6am

 

The day started out well enough.  Happy, creative and calm.  Then, after a nasty conversation with the bank, an unrewarding chat with my lawyer and a scary call from my doctor I was hit with a wave of resentment and fear so overwhelming and debilitating I was sent into a paroxysm of fury.

Before I knew it I had written a whole blog about Jake, more revealing than anything I had written before.  More detail, names etc.

I am not going to post it.

I just want to forget about him.  I just want him out of my fucking head.

I rue the days he contacted me.  Lied to me.  Slept with me.  Text me.  Traveled with me.  Relied on me.  Lent on me.  Loved me.

A tsunami of emotion that, THANK GOD!…this morning has subsided.

I cried with joy for the release of the Chilean miners.

There was an interesting piece in the NY Times.  The journalist was amazed that none of the miners were prescribed antidepressants but wanted cigarettes instead.    It says a great deal about how deluded Americans are when it comes to the insidious use of these terrible pills.

Alberto Iturra, a psychologist who worked with the miners, talked to them, sometimes several times a day, to sort through their frustrations and depression.  After first sending down nicotine patches, officials later sent down cigarettes to the miners, most of whom were smokers.  Still, Dr. Iturra said that doctors never ended up sending down medication for depression.

So,  late afternoon, Ashley dragged me out of the house to the Getty to see A Conversation with Frederic Tuten and Steve Martin.   I pulled on some old Helmet Lang black pants that now fit me once again.  I have lost so much weight.  I wanted to wear an old tweed suit but I couldn’t find the pants.

I’m not really familiar with Tuten’s work (I knew vaguely about his Lichtenstein connection)  although after I met him I realized, or rather we realized that we had met before many years ago with Freddy Hughes.  They both read excerpts from their respective books.  Tuten’s by far the more interesting although I am going to read Martin’s first as he has written a fictionalized account of the era I was most connected to the art world.

There was a lively and entertaining discussion after they had both read.  The moderator was really bad.  TERRIBLE.  Thankfully these two men were more than capable of entertaining a huge football stadium with amusing anecdotes and bon mot without the intervention of a  moderator.

After the Q&A we all ate a rather delicious dinner together.

Ed Moses, nice to see him.

Ironically the passage that Steve read from his book was a fictionalized description of Art Collector Eugenio Lopez’s house and dinner party.  Eugenio’s name in the book becomes Flores rather that Lopez.   Details included: Eugenio’s legendary lateness for his own events.  The art.  The meticulous renovation of that amazing house.  Christian, the house boy/assistant who lives with Eugenio, was described as wearing black leather.

“Do you think he’ll appreciate the description of his house?”  Steve asked.

“The house yes, the house boy no..”  I replied.

“Oh..”  Steve’s eyes widened.  “Black leather?”

Saw Bettina Kourek who had organized the event and Jonathon from Lead Apron.  Amongst other saw Kevin West and his new boyfriend a psychologist called Justin.  Very sweet couple.  It was good to see Kevin.  He is the West Coast editor of W.

We arrived home to two very excited pups.  I brought them both a huge plate of Kobi beef that was going to be thrown out after the event.  The little dog was THRILLED.