Maura's Illuminated Manuscript

I went through all my entries tagged with "kink" and tagged the ones that referred to the CSPC with "wet spot", the old name for the CSPC. Wow, there sure were a lot of them. I seem to have divided my socializing during the early teens fairly evenly between the Mercury, techno nights, and the CSPC. That funky old space with its low-budget, volunteer-installed interior really meant a lot to me, and a whole bunch of other people.

And speaking of the teens, I think I was funnier before the pandemic. This damn germ hasn't attacked me physically, but it seems to have damaged my sense of humor. Resolved: I shall make a concerted, earnest effort to be more frivolous.

Bad: work hate.
Good: drinking & chatting with gay boys, including the fabulous gravesme! Hey, Indians who insist there are no gay Indians, let me introduce you to somebody.
Better: watching & chatting with cute queer girls. Getting (ahem) ideas. Listening to a mighty fine mix by the enchanting inkandalchemy.

That's all I've got. I'll try to be less fluffy later.

ETA: 32 days until surgery. 30 days until I leave for surgery. 18 business days. Aw to the yeah.

I was ecncouraged by one of you, dear readers, to show up to the annual Bang 4 the Buck, a women-only party at the CSPC, and apparently the largest event of its kind in the area all year. This friend sold it to me (and how!) as a good place to meet women if you're romantically inclined and have unorthodox sexual tastes. Yeah, this is what I bought the dress* for last weekend.

Most of the evening was taken up by the striptease competition open to anybody at the party. How do you judge striptease? Easy: money & scrip thrown on the stage or inserted into garments. There was whooping and hollering for each one, but there was a surprising number of jaw-dropping performances.

The MC was local burlesque personality Indigo Blue, who managed to make the inevitable dead time fun by being amazingly funny. (I'd heard of her but never seen her before.) She wore upwards of ten costumes, each more over-the-top than the previous one.

Some breaks featured Midori's Meat Market, wherein she got willing partygoers onstage and pimped them to the assembled crowd. Did I go up there? Hell yes, and I even got a nibble. Not a literal nibble, mind you. Being trans didn't make me uncomfortable; being insufficiently experienced and kinky made me uncomfortable.

I didn't buy a VIP ticket. Seldom have I been so glad to be among the tallest in a group of women.

I ran into maybe half a dozen people I know whom I hadn't seen in years, including one of the makers of the Blue Confection and the winner of the striptease competition.

The highlight for me, though, was after the striptease competition when people started doing beautifully mean things to each other. I hung out with somebody in my friends list - not the one who invited me - and her friends, and had a really good time chatting. And oh yeah, one of them. Ahem. As she was getting ready to leave we asked each other for our favorite CSPC nights. I'll be making it to hers. (For those in the know, the tall one with the "JOSS WHEDON IS MY MASTER NOW" t-shirt. How can I not?)

My going all out seems to have paid off, even if not in any way consistent with the known laws of nature. I got plenty out of it, as symbolized by my Taco Madonna userpic. It was one of those nights where I grinned all the long drive home.



*Knee-length jewel-green silk with a sash at the Empire waist and thinnish straps. Cowboy boots for comfort.