![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I bought too many records at Amoeba Music. I’m not going to regret until I have to move my suitcase, and maybe not even then.
Drank a whole liter of fizzy water. Didn’t pee much right afterwards.
Zenned out in Golden Gate Park.
Had a tasty, messy burger (with avocado because California) and righteous fries at the Willows in honor of the Tickler, who took me there two years ago. Their beer selection is excellent; cocktails, less so.
At the last minute I found a house music night a couple of stops up BART, but my body said, “Nope.” Much sleep ensued.
Somewhat against my better judgment I visited Dark Garden, the corsetiers who have made me two custom corsets in about as many years. I’m susceptible to their salesmanship. I’m a little proud of myself, though: I didn’t order another corset, but I did buy a costume crown. I wanted one for a costume. Really.
Pro tip: two-year old BART tickets arouse suspicion in the rapidly disappearing machinery. Use a Clipper card.
I hit the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art for the last three hours of its day. Most entertaining exhibit: Espo’s pun, graffiti, and mutated icon-stuffed murals full of mordant self-depreciation. Most affecting: hundreds of Polaroid self-portraits by a trans woman who never transitioned named April Dawn Alison. The exhibit is posthumous, of course, and it’s full of pathos. The longing and the manic release leap off the walls. I used to be her, as some of you know well.
Got trench coat. I need it now.
Ramen at Iza on Folsom. I’m currently typing away at Wicked Grounds prior to caffeine & shenanigans. Ahem.
Drank a whole liter of fizzy water. Didn’t pee much right afterwards.
Zenned out in Golden Gate Park.
Had a tasty, messy burger (with avocado because California) and righteous fries at the Willows in honor of the Tickler, who took me there two years ago. Their beer selection is excellent; cocktails, less so.
At the last minute I found a house music night a couple of stops up BART, but my body said, “Nope.” Much sleep ensued.
Somewhat against my better judgment I visited Dark Garden, the corsetiers who have made me two custom corsets in about as many years. I’m susceptible to their salesmanship. I’m a little proud of myself, though: I didn’t order another corset, but I did buy a costume crown. I wanted one for a costume. Really.
Pro tip: two-year old BART tickets arouse suspicion in the rapidly disappearing machinery. Use a Clipper card.
I hit the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art for the last three hours of its day. Most entertaining exhibit: Espo’s pun, graffiti, and mutated icon-stuffed murals full of mordant self-depreciation. Most affecting: hundreds of Polaroid self-portraits by a trans woman who never transitioned named April Dawn Alison. The exhibit is posthumous, of course, and it’s full of pathos. The longing and the manic release leap off the walls. I used to be her, as some of you know well.
Got trench coat. I need it now.
Ramen at Iza on Folsom. I’m currently typing away at Wicked Grounds prior to caffeine & shenanigans. Ahem.
