When I bought my first smartphone a year and a half ago, the folks at Verizon didn’t bother to tell me that the model I liked was already over four years old. So even though I liked it a lot and didn’t really want to get a new phone, I was eventually pushed into it by necessity. It only had 8 gigabytes of memory, which apparently isn’t much once all the apps one doesn’t want (but can’t remove) keep repeatedly updating themselves without permission; I was constantly getting errors and my text program was so slow that it was really difficult to keep up my end of a text conversation because my phone kept bogging down & acting screwy. Plus even though I have international service on my plan, I was told the old phone wouldn’t work internationally. So a few weeks ago I decided to get a new used phone, and after TWO false starts (basically, the phones that looked like they would work wouldn’t accept a data transfer from my old phone) we finally got one that would work and I spent most of last Monday afternoon & evening moving into it. As those who’ve been reading for a while know, I’m really very OCD about how I like my environment (including my online environment) to be set up, and I don’t like change. So the trick of getting a new device for me is making it as much like the old one as possible so I don’t fail to appreciate the new one’s advantages by obsessing over the features I’ve lost. Anyhow, it’s finally mostly straight except for a few kinks I need to work out, and I’m told that next time I upgrade these newer phones (my new one’s less than 2 years old) allow everything to be copied to the new phone, including the settings (which I had to laboriously reconfigure this time). All in all, I’m very pleased with the upgrade, which for me is saying a lot; the new phone is a helluva lot faster and my texting is so smooth now, and I was actually able to upload this selfie (the first one with the new phone) directly to the blog instead of having to email it to myself & upload from my computer, which is how I’ve had to do them since the spring. It’s too bad the new version of my weather app is so much uglier than the old one and lacks the lovely background pictures, but I guess I’ll survive.
Posts Tagged ‘blogging’
Though last week was full of the little chores which are necessary to real life, it was also full of the kind of weather which tends to raise my spirits. Plus I had a multi-hour outcall with a very nice gentleman whom I hope will become a regular, and I restarted one of my old ads and started up a new one. But I suppose the most interesting event of the week from your point of view (besides the taking of this selfie) was that on Saturday night, Christina Slater and I went to dinner with Desmond Ravenstone, a lifelong advocate for the rights of sexual minorities who has joined the fight for decriminalization and recently helped found Clients of Sex Workers Allied for Change (COSWAC). I’m impressed by both his energy and the knowledge and experience he brings to the table; if we can keep attracting individual allies of his caliber and pulling groups like Lambda Legal and the ACLU into our coalition, I think decriminalization in the US can be achieved a lot sooner than many people imagine. And it’s about goddamned time, considering that there’s never been a valid legal rationale for criminalizing it in the first place.
On Monday of last week I had another beauty treatment, then went out of town on a 2-day gig from Tuesday to Thursday. This in itself wouldn’t be especially noteworthy except for the fact that it seems like every time I’m out of communications range for more than a few hours, some kind of big disaster happens (in this case, the raid on Backpage) that I then have to stay up late struggling to catch up with. It’s almost as if the universe were trying to tell me something (in which case I apologize in advance for the category 5 shitstorm which will no doubt ensue the day after I croak). Fortunately, I had something on Friday evening to take my mind off of things: a lovely and generous gentleman took Jae, Vignette, Lorelei and me to see a local production of Man of La Mancha, which happens to be among my favorite musicals (the irony was not lost on him, and I daresay he enjoyed our company more than the show). And while we were in the lobby, Lorelei spotted a poster for an upcoming show that she says we simply must see together; I’m really enjoying having a musical-theater-viewing pal, and we’re working on a list to share (“You haven’t seen such-and-such?” she says. “Oh, I’m sure you’d like thingamajiggy” I reply.) We’ll try to take as many selfies as possible in the process, though we somehow forgot to get one on Friday (a damned shame given that we all looked spectacular, if I must say so myself). So here’s one I took on the immensely boring three-hour wifi-less ferry ride Tuesday evening instead.
If I felt anything like the kind of near-constant desire men feel, I’d ask my gynecologist if there was anything we could do about it without ruining my looks. – “Borrowing Trouble”
I’m never sure which essays will turn into often-used subtitles in future news columns, but this month had two of them: “Buttons, Bags & Banknotes” and “Paint By Numbers“. It also featured one of my favorites of my own stories, the grisly and haunting “Rose“. The month’s harlotography was “Jane Shore“, its guest column was by Aspasia Bonasera, and it had a holiday (Mabon) and two special occasions: Friday the Thirteenth and Banned Books Week (led off by “Crippling Thought“). The Q&A columns were “Utopia“, “Convolution“, “New Kid on the Block” and “Borrowing Trouble“, and the other Cliterati reprint beside “Buttons” was “Pride Goeth“. “Denunciation” and “Just Call Me Nobody” both discussed the way people reject uncomfortable ideas by pretending those who represent those ideas are not like them; “Fever Dream” presented an extreme example of “sex trafficking” hysteria, while “Building a Current” demonstrates how challenges to that narrative are becoming more common. Finally, I looked at Korean courtesans in “The Kisaeng“, at American sheriffs in “Little Tin Gods“, and at the bizarre behavior of my friend Brooke Magnanti’s ex in “Diary of a Sad Man“.
Last week was definitely an improvement over the one before. Besides a meeting between several activists (including myself) and a potential ally who could prove very important, and the lovely couple call I enjoyed very much (Hi y’all! Looking forward to seeing y’all again soon!), after which this selfie was taken, it was the beginning of autumn, and as long-time readers know that always improves my mood. I’m an autumnal sort of gal; I like the days short and chilly, the leaves a riot of color and the nights filled with warm beverages and savory scents. Long, bright, warm days take a toll on my highly-strung nervous system and tend to make me tense and anxious, but when the external sky and landscape match the gloomy October Country inside my skull and my soul, I feel at home and at peace. People have often remarked that I seem to come alive more in the autumn; maybe that’s true, or maybe it’s just because I match the scenery better then. But whatever the explanation, there’s no doubt that it’s my natural habitat, and the season in which my natural aura is at its most powerful and intense. I’m no longer at a place in life where I can dance through the dry leaves under a harvest moon as I did in my youth, but I like to think that the autumn steps in the dance of my life are still among the most graceful and beautiful.
Since I’m back to actually writing my columns a few days in advance, I wrote last week’s before a weekend which actually turned out to be very lovely. I spent the evening of Saturday the 10th with Abby May, who’s been busy with life the past few months; it was so wonderful to hang out with her, catch up, relax and just enjoy that special energy that exists only between close friends. And I really needed it; that week had been just plain yucchy, so an evening with someone dear to me was just what the doctor ordered. And as it turned out, Abby wasn’t my only medicine for melancholy that weekend; when I took this picture on the afternoon of Sunday the 11th (still a teensy bit hung over, thank you very much) I was only a few hours away from dinner with the beautiful and fascinating Lorelei Rivers, followed by watching musicals on her sofa (last time we got together I shared Jesus Christ Superstar with her, and this time it was her turn to introduce me to Hamilton). The week that followed in the wake of those two joyful, relaxing evenings wasn’t really much better than the one that preceded it, but my head was in a completely different space going into it. And that made all the difference in the world.