Maura's Illuminated Manuscript

Nobody came to my Alimony Liberation Party at the Wildrose. La Fashionista had family woes, Tacoma Girl was unwell, Comfy Lady had a prior engagement, and the Tickler isn't doing bars just yet. Taller Woman did stop by with a gift of chocolate from Lady T, which was (wait for it) sweet.

Fuck COVID, mayunn. I'm pretty sure the Tickler is far from alone in her risk assessment, and I don't hold that against anyone. But it's not right that any of us are in this situation.

Shallow fashion details: violet brocade overbust corset from Dark Garden, violet accessories, black velvet skirt with a handkerchief hem from Etsy, Fluevog Truth Brittany boots. When I asked La Fashionista, "Mid-century pinup? Lolita? Or kinky rich bitch?" she replied, "I think you've answered your own question." It is to laugh.

Mainly because I couldn't convince myself that another option would be better, I spent New Year's Eve at the Mercury. Watched people, especially of course including dolled-up women. Chairdanced to seelenschwester. Much chat with EK.

Shallow fashion details: Because it was below freezing, I wore the outfit I call Acres of Dead Cow: black leather corset from Dark Garden, black leather pencil skirt & opera gloves, Fluevog Truth Melanie boots kept over the knee with a pair of black velvet ribbons.

After freezing my butt off waiting for the bus couple of weekends ago, I tried Lyft. I froze my butt off for even longer; my request for a ride timed out three times, and that took about fifteen minutes apiece. Their map showed cars way the hell out in the suburbs consistently, but intermittently on Capitol Hill where I was. I suspect that either a) demand just outstripped supply, b) I got gamed, or c) their incentives were skewed against rides like mine. I got tired of numb toes despite double thick socks, went back into the Merc, and only then successfully hailed a car. I turns out that I could have taken the train, and you bet I will next New Year's.

I think I got enough sleep? There was early morning progesterone involved to help me sleep. I didn't make it to the annual day rave at the Monkey Loft until about 1430. I was, sadly, alone because Funny Lady's husband came down with what they hoped was a cold, but. I'm glad I went, though: even in the near-freezing temperatures in the afternoon, the wardrobe game was strong. I had the tonkatsu ramen special at the sushi joint on the ground floor, a popular choice yesterday. Right next to the sushi joint is the best of the Monkey Loft's three sound systems and usually the best DJs, so booty-shaking ensued. I got my dirty old woman on in a big way. Seen:

• A young woman with a wavy blonde mane, cute but not that remarkable except for her shirt, which had a graphic of a cracking egg in Pride colors. I threw the heart hands. Who me? Bat my eyes at a woman my son's age? You know I did. She was with a group of five or six, all AFABs and one or two looking Kind Of Gay.
• The young Asian woman in a fuchsia slip with what struck me as excellent stripper moves.
• The woman in unrevealing but still pretty fly head-to-toe sparkly gear who at one point went step for step with the girl in the slip. A stealth stripper?
• The lovely blonde in the velvet stockings held up by garters, apparently a friend of Slip Girl, wearing heels too high for dancing too hard that made her tall enough to snog a tall fella on the dance floor. Can't win 'em all.
• People playing with a mannequin arm. Uh, wut?

Said Comfy Lady about the above, "We have earned the right to respectfully ogle the young." There are many reasons why she & I get along like a house afire.

I crashed early last night, and needless to say didn't start writing this until today. Success.

On my way to my date with Comfy Lady yesterday evening, I learned that the Mercury was to reopen that night. It was announced with all of four hours' notice.

For folks outside the Seattle area, the Merc is our beloved Goth joint. H tells me it's one of four remaining in the entire United States*. It's been serving up strong drinks, stompy music, black-clad eye candy, and occasional goofiness since the start of the century.

I was a little trepidatious about asking CL to take me to the Merc after our date, but she's good, giving, and game, so off we went. Seeing as how it was Capitol Hill after 2200, finding parking meant circling half a dozen blocks and walking two more, but we made it.

What's changed:

• masks, which people were really good about wearing
• vax cards, duh
• really good ventilation
• new paint, new soundproofed ceiling, and new lights
• The bar isn't quite restocked yet: I had to drink my absinthe neat, because there were no sugar cubes. Hand, Staple, Forehead!
• Prices are higher, but still not what I'd call high.
• The Mercury is now non-smoking. If what H said is true, there have been some legal changes.

What hasn't changed:

• seelenschwester was spinning, dressed as an angel of death, and she was there to make her Fleischpuppe tanz. She gave me heart hands, and I gave them back.
• The strength of the drinks. Said Comfy Lady when I got my absinthe, "That's a big shot!" "Welcome to the Merc," I replied.
• The same art was on the women's restroom stalls and above the main bar. Something was hung up in the back hall, but no artist was credited.
• The furniture. What was the cool kids' table back in the aughts had queer women making out last night. I approve, naturally.

Goths spotted:

• A certain tall, brunette, outdoorsy and athletic woman whose first initial as we all know it is I. She said to me, "Let me look at your face!" She was bouncily happy, and probably the most adorable thing I've seen in at least two years.
• A certain fashionista – she actually works in the industry – whose first initial is K who's always looking fantastic in something distinctive and amazing, and last night was no exception.
• H the young blonde from Thursday night! Good to see her putting her money where her mouth is about supporting our beloved Castle Greyskull. Comfy Lady agrees that she's unreasonably attractive.

Shallow fashion details:

• the violet brocade overbust corset from Dark Garden that I got in '19
• a long, straight black crushed velvet skirt, slit up to there, that I picked up at a Goth yard sale back in the aughts
• Fluevog Gladstone boots, in black
• every piece of purple jewelry I own
• MAC Instigator lipstick

I've never encountered a vibe that happy at the Mercury, well, ever. It wasn't a sardine scene, but turnout was quite respectable even with the short notice. (It occurred to CL & me that the short notice may have been intentional to prevent a sardine scene.)

And Comfy Lady? Loved it! I tell you what, the last seventy-two hours have been made of win.




*Where are the other three? NYC, LA, New Orleans, pretty much where you'd expect.

I went on my fourth date with Comfy Lady last night. TL;DR: it went rather well.

Shallow fashion details: black crushed velvet top with dolmen sleeves from a long-ago goth yard sale, plum velvet & tulip print circle skirt from kambriel, "riding" boots because I anticipated a lot of walking, filigree jewelry.

Our plan was basically to walk around the Pike/Pine corridor, drink, and eat. We actually did the drinks first, a cocktail a piece at – wait for it – the Wildrose*. I'd walked past Lost Lake on the way there for dinner, so we went. She paid for my beer & Beyond burger while I was in the restroom, which I don't feel great about because I'm techie scum and she's a non-profit angel. She says I'm buying next time, and I'll see to it that they're nice eetz.

We walked for blocks around the neighborhood that I call my spiritual home. I waxed nostalgic because I've lived here longer than, well, most people. Then she took me to her place, which isn't all that far from Ex's.

I'm proud of two things:

1. It wasn't a very drinky evening.
2. I'm not a total loss as a lesbian. Ahem.

Comfy Lady has communication skills like whoa. And we had a nice breakfast at her place before she drove me across town back to my place. On the way into her car, Good Sister called me. I answered, of course, thinking it might be urgent, but it wasn't. Had I been alone, I wouldn't have wanted to get off the phone so badly. Le sigh. Ah, well, now Comfy Lady knows some gory details about my mom and how the United Sister Front is handling her.

I invited her into the Devil Girl Pad, but she had early afternoon plans. A satisfactory end to a wonderful date. Where to go for date the fifth? Ponder, ponder...



*I have to say, it's wonderful to be in a space full of women where you don't have to be too discreet about checking other women out. We all do it there.

I went to the opening night of the Seattle Erotic Art Festival last night. It was a subdued affair; they were only running at 60% capacity due to COVID, and there seemed to be fewer art pieces than usual. But it was nice having space to walk, and the eye candy on the other attendees, which is a large part of why I go, was as wonderful as ever. Fave art pieces:

• GarthVG, "VG0111285" – A photo of a nude woman reclining on a bench in wooded parkland. Her head and shoulders are obscured by the red umbrella she's holding, and there's red smoke coming out from underneath the umbrella. For those who don't know, a red umbrella is also the symbol of the sex workers' rights movement. I can't help but wonder if there's a connection.
• Joseph Gilbert, "A GOOD, HARD CHOKE" – A cartoon of a woman in a garage grumpily trying to repair a gasoline-powered vibrator. It was hilarious, not least because of the copious details.
• Matthew-Mary Caruchet, "Mahogany in Purple" – A nude woman with a penis, reclining and holding a bottle of beer – executed in leaded stained glass, with a medieval gargoyle at the woman's shoulder. I love a nice mash-up.
• Armene, "Balance" – A photo of a nude woman on all fours, except that each of her limbs is inside a long, slender white cone. A fifth such cone is on her head covering her eyes. It's a simple composition against a white background, but arresting.

I never did find the gallery store; I'm not sure there was one this year. That may be for the best.

But! This year's SEAF had something extra: what turned into a first date. The lady in question, K until further notice, was there with her friend and co-worker Pop Star. They work at a certain non-profit that's under constant threat of legal & physical attack to which I've donated money regularly. They had some hair-raising tales of the difficulties they face, especially on a national level, but their morale is also high.

Let me tell you about K: she's almost exactly my age, petite & zaftig with a cheerfully elfin face, thick brunette hair, and hazel eyes. We have an uncanny amount in common: we both raised sons with ADHD who are now in their early twenties. We both love London. We have certain... tastes in common that I'm reluctant to put online at all, not to mention those that only go in locked entries.

She put her hands on me a few times. There was an illicit, maskless kiss by the coat check right before we split up. She texted me good night with a photo. Yeah, I'm grinnin' like a fool. But I really should get some sleep before I text her again.

Oh: the next SEAF will be in the spring, as it's always been. The mad planning scramble starts now. I have that from a volunteer who seemed dazed by the prospect.

SFDs: I wore my Jestress outfit with hat, black & white horizontally striped tights and Bloomin' Fabulous boots, so I stood out among all the fetish wear. K's SFDs: silver brocade corset from London, black leggings with a snakeskin texture, and more sensible boots than I usually wear to SEAF.

The Witchy Lady asked me out to the Frye art museum because I said I like art museum dates in my HER profile. TL;DR: Promising!

I was, to my shame, about fifteen minutes late despite giving myself an hour and a half to get to the south end to get my car. I didn't know that Sound Transit had shut down all of the light rail stations from Sodo north to the end of the line. I took one bus to the ID, forgetting that the man said it was shut down at Sodo, not the ID like last year. Le sigh. So another bus. Then a train, from which I frantically called my son to pick me up. Go go, gadget Wendling! Drop son off at Ex's. Drive like madwoman to the Frye. Find parking in front of nearby cathedral, go to pay, and find out there are no meters: I must pay by phone. Attempt to pay by phone. End up refreshing creds and credit card number. Walk fast to museum. Freak out when I can't see Witchy Lady.

Check phone: Witchy Lady is inside, she texted me. My name is "on the list". Witch Lady looks super cute in tall black cowboy boots, bare legs, a black knit mini-dress, a hoodie, and a black mask.

My SFDs? Black wrap top, floral pencil skirt from Pinup Girl, black horsehair belt from Fluevog, black riding boots, black leggings. My mask, a white KN-95, wasn't as cool as hers. Typical MAC makeup, with MAC Studded Kiss* under my mask just in case.

We got our art on, mainly late 19th and early 20th century paintings of women from the original Frye collection. Perfect for a couple of queer ladies on several levels. Much of the usual exhibition space was being renovated. Good on the Frye for making wise use of pandemic time, but it was a little noisy, and the museum space is smaller and without its usual featured guest exhibit. There was also a small exhibit of art by dementia patients, which of course brought up the subject of my mother.

We walked around the neighborhood, including the kitchen garden for St. James, and a tiny little park on Boren. We watched other people walking their dawgz – she's a dog person, of which I approve, of course – and talking about, well, everything.

I had to scram after two hours to go to electrolysis, and I kind of regretted that. This was quite possibly the most relaxed first date I've ever been on. She and I have some enormous things in common: we're parents. We were born within weeks of each other and we, like, impersonate responsible adults most of the time. And yes, we're both to some degree clothes horses who love gay bars. There was a hug at the end, but I definitely would have preferred a kiss. I can't wait to see her again, preferably without a mask on.

Oh: I discovered after I got home from electrolysis that I'd left my prized umbrella at the park. I got gas. I saw my umbrella, parked very illegally, ran, got it, and went home. Victory! That's kind of how the whole day went.



*Studded Kiss was discontinued a few years ago, so I only wear it on special occasions. It may very well be my One True Lipstick. It's the perfect color on me, with the perfect feel and perfect wear. I just checked eBay: $50/tube. Oof!

I organized a Zoom call for my usual Thanksgiving guests and their friends. That means bork, m_cobweb, darkmane, La Fashionista, La F's girlfriend & metamour (!), and La F's imminent ex R. Much social. Very drink. Wow. I would say it exceeded expectations and gave me, as organizatrix, a warm fuzzy.

Have I made any plans for this year? Hahahahaha. No. I don't think that's possible for anyone.

Any reflections on last year? Also no. I've just spent most of the last year putting one foot in front of the other in the hope that I'll eventually arrive somewhere better.

What have I done today? My usual biking, and a lot of napping. I made sure to do the housework & laundry yesterday so it wouldn't nag at me today.

Shallow fashion details, NYE edition: green — the color of hope — wiggle dress from Pinup Girl. Fluevog Kona short boots because the dress was too long to wear the Grand Nationals. More than the usual makeup, including black glitter eye shadow from Urban Decay, and the discontinued MAC Studded Kiss lipstick that I save for special occasions.

There's young woman who recently started bagging at my nearest supermarket. She has straight black hair, pulled up in a high pony with Bettie Page bangs, drawn-on eyebrows with winged eyeliner & eye shadow to die for, black jeans & a t-shirt (both days I saw her), lots of tattoos, and a name tag that just reads "R".

That's right: I'm going all fluttery for a woman in a mask. COVID-19 has made me a little, shall we say, girl-crazy. I need to get back on the horse with the dating apps, or maybe online events of people who (ahem) share my interests.

C says that eyebrows are the new ankles.

When I walked into the dentist's yesterday, the receptionist said I looked like an "elf queen". I think I like that, a lot.

Shallow Fashion Details: siren tunic in plum from Mishu, black leggings, black Rohesia belt from Fluevog, black leggings, black Radio KCRW boots from Fluevog. Makeup: pretty low key, MAC except for Revlon Black Cherry lipstick.

ETA: big butterfly necklace given by a friend years ago, insect wing earrings from Hot Topic.

Tried to get my son to eat shrimp. Mostly failed. Le sigh. I hope the lack of variety in his diet doesn't bite him on the ass later in life.

Got on a video happy hour organized by xaotica, who's basically the queen of Seattle's Gen X ravers. She threw some of the best house parties I've ever been to. I unexpectedly met up with all sorts of attractive women with whom I have things in common. Ahem.

I video called Taller Woman last night. She's been driving around doing food rescue, helping pick up tons - yes, literally, dozens of tons - of potatoes, onions, and other produce at farms that are having trouble selling them and then delivering them to food banks all over western Washington state. Local governments and the private sector are chipping in with trucks & drivers.

I asked TW if the food banks have enough storage capacity for all of the food. She said that in Seattle the food all gets used more or less immediately, and even in the smaller cities storage isn't a problem.

TW describes the farm workers as wary of her because they're probably undocumented and she's a stranger to them. But in general, her interactions with the farmers, who live mostly if not entirely in the Republican part of the state east of the mountains, have been positive.

I mentioned losing some weight since the Sitch started. I'm taking advantage of that to comfortably squeeze into my black leather pencil skirt with a black & white polka dotted blouse, complete with floppy tie, and thigh-high boots. I have a call with the Tickler tonight. That's right: business from the waist up, party from the wast down.