Dancing.

Tired.

Okay.

So I really like you people. Done the social thing for the last two evenings, and have been doing the Chia thing too, which has been catching a bunch of you. However, it's really really had for my sleep stuff. It's almost summer, so I can get by with six hours of sleep a night, but I don't think I -should- (Whatever that means) be. I'm curious to see how long you can keep tempting me from the good path before I just fall over.

Anyhow, you all r0x0rz and stuff.

I went to my first non-Sin-City nightclub the other night with Linnea and Mouse. T'was nice to dance again, and nice in that it was a lesbian night so there were lots of other girls there. Being there, especially with Mouse, made me really miss sex-type stuff with girls.

I realise that I am, however, a collection of the warning flags surrounding bi women: the only woman I've dated, the relationship did not turn out well. The only woman I've dated was the girlfriend/wife of both my boyfriends. I'm currently dating the husband of my ex-girlfriend. Hah.

Talked to Linnea a bunch, which was cool, and ate pizza (Linnea, the pizza's still in your car. Finish it!) which was yummy (I love oysters on pizza).

I need to remember to buy razors and more of those chestnuts (Eating it for long time will prolong your life!) because they're the best snack food ever.

I miss my rats. Not spending tons of time with them lately, poor babies. Too tired to ride proper herd on them without falling asleep.

Dressing up last night (and getting into real clothes for the potluck) was really nice. I wouldn't like a job where I dressed up every day for it, because I can get myself 'away' from work by dressing up and going out. If dressing-up were part of work, it would lose that joy. It's important to remember to do it once in awhile, though. As Kynnin noted in his journal, if I'm dirty and in old sweatpants after a day at work, people on the bus are likely to avoid me, especially if I'm tired enough to have bloodshot eyes. ;)

I have a community garden meeting in May, did I mention that?

I need to clear out the back garden at some point, likely... yeek, Thursday afternoon, I guess. Needs to be dne in daytime rather than evening, and that's the first daytime I think I have. Friday is the plant sale setup (Ellen, I meant plant sale rather than garden show, the Show's in June. If you still want to go I'll be off around 4:30 I think, but I'll have my phone with me all day. Call me when you get to the sale?). I'll be spending money on that plant sale (Another mutabilis rose, a Lodari (?) rhododendron, who knows what else) so it's good that I'll have a busy work-week.

'Ve been thinking about friendship a lot lately. I'm used to moving every three years, so I haven't needed maintenance skills for any kind of relationship. I start new ones, and the messy ends from the old ones are all swept away. Things like: call them, don't expect them to call you; if you want to hang out with people, have a list of three or four people before you sit down to call, cause the first ones may not be free; don't let cyclic absences become habit; remind people that you like them rather than letting them assume that they're out of your life because you're bored of them rather than busy; call people when you're happy, not just when you need them for depressive stuff. I seem to have very low-contact friendships (a couple of visits per month to a couple of visits per year, not more) but I've realised rather suddenly that the time involved isn't an indicator of their importance to me. No, in fact, I have a bunch of precious friendships where I don't really see people much at all.

It's nice, realising what you have. :)

For Estry

Sara Jane Stoner - Lesbian Academic Love Poem

When I buy you perfume, my dearest,
it signifies a profound respect for
your argumentative abilities. When I buy
you lingerie, I mean to say there is something
I do not understand, let me dress it in this way.
When I smear your lipstick, I am subverting
the romance that my readings of you display.

Because, as chaired faculty, I know
I Love You died eight years ago.
I might as well say, "You Mean the World to Me,"
Or, "Thinking of You With Fondness."
I have composed anagrams
("meteor aunt melody who?" or, "definition shown: funk got shy")
but again and again they read like endings,
sad avowals to the state of amorous communiqué.

Let me just propose to you, for argument's sake,
(I do, after all, wear perfume even when you're away)
that my problem with Love is that is doesn't signify
in anything but a series of contradictory analogies
that happen to turn me on.
So shall we start with a map, a common philosophy of dualities,
to transcend via nuance our butches and femmes --
no matter how convincing Sue-Ellen Case has been.
(See attached: memorandum.)