review of weekend
13 March 2006 12:54![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amulThursday night, I took Zombie Queen to see Heroine. It was our second date since we met the weekend before Valentine's Day, and there's not going to be a third. There's just no spark between us, the only thing we have in common is an interest in the same sort of relationship.
Anyway, Heroine was incredibly good. It deals with subject matter that's normally very important to me, but this time it was particularly moving because of the conversation I'd had with Priceless Pearl earlier this week.
Friday, I think I stayed home, working on some photos and chatting on the phone with (f)AD. Frolic Con is coming up, and I plan on showing there, so I need to figure out the What and the How Much really soon, plus crazy deadlines for school are starting to come up.
Saturday, I had a lovely time, starting with dinner with a bunch of friends, followed by seeing Heroine again. The Moonhowler kids are in town for the Transworld Show, and I had bought them tickets, but they didn't end up making it to the show. It was cool seeing it again, as I was more able to push past my raw emotional response and look at the work as a crafted experience. Cave Dwelling Eyes was having a show at Spot 6, so about an hour into the after party I headed out and hung out with her, her husband, and the band of Polish immigrants that cling to CDE despite all her attempts to free herself from her culture. We had a lot of fun and I found this absolutely darling raver girl on the dance floor at one point whom I hope to use as a greek chorus for the Archetyped! series. She seemed very pleased by my interest, so I think there's an above-average chance that she'll call back. CDE's family and friends are so strange to me, they're all introverts, but not in the way that draws me to Wicked Kitten and Silent Dancer. Their introversion does not stem from worry about how the world will react to their true selves, but they are simply too fragile and too scared to reach out and connect with anything. The introverts I usually meet are, underneath it all, dangerously clever, wickedly cunning, and painfully empathetic. These guys just seem like they are easy to bruise. I don't understand what she sees in them, and she is so dismissive of them that I wonder why they stay in contact.
Around midnight, I headed over to Spin to join back up with.... the Kinetic folk (I pause as I write this, wanting to call them "my tribe" but feeling the term no longer fits on my fingers) for a Drag Kings show. It's a little upsetting to me how I'm letting one bitch ruin the memory of an otherwise enjoyable night. I had a lot of fun everywhere, and I usually don't pack nearly that much into a single night. Still, there's this drifting wreckage inside my weekend, and every time it got near me, my radar went off and I veered away from really relaxing into a connection with people I cherish and have not seen in a while. I wish I wasn't like that, wish that my mood didn't affect my enjoyment of my friends so much. I can usually shake that sort of thing off, but it's harder this time for no discernible reason.
I'm just going to have to get used to the idea that I don't have to like everyone who likes my friends. That it's okay to leave the harpies in with the heralds.
Sunday, there was the game, of course, followed by the Transworld Show. Well, sort of. I met up with all the Transworld regulars that mattered to me at the hotel bar. The Purple Haired Girl was positively bouncy about seeing me again, so much so that at first I had quite the wrong impression about her excitement. She's going to be in town all week, and hopefully we'll be hanging out.
Thorn Chain and MoonHowling Wolf chatted with me about their weekend, their subtle and nefarious campaign against the man who has pushed them back to the brink of bankruptcy. I have to admire their handling of the situation. The only thing they said to everyone was, "I had a lot of fun and I loved the actors and the staff, and I will absolutely not be working for Taj Jordan or Music on the Move ever again." It's a tribute to just how well-respected they are that word spread around like wildfire. That man is bad news, and he fucked over the Moonhowler Guys. I don't even know how bad. Hellfire, I only showed up to the after-con bar on the third day, and within 20 minutes, I heard about it from the rumor mill.
It reminded me of one bit of story which I had almost forgotten, when I got to freak out the binder who had underprinted the new edition of Shadowrun books for GenCon. Sprite had called me earlier to let me know that they had messed up and there were only a dozen books to be had, rather than the hundred or so I'd been expecting to pick up. I showed up at the binder, chatted pleasantly with the man for a few minutes and then asked, So how many are ready to go? I'd like to leave as soon as possible.
"Oh, there are fifteen. They'll be ready in about an hour." I feigned outrage. Only 15 boxes? I was told I'd be picking up 50! Fifteen boxes is simply unacceptable. Oh, gods, the look on that man's face as he had to spit out the words, "Not boxes, 15 books." was simply priceless.
The Moonhowler Kids crashed at my place, and we chatted until late in the night as is our wont. This morning, we woke up and I packed them off to the last day of Tranworld. I need to hit the digital labs, and hopefully find some time to hang out with CDE before they get done with everything. I find myself wishing I'd had a bit of time with Tasmanian Distraction while she'd been here.
I'm really feeling very alienated from everything I've worked so hard to connect to, and I don't know what that is about. I've poured myself into this new photography project, and the learning is exciting, but the taste is somehow bitter in my mouth. For months, for at least an entire season, I've sacrificed time with my friends at the altar of my dreams, and I feel like all I have to show for it is smoke and ashes.
I'm re-reading this entry, and wondering where all the feelings are. I talk about all these things that caused really strong emotional reactions in me, but I don't feel like I'm expressing them well. I've lost my words, again. They slipped through my fingers as I reached for another thing, and now I can't find them. I'm on my hands and knees, sifting through my shag rug of memories, cursing myself a fool.
I can't find my words, and I wish that I could find time to watch a movie with Priceless Pearl, or go visit Sword Tongue and watch some anime with her, that particular blend of sexual arousal and platonic friendship. There's something about mutual attraction mingled with the understanding that nothing will ever come of it, like lying on a beach and smelling the surf, but sunning yourself instead of going for a swim.
Like lying on a beach and smelling the surf, but sunbathing instead of diving into an ocean, into an undercurrent. Relaxing, feeling the sand squish through your toes, instead of swimming against the rhythm of the tide. There's an inevitability, and inseparability between oceans and tides. Better to leave it all and just soak up the warmth instead.
I want a womb to crawl into, I want to rest in a place that is not empty, yet also lacking in judgement, I want to be nourished though an umbilical rather than this hunger-inducing trickle that comes from my few meals and far between them.
It is impossible, I know. I understand that I am the only one judging me, discounting that one useless slit whose opinions matter not at all. There is no solace, there is no sanctuary, and I would not find the time to indulge in it even if it were offered. But it hurts to think that it has been so long since I've clasped arms with a comrade, that I may have forgotten how.
Anyway, Heroine was incredibly good. It deals with subject matter that's normally very important to me, but this time it was particularly moving because of the conversation I'd had with Priceless Pearl earlier this week.
Friday, I think I stayed home, working on some photos and chatting on the phone with (f)AD. Frolic Con is coming up, and I plan on showing there, so I need to figure out the What and the How Much really soon, plus crazy deadlines for school are starting to come up.
Saturday, I had a lovely time, starting with dinner with a bunch of friends, followed by seeing Heroine again. The Moonhowler kids are in town for the Transworld Show, and I had bought them tickets, but they didn't end up making it to the show. It was cool seeing it again, as I was more able to push past my raw emotional response and look at the work as a crafted experience. Cave Dwelling Eyes was having a show at Spot 6, so about an hour into the after party I headed out and hung out with her, her husband, and the band of Polish immigrants that cling to CDE despite all her attempts to free herself from her culture. We had a lot of fun and I found this absolutely darling raver girl on the dance floor at one point whom I hope to use as a greek chorus for the Archetyped! series. She seemed very pleased by my interest, so I think there's an above-average chance that she'll call back. CDE's family and friends are so strange to me, they're all introverts, but not in the way that draws me to Wicked Kitten and Silent Dancer. Their introversion does not stem from worry about how the world will react to their true selves, but they are simply too fragile and too scared to reach out and connect with anything. The introverts I usually meet are, underneath it all, dangerously clever, wickedly cunning, and painfully empathetic. These guys just seem like they are easy to bruise. I don't understand what she sees in them, and she is so dismissive of them that I wonder why they stay in contact.
Around midnight, I headed over to Spin to join back up with.... the Kinetic folk (I pause as I write this, wanting to call them "my tribe" but feeling the term no longer fits on my fingers) for a Drag Kings show. It's a little upsetting to me how I'm letting one bitch ruin the memory of an otherwise enjoyable night. I had a lot of fun everywhere, and I usually don't pack nearly that much into a single night. Still, there's this drifting wreckage inside my weekend, and every time it got near me, my radar went off and I veered away from really relaxing into a connection with people I cherish and have not seen in a while. I wish I wasn't like that, wish that my mood didn't affect my enjoyment of my friends so much. I can usually shake that sort of thing off, but it's harder this time for no discernible reason.
I'm just going to have to get used to the idea that I don't have to like everyone who likes my friends. That it's okay to leave the harpies in with the heralds.
Sunday, there was the game, of course, followed by the Transworld Show. Well, sort of. I met up with all the Transworld regulars that mattered to me at the hotel bar. The Purple Haired Girl was positively bouncy about seeing me again, so much so that at first I had quite the wrong impression about her excitement. She's going to be in town all week, and hopefully we'll be hanging out.
Thorn Chain and MoonHowling Wolf chatted with me about their weekend, their subtle and nefarious campaign against the man who has pushed them back to the brink of bankruptcy. I have to admire their handling of the situation. The only thing they said to everyone was, "I had a lot of fun and I loved the actors and the staff, and I will absolutely not be working for Taj Jordan or Music on the Move ever again." It's a tribute to just how well-respected they are that word spread around like wildfire. That man is bad news, and he fucked over the Moonhowler Guys. I don't even know how bad. Hellfire, I only showed up to the after-con bar on the third day, and within 20 minutes, I heard about it from the rumor mill.
It reminded me of one bit of story which I had almost forgotten, when I got to freak out the binder who had underprinted the new edition of Shadowrun books for GenCon. Sprite had called me earlier to let me know that they had messed up and there were only a dozen books to be had, rather than the hundred or so I'd been expecting to pick up. I showed up at the binder, chatted pleasantly with the man for a few minutes and then asked, So how many are ready to go? I'd like to leave as soon as possible.
"Oh, there are fifteen. They'll be ready in about an hour." I feigned outrage. Only 15 boxes? I was told I'd be picking up 50! Fifteen boxes is simply unacceptable. Oh, gods, the look on that man's face as he had to spit out the words, "Not boxes, 15 books." was simply priceless.
The Moonhowler Kids crashed at my place, and we chatted until late in the night as is our wont. This morning, we woke up and I packed them off to the last day of Tranworld. I need to hit the digital labs, and hopefully find some time to hang out with CDE before they get done with everything. I find myself wishing I'd had a bit of time with Tasmanian Distraction while she'd been here.
I'm really feeling very alienated from everything I've worked so hard to connect to, and I don't know what that is about. I've poured myself into this new photography project, and the learning is exciting, but the taste is somehow bitter in my mouth. For months, for at least an entire season, I've sacrificed time with my friends at the altar of my dreams, and I feel like all I have to show for it is smoke and ashes.
I'm re-reading this entry, and wondering where all the feelings are. I talk about all these things that caused really strong emotional reactions in me, but I don't feel like I'm expressing them well. I've lost my words, again. They slipped through my fingers as I reached for another thing, and now I can't find them. I'm on my hands and knees, sifting through my shag rug of memories, cursing myself a fool.
I can't find my words, and I wish that I could find time to watch a movie with Priceless Pearl, or go visit Sword Tongue and watch some anime with her, that particular blend of sexual arousal and platonic friendship. There's something about mutual attraction mingled with the understanding that nothing will ever come of it, like lying on a beach and smelling the surf, but sunning yourself instead of going for a swim.
Like lying on a beach and smelling the surf, but sunbathing instead of diving into an ocean, into an undercurrent. Relaxing, feeling the sand squish through your toes, instead of swimming against the rhythm of the tide. There's an inevitability, and inseparability between oceans and tides. Better to leave it all and just soak up the warmth instead.
I want a womb to crawl into, I want to rest in a place that is not empty, yet also lacking in judgement, I want to be nourished though an umbilical rather than this hunger-inducing trickle that comes from my few meals and far between them.
It is impossible, I know. I understand that I am the only one judging me, discounting that one useless slit whose opinions matter not at all. There is no solace, there is no sanctuary, and I would not find the time to indulge in it even if it were offered. But it hurts to think that it has been so long since I've clasped arms with a comrade, that I may have forgotten how.
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no subject
Date: 13 Mar 2006 23:06 (UTC)Do what you need to do. Take care of your shit, and don't air your dirty laundry. And, don't just talk about, just do it. In time, you'll find that you won't have to try so hard at gaining the respect of those around you, you just will.
Egan