Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers

...but you're right fucked with a shag.

Okay, almost set. Did the logistics of my bed/recording studio. I need a board (got it) and three milk crates. Thought of piling books, but no, I need to be able to have the vents of the laptop open because it overheats if you look at it funny. Two crates go on the board, I'm not sure where on the bed yet, with the laptop on top of them. The laptop has the camera. The mic has a five foot cord, so it doesn't need to be close to the laptop. It goes on the third milk crate, in front of me, a foot and a half away. All I have to do now is set up the shot. What do I want behind me? My bookshelf filled with vintage science fiction? My treasure shelves with the mirrored back? I might be able to do a really subtle reflection shot using that. Or there is the burgundy plaid wall. Or the Tigger and Pooh wall. Or the burgundy plain wall (that isn't a wall at all, it's just a sheet stapled to the ceiling). The most important aspect of the shot, as I have mentioned time and again is that the camera is facing my profile, right side. With my hair straightened, clean and combed straight down. As far as what I will wear . . . maybe one of the new wife-beater tanks that Doc got for me today.

I've been trying to hint to him about the whole me and gender fluidity and asexuality and such, and he's either denying it, or . . . I don't know. Not intentionally. I want a few pair of cotton boxer briefs, to wear as underwear. I have had it with women's panties. We have a washer now, 6 pair will do me, added to the two pair of boyish underwear I already have. Doc has gotten them in size 44 (I'm a 34-36), so they would be baggy shorts on me, I rejected them. Today he got me loose boxer type, with a button fly instead of pouch (i could really care less about a fly I'll never use) and long, loose legs. I finally had to say to him, I want them as unders. I can't take panties anymore. And I feel more comfortable in boy clothes. He took it for what it was and said he'd return the ones he brought home today, and look for boxer briefs in colors I will like when he goes to pick up my new headphones at the big giant WallyWorld. We don't really talk about sex. That's not really covered by the umbrella of our vows. I bring him girlfriends.

What I mean is, "experimentals" are drawn to me. I leave them unsatisfied, they turn to Doc. Drinks are had, I am in the other room coding, bad movies are watched, deep conversations are had, they hook up. No harm, no foul. Every one is always honest about it, or so obvious that they assume I know, when I really have no clue. I am so wrapped up in my own bubble. I find out later, and react with some sort of interest, which seems required of me. Things work. He's found a few girls on his own, but they all sucked and used him and teased him and were general cunts. That kind of thing, I object to. If he had time to date, I would be shoving him out the door. He needs to get laid. Of course I won't say that to him, but baby, it's true. From one friend to another, find some booty.

Oh, hey, I just found my $50 (in 1998) Radio Shack sound mixing board. Think of the most simplistic, stripped down, just sliders compact board, you are right on it. It even has all of the cords and adapters with it. I don't need it for anything, but will happily add it to my inventory of technological things I have and may in the future need.

Christopher Earner, over on Facespace, is trying to upgrade to Windows 10 (well, he has, at this point, completed the upgrade and is now fucking with it) so we don't have to. I have come to the conclusion that there is no way in hell I am trying to put that monster on this laptop. It will melt all over the table and drip 1's and 0's all over the floor and get into the carpet, and there is no getting binary out of a low shag. A Berber, maybe, but you're right fucked with a shag.

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