Trisha told me that tonight, before she went to bed. I'd be in bed too, but I'm drinking tea instead. Kind of activated. On my very last but I have a lot to say. We've been talking. That's the best advice I've gotten in months.
I worked tonight. It was a lightweight flood and then a wave of folks, a lot of energy washing up all over me.
But I was dressed like June Cleaver at a cos-play committee luncheon. I was aces.
Trishie came too, she was there from start to finish and brought me reports from the field. Out there in the real world, where you don't have a bodyguard and a Reason to Be at the Club, it is still a pretty spooky place. The world doesn't welcome a solo female savage so much with open arms as it does her male counterpart.
And it's a mixed bag that I'm not really mad at but I am reminded of the reasons I'm almost never at nightclubs if I'm not working. They are lonely places.
We drew a mental model to help explain it to the layperson.
If you can imagine a nightclub as a high school lunch hour? Trisha and I are sitting at the very blingiest cafeteria table with sparkles and flair as far as the eye can see. Alone. Making denim vests with our club name on the back of them and eating heart shaped tea sandwiches.
It's rare air and full of self importance. But who the fuck else is going to give us the importance that we need to be giving ourselves? Yeah. Exactly.
And there is crying and depth to it as well. It's heavy and it's not all writing so and so plus so and so on Pee-Chee folders. It's admitting to being really scared that we are so odd we might never find a full on tribe.
Have you ever felt that way?
I met a kitten today named Olive. I was shopping on Sixth St. in Berkeley and there was a mobile adoption center with cats and kittens galore. This little tabby, this golden goddess. Small and savage and I couldn't stop looking at her. I tried talking her out of her corner and she just looked at me. Her eyes yawned.
But then I'd turn away and I'd see a small paw creep out and slap the table just outside of the cage.
Turning back I saw her perfectly still. Looking at me like I was crazy for looking back.
I went to shop for overpriced clothing. I talked myself out of buying a three hundred dollar hoodie with motorcycle studs. Barely.
On my way back to my ride I stopped to peek in at Olive again. She looked as uninterested as ever. I used my last and most sweet words on her to no avail. A rugrat showed up and started poking stuff and I decided to jet.
I heard this mewing. Like. Lots of it. When I turned around Olive was on her hind legs meowing at me over and over and pawing at the bars of her little house. I came back and mewed a little in response.
She reached out and smacked me in the nose and meowed at me one last time. No claws.
I fell in love. She's like my twin in cat form.
I'm not allowed pets. But maybe I would be in South America?
We'll see.
Gnight.
Angelina
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