I’ve been composing posts for days. Really. That’s what I do sometimes, just drive down the highway, thinking about what to tell you. And damn, I am a fine writer when I’m in the car. We’re talking Pulitzer, baybee. Strong emotive words. True and original thoughts, startling in their vibrancy and beauty.
Then I get to the computer and my brain goes HAVING TJ’S CHICKEN NUGGETS FOR DINNER WHOOOOHOOO! Or it says Roomba Roomba Roomba. Or it just goes plonk.
And I have things to tell you, too, so rather than try to gather the genius-droppings (they were everywhere but the Roomba got ’em), I’ll just list what little I can remember.
1. After 13 hours of nothing but talking — seriously, without a break, and usually at least three voices talking at once — silence in the car coming home is good. It’s not as good as meditation since I gotta focus of the other cars a bit, but my brain fizzes in a similar manner.
2. For the love of god, I have to teach Clara to spin. Or at least to ply.
3. I am in a Gus Van Sant movie. Oh, yes. Yes, I am. IS THAT SO COOL? More: He’s filming Milk here (you might have heard about it on NPR, mmm-hmmm), and my sister Christy talked me into going on Sunday morning. I’m so glad she did. We got to watch Sean Penn give Harvey Milk’s 1978 speech, which started "My name is Harvey Milk, and I’m here to recruit you." (More about Harvey Milk here. Goddamn Twinkie Defense.)
And it was odd — there were a lot of us extras, all dressed in 70s clothing, trying to be cool. Sean Penn was doing the same thing. We went through the whole thing a couple of times — he came out onto the dais in front of City Hall in Civic Center and gave the speech. We cheered and yelled and then he exited the stage. The director yelled cut.
But then: After two run-throughs which we thought had been real, the director said "Take ONE!" Sean Penn, just walking onto the stage, was a different person. He WAS Harvey Milk (believe it or not). We were in his pocket. His speech, which we’d already heard a couple of times, was world-changing. We would have done anything for him. The cheering and whooping were real. The tears were real. The pride I felt when the pretty boys on the balcony unfurled an early evolution of the Pride Flag was real. The fact that people were there as extras who had been there the first time….. Amazing. So lucky to be part of it.
So you might see me. But if you don’t, please know my voice was one of the voices raised in support.
4. If you’re in the Bay Area, you should take Kira’s skirt class, first class on Saturday. They still have two spaces, I think, and I believe the reason people haven’t signed up is because they think in order to wear a knit skirt you have to look like Kira.
She is one of my two pocket-vegans. No, friends, you don’t have to look like that to carry off this skirt. You can also look like me:
And another shot of my as$, thank you very much:
Don’t say I never did nothin’ for you. You should take this class. I would, but I’ll be working, but I’ll be making this skirt, you can bet your sweet fanny. Class here.
5. These pictures were taken at the Gay Bay Knitting Meetup from Ravelry last night. Oh, Ravelry, how we love thee.
6. Kira’s been wearing that skirt for four years. I’m astounded by that. Looks new. No sag.
7. I have been typing FOREVER (worked on the book rewrite when I got home from work). Which means I’ve been going non-stop for almost 17 hours. TV! Now! And chicken nuggets!
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