|
|
Monday, July 6th, 2009
| |
6:31 pm - Oh, it's just what it's like when you're only seen at night
|
Saturday night, ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) djtenebrae and I got in a fight with Jack. I don't think we'll be seeing him for quite a while.
Booze and I are good friends. The reason we get along so well is because we usually know when we've had enough of each other. Yes, I may drink a lot, but not like that. This was another beast entirely. We went to Julian's party and I somehow drank at least half a bottle of whiskey with no mixer or chaser or water or anything. We had arrived with a water bottle partly full of whiskey for us to share, naively thinking that was just fine. It was gone within an hour of arriving, and ebreyman drove us to the market to get a bottle. It was gone by the morning.
I think the only time I've been that trashed was when I went to San Louis Obispo last year and was surrounded by bros. Nick and I, gay and goth, were so out of place that all we could do was literally swallow our discomfort. Except he has the queeny capacity to relate to sorority girls whereas I...don't. I ended up much worse. That was the time that I fell down in the street and got my first and only black eye.
But this time it wasn't a defense, it was just excess. I was surrounded by mostly awesome people, was having a great time, and...this is where I would usually recount little anecdotes, but I can't say that I really remember any. I hung out with Tenebrae's ex and her girlfriend. Judging by the bruises on my right knee, I'm pretty sure I fell down at some point. I may or may not have been crawling. I lost all sense of time, Tenebrae lost all sense of consciousness, and we didn't leave until after 9am. In the car, I started crying for what I'm still pretty certain was no reason, and don't think I stopped until I went to sleep. I've never, ever been one of those drunk people, and never thought I would be. Even when I got the black eye, I didn't really trouble anybody. Goddamn.
Sunday was utter tragedy. We didn't wake up until 4 and could barely move an inch without groaning. Our big outing was to Best Buy to acquire season 2 of Venture Brothers, and I had to sit down in the aisles. My thighs and upper arms still ache as if I engaged in a serious workout, and I still don't know the cause.
I don't quite know why I feel the need to share my bad decisions with the whole internet, but I just can't keep this mess to myself.
current mood:  Stupid.
current music: Ladytron- Jet Age
|
|
|
| Monday, June 29th, 2009
| |
7:48 pm - Where do his intentions lay, or does he even have any?
|
Living with and sharing a bathroom with someone I barely know and don't really care to know much better is proving to be...just as strange as it should be, I guess. Clearly, I am not talking about boogastreehouse; it's that other dude. Aside from his usual mess, over which I silently fume on a regular basis, I've realized that I'm very conflicted over how I should feel about his consistent need to leave the toilet seat up. My first reaction is to be annoyed. Then I take a look at my annoyance and wonder- does he somehow owe it to me to put it back down? Does sharing a bathroom with a girl mean that you must default the toilet to her standards? Why? I do not want or need to be treated like a lady just because I might kind of be one; I don't think that the world owes me a certain brand of politeness. With that in mind, I think it ceases to be a gendered problem and becomes just another aspect of his completely oblivious messiness, which I have to deal with merely because I'm not oblivious to it. After a little too much speculation, I feel that I do have the right to be annoyed only because it means that when I go in to use the bathroom, I'm the one who has to touch the toilet seat to put it down, when I'm not the one who moved it in the first place.
Speaking of being treated like a lady, djtenebrae and I went for some awesome Sawtelle sushi before Rocky on saturday. As we were about to sit down, he pulled out my chair for me, and misreading this act of chivalry completely, I moved down to the next chair, thinking that he was claiming that one for himself. I haven't wired my brain to expect or apparently even interpret these things. Chivalrous acts tend to make me uncomfortable, but I figure, hey, if the person doing it is wearing practically as much makeup as I am...it's cool.
In other news, or actual news, or whatever, I'm in limbo. I'm not taking classes this summer, and I don't have a job. I've been pursuing coffee slavery yet again, but they're not pursuing me back. And the more time I have to dwell on it, the less I want anything to do with a regular service-based day job. I've been perusing craigslist on a daily basis, and have begun editing past projects to submit as samples for freelance writing gigs. I've never done anything like that before, and I really have no idea if it's actually likely to happen or not. But I must say, I'm rather proud of myself for being even remotely proactive in that area. Maybe this whole English major thing won't be an enormous waste.
I've also learned that I could theoretically make a rather amazing amount of money by donating my Jew-eggs. I'm not yet sure if that's just too weird for me. I think that as desperation increases, weirdness will proportionately decrease. But right now, yeah, that would be pretty fucking weird.
current mood:  Disneyland tomorrow!
current music: The Smiths- Girl Afraid
|
|
|
| Thursday, June 4th, 2009
| |
1:48 am - Everybody's someone else's freak
|
On saturday night, djtenebrae and I went to Electrolux at the Monte Cristo. It provided an interesting mix of normals and goth regulars, a mix which catalyzed the following mess of an interaction.
After dancing to the song that provides my current ringtone, Tenebrae and I wandered over near the bar, decidedly ignoring "Video Killed the Radio Star." A Latino man with slicked back hair and a button up plaid shirt– somewhere between average macho and the beginnings of rockabilly– appeared next to me, asking me if I wanted to dance. A little confused, I gave him an uncharacteristically flat-out "No." He persisted by saying that the club would close soon. I shrugged. "Who are you here with?" he asked, but I could barely understand him over the music and my own escalating confusion. "What?" I made him repeat himself at least three times, while Tenebrae stood beside me in long black dress and buckle boots, watching the slow-motion train wreck of a conversation with stoic amusement. "Are you here with anybody?" The expression on my face must have betrayed my disgruntled bewilderment as I slid my arm around Tenebrae's bodiced and belted waist and said, "This one..." glancing up at him and back to the questioner. "Oh. Oh, I...didn't realize. Sorry."
After I went to the bathroom a while later, I returned to find the guy apologizing to Tenebrae; he disappeared before I approached.
I swear to you, I am not sharing this as a means of bragging, as if to advertise that I can somehow still get hit on when out with my boyfriend. I can't help but share it because this is the kind of shit that I live for. I like to watch the barriers and discrepancies between different peoples' perceptions of gender and sexuality come to the surface and collide. Whether he thought Tenebrae was my fabulous faggy friend or an Amazonian woman, something about us did not mesh with his perception of me as a femme and presumably heterosexual female. It is discrepancies like this (though usually not displayed to obviously and awkwardly) that keep me from comfortably identifying as heterosexual. But I don't think that's such a bad thing.
Even though I was a bit disoriented by this interaction while it was happening, I suspect that I was almost involuntarily playing it up to put this guy with his normality and his assumptions in his place. I knew somewhere in my whiskey addled brain exactly what was going on, and that part was cackling and saying to the rest of my brain, "Is this seriously happening? This is just too good."
Those two minutes (at most) provide such fodder for my thoughts and convictions that this journal entry is really just a place holder. This happened on saturday, was only barely noteworthy in the scheme of the night, and plenty of other stuff has happened between then and now that should in theory make it less of priority to post about. But there are just so many tangents and issues to take with this brief miscommunication. His apology needed not to be for hitting on someone's girlfriend, but for perceiving someone so different from himself as basically invisible. I've noticed that for as much power and sex appeal that androgynous men have within the goth scene, there's a disturbing invisibility that generally shrouds them in the eyes of Normals. It should go without saying that this makes my desires invisible as well.
And also, what if I wasn't there "with" someone in the first place? Would that make me automatically available to him? The answer is obviously No.
*
On a more updatey note, I'm going to Maryland and New York with my parents (yes, both of them) on friday. Friday morning, in like, the actual morning. My great aunt is turning one freaking hundred.
current mood: Fun with overanalyzing.
current music: I Am X- White Suburb Impressionism
|
|
|
| Thursday, May 28th, 2009
| |
6:57 pm - This is my street and I'm never gonna leave it
|
I'm sitting on a black velvet couch in my room, which has just begun to feel like mine in the past couple of hours. I've been here in LA for five nights, two of which I've spent on the living room couch, two with djtenebrae, and last night was the first in my own bed. On monday, boogastreehouse, astrideempire33, and I painted three of the bedroom walls eggplant purple, and though one is still Fruitopia-fuchsia, it will soon be white. Dealing with the moving company has been nothing short of nightmarish, and after waiting around all day tuesday, I finally received my stuff yesterday. Boxes are everywhere, but I'm making headway. I will sleep in my lair again tonight.
My roommates threw me a going-away dinner party last thursday. Becky draped the house in black and magenta streamers and filled my room with red and silver balloons. We made a bunch of different appetizer type things (artichoke dip, guacamole, caprese salad, mini quiche, garlic bread) and people just kept showing up. Many more people than I expected. They were a combination of school friends and roommates' friends, and though I like a lot of them and they like me too, it became very obvious that even though the party was in my honor, it was made up entirely of other people's friends (except for Nick and Erin, and even then...). Very emblematic of my time there. But I loved it, and because I was leaving, it wasn't sad. I enjoyed it, but it reinforced that I was making the right decision in leaving.
I made a deal with myself that if I moved back to LA, I would learn to drive for real. I'm still terrified, but it's very obvious that I need to do it. boogastreehouse has been so amazing about taking me on errands that I haven't even had to brave the dreaded Blue Bus yet. But I guess I really had gotten accustomed to a carlessly accessible city; I feel very helpless right now.
Perv tonight.
current mood:  Perpetually tired.
current music: The Kinks- Autumn Almanac
|
|
|
| Thursday, May 21st, 2009
| |
3:45 pm - She's moving out in all directions
|
I turned in my writing portfolio today, and I am now officially done with school at USF. I'm so excited to move back to LA, but I've been getting uncharacteristically sentimental. I took my last walk home from school, did my last load of laundry at the Cock, washed my hair in our shower for the last time, made my last disappointing attempt at going to a goth club alone, made my last trip to Trader Joe's and have been making interesting food concoctions so as to finish things without buying anything new. Leigh feigned sentimental anguish when I had my last period at the Cock. Tonight is my last night here, and we're throwing a little dinner party thing. Except that our oven seems to be broken as of yesterday, so we'll see what happens.
As lonely and uncomfortable as I've felt in San Francisco, this apartment has been amazing. Nothing in LA will ever be like it, and it's probably what I will miss most about the city. I love my second story bay window with the tree that grows little black flowers (yes, black flowers) right outside. I want to move back to San Francisco sometime in the distant future when my life can handle it. I refuse to get stuck in LA forever.
Sunday was Bay to Breakers, the annual citywide race from the bay to the ocean. We live a few blocks from the main route, so the road-less-traveled stragglers were passing by the apartment all day. One of many things I love about San Francisco is that when there's a city sponsored race, most people just dress up in costume and wander the city with cases of beer. I saw one runner hail a cab. That is San Francisco. I also saw a police officer drinking kombucha; that would seem oxymoronic anywhere else.
I'm coming in to LA saturday evening, but I'm spending tomorrow night at my mom's. Oddly enough, my mom is moving at exactly the same time as I am, and tomorrow will be her first night in the new place. She had an opportunity to buy a townhouse in a different part of Marin, and since she's never owned a place before, it's all financially wise and stuff. It's totally by chance that it's happening at exactly the same time as my move. The universe is a weird place.
current mood: Gotta start packing.
current music: Talking Heads- And She Was
|
|
|
| Saturday, May 9th, 2009
| |
6:07 pm - Your view of society screws up my mind like you'll never know
|
Last night, I think I had the most important experience that I've had during my time in SF. I had to do a write-up of a performance, any performance, for my Gender & Sexuality in Theater class, and my (art-fag, anti-academic) professor had told us about his close friend's one-queen show. While any drag queen performance would intrigue me, the most compelling thing about Fauxnique is that under all the glitter and wigs, she is actually a woman. She has won drag contests against real queens and sparked quite a controversy. I actually knew her before this, for she had come in to sub our class while he was away– meaning that she came in to press play for Leigh Bowery and Klaus Nomi videos.
The following is my intentionally informal write-up of the show and my visceral reaction to it. It really only scratches the surface of the uncanny affinity that I felt with this faux-queen extraordinaire.
( Will nature make a man of me yet? )
When I was writing this at the cafe down the street, I could feel that the man sitting across from me was drawing me. As he got up to leave, I saw that I was right.
current mood:  Mangle my mind, do it in style
current music: Cockney Rebel- Sebastian
|
|
|
| Tuesday, May 5th, 2009
| |
3:41 pm - Did I run away? I really can't remember the last time I saw the light of day
|
I survived. I made it to LA on friday night, still fragile but significantly less of a wreck. By saturday night, I was able to boldly consume a couple of whiskey and sodas at the Black Market bar and our little hotel party. Seven of us piled into an Anaheim hotel room, and spent the night drinking (lightly on my part) around the suspiciously foamy 24-hour jacuzzi. With bed and pullout couch taken, djtenebrae and I made a pillow-fort and slept on the floor underneath the desk.
With a checkout time of noon, we couldn't help but all be at Disneyland early for once. And damn, that was a lotta Disneyland! Tenebrae and I both bought our first annual passes. Further proof of my imminent return to SoCal. The park seemed significantly less packed with goths than it had in Bats Days past, and there also seemed to be many more normals asking us who we were, what we were celebrating, if we were in costume. After learning from the hours spent in the Haunted Mansion line for the group photos/bombardment in previous years, we all decided to forego the congregation. In retrospect, I wonder how much shorter it would have been considering that the volume of goths was most likely much smaller; while it can be a little bit tedious and excessive, I feel like I missed out on a ritual. I will post pictures when I have them, but as usual, they're not on my camera. For now, I leave you with ( this gem. )
Monday afternoon, I got an automated call from Southwest saying that my flight was cancelled. I've been having the worst luck with this stuff, and I didn't even do anything this time! They put me on a flight an hour earlier, and when I hurriedly kissed Tenebrae goodbye with only fifteen minutes to spare before my new flight, the customary mopiness that defines this portion of my travels dissipated when I realized that THIS WAS THE LAST TIME I WAS MAKING THIS TRIP. Today, I booked a one-way flight to LAX for saturday the 23rd (friday was twice the price, thanks to Memorial Day). My stuff will arrive soon after me in a "consolidated moving" van, meaning that my meager furnishings will be put in with a bunch of other people's stuff, to arrive at some unpredictable time. Two and a half weeks. I'm so fucking happy about it.
Today I did the Frankenstein/"gothic aesthetic" presentation that I was too horrendously sick to do on thursday. It was like time stopped while I was in LA, and I was right back where I was before I left. The rest of my group went ahead with their parts last week, so that meant that I had to do it alone this time. Even worse! But considering that it was really one third of a project, it only had to be about ten to fifteen minutes. It went on for an hour. It was more like teaching a class than doing a presentation; it wasn't that I was yammering for an hour straight, but rather that people had things to say and tangents to wander down. It went really well, complete with Peter Murphy spit Bauahus's "Mask" video. I hate powerpoint so much that I refuse to own it, so I just put up images using slideshow; I'm always proud to go another year avoiding the use of powerpoint (I haven't used that fucker since eighth grade, such is the extent of my wrathful indifference). I brought in gothically appropriate mood lighting, since the lights were dimmed the whole time for the projector; I carefully transported my oldest and drippiest of wine bottle candles, lighting it with a smoker-friend's lighter. While I don't usually like to go on about school, I'm really quite proud of how well this went, and absolutely relieved that it's over.
current mood: Time takes time to pass
current music: David Bowie- Scream Like a Baby
|
|
|
| Thursday, April 30th, 2009
| |
7:50 pm - My body is a cage that keeps me from dancing with the one I love
|
I just stopped being sick a week ago, and today I felt like I was dying from something else entirely. I have some kind of stomach flu that started tuesday night. I'm falling apart.
I was supposed to give a presentation in class this morning, and after getting up at 8, showering and doing my makeup, I was about to catch the bus when I broke down and realized there was just no way I could stand up in front of the class for half an hour. I called my professor and she was completely cool about it, most likely because she thought I'd contaminate the class with swine flu. Oh, and this presentation was supposed to be on the "gothic aesthetic" in Frankenstein; the class is Romanticism, and there have been a couple of presentations on different forms of the gothic aesthetic within Romantic literature that have left, um, something to be desired. I was going to show Bauhaus' "Mask" video. C'mon, Peter Murphy spitting into the mouth of a corpse makes a great teaching tool. I guess I'll be doing it on tuesday.
Around the time that I would have been getting out of class, I went to the clinic to find that this flu is not of the swine variety (not that I ever really thought it was), and was told to eat things that are totally the opposite of what I would normally consider good for me.
When I don't eat, my brain falls apart. I haven't been able to eat much at all, so through a lot of this I've been crying my eyeliner off merely due to mental instability.
To add do this madness, I was supposed to fly to LA tonight. It became pretty apparent this morning that this may not work out. That, plus imminent school stress, starvation insanity, five hours of sleep, and terrible physical ailments equals a so-called basket-case with streaky mascara. However, I am doing much better now than I was earlier, and rescheduled the flight for tomorrow night (thank you, Southwest). I am still determined to go to Bats Day. I once went with bronchitis...and a corset. I couldn't talk the whole time, but I still stand by my decision.
Also, I had never taken Pepto-Bismol until last night, and I feel like I've been the victim of some kind of synesthetic propaganda. I always assumed its taste would match its disgusting bubble-gum color, so much so that it never occurred to me that there was even a remote possibility that it could be anything else. Bracing myself for the worst, I was caught off guard by a surprisingly inoffensive mint flavor. My mind was blown a little bit, and it actually helped a lot.
You know your journal is going downhill when you start speculating about over the counter indigestion medicines.
current mood: Upset.
current music: The Arcade Fire- My Body Is a Cage
|
|
|
| Tuesday, April 14th, 2009
| |
2:31 pm - Strength and beauty designed to decay
|
I've been sick since friday, and I have to say, the worst part of it is that I cannot repaint my nails because I can't go more than three minutes without blowing my nose. On top of feeling sick and disheveled (oh how I long to be sheveled once more), I have to look at severely chipped blood-red polish while my hands are displayed in front of me on the keyboard. Which they always are, because I have non-stop essays due this and next week.
I remember that in high school, even when I was (slightly) less aesthetically meticulous and actually sometimes enjoyed the tattered look of chipped polish, I would always make sure my nails were freshly painted during finals week. I knew I would be staring at my hands for hours on end while taking tests. It made the whole process minutely less painful.
current mood: Vanity and sudafed.
current music: Killing Joke- Love Like Blood
|
|
|
| Wednesday, April 8th, 2009
| |
11:38 pm - I see the girls walk by in their summer clothes- I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
|
When I was in LA, I dreamt one night that I went to Bats Day dressed in a light pink cotton tube top and cut off denim shorts. In the beginning of the dream, it struck me as a good idea (?!), but as time wore on and I wandered through Disneyland, which looked much more like Knott's Berry Farm, appropriately proportionate discomfort and shame set in. I didn't want to see anyone I knew. I stopped at a wooden booth staffed by a perky, nondescript woman, to buy a t-shirt, and though they had black, red, etc., though all covered in white logos, I still felt compelled, almost against my will, to buy the pink one. I felt like people are supposed to feel during naked dreams. To me, walking around in public dressed like that (unless for Halloween) would be infinitely more embarrassing than nudity. And I'm only kind of bluffing.
During that same week, I also had a dream that djtenebrae was wearing blue jeans and white sneakers. It confused me, and when I asked him about it, he said that it seemed like a good idea, much like I'd thought to myself about my own devastatingly uncharacteristic clothing choices in the previous dream.
On an earlier stay, he asked me during a narcolepsy-induced sleeptalking spell, "Are you wearing pink?" upon touching my black nightgown-ish dress. "It feels like pink and white polkadots." Offended, confused, and vaguely amused, I retorted with something far too logical for the interaction at hand, thus provoking a pseudo-synesthetic spiral into the aesthetically nonsensical.
The most recent of these happened about two weeks ago, and the other at least a month ago. Clearly this has been plaguing me. What the hell is going on? Due to the value that I place upon aesthetic choices, these are probably extremely symbolic in ways that I'm actually afraid to explore.
But speaking of Bats Day, I just recently learned that this year's is on May 3rd. It's so soon that I feel like it just happened! If I go, then that will be the next time that I come down to LA, and also most likely the last before I actually move down. So, who's planning on going? Normally I would be rallying the masses with near-religious fervor, but the last one was so recent that it now feels random and quite frankly diluted.
I went to a Passover seder at my aunt's in Berkeley tonight; this translates to a surprisingly organized evening with about thirty wine-drunk Jews. When I came home, my house was absolutely overflowing with hipsters. I spent much of the evening hanging out with them, even though hardly anyone seemed to notice or care whether I stayed or hid away, and no one acknowledged anything I had to say. And it doesn't take much to discourage me from talking. But the thing is, I like the humans, I really do, even if they're not my favorite flavor and I'm not theirs. Not fitting in doesn't bother me a bit, but being an object of indifference is painful.
current mood: Jewy nougat center.
current music: Echo and the Bunnymen- Paint It Black
|
|
|
| Sunday, April 5th, 2009
| |
11:48 pm - Do we part like the seas?
|
I went to LA for spring break (Woo!), and I've been back for a week now. However, I've been consumed with schoolwork, and in an effort to channel some studiousness, I put off making a post until after it was done.
The friday night after I got in, djtenebrae and boogastreehouse put together a little belated birthday party for me because they are awesome. It was space invasion themed, but due to short notice, we had an interesting mix of ( those dressed up and those not. )
A good end to any night. (I don't want to think about how unsanitary that must be.)
The day after the party, I couldn't tell if I was hung over, sick, allergy-ridden, or some secret concoction of all three. I'm pretty sure it was all of the above, and most of them stayed with me for the whole week. I'm guessing the only reason that a seemingly mild cold stuck around that long was due to my own stupidity. Spring break WOO!
On tuesday night, I lost my gaming virginity to Heroclix. It's true, geekiness can in fact be sexually transmitted. There's photographic evidence, but not in my possession. Ehem.
So, you may have read it first on boogastreehouse's journal, but it's true, I'm moving back to LA in June. Or possibly late May, I'm not sure yet. I'll be moving into forktronica's abandoned room, which is not without its level of weirdness, but I know will be good once I get past it, or embrace it, or some combination thereof. I actually feel like moving back is allowing me to enjoy my remaining time in San Francisco, not in a tragically ironic way that would cause second thoughts, but rather in a way that allows me to make the best of each part of my situation. I've been in a fucked up limbo for the past several months, between an amazing city in which I feel disconnected from my real life, and a shitty city full of love and excitement. The fact that I would become immediately stressed and tongue tied whenever anyone asked about my future plans, and now I can answer with optimism, speaks volumes in itself. I've enrolled in SMC to take care of the general ed stuff that I've been strategically avoiding all this time, and hopefully I will be able to transfer to UCLA from there. In terms of academic pragmatism, no, this is not a wise choice, but when have I ever been academically pragmatic? I am amazed and grateful, though not surprised, at how understanding my parents are of my desires and decisions.
On thursday night, I came back from going to a bar with Nick to find Leigh and Jude in their bathing suits in the bathtub, drinking wine and listening to Billie Holiday. I put on my pinstripes and got in with them; it was absurdly cute. My time here is not without its spurts of bonding, and I do enjoy those moments, even if they are few and far between. I told my roommates about my plans on monday, and I told Nick and Erin on tuesday. It was met with very little surprise, but a bit of sadness that struck me as very (selfishly? sadistically?) touching.
As much as I want to soak up my bay-time, I want the next month and a half to pass as quickly as possible. That's how I know this will be a good thing for me.
current mood: I woke up and it was yesterday
current music: Television- Guiding Light
|
|
|
| Monday, March 16th, 2009
| |
9:42 pm - Who stole the words from your mouth?
|
So, I turned 21 a week ago today, and I just really haven't felt like making an LJ appearance. I started writing a long winded recap of recent events, only to get more in touch with my own deep apathy and delete it. So, a slightly shorter winded cliffnotes version shall follow in its place.
I usually don't get particularly hung up on birthdays, but this one seemed like it was supposed to be a big deal only because I've been consistently lying about it to authoritarian strangers for so long.
I used my fake ID for the last time in order to go see Watchmen at a 21+ screening, and somewhat ironically didn't buy any drinks. We, uh, brought our own.
When I was supposed to fly back on sunday night, United wouldn't let me on the flight because it was under 45 minutes before the departure time. What? I know that's cutting a little bit close, but fuck your fine print, any other airline would have been just fine; I know these things. The airport was practically empty. Instead of bitching my way through the system, which didn't even occur to me in the moment, I called djtenebrae (who hadn't gotten very far) to come retrieve me. Sometimes I can't help but react in the most useless ways.
I had my first legal drink on a Southwest flight the next day; it was a vodka and tonic, and of course I wasn't carded.
My mom picked me up at the airport, and it wasn't until I saw this painting of the Sutro Baths at the Cliff House, where she took me to dinner for my birthday, that it hit me that it was my grandma's (my dad's mom's) birthday as well. We always shared one, how did it slip my mind this time? She would have been 81, and she'd had a print of that painting hanging in her apartment. It hadn't crossed my mom's mind until I mentioned it either, and we both couldn't help but feel a little ashamed, especially me with my alleged steel trap of a brain.
When I got home, my roommates & co. handed me a glass of two buck chuck upon entering, and had baked pies. We went to The Page later, a diveishly hip bar down the street, where I was fed whiskey. I did not go to class on tuesday morning.
By thursday it finally got through to me that I needed to call United and fight for a refund. I've never been good at these things. But I naively thought that this would be different, a monumental coming of age experience in which I could finally clearly assert myself and bend The System to my will. Alas, no. Their impenetrable Indian so-called customer service forces made me crack. No matter what I said, the drone and his supervisor would turn it around and say, "You want a refund because you were late?" and list a bunch of time limits that literally did not add up. I seriously wonder how long it will take me to learn how to be a coldly composed bitch. More than 21 years, apparently. I don't care how politically incorrect this may be, but if someone felt that it was imperative to hijack and crash a plane, I wholeheartedly understand why it would be a United en route to San Francisco. I am just sayin'.
This weekend my dad was up here, and my parents took me to an "official" birthday [observed] dinner, at- get this- the restaurant in Saucalito where they had their first date. I don't think of my family, especially my parents, as the type to reenact sentimental histories, which I suppose is part of why this seems so noteworthy. It occurred to me, as it does every once in a while, that I have never been on a real date. For the most part, I actually really like that about my life.
I took my old VHS tapes from my mom's house, and last night Leigh and her boyfriend and I watched both Addams Family's. It had been a few years, and oh god, I think I love them even more now. I fell in love with those movies when I was in first grade, and if I recall correctly, my parents bought me those tapes around then because I wanted to rent them too often. At thirteen, practically the same thing happened with Rocky; my first copy was a Blockbuster tape that I had to buy due to taking it out too often and finally not returning it. I think the Addams Family is where it all started for me, if you know what I mean.
This weekend, my spring break begins. Surprise, surprise, I'm coming to LA.
current mood: All kinds of legal.
current music: I Am X- Lulled By Numbers
|
|
|
| Wednesday, March 4th, 2009
| |
10:45 pm - Sitting here now in this bar for hours, trying to write it down
|
I find myself posting something about this maybe once a year, at the most, so I don't know how many of you are aware that I am rife with learning disabilities. Stupid, ambiguous processing disabilities that cause me to do things (reading, writing, anything), about three times slower than "normal." But I have impeccable comprehension and writing skills, if I do say so myself, once I dedicate an absurdly frustrating amount of time to the given project. Because of this, I neglect a lot, and I do mean a lot of work, and yet I'm still putting in as much time and effort as the average student, if not sometimes more. So, when professors get great work from me followed by nothing at all, and vice versa, they get frustrated; my earliest memory of this is in first grade. I was tested for learning disabilities and ADHD when I was in tenth grade, so since then I've had fancy little papers to prove my condition to the designated authorities. However, the only official accommodations in any school I've encountered has been extra time on tests, and when you're an English major, tests aren't the biggest issue. And because this processing disability doesn't have a fancy name, and doesn't manifest in the quality, only consistency, of my work, no one really knows what to do, including me. I have been diagnosed with ADHD (really, who hasn't?), but I don't usually take meds for it because they barely do anything for me, and besides, that is so the least of my problems.
That's the brief summary of my ongoing quarrels with academia. One professor, whom I will refer to here as Dr. C, recently sent me a very frustrated email about my inconsistency, which actually upset me more than ( I'd like to admit. )
When I said that I "wasn't feeling well," what I really meant was that boymaenad and pirate_dolly were staying with me, and we went to Death Guild. After that, we experienced such an absurd parking fiasco around my house that if there were an LA Story about San Francisco, this would without a doubt be in it. I was up until 6am, and woke up two and a half hours later to send her that email instead of going to class, and then went back to bed. But, see, even when shirking my immediate attendance responsibilities, said shirking was unrelated to the doing, or not doing, of work.
My latest guests are currently in Santa Cruz, and tomorrow after the aforementioned morning class, I'm going to take CalTrain down to San Jose and hitch a ride to LA with them for the weekend. This scheme was only recently hatched. I'll be flying back up here sunday night, which means that I will be here for my 21st birthday on monday, but I'll get to spend the last hours of my youthful sneakiness with my LA comrades.
You can fuck the system, but you can't fuck the system.
current mood: Somewhat competent.
current music: Sisters of Mercy- Flood I
|
|
|
| Sunday, March 1st, 2009
| |
11:33 pm - Wine in the morning and some breakfast at night
|
I think I have begun to accidentally live ebony_sphynx's dream of running a bed and breakfast full of loved ones. On thursday night, or rather friday morning at about five, boogastreehouse, thenon, lexxwonderland, and penguinstampede descended upon my apartment. That night and the one after, all five of us slept in my room and giggled until delirium, like the middle school sleepovers that I never really had. That said, I wish to tell the story of our adventures and misadventures through a plethora of pictures.
( Welcome to the Cock Hotel )
My guests departed at about five in the PM today, but the vacancy is only momentary. As I finish this post, boymaenad and pirate_dolly struggle to find parking. It's a busy season here at the Cock Hotel; speak to your travel agent and arrange a visit of your own!
current mood: Hostess pastries.
current music: Velvet Underground- The Light
|
|
|
| Monday, February 23rd, 2009
| |
1:14 am - I'm busting up my brains for the words
|
I have papers due on monday, tuesday, and wednesday this week, and my eyes hurt from staring down my computer all day. But my absence from LJ has gone on unconscionably long, and I just can't let this trend continue. I know that many people write on LJ more when they are depressed or stressed, and less when they are happy; I think I post the most when I am happy, but have just the right amount of time to reflect upon it. Perhaps it's too fragile a balance. And the other thing that happens when I stray from LJ is that when I return, I have to write about writing. I can't not acknowledge it, even if I don't particularly want to.
Last weekend I went down to LA. Already it feels like quite a long time ago, and rather than regurgitating my week's story in elegant bloggy prose, I present you these ADHD-addled, need_thou_a_god-style, dreamlike fragments.
Elyse is again, at least for now, not so long lost. Mini roadtrip to San Diego for friday night Rocky. Too many beards, just the right amount of whiskey. Even though Valentine's day makes me unnecessarily uncomfortable, I got djtenebrae flowers because I like to feel like a gentleman, and I know how to treat my ice queen. DV8 instead of Rocky, now with painful glam metal. Friends, rain, booze, biscuits, and britcom. Goodbye Snister, hello Landshark II. Repo: The Genetic Opera: you know it's bad when Anthony Stuart Head tearing out organs, Paris Hilton's face literally falling off, and a beautiful gothy aesthetic still can't make me like you. Even in irony. I was so disappointed, I was almost impressed. And stupid fucking involuntary crying when about to leave. Hate that more than cinematic disappointment.
Which brings me here, kind of. I've been decidedly sad and lonely, but in a guilty sort of way which makes it almost worse in a barely-conscious attempt to make it better. Privilege is such a loaded word, such that I almost don't even want to Go There, but I am aware that my sadness is a privileged sort of ennui, and this awareness makes me feel, well, perhaps guilty isn't the right word. It makes me feel unjustified in feeling the way that do, and ungrateful for the absurdly many good things in my life. My life does not suck, not by a long shot, and it never has. We should all know by now that the "it could be worse" mentality is usually emotionally irrelevant, but somehow I feel that it shouldn't be, at least in this case. When I'm isolated and estranged and all those tragic words, it's in one of my favorite cities, even if I can't fully take advantage of its awesomeness. I live in a great apartment with roommates I like, and I go to a school that isn't crushing my psyche and might even be benefiting it. I am unemployed and have been recently trying to remedy that, but thanks to my parents, my life is not crumbling because of it. I have to say, I think my favorite place in San Francisco is my bed; this is both painfully sad and really quite cozily amazing, especially when digging up suppressed dorm memories. And even those weren't that terrible. I do have friends here, but I don't want to let them know how sad and unfulfilled I feel for fear that they will take it personally; of course, this perpetuates said feeling of isolation. See, being here isn't actually bad, it's just less suffused with heart-exploding awesomeness than my LA life. So what right do I have to feel so fucking dejected all the time? Oh, logic, you have no place here. Logically, I also believe that crying is not a sign of weakness, but in this context, I absolutely feel like it is.
My 21st birthday is in two weeks, and I'm afraid of being feeling alone. However, I am excited that my house will be overrun with Sinners next weekend.
current mood:  Rain, I has it.
current music: David Bowie- Moonage Daydream
|
|
|
| Monday, February 2nd, 2009
| |
10:27 pm - The morning gets you down and then the evening lets you down
|
So much for that digital comeback. Not only have I continued to neglect my journal, but I haven't launched AIM since I've been back. I only used it a couple of times over the month that I spent in LA, and I haven't abandoned it for any ideological reasons; I doubt my strike will continue indefinitely. It's kind of a purposeless experiment. But on top of that, I also haven't written in my paper journal since I've been back. I usually have a lot to say to myself, even if I don't have a lot to share.
I've been here now for almost two weeks; that's one full week of classes, and it feels literally like a month. Luckily my classes aren't to blame; I feel I should mention that my Gender and Sexualities in Theater professor has partially green hair and a septum piercing. Rock. This weekend I went to a play for that class; it was really an interpretive dance piece to the readings of two transmen's diary entries, one of whom died in '91 and one of whom is part of the theatre company. Considering that I have no real interest in interpretive dance (that I didn't find this one absurd or embarrassing might actually mean that it was amazing), I thought it would have been just as good if it had been simply a series of monologues. Anyway, they're a small transgender theatre company, and I liked their logo so much that I bought a t-shirt. ( Fresh meat! )
I think I'm finally giving up, socially. That play was the only real event I went to this weekend, and I went to it alone. I finally know better than to go to parties thrown by my peers; as much as I often crave amiable social contact of any variety, that variety is too consistently dissatisfying. And going out to clubs alone takes so much determination and fortitude (not to mention money, and time wandering downtown) that the effort and stress of being at a club alone can often (though not always) cancel out the fun of it. Supposedly these are the places where I could meet people whom I would better relate to, but I find it painfully stressful to meet and converse with new people when I'm out alone. Oh, catch 22.
Yesterday, I wrote a resume. I'd never actually written a resume before, just filled out forms and applications. In the next couple of days, I'll edit and distribute the fucker. I'm not the kind of person who thrives on structure and busyness; an abundance of those things tends to cause mental collapse, which is why I've tried to avoid working while also in school. But at this point, I feel that if I could get a part time job, I might actually become less depressed. Then I could at least pretend that I have a valid reason for not reaching my socialite potential, rather than being such an overtly mopey bitch. And maybe save up to move back to LA. But I don't want to talk about that now.
I've been on the verge of sick for the past couple of weeks, and I can't tell if my body finally gave into it or if I've just been overcome with uncharacteristic allergies. Either way, I feel like crap, but not crap enough to actually neglect responsibilities anymore than I am already wont to do. Limbo, I know you well.
current mood: I probably miss you.
current music: Ladytron- Seasons of Illusions
|
|
|
| Sunday, January 25th, 2009
| |
3:04 am - The shadows breathe, whispering me away from you
|
I was in LA for a month, living out of a suitcase (albeit a very large one). I stayed with djtenebrae basically the entire time, with the exception of a couple of nights at my dad's and at boogastreehouse and forktronica's. I have been very much estranged from the internet, for I'd replaced it with human contact. Now that I'm back in San Francisco, I can make a digital comeback. That's the positive way of looking at it.
I'm not particularly eager to compile a month's worth of epic recapping, but I've got some pretty amusing pictures.
( Just paint your face, the shadows smile )
I've only been back up here for a few days, but it already feels like weeks. This is not good. Stronger than the shock of feeling alone up here is the shock of being with people to whom I don't feel such a tenacious connection. It depresses me so much that I'd rather give into my moping than go out and distract myself by pretending to have a better time than I am. Tonight, I gave into the former, and am staying at my mom's and having a decidedly uneventful saturday. Quite frankly, I feel like shit. I start classes on monday, and for once I'm actually, well, almost looking forward to it because I just want time to pass, and it won't start doing that until the semester begins.
On a lighter note (I think), I'm still noticeably marked by the sex injury I acquired on my first night in LA.
current mood: Should be at Rocky.
current music: The Cure- Burn
|
|
|
| Monday, January 5th, 2009
| |
3:49 pm - After the crash and my cosmetic lows
|
Being all adrift in LA, and yet mostly holed up in the Den of Evil, I haven't felt much like making posts lately; hence being five days into '09 without a textual peep. At the dawn of '08, I still had mono and yet still got dressed up as War from Good Omens, still went to boogastreehouse's party, still drank a bunch of wine. My new years standards were relatively low for this year, and I just assumed it would be better than last. Well, long story short (which is not how I prefer to approach LJ)...
2008 ended with a far too literal bang. djtenebrae got into a hit and run a car accident on the way from his work to the Sins party, which were only a couple of miles apart. Hit by a very drunk driver who hit another car as well as him. The car is totaled, but because Tenebrae is either somewhat superhuman, undead, catlike to the point of nine live'd, or some combination thereof, he walked away relatively fine. penguinstampede, boogastreehouse, and I left the party to go pick him up; midnight came and went while we were told by the police to keep back from the accident scene and its, um, participants.
Technically it happened in the previous year, but of course all kinds of shit is spilling into the new one, and its probably not really my place to go into that. It really is rather amazing that he's even in tact, judging by the state of the cars. But I must say, it kind of sucks when the bright side of new years eve is keeping one's own limbs attached.
I feel extremely useless. I wish I could be of more help in this time of crisis. This is the kind of thing that truly makes me want to get a license and car, and yet its also what reinforces my otherwise mostly irrational fears of driving. O, irony!
So, yeah. Happy freakin' new year!
current mood: A whole mess of stuff.
current music: I Am X- Mercy
|
|
|
| Wednesday, December 24th, 2008
| |
11:09 pm - Why is the night so still?
|
So, I'm not in New York. Or anywhere on the east coast, for that matter. I'm currently at my dad's place in LA for the first time in a couple of years, and actually sleeping over here for the first since, oh, early high school. I was going to go with my mom to see her family on the east coast for a week, but she was overcome with some flu-like affliction, and had to cancel. That, and the snow storms have been threatening to cancel the flight for us, anyway. Which puts me in LA straight into the new year.
The day that I flew in, I was welcomed with chili fries and Super Troopers; sometimes even the most glamorous must manifest the anti-glam, and have a great fucking time doing it. I ended up with a headache from laughing and smiling so much.
Unfortunately, I'm sick now as well. Nothing too terrible, but enough to bitch about. Luckily, I got to go to Rocky and get drunk with loved ones, and also get a pretty brutal and still extremely prominent sex injury before it set in.
I hope to convalesce quickly, and to make the best of the canceledness of my trip. Happy winter.
current mood:  Rain!
current music: The Arcade Fire- Rebellion (Lies)
|
|
|
| Tuesday, December 16th, 2008
| |
9:29 pm - Push the writer to the wall
|
Earlier today, in the cafe below my apartment, I finished my biggest final paper of the semester. Never you mind that it was almost two weeks late. It was on Paradise Lost, about which I don't particularly care, unfortunately; maybe that implies that I am a waste of an English major if I'm not enamored with this epic, but again, I don't particularly care. This is actually part of why I'm so proud that I got this fucker done. If I'm not personally invested in something that is going to take a lot of work, odds are I won't do it at all. This is why I didn't do too well in high school, and it's also why I've been strategically avoiding my general ed requirements. One very useful thing that I have learned from my inability to bullshit, however, is how to warp almost any given topic into something on which I do have genuine, passionate opinions. I wrote this beast of a paper about so-called vanity as a physical manifestation of introspective personalities, and the stigmatization of attraction to sameness. Not that I have a personal agenda or anything.
I'd intended to finally try out Death Guild last night, but I had too much of the aforementioned work to do. That, and it was (and continues to be) way too cold out to be bussing and wandering all over the city in the middle of the night. Seriously, it is fucking freezing, by which I mean it is about 40 degrees. When I have to wear a sweater and jacket inside my own house, I feel perfectly justified in calling the weather freezing.
Tomorrow, I have my last final, an in-class essay for which I still have to write an outline. I cannot wait for tomorrow to be over! On friday, I'm coming down to LA for the weekend, then I'll be going to the east coast with my mom for a week. I'll be back again for new years, but I don't know for how long. That is my agenda thus far; should be an adventure.
This time last year, mono was making its graceful entrance into my life, where it would stay- unwelcome- for six weeks. May this upcoming winter break be exponentially more enjoyable! Not that that's saying a whole lot, but still.
current mood: Academic hibernation.
current music: Sisters of Mercy- Flood I
|
|
|
| Friday, November 28th, 2008
| |
12:14 am - You'll find a palm tree in your sleep
|
When in college, people really like to ask each other if they're "going home" for Thanksgiving. That's supposed to be a relatively straight forward question, right? I've been finding myself caught off guard by it, and subsequently catapulted into a haze of introspection. You have to believe me when I say that I don't mean this in an angsty way, but rather just noticing that which is different and weird, and weird only because it's different.
For the first time in my life, "home" to me is not a place that I share with my mom. (Dormlife was a separate beast entirely.) I feel almost unusually secure in referring to the apartment that I share with three other people as "home." I can't quite put my finger on why, but I really do love living there; this is especially fortunate considering that I spend a lot of time there. Like, really, a lot. I'd be a lot more distraught about how isolated I feel in San Francisco if it weren't for my bond to the apartment in which I isolate myself.
When I stay at my mom's in Marin, as I am right now, I say without hesitation that I am going to stay "at my mom's house." When I hear myself say that, I think that it makes me sound like more of an autonomous human being than I really am, but maybe this is how it starts. I've never spent more than two nights in a row here, and I usually only stay over when my dad is in town as well; when I do so, I live out of a bag or suitcase. When I say these things, it always sounds like I'm lamenting, but I'm not.
But when people ask me if I'm going home, what they're really asking me is if I'm going to LA, until they catch themselves. Sometimes the term "home" reaches the tip of my tongue when I talk about LA, but I've almost completely phased it out. It will always be a sort of home, because that's where my chosen friend-family is, in all of its shifting manifestations, but I no longer have a literal, physical house-home to go to there. Yes, my dad still lives in LA, but I haven't actually lived with him since I was about eleven and my parents were together, the first time around. This houselessness in itself does not bother me, to an almost disturbing degree; when I used to go home from school, I would spend so little time at home that it became just another thing to juggle. Now I can spend time with my mom up here, where I have much less going on socially.
Tonight, we had Thanksgiving dinner with my dad's sister's family in Berkeley. We cooked and ate a ton of amazing food, and it was relatively mellow. I am extremely lucky to have such a cool family, as well as friend-family.
Technically, yeah, I stayed up here for Thanksgiving. But tomorrow, I'm going down to LA until wednesday. I can't stay away! Going to see Sisters of Mercy on tuesday. I'm extremely excited. However, I haven't even left yet and I'm already dreading coming back; it's already hard to leave LA, but this time when I return, I will be entering academic hell. I have three papers and two finals in a span of two weeks, one of which is due the day after I get back, and obviously won't be in on time. While I have obviously come to terms with this fact, I know that I will be a ball of stress during that period. But since typing that out, I shall proceed to ignore my fate, and enjoy the next few days of my life.
Happy Thanksgiving.
current mood: Nomadic.
current music: Ladytron- Season of Illusions
|
|
|
| Wednesday, November 12th, 2008
| |
3:57 pm - The graveyard scene, the golden years
|
I returned monday night from my Pilgrimage, consisting of two consecutive trips to LA for the high holy days. Those being Halloween and Bats Day, of course. I don't feel the need to write a novella cataloguing our every move, so I'm going to tell the tale mainly through pictures.
For the first time in about five years, I only had one Halloween costume. boogastreehouse, djtenebrae, and I were characters from The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari; Dr. Caligari, Cesare, and Jane, respectively.
( Look-alikes fall on the cutting room floor )
In between these two weekends, I voted in my first presidential election, and, um, wrote a paper. You know, real life things. On thursday, I flew back down, this time with my mom; she went to stay with my dad, who picked us up from the airport. djtenebrae was working at Second Unit that night, which is right by my dad's place, so they dropped me there. There are few things like going straight from the airport to a club, and changing in the back of your dad's car.
( Freeze frame screen kiss )
On monday, we got some of the best chili fries on the planet, and hung out at Chris's before Sally took me to the airport. I find it very interesting that when I go to LA now, I stay in the valley; I have never in my entire life spent this much time in the valley. I have almost no concept of its layout, and it's really like I'm staying someplace new rather than the place that I moved out of. But then when I go to Chris's, mere blocks from the house I lived in with my mom for ten years, it gets weird. Not in a bad or even overly sentimental way, but the current state of my life seems to hit me all at once when I reach that neighborhood.
I don't know how it got to be the middle of November already, but I am very much okay with this. I'm sitting by my eggplant purple bay windows, looking out onto a twilit Divisadero; much as I love this city, I just want to go back where I came from.
current mood: Missing my kind.
current music: Bauhaus- She's in Parties
|
|
|
| Tuesday, November 4th, 2008
| |
10:05 pm - I hear the sons of the city
|
Today I voted on my first presidential election. The polling place was just a couple of blocks from my apartment, at an elementary school. I went in the middle of the day, there was no wait, and it was actually quite anticlimactic; when I inserted my ballot into the beast of a machine, it made a sound like a carnival attraction. I felt like I was in a semi-dystopian sci-fi movie.
We don't get cable, so we were looking at the election returns online, until...we remembered that we have this intriguing, antiquated contraption called a radio. Holy shit, let me tell you, it was mind blowing and a little bit depressing to realize that it didn't even occur to us to try out the radio until the internet got too aggravating.
I was surprised at how soon and how concisely we learned that OBAMA FUCKING WON. In fact, before the California ballots were even counted, which on one hand makes me feel like my dystopian polling experience truly was dystopian, but on the other hand, I'm willing to blindly grasp at this victory regardless of my influence, or lack thereof, upon it. We went out and got champagne after McCain's concession. I'm pretty buzzed now, so this is not the time for political commentary. But when the news came through, our neighborhood erupted in shouts and cheers and the cars that drive by are honking enthusiastically. San Francisco is the place to be at this moment in time. And because I'm in San Francisco, everywhere I look in the past month, there are No on 8 signs; it's absolutely baffling that it could be this close.
*
In slightly less socially relevant (or perhaps merely a different kind of socially relevant) news, I was in LA this past weekend for Halloween. However, I think I'll make a separate post about that tomorrow. The day after that, I'll be making yet another pilgrimage to LA for Bats Day weekend. Yeah!
I should be working on a paper that was due yesterday, but I'm...not.
current mood: No on h8.
current music: NPR
|
|
|
| Tuesday, October 28th, 2008
| |
5:18 pm - It's all been done, everything's retro
|
This just in.
Dita Von Teese fucking COPIED ME!
Goddamn. Ironically, this will be the first time in four years that I won't be doing my Normal costume, which I believe had its highlights in '05 and '06. It needs a rest; I do plan to bring it back in years to come, though. This bitch can take over this year, apparently.
This makes me feel a little too cool.
current mood: LA in two days!
current music: Dirty Sanchez- (We Hate) Youth and Beauty
|
|
|
| Friday, October 24th, 2008
| |
11:27 pm - It's all ammunition for the gender bend and the bedroom twist
|
So, national coming out day was almost two weeks ago, but considering the lateness of some of the papers I've turned in, now seems like a perfectly reasonable time to make this post. I think about doing something like this every year, and often think about it unprovoked by a nationally recognized day, but it's always too daunting. I'm finally sorting myself out. It's still a work in progress, but something tells me that it always will be, and I think that might be fine.
I'm finally becoming relatively comfortable with my sexual orientation, even though it still may not have a concrete label, or even a comfortable place on the Kinsey scale. However, give me, oh, five years, and ( aesthetisexual might be a legitimate word. )
I'm exceptionally proud of myself for making this post, as it has in many ways been years in the making. This is kind of a really huge deal to me.
current mood: But I like my closet.
current music: I Am X- The Negative Sex
|
|
|
| Monday, October 6th, 2008
| |
7:03 pm - Don't you ever stop being dandy
|
For the past couple of days, I've been going to the cafe downstairs to work on a paper that was due today, and which I very much have not finished. Despite the hours that I've attempted to pour into it, I keep getting distracted by tangental thoughts that I find much more interesting, almost in an urgent kind of way. I've been writing Wilde-based essays for years, and should be working on yet another right now, but it's only recently that I've been truly realizing how these formerly more abstract philosophies apply directly to my life and identity. Their relevance is not new, but the clarity with which it's been hitting me is. I've been overcome with daily revelations; things that I've always felt, but which had been hidden in a haze of abstract theory, have been shooting to the surface. And the surface is a very important place for me.
It's very hard to focus on school while learning so much more from life.
Last night, Leigh and I were doing homework in the cafe below our apartment, when she got a call from her friend Zephyr, who was in town from LA. It was close to closing time, but he came by anyway; he insisted on taking us out for drinks at an exceptionally nice restaurant down the street. I had every intention of resisting temptation (ha!) and remaining studious, but I was powerless to pass up free drinks at a restaurant I'd probably never otherwise get to go to, even though it's just down the street. To those of you in and around the LA goth scene, let me quickly characterize this friend of hers: he is Julian. A wealthier, not-goth, ever-so-slightly less abrasive version of Julian. Perhaps that is unimportant, but it struck me as highly amusing. He talks incessantly, stopping only to ask either very pretentious or very personal questions. He grabbed my hand from across the table and complimented my silver nail polish. "Very robo-chick. ( I bet you're the kind of person who dresses up for sex. )
It would be nice to think that after decidedly neglecting my academic responsibilities in order to articulate that which I find much more intriguing, I could plunge back in, undistracted. Yeah, that would be nice. In addition to these ongoing aesthetisexual revelations, I've had some pretty disheartening ones about the ways in which my learning/processing disabilities effect me; suffice to say for now, ADD is by far the least of my problems. And while nothing has technically changed, new kinds of awareness can seem to alter everything. But that is for a different post entirely. I'll clear my head out eventually, one tangent at a time.
However, I'm even more distracted by thoughts of dandygoth sex now than I was before. Oh well.
I can't believe it took me this long to get into Adam Ant.
current mood: Silk or leather or a feather..
current music: Adam & the Ants- Prince Charming
|
|
|
| Sunday, October 5th, 2008
| |
3:45 am - I lost my friends, I dance alone
|
I actually did something good for myself tonight.
The reason that I never go to the events that San Francisco has to offer is that no one really seems to want or be able to go with me, and although I don't mind doing things alone, getting to the places I want to go around midnight, on the bus and walking...can be a little bit intimidating, to say the least. Especially because all of the goth-esque clubs are in SOMA.
I find out about most of the thing that I want to go to by gazing wistfully at sfgoth.com. When I happened to take a look today, I learned that there was a monthly 80's club tonight...having a BOWIE TRIBUTE NIGHT. Okay, I whine about not making it to Death Guild every week- whatever. I told everyone whom I thought might be interested in this, and yet, no one wanted to go badly enough to actually...go. My friend Oliver (whom I went to some of high school with) is in town with a few friends this weekend, and not knowing what would become of this night, I invited them over and fed them Irish coffee. It turned out they were going to stay in Santa Cruz tonight, so I asked if they could drop me in SOMA on their way out of the city; it was shockingly perfect, really. The only better outcome would have been if they could have come with me.
I was truly shocked at what a good time I had there, by myself. I danced more than I ever have at a club, such that I'm sure I will be sore tomorrow. There were a surprising amount of drag queens there, one of whom told me I was beautiful and invited me out somewhere, but I don't actually know where. They not only played all kinds of Bowie songs that are never played at clubs, and showed The Hunger and The Man Who Fell to Earth in the background, but played even more of my favorite songs that I'd somehow never even heard at clubs before- including This Corrosion and Placebo's cover of 20th Century Boy. I didn't realize until tonight that the latter kind of got me through high school. There is something very liberating about dancing nonstop at a club to the music that I play in my bedroom, and yet where I know literally no one.
I didn't make it to Lovefest today, and I was originally very disappointed in myself. I think everything worked out just fine, though.
However, I am coming to LA for Halloween weekend. I'm way too excited. I just figured out my costume a couple of days ago, whereas I usually would have had this figured out months in advance; it's amazing how much my perspective on life as a whole changes for the better once I've decided upon a costume (or several). I'm just as conflicted as usual about this city situation, but at least I feel less bleakly about it for the moment.
current mood: Mildly adventurous.
current music: Pulp- Sorted for E's and Wizz
|
|
|
| Sunday, September 28th, 2008
| |
8:11 pm - She walks me through the nicest parts of hell
|
Today, I went to the Folsom street fair alone. One of the reasons that I love San Francisco is that an entire neighborhood is annually blocked off for a huge, public S&M street fair. Of course, the only person who even considered going with me had to work, but I really didn't mind going by myself. I rode the bus at about 3pm, decked out in underbust corset, etc., and due to the semi-jaded awesomeness of San Francisco, no one seemed to look at me in a particularly weird or unsavory way. I then walked the few blocks from Market to Folsom, and joined the leatherclad masses. I meandered my way to 12th street, where Shiny Toy Guns would be playing at 5-ish. It wasn't terribly eventful, but it was exactly what I needed. I was stopped by a bespectacled woman and earnestly asked to join a surreal industrial cabaret; she was shocked and confused when I said that I didn't have a modeling-type card to give her. The troupe sounds pretty cool, but to be honest, I'm sure they won't be interested once I break it to them that I don't have any real performable talent. A cute gay boy asked to take a picture with me. Countless (seriously) trannies told me that I was beautiful, and I said the same back to them because it was true. The rest of my weekend fit in with my last post, and I'd been looking forward to this all week; I'm glad I at least had this if nothing else.
Before I left, I decided to explore the self-timer mode on my camera. Vain as I am, I haven't done the solo camwhore thing in a very long time, as in, years. I figured it was about time.
( If she says come inside, I'll come inside for her )
Shiny Toy Guns were pretty good, especially considering that it was FREE. Which I guess means that they were okay, but I had fun; they gave a destination to my wandering. They played a cover of Stripped, the original of which I'd danced to at Ruin with djtenebrae. [Insert sentimental angst here.]
I'd taken a portable Jack & coke with me, but I've found that it takes quite a bit of effort to get drunk lately, most likely because I've been saturating my body in alcohol. That's healthy, right? But when I came home and took off my corset and subsequently crashed to the floor (that's normal for me), I was all of a sudden buzzed and dizzy and extremely hungry. I cooked and ate dinner with all of my roommates, drank wine, and we discussed why we all dislike children so much; I'm glad that we at least have something so fundamental in common.
Now I'm going to go over to Nick's and watch the premier of Dexter.
I still seriously miss my LA life to a point of utter stupidity.
current mood: Not bad.
current music: Nine Inch Nails- Sanctified
|
|
|
| Saturday, September 27th, 2008
| |
2:34 am - Two worlds and in between
|
[The following is transcribed from my little black journal.]
I'm on my roof, lying on my stomach at 1:30am, drinking Jack and coke out of a wine glass. I almost had a nervous breakdown today. It hit me harder than ever how much I miss LA, my goths, my life there. Two of my roommates and one of our friends went to an art show in SOMA without telling me, and after they left, I lost it. Not just because of them, three people who seemed totally indifferent to my presence, but because it reminded me that there are three people in LA (and then some, quite a sum) who I know would love to have me with them, and even let me know it. And I want nothing more than to be with them. I don't feel like I have a place here, socially. That's why I felt the need to come up on the roof. I can see and feel the city from here, and the city itself is what keeps me here. I walked home from a party on Haight tonight rather than taking the bus...I walked through the Panhandle. Maybe not the safest choice in the world, but so awesome and beautiful. My best friends up here are Nick and the city itself...but Nick and I have felt some distance lately and the city isn't people. I miss my people so much it made me cry today in a way that seriously caught me off guard. Now, I'm just going to sit up here and look and think, like I made myself do at Ojai , only this time urbanized.
When I stopped writing, I put Ladytron on my iPod and danced on the roof, by myself, above the city. Shitty and isolated as I felt today, that almost healed it. Almost. I feel like I'm having a quarter-life crisis, but at the same time, I know I'll figure it out one way or another. You know, It.
current mood: Conflicted.
current music: Sisters of Mercy- Lucretia My Reflection
|
|
|
| Monday, September 22nd, 2008
| |
10:09 pm - All our tentacles entwined
|
I've basically been on a weeklong double goth date. It was probably some of the most concentrated fun I've ever had, much like my last week in LA, only less draining. Last sunday around midnight, forktronica, Josh, and djtenebrae pulled up in front of my apartment in Snowball, the trusty white VW bug, after a daylong drive from LA. That night, we just sat around together drinking wine and watching The Dreamers. I christened my new room, I suppose, by having hot goth sex in it. I have a ton of awesome pictures of our adventures, and you should be warned not only of their awesomeness, but their quantity. Also, perhaps, that they are cute to the point of sappy. It almost makes me uncomfortable and I fucking love it.
( Yes, have some. )
I realized later that I cut it close enough to miss my flight not only because I was overconfident, but because I wanted to sabotage myself. I seriously did not want to leave, not at all. So many people are trying to convince me to move back to LA, and it's so hard to resist. I thought that I was finally done with my location crises that seem to arise every semester, especially now that I have an apartment and my mom lives up here, too. I'm so happy with my friends in LA that it actually gives way to anger; I'm annoyed and pissed off that I have to deal with this conflict of cities again. But then again, the reasons for this frustration are nothing but amazing.
current mood: Missing the gothsquad.
current music: Future Bible Heroes- Doris Daytheearthstoodstill
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
