grease.paint.

[thene]

An adventure; two redheads in G's tiny, ancient sportscar; the GPS on her phone couldn't find our gracious host's subdivision and we began to suspect that Smyrna does not in fact exist, (which means, when the GPSs rise up and take over, we and the other remnants of the human race will have to hide there to plan our revolt; not looking forward to). The car has an exhaust leak and suspension like an old wooden rollercoaster, and the speedometer broke years ago, but she figures the speed from the engine revs and knows it can't get over a hundred, and I yelled over the terrific sound of it (whatever referential, forgettable music she played was barely even subliminal) "YES BUT CAN IT TRAVEL THROUGH TIME"

I knitted on I-75, and got us lost again.

Ngl, I love the car more than the girl. It's adorable, and we talk about rickety spaceships and judder over potholes and the hot little twice-rebuilt engine warms my toes.



I had naively assumed this was all taking place in the real world; I didn't listen hard enough. Our host had said she was a licensed stylist, so I figured that the address I had jotted down would be a salon - now I'm thinking that licensed stylist is like published author, ie, it precisely indicates what one does not do for a living. It was a (fairly new, hence GPS invisibility) subdivision of ridic swankitude, and daymn was it kitted out for it; nine-foot steel kitchen fridge, pseudo-Rothko and jarring juxtapositions of Japanese and Chinese that made me want to punch things. I didn't ask how he'd made all his money; he seemed nice, as good old boys go, and awfully supportive of his wife's dabbling in earning a living, as if it were a hobby.

She said we were a godsend, because, you see, her marketing people in New York had said she needed two more redheads and there we were, sent by God; now all she needs is a couple more black girls and she's all set. I guess God is responsible for how the not-real world works. We're both pagan, but didn't say anything of it. Because they aren't from the real world, they do have connections and people may even want to buy this shit and put it on their heads, who knows? - but the fun part is where she said that the marketing people want her to get a booth at Dragoncon, which she has no idea about, and thus a crack of daylight enters the black-hole subdivision and we are now gently, welcomingly trolling the mundane.

I tried. to say something. about Homestuck fandom. It was relevant and necessary but wow, where to start? (G hadn't even heard of it - I am still weirded out by the dimensions of the Homestuck bubble, but I'd actually figured this was the case because G's attention span has tall walls around it and she has no filter, so if she was into Homestuck I would have known it before now. But still.)



I have always evaded the femme-industrial-complex (had to apologise over the phone that no I wasn't going to be able to do my own makeup, i have no idea how, but hey I did wear a bra for the first time in about a year); my hair was last trimmed in 2009 by M's aunt, who used to be a dog groomer, and I think that was the first trim I'd had in about ten years. I've never had any kind of professional haircare before. So I got a much-needed trim, and a colour enhancement that as far as I can tell is visible only to cameras, not people, and some genuinely excellent conditioner and instructions to treat my hair more like Ting treats hers, gentle-like. She dropped my six inches on a beige granite countertop, and I stared at them for a while.

She was surprised that my weirdly-bright lip colour was natural and told me I must have 'good iron' which is more or less the opposite of true; I've been asked that before now, but very rarely - it's an odd question, I guess, women aren't even supposed to go around wearing our own real faces anyway, right?



G was, honestly, way way better than I'd expected; much more forward than me, didn't overboard on the cosplayer smalltalk even after Dragoncon came up, left space for trollsy cultural lifelines like the moment we spoke of both having had girlhood crushes on Cheetara. I watched her make sweet love to a camera; I am wooden in comparison, but hers is out of a bottle and mine's just kinda always been there, act / object. I murmured something to her about Tipping The Velvet because I knew no one else there would get it.

There were a couple of others people around by then, 'girls' confessed to over twice G's age, thick bangles and waspwaists to our muffintops; I listened to them talk about the decor, and how Obama ought to wear different jeans. One of them straightned my hair, because she really does do that shit for a living, and she told me to get a real bristlebrush and talked to G about her clients; G told her that the tweenage one who she'd had to cut matts right off probably had depression, and shared her own experiences with youthful unprettiness and inability to care, and yes of course the mother says she's just lazy, and this is one of the more incisive things about another human being I've ever heard G say. But she was talking about herself, so hey.



but, fuck everything (and don't disregard previous post because it was all true), I am liking G again. I asked her to tell me about her 5th-level druid. (Okay so this was partly to get her to shut the hell up about her kismesis. Yes, I know you hate her, and the boy you two are fighting over is godawful and so not worth it, shut up. G's kismesis > G, any day...though I've never found her interesting enough to write blog posts about.)

I have no more intention of trying to help her; in any case, the camera offers her things no human ever could. Affirmation, infinite light.



We signed a release in spite of having read the damn thing, and I don't care because it's easier than trying to file a schedule E for my head this time next year. But I do have a gift card to a swanky restaurant that I may not even have time to visit, sod.

My hair does not smell like my hair; I kind of want to stand outside until it doesn't smell of anything but rain, but I'm too damn tired. I had only a little makeup, a 'natural look'; got home and saw it in the bathroom mirror, and I don't even look like a human being. Precious was confused, tried eating it, became more confused.

Comments

[1000kindsofrain.wordpress.com]

1. You have a weird life.
2. That's really good writing. Unbelievably good.

(And I've dialled the absurdist humour down to zero, so you can be certain what I say is what I mean.)

[thene]

1. I KNOW, RIGHT? although Atlanta's social absurdity has to take some credit here. We've got Dragoncon, we had Freaknic, we're one of the USA's five gayest cities; we've also got Newt Gingrich, Lockheed-Martin, and a school district that tried to put creationism back on the curriculum a few years ago. And due to terrible zoning/waste of land, all these things are in separate bubbles and only occasionally pretend to occupy the same world.
2. thank you ;__;

[(Anonymous)]

*huggles* Your day sounds totally surreal and I love it and you.

~yoey.

[thene]

ALWAYS i think this is well-established by now. I love you too. Tell H I said happy birthday.

[(Anonymous)]

I will tell him (he is round at ours this weekend, which would be a chance for fun if I weren't going to be tearing hair out over moving). We've looked again at logistics and you will need to come to newplace not 30 Thanet, which means the party will be together!!, though how you'll get the keys is anyone's guess. Moving is tricky, uli.

[thene]

Right, just let me know where we need to be and when! We are supposed to arrive shortly before noon, if it helps?

[(Anonymous)]

Heathrow is actually the most annoying London airport to get from and to from ours, rivalled only by than Stansted. If you want to take just two trains on the way it'll take two hours. :s (That route being: Picc to Leicester Square, walk to Charing Cross, take the national rail. Total-underground routes are: Picc to Green Park, make the godawful change to the Jubilee line, Jubilee to Canning Town, DLR to ours. Avoiding the Green Park change: Picc to Holborn, Central to Bank, DLR to ours, or Picc to Earl's Court, District to Cannon Street, national rail to ours, or Picc to Piccadilly Circus, Bakerloo to Charing Cross, national rail to ours.)

Will you have at least one mobile phone with you that works at a reasonable rate in the UK either for calls, texts or emails? I'm assuming the house will be empty (unless I take the day off sick), but M can meet up with you mid journey and give you the keys. The problem is that there's no telling from one day to the next what M's work travel pattern will be, so it'll have to be arranged on the day. Alternatively I could meet you both in Hammersmith and hand over keys - it's not far from SBush. Again that would rely on phones for timing to ensure neither of us is hanging around in the cold/getting drunk for too long. Or you could drag your cases from Hammersmith to SB and meet me here, but that would require dragging of cases, which we want to avoid. Or I could just take the day off sick. It's tempting.

<3. Let me know the phones thing...

[thene]

Phones is unlikely but I could save some netbook battery and email you from Heathrow and other such landmarks. (I need to look into how to charge it over there - whether I'd do better with an adapter or just buying a UK cable. Speaking of, I needed to ask your M about how H is going to power our old PS3 over there.) I'm not even sure whether I hate changing at Green Park more or less than changing at Earl's Court; at any rate if your M is going to give us keys we might do better to decide on a route based on that.

[(Anonymous)]

I'll check with M which route is most likely to coincide with one of his and will let you know. His stomping grounds include Kensington, Camden, Hendon, North Acton, Newham and W1, so, quite variable.

I think, though I don't know, that an adapter for your laptop will be necessary - as opposed to a UK cable - because an adapter would also get around the difference in voltage/charge/whichever, whereas a UK cable would just send a UK current into an American machine, which might hurt it if they're different, which I think they are. xx

[(Anonymous)]

M reckons he could be near any of those in the middle of the day except Earl's Court - he goes to High Street Kensington every day, but a couple of hours earlier than you're likely to be there. (Hence, if your plane is a couple of hours early... yep.) So pls keep battery for emailing, or bring a charger.

What would you two like for Christmas/birthday presents? Cannot brane. :(

[thene]

The voltage is indeed way higher over there, but I wondered if the thing's own power pack would be able to handle that. IDK.

oh god, a short break will be enough of a present right now. Was wondering if there was anything good on at the National that we could go see? M and me are still clueless about what to do for our first anniversary, which is four days after yours. I will ask M if he has any thoughts, though.

[(Anonymous)]

There doesn't seem to be much on at the National (She Stoops to Conquer? I've seen it once), and nothing at ROH or ENB. ENO are doing Rosenkavalier and Tales of Hoffmann: Opera de Paris are doing Pelleas et Melisande. Or there's the West End theatre... idk.

I have 27th-29th February off work for doing stuff, and can move those dates within reason.

[thene]

bah :( btw, M says his phone can text via wifi, which should be useful. of course at that point he'd probably be charging it from my laptop battery anyway. I still have no idea what fun things we will want to do other than walking and seeing friends; I think we want to go to Stonehenge, and I am still wondering if we can make it over the Channel but we're not completely sure it's worth the time & effort. conclusion; february sucks.

i cannot even write this week, which is a shame because I think I actually have a plan for the rest of this goddamn fic now.

You may be able to help with this btw - someone is doing a survey about arachnophobe experiences in videogames. http://t.co/mXFGDYPQ Text only, no pictures of spiders involved.

[(Anonymous)]

Will help the person with the pider survey tomorrow while pretending to work. :) M and I didn't make it to the theatre showing Rock of Ages tonight till quarter of an hour after it started, due to mixups with other theatres and differing shows' start times, so didn't see it: would that be something you'd be interested in seeing? Also, The Ladykillers is on at the Gielgud. Lion in Winter has closed, more's the pity.

also also:

[(Anonymous)]

M says he's 99% sure what he'll want you to do is: land, work out your ETA to Shadwell DLR station via a {Picc to Holborn -> Central to Bank} or {Picc to Earl's Court/South Ken -> District to Tower Hill} route depending on which staircases you prefer to tackle, email him from Heathrow or Hounslow West depending on how long it takes you to calculate said ETA, then meet him on the DLR platform at Shadwell. As Shadwell's above ground it'll allow whoever gets there first to send a followup "I am here!" message to the other party.

*hgu* I am mildly stressed so of course I am working out how to cook char siu bao. Much love.

Re: also also:

[thene]

{picc to baron's court -> district to tower hill}

We'd need wifi access to use email/M's phonetexts, but I doubt it'd be hard to find near Tower Hill. Erm, at some point you are going to have to give us the street address of this place and directions from the station.

Re: also also:

[(Anonymous)]

Will email you with address, directions and stuff. I recommend changing at Hammersmith instead of BC, because the last time I tried to change at BC to the District (at 7pm, not 5am or anything) I was waiting twenty to thirty minutes before anything showed up, and Hammersmith has a waiting room on the platform. You may need to bite the bullet and pay $$ to send M one text or email... or my M may get to Shadwell before you need to try. We'll find out.

And:

[(Anonymous)]

It might be easier/quicker to change at Monument and walk underground to Bank - the DLR platforms are between the two - rather than lugging yourselves out of Tower Hill, across the road and into Tower Gateway. IIRC Bank also has more trains.

Many huggles. This week has been bizarre.