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Dropped off stuff at Goodwill for my ex, dropped stuff off at her place, had exactly one lovely stiff drink and chats with my People in Black at the nearby chez ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
morthael & icprncs. After all these years, I may finally learn some of the geography of the south end of Seattle.
M'boy was with his mother last night, so I was at loose ends. Fortunately, it's Burner party season, and my old camp mates the Space Virgins were doing a fund raiser with Camp Conception. It was all you'd expect: day glow, black lights, righteous house from Jayson Spaceotter*, reusable cups, nice eye candy in a wide range of ages, and a giant Buddha's head above the door. I commiserated about the ticket situation with a man in spandex and some serious fetish boots - envied by many women. I met an adorable and queer-seeming woman from Camp Conception who seemed, well, really pretty awesome. And then her girlfriend showed up, and lots of the usual dyke public handsiness and snogs ensued. Le sigh. I dunno, though; there seems to be a whole gang of queer women who are part of Conception. Younger, of course, but since when have I let that stop me? Bizarrely, I've never made it to their camp on the playa.
A note on the venue: the party was in a light industrial space down in Sodo only a block from Studio 7, the only club in Seattle where the staff has hassled be for being trans. No, that's no longer legal in Seattle, but it may have been at the time. I gave Studio 7 the finger from afar.
I must be feeling better, because I suddenly can't sleep worth a damn without enough exercise - my usual condition - and I'm horny as all get-out. Speaking of horny, Inga still hasn't fulfilled her promise, but I don't think that's her fault. MBSOs, like all orgasms, remain 90% mental. And shot day is tomorrow.
*He remembers me from Riz's old Friday nights at Re-bar; I don't remember him from then. I got recognized by people I don't remember two or three other times last night. I appear to be a Fixture on the Scene, hopefully an electrical fixture and not plumbing.
morthael & icprncs. After all these years, I may finally learn some of the geography of the south end of Seattle.M'boy was with his mother last night, so I was at loose ends. Fortunately, it's Burner party season, and my old camp mates the Space Virgins were doing a fund raiser with Camp Conception. It was all you'd expect: day glow, black lights, righteous house from Jayson Spaceotter*, reusable cups, nice eye candy in a wide range of ages, and a giant Buddha's head above the door. I commiserated about the ticket situation with a man in spandex and some serious fetish boots - envied by many women. I met an adorable and queer-seeming woman from Camp Conception who seemed, well, really pretty awesome. And then her girlfriend showed up, and lots of the usual dyke public handsiness and snogs ensued. Le sigh. I dunno, though; there seems to be a whole gang of queer women who are part of Conception. Younger, of course, but since when have I let that stop me? Bizarrely, I've never made it to their camp on the playa.
A note on the venue: the party was in a light industrial space down in Sodo only a block from Studio 7, the only club in Seattle where the staff has hassled be for being trans. No, that's no longer legal in Seattle, but it may have been at the time. I gave Studio 7 the finger from afar.
I must be feeling better, because I suddenly can't sleep worth a damn without enough exercise - my usual condition - and I'm horny as all get-out. Speaking of horny, Inga still hasn't fulfilled her promise, but I don't think that's her fault. MBSOs, like all orgasms, remain 90% mental. And shot day is tomorrow.
*He remembers me from Riz's old Friday nights at Re-bar; I don't remember him from then. I got recognized by people I don't remember two or three other times last night. I appear to be a Fixture on the Scene, hopefully an electrical fixture and not plumbing.
