Heliocentrism.

The original plan had been to spend the night in one of my university's Mac labs. I feel as if I had, although in reality I watched television while gathering information on my own computer and shared my bed with Parker so that she wouldn't have to sleep on the sofa, intending to wake up early and finish the project in the morning. I am not sure when the bed, and every inch of space and blanket in it, became conceptually mine, but I am glad that it has finally happened. The difficulties of sleeping next to Parker were once strangely charming. I am also glad that this is no longer the case. Class begins in fifteen minutes, and, despite the inevitable campus-wide server crash that left me unable to do anything for my first hour here, my project is sprawling and all but printed.

The beer and porn party, much like all of us in attendance, was simultaneously a great failure and a terrible success. Not many people came, which was neither surprising nor necessarily bad, although I'd bought a bit too much of everything, considering. Well. The beer will be consumed, and the porn, god damn it, will be watched by Sunday. And I had quite a lot of fun. Brandon and I agreed that he and I should engage in a threesome with really any one of his ladyfriends. I learned that Kami Andrews is absolutely brilliant, far better than I'd even expected her to be, and that seventies porn remains quite bad, even when it hints at being amputee fetish porn and involves complex furniture that normally would be more than enough to hold my interest. JJ and I made a pact to never, as long as we live, taste butt toys. Robert told me that I make anal sound cute, and Parker voiced her displeasure at being left out of the pact. My favourite quotes of the evening included the extremely popular, "Breathing is for pussies," "Rejected, the horny gardener sulks and fantasizes," and, "I thought I told you to shut up. Here. Choke on your own strap-on."

A singer in a smokey room. A smell of wine and cheap perfume.

Adventure! Or something like it, at least.

The plan had been to walk home from school and immediately fall asleep. On the way home, I serendipitously ran into more than one of my friends, as well as passing a rather cute tranny punk kid who was hanging about in front of a convenience store. All of these encounters were quite neat. I got a call from Meredith (Meredith the First, or Meredith of Pittsburgh, not the Meredith about whom I've been writing more recently) and, as a result, an invitation to her bachelorette party and slightly more concrete plans for my next trip to Pittsburgh, which will happen at some time between March the forth and the twelfth. The bachelorette party will be my very first party of the sort, just as she and Alex will be my first friends to get married. I am pleased and excited on both counts. I found Parker and Brandon in the living room when I got home, and we spent some time together before deciding that it was far too beautiful and warm a day to spend inside. We went for a walk, deciding to visit our friend Henry at the Continental in Old City, really quite a nice restaurant. When we got close, though, whole blocks were barricaded with police cars. Not one or two cars, either: huge clusters of police cars blocking the streets and shooing pedestrians away. I was nervous, obviously, and suspected the truth. We spent about five minutes in the restaurant before Henry, in whose section we were sitting, warned us that they were evacuating. Not a second later, a police officer informed us that there was a bomb threat, and that we should leave and walk quickly to the right. We did so. I've not heard much yet, and Google tells me nothing, although I do know that Henry is alright, and that the restaurant was able to reopen a few hours later. I feel terrible for the servers. I'm happy enough for people who got free meals, but I do hope at least some of them left something in the way of a tip. We wandered, checking in restaurants at which our friends work, but they were all booked or our friends were not working or they were working private parties, although we did run into Billy, the stilt-walker and clown and general delight, on the way home. His hair is blue now, and he is organizing the entertainment for some big important Philly queer event. Eventually we just went to the store and bought things for me to cook for various people. I made couscous and salmon with a sauce made from reduced red wine and an orange and blackberries. I'd maybe mix the blackberries and orange in the blender next time rather than mushing them up myself to make it thicker, but I think it turned out rather well. I'm getting much more comfortable with experimenting, at least where fish are concerned. (Hush, JJ.)

All of this was better than sleeping, but I think that I will go do that now.