neyronrose (neyronrose) wrote,
neyronrose
neyronrose

travel today

Off to Bala Cynwyd to see my potential roommate and put in my lease application.  I hadn't slept last night, which was not terribly surprising considering I'd slept the previous day.  I dozed off probably around six, woke for no apparent reason at eight, had breakfast, and fell back to sleep.  I woke at one-thirty, and called R. to say that I'd be there more like three-something than two.

I caught C. just as she was leaving.  She told me where the leasing office was.  I said I'd tried to call R., with no reply, and C. said she was doing laundry.  I got the application and filled it out in my car.  I had the information they needed with me, so I brought the lease back and gave my papers to them to copy.  R. called back while I was in the leasing office, so I asked if she'd like me to visit for a while.  She said yes.

She and C. had cleaned out the small bedroom.  They left the two twin beds and a little table.  I said I could use the table.  There's a walk-in closet, and that was emptied out.  There were several bags of stuff on the living room floor, but I'm sure they'll find homes for that one way or the other.

R.'s friend J. was there again, and this time we talked.  I guess it was that R. didn't have the television on.  He didn't seem to have any grudge about being asked to leave the last time, when R. and C. and I talked about a contract for the apartment.  We talked books and hobbies, where shopping was in the area, and such.  R. had said she wanted to talk to me, but she was having panic attacks.  I hope to God she doesn't have a panic attack every time she sees me.  That would make things very awkward.

J. and I made conversation as best we could, with R. occasionally saying something.  R.'s boyfriend called, and wanted me to take them out to a restaurant for Valentine's Day.  "Wouldn't you rather be alone, just the two of you?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't have a car," he said.  I agreed that we could go to a local restaurant.  If I'm driving, I hope he's paying.  We shall see.  I called it a day around six.  I hadn't eaten anything, and wanted to get some dinner.  I called the house when I was partway home, and Mom said dinner was leftover meatloaf.  I just wasn't feeling it, and told her not to wait for me.

I called H. and asked her if she wanted to go to the Chinese food buffet.  She was up for the idea.  I was very hungry by that point.  I picked her up, and we headed there.  She always cheers me up with her colorful conversation.  Everything turns into a funny story.  After dinner, we went to Staples, as I was out of colored ink and wanted to look at laser printers.

The assistant manager who had helped P. last time I was there was there tonight, though they were closing in fifteen minutes.  I told him I needed to print out short novels.  I wonder if I could write it off as a business expense.  He suggested a couple of printers, and said that if I brought in an old printer, they'd give me another $50 back.  We have about six or seven old printers in the closet of the computer room, so that wouldn't be a problem.  I got the assistant manager's card.  He was going to be there all day Friday.

H. had said that she'd probably be up all night writing, as she'd had diet soda and tea.  Then she said that perhaps she'd read comic books instead.  "What happened to writing papers?" I asked.

"Oh, I meant writing smut," she said.

"You should do it professionally," I said.  She's going to send me some of her writing, and I'm sending her the links to the submission guidelines for e-publishing companies.  She said she could write BDSM.  "They need writers who actually know what they're talking about with that," I said.  "Desperately."  I told her a few stories about writers who didn't know what they were talking about.

"Gay romance is particularly popular," I said.  "There's a big market for that.  You'd also have more of a clue about that than many of the authors."  After all, H. has actually met some gay men.  "I have S. giving me his expert opinion when I have questions about sex," I said.  "I'm sure you could get some expert opinions, too.  You'd also know a lot more about anal sex than some of those writers."  I knew this from things she'd said in the past.

H. agreed, and said she had some friends she could talk to for expert opinions.  "T., maybe."  There were another couple of guys she thought she could easily ask about things.

"You could even collaborate, or encourage your friends to write.  All this gay romance being written, it would be nice if some gay guys could profit from it," I said.  Well, I think so.

We went back to talking about BDSM, and the fail in some of the stories I'd read.  I told her I was sure she could do better.  "What are the publishing company guidelines?" she asked.

"Short books, lots of sex scenes.  No incest.  No bestiality."  I thought about it for a moment.  "Unless they're werewolves."  She cracked up.  "I'm just so jaded by what I read," I said.  She said she was pretty jaded, too, from working in the sex shop and just her experiences generally.  She's going to a convention as a pro domme next weekend, to help a friend.  I'm sure someone who reads this can tell me what a pro domme is.  I have my guesses.

So I'll read her writing, and we shall see.  I'll put a good word in for her where I can.

It was a busy day for me.  I was glad I got the lease application in.  Mom was horrified to hear that I was applying for a lease.  "You can't stop me," I said.  "I'm an adult."

"What if I got someone from church to take you in?" she asked.

"If you can do it within the next week, maybe," I said.  Funny how she hadn't been serious about it before.  "We'll see what they say about the lease."  I just think it will be amusing to have Mom desperately look for housing for me, when she'd been quite content to yell at me, denigrate me, be constantly negative and threaten to kick me out.  That's all right.  Should all go well with the lease application, I'll be over an hour away.  

Tags: family, friends, shopping, travel
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