September 19, 1999.

Another exhausted entry. Up way too late at Little Spider's birthday party, singing songs around the guitar I first learned to play with. The Boy's cuddle-core arrangement of "Epic" was roundly laughed at. And I never realized that "Tomorrow Wendy" was meant to be sung around an acoustic guitar.

It was an interesting night. Same suburban club, but we were on "the list," so avoided paying cover. I wore my tarty black party clothes and my new footwear: fuck-me skirt & fuck-off boots. I am amazed how comfortable it is dancing in heavy docs. The traction alone is wonderful. Although I have bruises on the tops of my feet today: the first day honeymoon is over and the boots are working my feet over.

Way too many people from my past that I didn't want to talk to last night, but not in an overwhelmingly hostile way. I know most of them these days through Little Spider's stories and have little use for a group that bores her senseless one minute & appalls her the next. There were exceptions. I saw a friend that I haven't seen in 2 years, big as life & friendly as ever. Edgar Allan (Alexi's former best friend) has always been nice to me since I got out of the way, and I find it easier to talk to him than Alexi. Who was there, of course, hitting on the younger sister of Little Spider's new beau. I didn't mind his presence, though; I mention this purely because of the malicious glee the group takes in noticing his macking, not because I have issues to resolve (I've gone so far past the "why did he break up with me?" bus stop that I'm in "why did I spend so much time with him?" land). Everyone took time to compliment my hair and/or trashy outfit, which is a welcome return to my student days. (Which are now in the past tense, which I can never let you forget.)

And to expand upon a buried thread of the last paragraph, I met Little Spider's new beau last night. It was a bit of a bolt of lightning...she hasn't been very in touch since the semester started, and that's when everything has been happening for her. We sat together part of the night, me and this beau, and I managed to get him to declare his intentions without ever asking him a question. I'm so fucking slick. He works at the Gap, yet hates people who shop at the Gap. Promising. Then again, he likes Sarah McLaughlin, while I wouldn't cross the street to spit on her if she were on fire. I haven't decided on a pseudonym yet...I'm biding my time, putting him on diary probation.

It looks like Maxx may be out of the picture for good. I won't comment on that now, since I have mixed feelings about him. As long as she's happy, I'm fore square behind it - no matter who's on the end of her arm.