September 26, 1999.

"Crossmock is safe."

I'll have to watch what I say about Little Spider & her beau in these pages; I hadn't realized that they're part of the live studio audience. People ask me if I've had problems with my friends reading the journal. Well, I've moved it twice & gone underground, so you tell me. Not to say that I fear Little Spider's wrath (well, I do, but not in this case), but it's always wise to be a bit more careful when you know your loved ones are watching. Or former beaus (I found out a week ago that Alexi has a hold of my new pseudonym, so he must be an occasional visitor. But all that means is that I have to avoid being childish.)

(If possible.)

"This is a story I've never found in my heart to tell Sebastian."

Last night was pleasantly social: a jaunt to Morgan's house to play with baby & dog (additional dog provided by Little Spider). Baby's awfully fractious these days, but you have to assume that the constant eye-pain rubs his nerves ragged. He had to be reprimanded almost constantly during the visit, just for being willful. It was dryly amusing to be around the Boy during these moments: he invariably cringed & seemed to be assessing his future ability to take crap from 6 year olds.

Violet is growing up nicely, and her little dog personality is endlessly interesting. She isn't insufferable like some little dawgs, but she does get a lot braver when there's a larger dog or a door between her & a possible foe. When the pizza boy came to the door, Zach (a larger, older, sheepdoggish dog born at about the same time as Morgan's baby & belonging to her parents) went wild of course. As he started to bark loudly, Violet beat a hasty retreat to the couch, then turned and started barking in the same direction. The Boy called it the "I've got your nine!" bark.

When we weren't watching dawgs & babies, we performed 3-part facials (at least, the Boy & I did), swapped stories about the good old days of die cast Transformers and discussed the plot of GloomCookie. It was the funnest time I've had without alcohol in a while.

The evening ended typically: I left early to get some sleep before work, the Boy electing to sleep in my basement. This is something that's been happening a lot lately; what with the Boy having to commute in to see me on my rare work-free hours, it's usually better for him to sleep here. In the basement of course - a geographical chastity belt. Not that it's so difficult to circumvent given enough motivation, but the door has no lock and fear of discovery is not my idea of an aphrodisiac. Lust vs. fear, just like all the important decisions in life.

My basement may have silver reflective wallpaper & orange shag carpeting climbing halfway up the wall, yet it is a powerful psychological microcosm. Indeed.