Ravings of a Mad Wombat.

think I found the way to zen out in New York: sitting on a bench in Madison Square Park around 11:00 in the shade of trees, listening to a busker play sax across the park, and peeking up at the top of the Flatiron building.

And why was I in the neighborhood? To go to the Museum of Sex. I’m sorry to say that I don’t think it’s worth the ticket price, even if it does a fairly good job of showing how messed up the past was. I can only hope that things are better for future generations.

Then, much napping because of Saturday night.

After dinner, I made a pilgrimage: the Stonewall Inn, where the (modern, effective) queer rights movement started with a riot on June 28th, 1969. There’s a tiny, triangular park with life-size statues of gay activists talking about what to do next after the riots. There was also a memorial to a trans girl who’d been recently murmured by a family member. Outside the gate stood a bored-looking policewoman. Trust New York to produce some unsubtle visual metaphors.

The bar itself? Seems perfectly normal. It’s mostly men, natch, but they’re not clones. Yes, it’s a bit of a tourist trap, but not obnoxiously so.

Today’s plan: good eetz and Brooklyn.

I was at the Museum of Modern Art, MoMA, from opening to closing yesterday. Duh, I loved it! You know how my favorite piece at SFMOMA is a big Rosenquist? Well, MoMA has a Rosenquist that fills an entire room: “F-111”, from 1964, with a pointed juxtaposition of consumerism and the military-industrial complex. Pity Rosenquist died back in ‘17; we could used more of that.

And the macrame craze of the ‘70s? Apparently got its start in downtown lofts here a decade earlier. And op art? Got a big boost from MoMA itself back in the day. Clearly, I love this stuff. My only regret is that I didn’t leave enough time for the gift shop.

I couldn’t help noticing the abundance of attractive women at MoMA, some of whom were gothed up. Sure, everyone knows sexxy deth chix are into art, as well as hot normal chicks, but they were surprisingly numerous.

As you might expect, the MoMA cafe has healthier, artier sandwiches than the Guggenheim. Not that the Guggenheim sando was bad.

Speaking of eats, I had a seriously mediocre dinner last night. I need to do more research about eats.

I also did something that locals tell tourists not to do: I took the subway during the evening rush. But the downtown E wasn’t bad; I’ve ridden worse on BART. I did see a packed A zip by, though. (The A is the 8th Avenue express. It zips by a lot of stations.)

After a two-hour break to let my feet recover, I got on a commuter train bound for Newark to check out QXT’s, the recommend local goth joint. But let me say that as tolerable as the subway was earlier, the last train to Newark was packed. Notable among the passengers were young delivery men with bicycles, who needed lots of space.

Edited to add: don’t be a mook like me and get on a PATH train at Penn Station if you’re going to Newark, because you’ll have to transfer in New Jersey where a bunch of arrival boards don’t work. Get on at the World Trade Center.

But anyway, how’s Newark? Kinda normal, and not in a bad way. People drive faster. It’s quiet after 2100. It’s America.

How’s QXT’s? Let me preface this by saying I knew I was going on a burlesque night. I would have gone Saturday, but I have (ahem) something else planned then. QXT’s is friendly, but the drinks and the sound are better at all of the west coast goth joints I’ve been to: the Mercury, the Coffin Club (PDX), the Cat Club (SFO), and a couple of defunct places in Seattle.

How was the burlesque? Not bad! There was an angle grinder involved, which reminded me of leenerella. Chatted with the MC during her smoke break.

Took a Lyft back to Manhattan, which was less expensive and more educational than I expected.

TL;DR: success.

Getting on the plane was easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Props to my adopted hometown for getting its airport act together.

But next, a gripe: Alaska Airlines by default doesn’t really feed you on a five-hour flight.

I have taken the A train, famed in song. About an hour from JFK through most of Queens and all of Brooklyn to midtown, which isn’t bad at all. I got on at 2030, and it didn’t really get crowded until Manhattan.

And let me tell you, Times Square is bananas even at 2130 on a Tuesday. Times Square is also Blade Runner: everyone knows about the Jumbotrons everywhere, but even 15 floors up my room is behind two of them. I can see the access and support structures and some AC units. I may be a replicant.

I’m glad I’m staying at the W, though: everything works, and it’s convenient to everything. I let them upsell me because they have a deal with the Guggenheim Museum, and it’s definitely on my to-do list.

I spent a long and lovely night in with Tacoma Girl last night. She regaled me with tales of her trip to Amsterdam with her mom. I regaled her with plans for New York. I was astounded that she'd never heard "Take the A Train", so I found the Duke Ellington version on Youtube. She was dismayed that I'd never heard the Who's LP Quadrophenia, and partially remedied that.

Happiness.

I had a lovely dinner at the Gainesbourg with ack_yeahright, one of my very first Burner buddies. I didn't even realize she was still living in the area until a few weeks ago; I thought she'd moved to Oregon as planned.

Nope. And what's more, she's on better terms with her ex. He's... not a great guy in several ways, but as long as ack_yeahright keeps him at arm's length as she seems to be doing, it's not cause for alarm.

We talked about the playa, natch, and plans to return. Her mobility is reduced enough these days that that would be a major logistical undertaking for her. Even more major, that is, than Burning Man is for everyone else. If it happens, it happens, but if it doesn't, I won't be too surprised.

The one dark spot to all this was talking about a certain vile, transphobic ex. She couldn't quite believe that he's as vile as he is, but I've seen the receipts and I told her about them.

OK, there was another dark spot: I lost my ORCA, the Seattle area-transit pass. I shut it down online right after I said my goodbyes and installed the Transit Go app. The trouble with the latter, though, is that you can't use it for inter-system transfers. I do those all the time from (King County Metro) bus to (Sound Transit) light rail or occasional long-haul bus. This means I need to schlep to another neighborhood to buy another ORCA. Le sigh.

For the second time in as many weeks, I skipped bleepy goodness because my body told me not to. It may be just as well: I'm going on vacation next week and I don't want to get sick before then.

But I managed to stay awake long enough for the Tickler to debrief me about Dragoncon. I think maybe I might like to go someday? It sounds like the kind of thing I might enjoy, but there are so many other events I'd like to travel to first.

I also managed to stay awake for my latest circumflatulation project: I used some of my inheritance to buy a Roland Juno-X synthesizer. (Yeah, I love raver music and I'm a trans woman. It was inevitable.) I've got Apple Logic Pro as my digital audio workstation, and in the last few days I've figured out how to record MIDI, edit sounds, etc. If I ever put something on Bandcamp, you'll be the first to know.

My smoke alarm went off twice last night, but I miraculously got enough sleep anyway. I think it's time to get a HEPA filter. Come to think of it, even when there isn't smoke in the air there's tire dust because I live fairly close to a big arterial.