Thanksgiving

Autism can be cured by punching strange men who ask to touch your breasts to heal their psychic wounds or something. The science right now is inconclusive, but we have to research it.

I have let people grope me. Some I know very well, and some I didn't know as well but seemed like fun at the time. I have asked acquaintances if I can hug them because I wanted to make sure. I've been embarrassed one or two times I did something without asking. I can understand the impulse.

I also had middle school dumb asses try to cop a feel on the playground and obviously stare at my breasts (early puberty is fun). I still have some scars from it. Sometimes, self-doubts and discomfort when noticing someone really staring down at me. If he wanted to convince me that the project did not reduce me to body parts, it's not working.

Also, this is a good post on what I mean by scars.

I did a search for 'Cthulhu bellydance', for laughs. Well someone did a bellydance to a Lovecraft-themed song. Heck, that song was on a whole album on Lovecraft, too. Funny thing was, I kinda had an image of Lovecraftian music being like YaHoWa13. Maybe the innocent hippies are influenced by Nyarlathotep?

Someone posts about Patrick Wolf:

He isn't gay, he isn't straight, he isn't even bi for fuck's sake. He has said he doesn't know who'd he rather live with, man, woman or horse.

OMG ITS TEH HORSE GUY!!!!!11

"Who is Patrick Wolf", you say. You can find out at his web site. See, RIAA? People do buy new music thanks to MP3 sharing! Um, oops, was that in my outside voice?

And the 'horse guy'? Um, ask someone else.

I've wanted to tell about my trip to New York, but I am tired. Oh God I am tired.

Highlights:

Panic getting tickets and getting to Lucky Cheng's. Had a drink while waiting. Good stuff.

Finding out that they took the long way too. We didn't have time for dinner, so we took off to Carnegie Hall.

Hearing Dark Floruence and trying to decide whether I am hearing tumbleweeds or air raid sirens. Realizing that I am hearing gamelan hemitones and squeeing.

Running into Steve Bartek at the cafe and asking him to sign my program. He did.

Hearing Serenada Schizophrenia and wondering what is the Spanish lyrics and liking the interplay.

Having a decent dinner at Lucky Chengs 10 minutes before the kitchen closed. It was more low key than I expected, but I liked it. Did not drink with the guests--I am the elder, I am to set an example.

Panic getting to Port Authority. Long long to the bus. It turned out to be overbooked, as some cackling ladies in the back pointed out. One rider left, and I didn't have to wait for the next bus.

The guy sitting next to me touched my thigh a lot. I flinched and moved around to stop him, since threatening to elbow him in Spanish would get me thrown off the bus. Speaking of which, I must improve my spoken Spanish. "No matter what you think, I am not that kind of girl." "Move your hand off my thigh." "I am not your wife." "My boyfriend is very jealous." Well, the last one is a lie.

Ate McDonald's at South Station. Snoozed on the way to work. Got in half an hour early.

Workity work. I am so tired.