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Archive for the ‘Diary’ Category

Diary #484

I got my cat Sheena in 1984, and after she passed away in 2000 I couldn’t bear to feel as though I was replacing her, so I waited four years until I was ready for Friday. But when she died in 2015, I realized that my current situation precluded getting another kitty even if I wanted to; my apartment is just too small to avoid litterbox odor, some clients might be allergic, and I travel too often for too long at a time.  But I do love animals, so I greet and talk to and pet and play with any who come nearby and appear inclined to interact.  While I’m out at Sunset, Grace’s cat Aeryn spends a lot of time next to me; we lived together most of the time from 2002 until 2014, so I think she misses me and wants to visit whenever she can.  A year or so ago she even came to lie down with me while I was deeply stoned in my bed, and I think it helped to make it an especially-nice trip.  Well, the last time I stayed at Liz Brown’s place in August, her younger cat Gemini made friends with me, but the older Esme is a bit snobbier (in the way only cats can be) and therefore wanted nothing to do with me.  So imagine my surprise (not to mention that of my host & hostess) when, on my recent visit, Esme not only let me pet her, but allowed me to pick her up and take a photo (this was the best I could do left-handed).  And since animals tend to be good judges of character, I’m going to take that as a high compliment.

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Diary #483

When I scheduled my flights for my Washington trip a couple of weeks ago, I could see that the trip east would go relatively smoothly, but the trip back would be tighter; accordingly, I packed very light so I didn’t have to bring my roller bag.  That way, if I got wedged into a flight at the last second, I could take my bag with me instead of being forced to gate-check it (because I absolutely despise checking luggage).  The trip out wasn’t bad; everything was on time and I made my connections, and the only problem was that on the scond leg I got put in a middle seat next to a dude who thought it was a wonderful idea to leave the window-shades open the whole time despite my polite warning that it was likely to trigger my vertigo (and of course I was correct, and only my practice of not eating for at least four hours before takeoff prevented me from making a really disgusting display of puking for over an hour instead of just embarrassing myself by retching up bile).  But a two-hour nap on Liz Brown’s couch put me to rights, and we had a lovely evening.  Then the event at the Reason offices on Thursday night went very well, and I got to meet several of the staff whose bylines I recognized, and some noteworthy people whose names you might recognize; I’m kind of hoping I managed to talk them into throwing a similar event at their Los Angeles office sometime soon!

Alas, the journey back did not go smoothly; bad weather in Chicago caused a very large number of cancelled flights which rippled through the system like falling dominoes.  I arrived at Reagan airport at 8 AM Friday, endured no fewer than seven reroutes and a similar number of postponements, and then a little before midnight the flight I was booked on by way of Dallas (which had been postponed half a dozen times since its originally-scheduled time of 4:30) was quietly and inexplicably cancelled without warning (despite the fact that we had repeatedly been assured for hours that the delays were almost over and we would be departing for Dallas at midnight).  The only way the passengers found out was that someone saw “cancelled” on the board next to the flight number, and almost 200 people were forced to line up at the customer service desk to be rerouted.  By the time that was finished it was almost 2 AM, and I saw little point in trying to find a hotel when I had to be back at the airport for 5.  So I wandered around a little, did some tweeting, had a croissant sandwich thing at 3 from Dunkin’ Donuts (literally the only thing open at that time in the main airport for the capital of the most powerful nation on Earth), then was forced to go back through the TSA gropeline at 4 to catch my 7 AM flight, which I had routed through Phoenix in the hopes of avoiding all the displaced Dallas travellers.  Fortunately, the return trip was exactly the opposite:  I was given a very good seat on a not-overcrowded plane and fell asleep during takeoff, then after a brief period of wakefulness around the time we crossed into Arkansas I found a very comfy position and slept like a baby until about 3 minutes before the captain announced we were landing.  After a 90-minute layover the next flight was just as smooth (though I didn’t sleep), and I found myself surprisingly energetic all afternoon and evening until I suddenly crashed just after 10 PM.  I was asleep by 10:30 and slept deeply for eleven and a half hours, then awoke none the worse for wear.  But even if I never have such an airline adventure again, it will still be much too soon.

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Diary #482

Though I have several friends who are unhappy to see summer go, I don’t share their enthusiasm for long, bright, hot days.  And so as the days shorten and cool and the typical Seattle rains return until June, I breathe a sigh of relief at every sunset and I can feel the tension and anxiety slowly leaving my body.  It didn’t hurt that this year I discovered I could offset a lot of the summer anxiety by simply starting my evening edible an hour or two early; dealing with a lot of that on a daily basis prevented it from building up to the point where it took over a month to recover from, and that means I’m already starting to relax even though autumn just arrived with this week.  I’ve turned off the air conditioner and put away the floor fan; my desk lamp is going on earlier and I’m starting my edible a bit later again, and though I had to travel to Washington DC again this week (for my reception for The War on Whores tonight at the Reason magazine offices), I took it in stride and my nerves stayed relatively unfrazzled yesterday.  Let’s hope that all bodes well for the rest of this year, and the next as well.

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Diary #481

September has been party month for the Seattle demimonde; after two I mentioned last week, there were two more this past weekend (both birthday parties because I know lots of Virgo sex workers).  Then of course we’ve got the upcoming reception for The War on Whores on September 26th at the Reason magazine offices in Washington DC, though of course that isn’t a birthday, isn’t a Virgo event, and isn’t in Seattle.  But it’s a party just the same!  And on Thursday, Lorelei and I used the excuse of a rescheduled duo to have a Who night featuring the return of our favorite flavored vodka; it’s no longer available in Washington but Lorelei found a source and made sure we were well restocked.  Add to that a good week for business, the return of cooler weather and shorter days, the arrival of three seasons of Green Acres on DVD thanks to Square Peg, and my discovery of a new and potent edible with no yucchy taste, and it was definitely a recipe for a good week; may Aphrodite grant me plenty more of similar quality over the rest of the year!

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Diary #480

Last week was a short but busy one.  It was short because I didn’t come back from Sunset until Tuesday (to avoid the nightmarish traffic from all the squares coming back from the coast on “Labor Day” to be back in their cubicles by Tuesday morning), and it was busy because nearly every night involved a multi-hour engagement of one kind or another.  On Thursday Daedalus took me to a concert by a Beatles cover band to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the release of Abbey Road; I enjoyed it immensely and it didn’t even make me feel old (not older than I already feel, anyhow).  On Saturday Lorelei held a combination birthday party and long-delayed housewarming, then on Sunday some of us held an end-of-summer barbecue.  As regular readers know, the return of shorter days and cooler weather is definitely a cause for celebration for me; I’m already feeling a lot less anxious, and I’m getting better at using edibles to manage my stress.  So that’s all I have to say right now, except to remind everyone in the Washington DC area that I’ll be back on September 26th for a reception for The War on Whores at the Reason magazine offices!  The event is free but you need to register, and if you’d like to see me professionally while I’m there we can arrange it as long as you let me know by the beginning of that week at the very latest (preferably sooner).

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Diary #479

Grace wasn’t quite finished with redoing the plumbing yet (largely because whoever installed it the first time made some mighty strange decisions), but these days I find myself much less anxious than I’d usually be at this time of year, probably because I’ve just increased my cannabis intake to bring my anxiety levels down to more autumnal levels.  Because Sunset is near the edge of a rain forest it rarely gets more than warm out there, and generally it’s chilly enough to need another layer even in summer, as in this picture (with a small visitor who came to see what Snake Mama was up to).  But it won’t be much longer before we’re finally done with floor-leveling and can move on to bookcases, and by spring we should be ready to start on the bathhouse.  There are some other improvements Grace and Chekhov want to do, and naturally other things will pop up and will need to be maintained.  But all in all, I’m really looking forward to having a place that’s basically the way I want it, rather than a work in progress as I have for the past 17 years.  And that’s a big improvement.

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Diary #478

I was apparently more zonked when I got home from Washington last week than I had at first believed; I reckon the combination of jet lag, flying-related stress, flying-related drugs, non-flying-related drugs, and just plain exhaustion affected me powerfully enough that I fell asleep somewhere around midnight and woke up the next day even groggier than usual.  Fortunately I had only low-impact activities on my calendar for a couple of days (including a Who night with Lorelei last Tuesday), and Wednesday night I had one of the best cannabis trips I’ve ever had.  I really wish there was some way to analyze what makes trips better or worse, but even the actual pot chemists I’ve talked to throw up their hands and shrug.  I’ve discovered a few conditions that seem to bring on replicable results, such as restricting large doses to once a week, cycling through various brands to keep my tolerance low, and using sativa-based edibles when I want an interesting trip rather than just relaxation and sleep; I’ve also noticed that the effects seem to be stronger when I’m somewhat dehydrated and a few hours after I’ve had a cocktail or two.  But other than that the effects seem to be determined by a complex formula involving dosage, terpenes, what I’ve eaten and when, time of the month, emotional state and probably two dozen other things, so I reckon I just need to accept that really spectacular trips just happen when they happen.  Ah, well; I’m going to be experiencing a different kind of stoned this coming weekend when I go out to Sunset because Grace has picked some good stoner movies, so we’ll see.  BTB, the picture has nothing to do with any of this; it’s just a good one from Woodhull with Deviant Ollam and Elizabeth Nolan Brown.

 

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