It's always odd to walk into a party where you're kind of early and don't know the hosts. At least I knew ONE of the hosts from nodding acquaintance and I know her girlfriend Argon reasonably well. But Argon wasn't there either as she'd run off to pick some people up from the train station, and really Doss invited us so everyone was wondering who the hell we were. I am equal to this situation. It does not faze me a bit. I eat their guacamole and ask polite questions and babble about the weather.
A huge house, a mansion house, and a yard on a hill with a fantastic swimming pool. Mmmmm! Sun. guacamole. Margaritas. Weird european sodas I've never seen before. Wealth.
I was really there not just because I was curious and it was a party 2 miles from my house, but because Doss wanted me to look at her book before it goes off to the printer tomorrow and I am flattered that I'm deemed necessary to help with the 2 last very sticky bits that won't come unstuck. And when she got to the party (by this time things more comfy with me talking with Argon and with Doss's cuteasabug play-partner or friend, Hackleberry, and her friend or girlfriend the Pretty Librarian) I pored over the manuscript and I think was helpful if only for reassurance.
Cora and Fiskar were there and we have sort of a "history" and years ago I apologized to them profusely, apology accepted but tension high. I heard they didn't want me at their parties or in their house as Doss wanted to bring me once and they said No. But as I keep running into them now as I'm tiptoeing back into the pervy community, tension has lessened somewhat. (At first I thought they had forgotten me in some sort of weird senility, then I realized it was active avoidance and pretending not to know me, and then there were tenative friendly overtures.) Yesterday I felt that much potential badness was defused as Cora and I complimented each other nicely. And it turned out that possibly some of the awkwardness was because Fiskar published a ginormous coffee table book of Art Photos a couple of years ago and put a photo of me in it without really having my permission. (But actually I'm sure i signed some sort of release form ages ago so who cares.) He was nervous telling me about it and promised me a copy of the book. I don't mind if my 24 year old boobies are on someone's coffee table. "I would have asked but didn't know where to find you." (This can't be true, as the tiniest mental effort would have had him asking Doss for my email or phone, but I do understand the pressures of publishing a book and all the administrative hell of it, and I'm not stellar at the legality/permissions thing either. So I don't mind. But I MIGHT HAVE MINDED, mind you.) I wonder if my name is on there and what photo is in there?
I just don't like to feel any unfriendliness from people and so I'm very relieved.
Then me and Hackleberry and Amma and the Librarian were all hanging out microdissecting Doss's sticky sentences and this was super fun. I like them all amazingly! Hackleberry told me about her memoirs of travelling through China and looking for all the gay bars. I can't wait to read this and hope she'll send it to me and even better, hope she finds a publisher for it all. The Librarian belly-danced for us all. "Are you... are you a really good editor or something? Are you a Writer? You're so focused," someone said to me as I frowned and squinted and looked thinky at the binder. Am I? Maybe I am. I made some disclaimer about how I was not a real editor or anything, but maybe that's not true. And I do write all the freaking time.
Rook swam around, and hung in the hot tub, and Moomin played all over with his squirty toys and sword and bathrobe sash and we made wet footprints in the shade and sun as a scientific experiment.
Argon told a fantastic story about how she first learned the word "homo" at a 1968 peace march when she was 7. I'll tell the story later as I have to go cook for this turkey-party we're having!!!
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