yahrzeit & fetish (How's that for a juxtaposition?)

[sistawendy]

Today is the seventh anniversary of my dad's death. I don't think about it as much as I think I should. How's that for warped? I thought of taking the Wendling to Krispy Kreme like dad used to do with me. Another day, maybe, when I'm less tired and I feel the need for an exorbitant number of empty calories. We did make it to synagogue for the yahrzeit, and it was the monthly all-musical shabbat. It was weeeid seeing the chief rabbi playing an electric bass. The irony here is that Dad was even more a godless heathen than I am. Sometimes I wonder if things (e.g. relations between Her Nibs and my mom) would be better if he were still alive, but then I think about how things were between us before he died: I actively avoided talking to him because he was the sort of person who talked at people, not with them. It's hard to imagine him living longer in good health anyway because his health had been declining linearly since before I was born. I wonder if he was ashamed of me for not finishing my Ph.D. To his credit, he never said so. Decent parents really do just want their kids to be happy. Someday I'll get around to posting the only supernatural experience I've ever had, which is of course connected to his death.

Why am I tired? Fetish night at the Vogue last night. Mmm. I talked corsets with a girl in a gorgeous emerald green sweetheart from Xcentricities with skirt to match. One of the owners, who's one of these evil women who actually look good in next to nothing, danced for what I think was at least two hours in 4" heels. I'm jealous of her about six different ways