Have you ever decided to find something that you can’t find? When this condition becomes extreme, I think it’s a disorder, but I forgot what it’s called. If you look in the same drawer three times in a row, it may then be OCD, but I’m going to call it “desperate.”

I spent nearly an hour looking for something that should have been where it used to be, but now it’s gone. I may have hidden it so cleverly that I’ll never find it. Someone will eventually find it when I’m dead. I hope they’ll find a way to   send a message to me just to solve the mystery.

While I was looking, I did come across my copy of Lady Athlete, a tawdry old bodybuilding magazine in which I appeared as one half of “Sisters in Iron.”   My sister and I lifted weights together at the old Gold’s Gym, where we were a constant annoyance to everyone except the owner, who named us Morticia and Vampira.

We agreed to be in the magazine on condition that all photos were taken in the gym. We were stupid but not stupid enough to pose in bikinis for perverts. When the magazine came out, we each got a free copy. I remember laughing until we cried at the demented text, which was full of lies and described us approaching the weights like “animals stalking their prey.”   They also described us as moving together “like a well-oiled machine,” which was funny because we argued continuously.

So I found the magazine and wondered if it still existed.   A Google search took me straight here to ebay, where some guy happens to have one copy of my issue! If only he’d show the back cover, where I’m gripping a dumbbell with a look of perfect serenity on my face.

Anyone wishing to blackmail me can buy this magazine for only $21.25!

Still feeling annoyed and unfulfilled, I tried to find comfort in sanctimonious rage over at Dan Savage‘s blog. I knew he’d be furious about something. While there, I read a letter that took me here, to AVEN, the Asexuality Visibility and Education Network.

As it turns out, there’s a whole new world of human rights we haven’t even worried about! Asexual people don’t want to be marginalized, godammit! Just because they don’t want sex, they are just as god made them and deserve whatever it is they want.

I know you’re all feeling the same as me: More sex for the rest of us! Who would knock it?! Listening to the Dresden Dolls while I type this, I think I would like to have sex with both of them, as a gesture of support for AVEN.

Last night, the entire Sister Wolf family got off our asses and went to see the Dresden Dolls perform at the Wiltern. The Sons were intent on standing right by the stage, and did so.

The Husband and I chose to take one of the few tables in the back of the theater, the better to have a drink and sit our two asses back down. It’s not like I can’t stand up for hours and scream my head off if I want to, but last night I didn’t want to, and here’s why:   Because god in his infinite wisdom wanted to let me cast my eyes upon Morrissey, who stood just a few feet away from me!

If you don’t revere Morrissey, it may be due to your lack of cultural literacy, i.e. you haven’t heard his masterpiece, “I Know It’s Over.”   I admit that until I heard it, I just thought of Morrissey as an interesting songwriter with an arresting persona.

Then, I heard Jeff Buckley’s version of I Know It’s Over, and my heart nearly imploded from its beauty and intensity.   It is one of the most exquisitely poetic songs of all time. You can read the lyrics here.

So there was Morrissey, but one can hardly go up to him and bother him when his whole deal is about being alone and asexual. For an asexual man, he is pretty damn unbelievably attractive.

So, shit, I now wish I could have taken a photo or kissed the hem of his robe. But he’ll always be there when I close my eyes.

The Dresden Dolls were terrific, and they basked in the love of their hardcore fans, who tended toward the Disenfranchised…..the strange, the fat, the emaciated, the ambiguously gendered and of course, the Queer. God bless them every one, and Jeff Buckley too, may his soul rest in peace.