Get your hands off my trigger.

I know, I know: writing. Writing. Writing. I'm supposed to be doing that, and I've started, and I'll get right back to it, but I had to write down a few things here first.

Yesterday afternoon I spent a lot of time getting new music for my upcoming gigs, including the one last night. I was researching voguing beats and what house songs are popular at the balls. I did not bring any of this with me, but at the end of the night, this beautiful femme man who was an amazing dancer and making lots of requests, asked to play something they could runway to. I said, "gimme a minute, I'll find something." So my collection was mostly hip-hop, r&b, pop, a touch of house, but more of the electro variety. But then I realized what would work perfectly.

So my next-to-last song of the evening was Cheeky Girls "Touch My Bum". It worked perfectly and I had a front row seat to the promenade. My last song was "Suavemente" (another request). Then I left and went to the funeral party in Lakeview where I got in good graces with the Madame who hooked me up later that night.

This morning I was exhausted but rode my bike to temple anyway which is good because the dharma talk was great and I needed. I was right in front for that as well -- didn't want to hide in the back and risk not paying attention. I also signed up to volunteer to help cook the big feast for Buddha's Birthday celebration, which I must confess was partly fueled by desire for the gorgeous leatherdaddy chef who's organizing the meal. Then I rode back to the land of the northwest to return the rental movie (Hotel Rwanda, which I can't really write about right now) and a visit with one of my new neighbors cocolola. I love her.

Alright, NOW I'm writing.