Mood: 100% Concentrated
Drinking: Iced Tea with 12 Sugars
I find it strange and slightly amusing that when I have the most going on in my life, I have the least to say about it. Could be a factor of time — more specifically, the lack thereof.
Or it could just be that I’m lazy and I prefer to write when I have absolutely nothing else to do.
What’s all the fuss about, you ask? Well, it’s been a busy pair of weeks since I last sent word to the Internet. There was the 4th of July, of course, with all the attendant banging hullabaloo. Boy and I took advantage of the long weekend to visit his family (including his 101-year-old Grandma!) in the Valley, and then we foolishly made our way into the mountains to Yosemite to hang out with my sister and her SO.
And I say “foolishly” not because of the sister hang-time, which is always too short, but because of my aversion to crowds and to other people in general, and the corresponding record-breaking number of people swarming the Yosemite Valley on that fine holiday weekend.
Nothing like hiking to a waterfall with 1200 babbling strangers.
And then there was the heat. I don’t do well in heat. That’s why I live in Fog City. Put me in the sun with the mercury rising over 91, and I’m a melty puddle of whiny incompetence. I’m absolutely worthless. LeeLoo is, too. So that’s why in the middle of the afternoon at Boy’s parent’s house, the Loon and I were laying helplessly on the living room floor, tongues hanging out, while the rest of the family went about their business like actual human beings.
You’d think I’d have a higher tolerance for such things, having grown up in 100-degrees-plus-humidity, but apparently I left my heat-endurance-ability (HEA) packed up in a box with my plaid school uniform, pennyloafers and Trapper Keepers, somewhere in my mom’s attic.
The one happy ending to the heat index…when Boy and I were driving back home into the city across the Bay Bridge, I looked over to the west to check on the fog status and nearly teared up when I saw the familiar opaque haze hanging over my neck of the woods. Fog! Bless the Inner Sunset!
But lest you think I’m a complete baby bitch, whining about hot holidays (which I am, but that’s beside the point), there have been many other contributions to the calendar to keep me on my toes lately…
I now have a much-needed volunteer agent, who’s keeping me busy with requests for publicity materials and potential reading dates and all kinds of ambitious plans.
I have continuing wrist therapy, twice a week, with the fabulous K. The end is in sight, now that I’m back on my motorcycle and squeezing the clutch with comparative ease. (Yes, back on the horse! Celebrations were had.) But I still have some bendy issues, so the therapy continues…
I went south to Mountain View this past weekend to catch the last stop on the 2006 Nine Inch Nails tour. Trent was in fine form (although honestly? I prefer him pale and pasty instead of buff and beefy.) tearing up the stage, and the ever-glamorous Peter Murphy opened the show with Bauhaus. Oh, goth glory days! Actually, Peaches opened the show, but I find her ridiculous and paid no attention until she and her crotch-high boots exited stage right.
My favorite quote of the evening came courtesy of Mr. Murphy and was instantly texted to a few choice friends — (this only works if you say it in a British accent whilst wearing a cape): “It’s exhausting being marvelous!”
Speaking of choice friends, our dear G (which stands for Genius) is flying out from Chi-town to visit us this weekend. We are extremely excited to see him and I’m busy trying to figure out which are the *best* sites to show him in SF and which are the sorta cool, but not really all that awesome things that should wait for another time. I must make sure my city makes the best impression, after all — it’s his first visit to San Francisco!
July is turning out to be a big month for visitors…I get to see my sister again in a few weeks when she and the other J drive up from LA for a short stay. They’re bringing along my nephew-hound, Yoda, and I’m eagerly anticipating all the Yoda-LeeLoo antics that shall ensue.
In less happy news, I also have a friend who is very ill and nearly died just this past weekend. Which is a situation that doesn’t really make me any busier, but does occupy a large space of my brain with the worrying.
How to keep from worrying? Stay busy… This week I’m editing cinepoem #11. Yes! Eleven. Her name is “Yin”, and she’s very sweet (and shows off a great deal of that magical fog I’m so taken with). And then we’re shooting #12 (“Die Pretty”) up in Mendocino in two weeks with the Lovely L.
Which brings me to the big news about cinepoem #10, Alter Ego, she of the multiple personalities and the infamous “death star”. Alter Ego is ready to see you now.
We shot #10 just before Memorial Day at The Hotel Utah Saloon, with the help of a few fine ladies who deserve a little mention here: My usual partners in cinematic crime, Michelle Brown and Misha Hutchings, were there. Kathy Azada was there too, minus the White Rabbit costume this time. And Angela Primavera, Katie Motta, and Amanda Henderson joined in the fun and smoked up a storm. Well, Angela didn’t smoke…she was running our second camera. But they all were smokin’ in the fabulous sense of the word.
Anyway. Alter Ego. Go. Watch. Learn.
-Lo, who does not believe wearing in short shorts.
LaDonnaWitmer 