Saturday, May. 25, 2002 / 3:44 p.m.

~Such a Big, Hot Day, So Far~

The day's already been chock full of goodness. And there is more to come.

First thing to do on Saturday is go back to sleep. Always. No alarm, but I wake around 8:30. My body wants to get up, my mind tells it to shut up and go back to sleep. I sleep and dream. Toss and turn. Look to my right and see Gladys with her face in Norma's butt, her favorite sleeping position. My face is on my pillow, my personal favorite sleeping position.

Coffee, music, checking email, then a shower, not so usual for a Saturday, but I had things to do. I shave my armpits! This is big news. And I didn't use the crappy shave cream, just my Yardley aloe soap, and it was good. Who knew? I washed my hair with the most amazing shampoo ever, some sample I got, it's Kiss My Face - Big Body, or something, but it has all these herbal extracts in it and wow, hey, nice.

Then, then, then... I got out of the shower and cut my hair. Yeah. Just divide it in back, grab a handful and snip away. Do the other side. Right side first, left side second, try to make it even, but it never is. Just above my shoulders, maybe a little higher. And the back part, the part that grows just above my neck, is straighter, so it always looks longer, it doesn't curl like the rest. So I grab more, and cut more, and keep doing that until I grow weary or the hour grows late. Both, today.

A sleeveless shirt, the one I wore to Area:One last Summer, and I don't think I've worn it since.... a sleeveless shirt with a collar, no buttons up to the collar, just down from it, to a tie, that one ties in a knot, and a little hole is left through which to view my navel. Unpierced. Just ordinary. But I'm feeling skinnier today, so it was alright. And jeans, the only person within miles and miles wearing jeans (because the legs are way hairy).

Off to the fabulous Fox to get tickets to the fabulous Summer Film Series, tickets for me, tickets for Kukla and Lulu, tickets for Mark. $162 worth of tickets. Yea!

Then, then, then.... to the Tattoo Place to pre-register for next week's Tattoo Arts Convention! I did it! I wanted to go, I saw the ad, I was going to mail in a check, but it got late, the deadline is Tuesday, I knew I'd be out and about today, with cash in hand, I bit the bullet, decided to go ahead and register. Painless. $25 for three days, and a big party on Thursday night.

Oh wow. I'm excited, nervous, and I have no idea what to expect besides lots of people with tattoos!!! How fun is that going to be?! And little me. I'll have to make sure I stay shaved all over, wear lots of skimpy clothes, show off what little ink I have, on my arm and my back. And if I don't get more, well, I'll be really disappointed.

The guy who did two of my three tats is the organizer of the Convention, and silly me, I don't know how I thought this, but I thought he'd left town to open a shop in Arizona, so I asked today if maybe I could get him to "do me" during the Convention, and the folks at the shop said, "Oh, no, he never works at the shows, you can get him to work on you here, in town".... ? Huh? Oh yeah, he's here. Well, that's good. I think.

Still, I'm going, I'm paid for, it's paid for, and I want something on my other arm, another arm band, proabably a tribal snake, something Native Southwestern. And something on my ankle, I think, an "Om", or the whole mantra. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.

And now, on top of all this, I HAVE to get Friday off so I can get to the Convention early and look at portfolios, choose my artist, stake my claim. This is going to be FUN!!!

What else? It's hot as a mothefucker out there, me riding around in my 17 year old car with no a/c, no radio, no tape deck, just me and lots of wind and sweat. It's hell, but it makes me stronger.

I also drove to the Birkenstock shoe store to try on TEVA sandals, but they suck. That was my first time trying them on and I hate the way they fit. So I left, with my money.

And then to Blimpie, for a double meaty sub, with all kinds of good stuff on it, on whole wheat.

So I'm a sweaty mess, a dried sweaty mess. If you were a horse you'd lick me. Or a cow, if you were a cow you'd lick me. Or if you were Jon..... I don't know, would Jon be into licking the sweat off me? I'm going to figure out a way to get the hair off my legs so I can wear shorts in public.

Then, then, then.... Mark is coming over, Mark, whom I've not seen in almost two years, that Mark. And we are going to the Jazz Festival at the Park. Joshua Redman, Bebel Gilberto, someone else. Jazz-y. It's going to be good, and crowded and hot, until the sun sets. Then it should be spectacular, to be in the park, in the city, with people and sounds and night air, and Mark, whom I've not seen in almost 2 years.

When it's all over I may want to write more, but I may not, so I'm doing it now.

Oh, almost forgot, I finally got out of bed today around 11:00, because someone was lightly knocking at my front door, and it's really hard to discern the origin of light knocking sounds when I'm in bed - I sleep far from the front door. I got up and gingerly made my way to the door, tiptoed to the peephole, saw a man with a white buttoned up shirt, a tie, red suspenders, a black face with white hair, gold rimmed glasses, a hat, and he was talking to someone I couldn't see, about the importance of religion since "nine eleven", and the way he was talking, I knew he wanted to sell me his religion, if I opened my door he'd ask if I've found Jesus, or if Jesus is in my life, and seeing as how I'd just gotten up from a long sleep, dreaming of the ex-boyfriend again (AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), and my old house again (AGAIN!!!!!!! what the fuck?!), well, I wasn't in the mood, not that I ever would be, so I walked away, he'd only knocked the once, lightly, and he walked away too, to the next door, and lightly knocked.

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