxtLJ Eyes lasered--vision very blurry--feeling a little uncomfortable but not in pain. Stingy eye drops every 30 mins. Feeling okay! |
| Monday, March 2nd, 2009 | |
| 1:00 pm | sunday Woke up Sunday morning feeling sore and hot/cold all over; determined the smart thing to do would be to nap as much as possible instead of forcing myself out into the world to Do Stuff. Had tea, napped, sauna-ed, then showered with facewitha_moon's good smelling salt body scrub (out, Impurities! Out, out!)--napped again, and by evening I was ready to put on my pretty dress and venture out for stompy dancing.I wonder if I'm ungrateful? How can being surrounded by the love of so many dear friends end up feeling so desperately sad? By the end of the night I was having a hard time even smiling. All I could think is that in less than a week I'd have to leave again, and not see the people I love for more long, lonely months, and it was so loud and chaotic at the club I felt like I wasn't getting the intense one-on-one connection with each person I wanted anyway. I wanted time to stop so I could take every moment of pleasure and connection and savor it and turn it over and tuck it away for later, when I'd really need it. But instead, each moment washed into the next one and I couldn't hold onto any of them. All the hugs and promises and kisses and love just washed over me and buoyed me up momentarily, but as much as I wanted to hold onto everything I could feel the night slipping through my hands, and as it grew later I felt greedier and graspier and more and more desperate. I danced quite a bit. Had two drinks (one and a half, really--I put my second one down and it got prematurely bussed) and a lot of water. I think it's time for another short nap now that my laundry's in the dryer and I'm nodding off over my laptop. Well, maybe if I just nap, I'll be all better for dinner with Mick tonight. Instant mood adjustment, anyway. Current Mood: drowsy |
| Sunday, March 1st, 2009 | |
| 11:49 am | friday/saturday Friday: arrived in Seattle, was picked up by my lovely hostess dafnagreer. Scored a cheap, thorough, Seattle-style mani-pedicure with facewitha_moon. My finger- and toenails are now a deep, gorgeous merlot, so shiny they still look wet (and no chips, even after two days of not being particularly careful). Take that, horrible expensive Ann Arbor pedicure mills!After the prettifying of my nails, facewitha_moon and I drove up to Lake City Way to go to an awesome sushi restaurant with our dear friend missmoth. I think it was called QQ? They had a metric ton of raw salmon but I was feeling cold and wanting hot food so I had ma pao tofu and potstickers and rice. Despite Miss Moth's under-the-weatherness, we had a good dinner and lots of wine and wow, holy smokes, both my ladies are now officially ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED, with big rocks on their ring fingers to prove it! Face With a Moon drove me back to where I'm staying in Ballard, stopping by her house to load me up with lotion and body butter because I'm the driest girl in the world and of course the TSA won't let you take full-sized lotions on the plane because the terrorists could use them to lubricate their weapons or something--but now I've got scented lotion and conditioner and even a little net scrubby thingie to use while I'm in Seattle, so the spa-like vibe that began with my luscious mani-pedi will continue throughout the duration of my trip. Maybe I can scrub off this exoskeleton of dead skin cells that built up thanks to the freezing cold, uber-dry Michigan winter.Saturday I slept in, turned in the last of my week's work for Xtoysusa.com (huzzah!), then went downtown to sightsee and shop. Alas, the shopping gods were not with me and I didn't find anything I wanted, but I did get a pair of tights to replace the old ratty stretched-out pair I'd brought. At the Market I ran into mzdeliverance and her beau, and we chatted a bit and agreed to try to meet up for Vogue Night later on, and failing that, at the Noc for Sunday night. Ms. Deliverance's black and white dread extensions looked gorgeous and I was jealous and missed my own long-lost dreadlocks suddenly and intensely, but considering how gee-whiz conservative Ann Arbor is, I knew that getting them put back in would doom me to endless conversations with curious strangers about how you wash them, and I'm just not that willing to be friendly with people who think I'm walking around with dirty, stinky hair. I poked around H&M (um, yuck--what's with the ugly unflattering 80s stuff? Isn't that trend over yet?). I ate a burrito at Taco Del Mar, and I looked at shoes at the Nordstrom Rack but they were all high-heeled and gross, and I couldn't imagine myself negotiating the giant frozen boulders of ice that line the streets of Ann Arbor in anything so foolish--the ice would pretty much just eat the shoes--so then I caught the glorious #15 bus back to Ballard to change for the opera. Once changed out of my black pants and black long-sleeved shirt into another, slightly nicer pair of black pants and black long-sleeved shirt, my gorgeous and much more beautifully-dressed hostess Dafna and I went to "Bluebeard's Castle" and "Erwartung" at the Seattle Opera. The first was written by Bela Bartok and the second was Schoenberg, and I was expecting more modern atonal music but was surpised at how melodic both pieces were. In both cases, the stage design was fascinating: the designer used light and shadow to give both pieces a bleary, nightmarish sense of expanded time and place. I wasn't crazy about the soprano in the first piece--it seemed like the music was really written for a mezzo and she was really pushing her range down in a few instances, but then again, I don't have much of a musical ear so maybe she was really great and I just have no appreciation for sublety. The soprano in the second piece was impressive--30 minutes of non-stop singing, whoa. I'm pretty sure I liked the Bartok piece better because I've always liked the gruesomeness of the Bluebeard story and this one didn't disappoint, though the pace was slow instead of relying on cheap shock tactics, but that just added to the feeling of being trapped in a horrible nightmare, knowing that something even worse is coming but unable to stop it or save yourself. I also loved the set design for the seven doors, and the way the lighting changed to reflect the contents of each door--the simplicity added to the nightmare fairytale quality. The operas were short--Bluebeard was 60 minutes, intermission was 25 minutes, and the Schoenberg was 30 minutes--so afterwards I jetted to Capitol Hill to attend Vogue Night at Neighbors. Newly-engaged lady theflittermouse was on the door so I got in as her guest, and my gosh! Is everyone in the world gettin' hitched? Is this a sign of the recession--everyone's trying to seal the deal and make it legal before debt eats single folks up alive? I swear it seems like all of a sudden everyone's sporting giant-ass sparklies on their left hands, which I guess is good for the sparkly-merchants. I'm not sure I really understand it, but then again, it's human nature to trauma-bond and heck, I'm definitely pro-marriage when the alternative is loneliness and fast food meals, eaten with only the TV for company. And marriage is a huge business--if we're not buying cars and houses, at least we can rent venues and buy fancy dresses, and maybe that'll get some fresh blood into our fleshless economy. I don't know--I'm obviously no economist. But I'm cautiously optimistic about the new social conservatism that includes engagement with an actual wedding date instead of endless "living together," though I do think the idea of civil marriage is outmoded--who really wants the state sanctioning something as private as your agreement to love and cherish your partner? I sure don't. My marriage is my business and my Church's business, because it's a sacrament in the Roman Catholic Church--but I really can't see inviting the government into it, especially not when same-sex couples aren't allowed the same bennies straight folks get. Um, yeah, no thanks. I think a marriage should be a big celebration with family, friends, community, and God (if you're a believer in Him), but inviting the state into your marriage is a slippery slope that leads straight to sodomy laws and the policing of your personal bidness. I'm just saying--I don't need or want the state's approval to spend my life with my sweetheart. My marriage, fuckers--you just take my tax money and spend it on bombs and corporate tax cuts, and we'll agree to disagree. Keep your thumb out of my private sector pie, kthxs.* So anyhow--Vogue Night was fun and I caught up with a a bunch of folks including djeternaldarkne, who was (of course) DJing. I stuck around for a few hours then caught a taxi back to fabulous Ballard.And now it's Sunday morning, and I'm...sick. Not terribly sick, but I have a cough and I sound like a big gravelly-voiced cross-dresser, and while I really want to go out and Do More Stuff before dahn-cing at the Noc tonight, I think I'd be way smarter to shower and rest and take it slow and easy, and maybe even nap. I should take a long, hot shower. Oh my gosh--wow. I feel beaten. Stupid cold with the worst timing ev-ar! Oh well, it's still fucking FANTASTIC to be home. _____ * This is just me and my political-type musing, so if you disagree that's totally okay with me. I'm not trying to convince you of anything, so please don't try to convince me of anything, okay? I hate political arguments on LJ--nobody really listens, nobody really changes their minds, and it's all just pointless blah blah-ing that wastes everybody's time. This is what I think, this is my diary, and if you disagree, that's a-okay with me, but I don't want to start some big marriage pro-con debate here because (yes, I'm playing the sick card) I'M SICK AND ALL HOPPED UP ON COLD MEDICINE, DAMN IT. Current Mood: woozy |
| Friday, February 27th, 2009 | |
| 4:14 pm | contact I actually cried with happiness as we landed in Sea-Tac. It is so good to be home. I am going to shower, put on something that doesn't stink of airports, and go out to greet my beautiful city! Then later I'm meeting two old, dear friends for pedicures and dinner. I'm staying in fabulous Ballard with my oldest friend in the entire world, who has a lovely house and room she has graciously offered to me. I am a lucky, lucky girl. A week is so short, but it's mine, and I'm not going to waste a minute of it. Here's what: Noc Noc on Sunday night, y'all. Be there to welcome me home. 9pm til end. Current Mood: weepy like a big baby |