Playing catch-up to my own Awesome

Today I'm recovering from a painful fall at Gay Skate last night, adding six bruises to my already-estimable collection.

I've been a busy little honeybee for the last few weeks. My social calendar (in stunning contrast to my life as a bored 12-year-old) has experienced the recent phenomenon of filling up like a bucket under a waterfall, without me batting an eyelash.

Tonight, post-painting class, I help celebrate the final contract signing on good pal KT's Very First Home. We're all going to drink champagne in her furniture-free, mid-century bungalow in east Portland, feeling vaguely jealous of her home buying prowess and well-paying nursing job. I was taking random stabs at being a homeowner last year, going so far as to tour a few decrepit inner-city buildings with concrete yards, but the spirit (and winning lottery ticket) never quite found me. I think I still need to live on a few hippie queer communes before I'm ready to buy a 2-bedroom ranch in the suburbs.

Tomorrow, Rachael has made good on her promise to find something unique and abnormal for us to do on our happy hour friend date: The Oregon Council for the Humanities "Think & Drink" at Rontom's, with featured speaker John Frohnmayer. Frohnmayer was the chairman for the National Endowment for the Arts '89-'92 under Bush Sr., and ran for the US Senate last year as an Independent. I have lots of loud opinions on the N.E.A. and I tend to find that politicians are funnier when I'm drunk on rye whiskey & soda, so it will be an entertaining afternoon.

EDIT: Lovers are playing at some big arty shindig at Holocene, so that will be stop of the evening #2, with fewer old white men.

Friday is the veritable and life-affirming Cabaret with a Q at the Q Center (69 SE Taylor), the very last one to occur at the SE location before they move up to their new digs in the Mississippi neighborhood. G.G. the Delightful is allowing me to sing TWO songs that night, despite my ongoing problem with controlling the VOLUME OF MY VOICE. I scream my way through "Suddenly Seymour" as though popping a blood vessel in my forehead were the point of the entire evening.

Saturday afternoon is a work party for the relocation of the aforementioned Q Center, then upon nightfall R & myself (and maybe DJ Wizbang) are going to see Angela Davis give a lecture at Reed College. I'm anxious to hear her talk about the Prison Industrial Complex and the alternate universe where we're able to eradicate incarceration; it will be an absolutely riveting night (if we're able to nab seats), and I will have to go out dancing afterwards to deal with all the spazz energy that will no doubt ensue.
I love my friends, I love my life, I love you. Over and out for now.