Second Journal Blurbs
Little Blurbs Is Just How I Like To Write!
For those of you who have read my previous blogs, please understand that this is just the way my brain works! I am neurodivergent, and my brain often feels like a library that sorts its books by color, not by any helpful system of organization.
I Forgot about Scout
In my last journal I sat and did a bit of gratitude journaling about my cohort members, and I totally skipped over Scout. This was unintentional, especially because I feel like I know Scout so well, and I have been appreciating him for a long time. His ability to lighten the mood of any room makes me happy to be sad around him, and I will always be grateful for his support that he’s given when I needed it most. Sorry I forgot you, Scout. That's not an easy thing to do. You are one of the most unique and memorable people I have ever met, and I hope to keep appreciating you as we continue to work on Q-Fest when we return to Eau Claire, and you commute over to us once a week. I will enjoy hearing updates about Swede and Pheebs, and I look forward to comparing dice we got from the comic book store by the Roxie Theater. Love youuuuu ok bye.
* Authors note:, this was primarily written via text to speech on my notes app on my phone, with a couple edits for grammar and consistency.
Cocks Are EVERYWHERE!
Literally every corner you turn in San Francisco, especially during Pride, you may encounter a penis. Small ones, big ones, flaccid, erect, hairy, trimmed, whatever you can imagine honestly. It’s been liberating to see so much freedom in people’s expressions of themselves here, but the amount of penis has been overwhelming. Penises at Pride wasn’t entirely unexpected either, but the sheer amount of it all was a bit much for the prudish old lady that lives deep in my soul. You’d think that by entering the theater I would be safe from the unexpected cock, but nay, the cocks prevail. Out of the 25 films I saw (Including 4 series of shorts) I was unsuspectedly shown a cock, an incalculable number of times. Now, for most of the films, this wasn’t a problem, but two films in particular decided they needed to boost the average number of penises per film by becoming the outliers. Follow The Protocol is a Brazilian narrative film following a gGay Brazilian man trying to stay safe during the pandemic while living alone and still attempting to stay connected to others and his own sexuality. I don’t want to discuss the merit of the film here or my thoughts on the messy plot lines and unresolved tensions. What I do want to talk about is the excessive amount of dick screen time. I think like 70 percent or more of that film was various sex scenes. I don’t have a problem with sex scenes, especially when they illustrate frank conversations about consent, sexual health, and other taboo topics we don’t often see on screen.
Another Notes App Ramble
Today was my first time walking home alone at night, and while I am aware I am not a “kidnappable” height or weight, I do get a bit skittish when I walk at the pace my anxiety dictates on dimly lit and unfamiliar streets. To calm myself, I decided to pretend I was on the phone, and use the voice to text feature in my notes app to record my ramblings. Here are the best bits, with a couple edits for cohesion and grammar issues added.
Choosing to only remember piss and weed as the smells of the city really robs it of its stories. The smells of fresh hot street food, the smell of cold salty air. It ignores the flowers blooming on the neighbors tiny, tiny lawn and the cookies being baked down the street. Even reducing the city down to one sense really diminishes the vibrancy of life here. Some of the sounds I'’m experiencing like the crinkly scraping of paper across the pavement and asphalt as a newspaper skips around, rolling around like a tumbleweed in a cheesy western movie. The sound of a torch lighter being used to heat rocks, that will be used for pain relief by the unhoused population. The dogs barking at each other, or at the street cats, who hiss in return before they slink off into the night. I'’m really waxing poetic here, but it'’s so hard to not sound crazy when trying to describe the vibrancy of a big city, especially when it’s so unknown to you. The tragedy of the unhoused here is not too unfamiliar. I grew up in an area with encampments and street corner beggars too, which has made me far too desensitized to the housing crisis here. A quick browse through Zillow will let you know that the house down the street from our condo is selling for 1.5 million dollars. I simply can’t imagine a million of anything, let alone United States Dollars. What makes that house worth a million dollars I wonder? Is it lined with gold leaf? Is the tile all imported from Spain? Probably not, it's just that inflation and the value of the surrounding properties has given housing such a boost that you need at least a six-figure salary to even think about living here.
Deescalating myself has been the most helpful thing when walking the streets at night. These fake phone calls where I pretend to be talking to my mom whenever a stranger passes me are really awkward and kind of silly, but using my notes app like a goddamn Dictaphone has been incredibly helpful. I can use self-soothing techniques like deep breathing. I am also able to begin questioning my anxieties out loud instead of letting them echo and amplify inside my head. Talking back to the anxiety, and walking with confidence, helps me avoid stereotyping every person I walk by. I can make up new stories about these people instead. The man who just passed me? Yeah, he’s actually a Russian secret agent by the name of Dimitri, who’s collecting intel about gay bars for Mother Russia. That heterosexual looking couple that I almost ran into a block ago? She’s going to break up with him tomorrow, because he has a gambling addiction that he refuses to get treatment for. The dog I heard barking out of a window? He’s communicating with his best friend across the street, to plan a meetup tomorrow next to the fire hydrant. The world is infinitely less scary when you realize everyone has a story, and often the story is mundane, and you are not a character in that story. Dimitri the Russian agent, is most likely a guy on his way back home from work. The couple I passed, most likely been together for over a year and on their way to get drinks with friends. The dog? He probably saw a squirrel. Anyways, I think this concludes my rant., I'm about to pass Eureka Market and I’m losing my breath here.
Whinging
I love the word “whinge”, heard it in one of the documentaries I saw and immediately took to it. “Sorry babes, I just need to whinge for a bit, it’s been awful couple of days.”
So let me whinge in list format for you:
● Everything here is expensive! I can’t wait to be home and drink my own liquor!
● Twin Peaks was PACKED tonight, I seriously regret not going out more when it was less busy, because the Castro is an absolute ZOO right now.
● I have the hiccups while I am TRYING to record text to speech but it’s really fucking up my flow here.
● Really not looking forward to returning to my shoebox sized dorm without a bathtub. Having this huge pull-out bed to myself has been a real treat, even if I only sleep in the corner. The bathtub with the jets personally made me the most relaxed I have been in months, if not years. I don’t want to give it up!
● Everyone seems so go with the flow., I feel really uptight, and I worry that asserting myself, even amongst my cohort members, will make me seem like an asshat. Not going to worry about it, and just going to live my life, and if things bother me and can be fixed by communicating the issues, I will communicate it.
● Any momentary break in the chaos I can get, I will take. Living in the condo, while amazing because of the sheer amount of space and the luxurious bathrooms, has still been very hectic. It reminds me a bit of my childhood when I lived with my first stepparent and step siblings. At one point I shared a room the size of a dorm with 3 other kids. Anyways, this is a lot easier than that because we all have conflict resolution skills and boundaries.
Final Notebook Entries
Feeling so creative! And inspired! Every time I write or talk, I just want to speak poetically about the beauty and tragedy of the city.
