Categories
Hollywood Malibu

Manhunt Date No. 6

The Manhunt assignation is proving more interesting than not.  For others it seems mostly about sex but for me it’s all about the people one can meet, the stories they tell and the places they take you.

This evening I met a young man right at very end of Wilshire Blvd at Takami, a rather grand sushi bar on the 21st floor of a building overlooking LA’s great success story:  Down Town.

In all of LA this is the most like a recognisable big city, complete with tall buildings, pedestrians, store fronts and a huge film crew shooting LA for NYC.

All the lights in all of the high rises seem to be left on all night to delight people like me hankering for a world city.   The city streets teaming with city people.  I can quite understand why so many young people want to live there.

I rather wish I did..but by November I will be in a real big city.

The young man I met this evening was a deaf, thirty-year-old graphic designer from Mexico City.  He asked for a seat in a quieter part of the restaurant.  The hostess put us under a speaker blaring very loud music.  When I asked to be moved she looked at me pityingly and told me that this was the ‘brightest part of the restaurant’  I snapped back that he was deaf not blind.  He was delighted.  She was not.

Dinner wasn’t nearly as challenging as it threatened to be until the internet date told me that six years ago he was kidnapped.

Well, if someone tells you that they have been kidnapped you might want to know why and how.  I asked a few careful questions but apparently that was the wrong thing to do as he promptly burst into tears.

We left the expensive lobster rolls uneaten.

He very kindly paid for dinner.  Phew.

As he tearfully relived the details of his kidnapping my mind wandered.  I looked out over the city scape and thought about how intriguing this internet connecting phenomena is.  I mean, I wouldn’t usually get to meet half the men I meet on-line and the best thing is I never have to meet them again.

Could you imagine how fruitful it would be if I liked having sex with strangers?

After dinner we wandered the streets and then I drove 30 miles home.

Good to get home.

What else happened today?  Walked the dogs down to the sea.  Returned emails and calls.  Met Frank over at SHLA, Frank is a darling.   Spent an hour or so at the Hollywood house and packed more stuff in the car.

Slowly, slowly making progress with the move.  So much kitchen stuff.  Christ, can I chuck it out?  This evening I will get on my knees and pray:  Please God..let me have the strength to chuck this junk.

The mouse in the house is not dead despite poison and traps.

By the way…have not looked in the mirror recently and enjoyed what I have seen but today I did.  It’s as if the corner really has been turned.

Must buy shoe trees.  My shoes all look crushed after the move.

Categories
art

Too Much Stuff

I have complained before about owning too much stuff.  Unable to throw things away.  Yesterday was no exception.  I moved more stuff into the Malibu house from Hollywood and find it impossible to let things go.  Throw things out.  Dump the junk that in some cases I have dragged twice around the world.

It amazes me that I have now sold over thirty works of art and you really would not notice the difference.  Every spare space on every spare wall is covered with art.

I have just one small box of knickknacks that I have left on the drive waiting to be sold when in fact they need to be thrown away.  I need that TV intervention show where kindly looking therapists gently pull ‘precious’ things away from me and throw them into a dumpster/skip.  I am not, obviously, a 3rd degree hoarder but my inability to let things go one might use, at this crucial time with Jake,  as a metaphor.

What’s the difference between shame and embarrassment?  I am embarrassed by the things crammed into my cupboards, closets and wardrobes.   Under the stairs I keep an archive of every film and theatre project I ever worked including two 35mm prints of AKA.  I attempted to donate this thorough personal collection to the Outfest Film and Television Archive but at the last moment did not get around to.

I have a shelve, a rather deep shelve, in the kitchen where I have put things that I know need to be thrown away.  Every time I open the cupboard door these things look at me pathetically, ‘please don’t throw us out’ they plead.

All this stuff from Hollywood fucks up the aesthetic.  Cluttered, overwhelming and all the wrong colors.  I am trying for less and all the time have to deal with more.

Yesterday Ashley and I cooked dinner for Frank and Stephen.  Delicious. Both Frank and Stephen didn’t know what St Tropez was.  I was mildly shocked. The Architect text messaged me asking, in lieu of dating, if he could be my slave.  I am considering my options.

I am so happy that Ashley lives here.  She brings such verve and life to the house.  This Sunday she is inviting friends over for lunch, it’s going to be a great deal of fun.

Yesterday I realized that in the post Malibu Hill Billy from last December was the first time I heard from Jake.  Compare the lightness and optimism of those early posts.  I wish I could reclaim that mood.  I will eventually.

I have a date for my operation.

Categories
Gay

Perfectionist

My watch cost more than my car

After it’s six month epic repair my gold watch finally came home from Boucheron.  The Mec, designed by Solange Azagury.  Bought after seeing it on her husband at a party for Bella Freud.

Sparkling rose gold and new black leather strap, the small gold button that had popped off for no reason last year was finally repaired, the scratches erased.

I bought the watch with the money I was paid by The News of the World when I sold my Elizabeth Hurley ‘tell all’ story after the making of my film, The Method.  My sweet revenge for her appalling behaviour, the treatment of me and others and general vileness.

Most of all I sold that story because it galled me daily that a talentless witch like Hurley could steal a paying job from a real actress.

Going into that project I rather stupidly thought that I could give her the benefit of the doubt and coerce a performance out of her.   When she told me rather grandly the first day of shooting not to direct her because she was a ‘a celebrity, not an actress’ I really had nowhere to go.

A grueling 3 months followed.

The keystone cop like producers Brad Wyman and Donald Kushner were not interested in making a film, rather they were busily conning money out of the British tax system, which at the time had an incentive designed to help the British Film industry but had been so bastardized that films made in Romania with American producers armed with dodgy budgets..qualified as BRITISH.  The BUDGET for The Method that the government saw was no way translated into what the local Romanian crew were paid..about $100 a week.

I told Will Self about this terrible con which, during the time it was operational, must have funneled as much tax payers money out of the country into American bank accounts as it would have cost to pay for several new British hospitals.

Will was appalled.  Deborah Orr was appalled.  everyone I mentioned it to was appalled but nobody did anything about it.

Thankfully Gordon Brown finally put an end to this theft overseen by the worst kind of British film producers.

If you think I have been nasty to Jake..read what I wrote about Elizabeth.

The Architect stayed over last night.  It’s not happening again.  I am waiting for him to leave as I write.  No sex.  I cooked dinner.  He smokes really hard.  He makes a kind of gay purring ‘ah ha’ when he means to say yes and his perfume and shoes are CHEAP.   His hands on me in the night caused pain in my skin his attention was so unwelcome.  He was all over me like a rash.

He just left.

I may be a perfectionist, as Jake said,  but when I loved him..Jake was my perfection.  I simply loved touching him, kissing him, rubbing his head.  I loved him laying beside me.  I loved his smell and his eyes and soft mouth.

Which makes his treachery that much worse.

I hate him perfectly like I loved him perfectly.  For a short while the search for my illusive man was over.  For all his miserable flaws and inappropriateness and unavailability I loved him.  I really loved him.

They ask me privately:  How then, if you say you love him, can you treat him like that?

Anyone who asks that audacious question has never truly been in love and I pity you.

My perfect hatred for him is built like a leaden, black as night, tar wall between what is and what was.  A black tar wall erected between me and him so I never yearn for him, never cry for him, never love him ever again.

It is the only way I know how.

When I think of all the arguments I have heard for why he was not right for me I am dumb-founded by how pedestrian they are.  LOVE, love when it comes should be fought for!  I tried every thing I knew to keep him and when I failed, when I failed I couldn’t be his friend.  Listening to him tell me about other men.  Listening to him reveal in every sordid detail of who fucked who, how many times they came.  The rides home to Washington Heights.  Those despicable stories are etched into my brain.

The drinking and driving.  The man he slept with for over one year who never let him know until it was over that he had HIV not just risking Jake’s life but the life of his girlfriend!

I really loved him and he tormented me with what he did with others.  He tormented me because he saw that love weakens me.

This morning, after the architect left I opened all the windows and doors.  I stripped the bed and I wept because I miss the familiarity of my lover.  I miss you so much and I never get to tell you.  Instead, I have to tell you that I hate you.  That I want my money back.  That you betrayed me.  I don’t want to tell you any of those things.  I want you to know that I miss you, that you left something indelible that I try every single day like an idiot savant scrubbing a tattoo out of his skin…to forget.

Categories
Dogs Fashion Gay Malibu

Style Section

This morning Ashley and I went for a long walk down the mountain to the new road.  The contractors don’t seem to be working today.  When the old road tarmac runs out we walk on the new, unmade road.

Willie runs like a mad thing through the dust and kicks up quite a storm.  The little dog scampers off leash but I dare not let Willie off his quite yet and risk him running off..even though he sticks close and checks in constantly.

We all worked up quite a sweat on the steep path home.

Watered the garden, skimmed the pond.

Waiting for my watch.  Must pay water bill.

Yesterday I demanded that Toby (couldn’t get out of bed) drive from Mid Wilshire to Venice where we had breakfast with Beautiful Brazilian Frank at Sauce.  The traditional breakfast, poached eggs..grilled tomatoes (they called them heirloom) and delicious bacon.  the Persian guy who owns the place made me some wonderful hot chocolate with almond milk.  Must buy Mexican chocolate.  Must buy Mexican chocolate.

After breakfast we walked Abbot Kinney.  I bumped into Andrew who looked very chic in a blue cotton jacket and tight jeans.  That boy has STYLE.  He is so tall and knows how to wear clothes rather than letting them wear him..I just can’t help myself..lol..but the ex (Fame Whore) couldn’t wear a stitch without it looking like something hauled out of a thrift store.

We stopped off at Intelligentsia for coffee and bought a new collar for the dog.

After our long walk I went home and took a nap before Manhunt date number 6 turned up.  Wow!  What a beauty.  28, architect..into S&M.  I think I will be seeing more of him.  We clicked on so many levels.  Out since he was a teenager, knows what he wants, great looking and eager to please.

Somehow the age difference did not matter as our particular interests and pursuits dovetailed seamlessly.  We talked for hours about art and architects.  Discussed my favorite contemporary high-rise the Swiss Re building designed by the hideously talented Norman Foster.  I am sure I have discussed this before but viewed from the Tate Modern this exquisite barley twist lozenge causes all of its neighbours to look so dated, miserable and bland.

It is almost TOO beautiful.

As I move away from Jake I still feel like I have stepped in dog shit and even though I have scrubbed my shoes a million times there is a lingering smell.  Just enough to remember his skank face.

Must do chores today.  Boring chores.

I looked over an old script that needs resurrecting.  I need to write the film of my relationship with Jake.  Of course I will make him far worse than he is but that is my prerogative as a film maker.  I will also make me worse than I am.  I am, after all, no saint.

Joke!  I’m not wasting my time rehashing that miserable tale.  Fuck him.

When the architect left last night I watched TV.  I dipped into Madmen which is a really terrible show.  So clumsily written.  Settled for HGT and the Food Network flipping between Iron Chef..a show about Food Trucks and endless make over shows.   Just what I needed.

Sneering at other people’s bad taste.

Categories
Dogs Love Malibu

Willie

Yesterday Hilary brought Willie to live with us.  He’s a small, wire-haired pup with big brown eyes.   He is incredibly intelligent.  Desperate to be loved, immediately loyal.

The Lil’ Dog is a bit suspicious and requisitioned both his own bone and Willie’s and guarded them both jealously all day.

The Lil’ Dog knows the deal.  He looks PISSED OFF as I try making Willie feel at home by having him on my lap, calling his name.  The Lil Dog is and will be always my most adored dog but Willie very quickly carved a place in my heart.  Within hours.

The Lil’ Dog, however, will never have the sort of relationship with Willie that he had with our Darling Big Dog.

Willie is without doubt my dog.  As much as Luna was not my dog and now lives in a huge mansion in Beverly Hills with a butler and her own dog walker Willie is happy to chase around after me all day.  He is watching the garden as I write.  You can see how happy he is.

It is delightful how I immediately loved himand he loves me.   It is wonderful to aim my unconditional love at this little dog.  He accepts it without question.

I wish humans could be like this.  Fucking humans.

Yesterday, a few hours before Willie arrived, I woke up in Hollywood and packed the car with more bits and pieces.  I am determined not to bring everything from that place back here.  More than I anticipated will be going to auction.

Anyway, I picked up with the beautiful Brazilian I met yesterday at Solar and we drove to Malibu via the 101 and up through the magnificent mountains.  We had to take the back route as there was a house fire on the PCH so it was closed.  Ricki Lake‘s house burned to the ground.

When we got home Ashley was pottering around, making coffee and already the house seems full again.  This is how I remember Whitstable (No 13 Island Wall)  when I first lived there.  You see!  I can reclaim the essence of what I loved about living.

As Ashley and Frank (the Brazilian) made friends I sat quietly on the back terrace and just enjoyed my home. I have not done that for a long time.  There has been so much drama.  So much to distract me from simple pleasures.

I spent a little time on Manhunt and made a couple of appointments for next week.  Perhaps I will meet someone? Someone like Willie who is kind and loyal and intelligent?  Hahhahaha.

Willie has a great deal to learn about this household.  Who and what and where.  We live a very active life, most days we walk four or so miles around the mountains.  Everything is very new for him.

I have to get him to the vet on Monday and begin the passport process so he can come to England with me.

Left a message on MySpace for Jake.  There was nothing much to say other than we were now strangers.  I know that in time I will forget him entirely because I never really knew him.  He was a refugee, all I had to do was help him on his way.  I fell in love with an idea.

As I was sitting quietly on the terrace overlooking the ocean I wanted to counjour up a beautiful moment from our time together that I could hold onto.  Just one.   Something we had shared that would have made the last few months worthwhile.  I could not.  Every one was marred with something or other that made it feel incomplete.  My spastic love affair with an idea was over long before I ever dealt the death blow.

As I look over the past months of blog entries there were times when I would go to bed happy because he was in the world.

I was kidding myself.

There ain’t no fool like an old fool.  When am I going to get wise?  Probably never.

Willie sort of reminds me of when I first met Jake.  Adoring eyes, keeping close, shaggy hair, a clumsy gait.  The difference is?  I have a chance of maintaining a relationship with Willie because he will never lie to me, he won’t be looking over my shoulder for someone richer, younger, better looking etc….

Thank GOD for Willie.

Categories
Hollywood

Keeping Close

Keeping close to friends seems to make this better:  I panic when I am on my own.  A very recent problem.  One that started after I began to loathe you know who.

Yesterday I had my fourth and fifth Manhunt dates.  The first was a youngish Asian who didn’t have a car or a conversation and giggled nervously.  He had been to the gym but I have no idea what he was doing there unless he goes there to eat doughnuts.  He had ‘attitude’ which was amusing.  He knew he was totally out of his depth.  Even though we were totally incompatible he still insinuated that we should fuck.  We didn’t.

Listlessly waited for the watch to arrive.   The moment I left the house it arrived.  I will get it on Monday.

I drove into Hollywood and packed several more boxes with essentials.  I had coffee with Michael B in Solar.  He can be very tricky.  Met a charming Brazilian called Frank who is here with me now in Malibu helping me and Ashley with the endless moving chore.

I tidied the larder organizing the pulses, baking (flour, baking soda etc.) and cans into neat rows.

So, had dinner with Manhunt date number 5.  A black man from Miami.  Very intelligent, great company.  Not very sexy.  He too wanted to have sex.  What is wrong with these people?  Didn’t they read my profile?  I am flattered but Christ Almighty…give a man a break!

The only man I could or would consider making anything happen with was the first man..the one I couldn’t look at in the eye.

Categories
art Malibu

Room Mate

Marine Layer at Night

My friend Ashley moved in last night.  She arrived with Thai food and a pillow.

Almost immediately felt a trillion times better about everything.  Being on my own is not good for me.  Just me and my head.  We lit a huge fire, watched interesting film clips on my computer and life felt a great deal better.

The marine layer shrouded the house all night so everything this morning is wet and sparkling.  The gray light, as I have said a million times, suits all the colours here in the house.

I get my watch back today, the big gold one I broke last year but forgot to pick up.  I should fetch my grandfather’s ring that is still in repair.

I bought a family box of food from my friend Jennifer’s company Out of the Box Collective which arrives Saturday week.  She has sourced the best of what is available from local farms including organic meats, vegetables and raw milk/yogurt etc.  I am really excited about this!

Three of us living up here cooking great food, making art and doing what humans do..supporting one another..and I don’t mean through bad times but supporting one another to do the best of what we can possibly do.

The great thing about Ashley is her connection to everything happening in the new arts here in LA.  Performance, film etc.  We watched clips of things on YouTube that inspire us.  She showed me a really interesting animation/performance that I loved.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPWjA8nAmuo]

I understood that I had not just isolated myself from people but from my life blood..art.  I simply stopped going to anything.  I stopped turning up.  To have a life in the arts you have to be present.  For nine long months I have been a dead man.  Jake became my life and the poor lamb head just couldn’t be my life.

Manhunt date number 4 was a funny latino boy. 27 years old and HIV positive.  Hmmm.  We didn’t have much to say so he left. He was a bit pissed that he had driven all this way and didn’t get any.

I feel so much better about everything.

Suddenly all of my anxiety, obsession and resentment has slipped away…at least for the time being.

This morning I thought about writing which I have not thought about for a long, long time.  Just having someone around keeps me focused.

Let him have his life and I will have mine.  I wish we could have had a kind goodbye.

You see, I went from having a dear, dear friend to having nothing…whilst he was surrounded by his family.  Never on his own.  A family to fall back on.  I had nothing.  When I lived in Whitstable the people there, they were my family for good and for bad.  I just had to step outside of my front door and I would engage with people who had known me all my life.

Lily

I saw a property for sale today in England that I can’t stop thinking about.  Hastings is a small British seaside town.  I have always really loved it.  There’s a house there that looks amazing.  Huge.  Lots of space.

You see!  Already my head is in a different, more positive place.  Just wait until Anna arrives and we will be cooking, as they say, with gas.

At 8 this morning Jason popped by with Lily (my god-daughter) and her brother Max for breakfast.  Hot chocolate.  I think this maybe a regular event as they have an hour to kill most mornings between dropping the kids off at their various schools.

Somebody asked me what I seek in a man.  I think he wanted to know about sex but I replied:  intelligence, wit, kindness, fortitude, patience.

Have a great day everybody!

Categories
Death Gay

Recognized

Returning to LA I was recognized on the plane.  I felt like saying that I was NOTHING like the man they thought they knew.   I felt like telling him that as much as I would like to be the compassionate, helpful man he met on the TV I am not that guy.

I was almost rude.

Instead I smiled sweetly and let him believe in the man who had obviously helped him by sharing my story.

Why should I burst his bubble?  I did not take his number.  He so obviously wanted to be my friend.  I can’t be your friend.

I tried that and now look.

I sat next to a girl who is going to be on a reality show that prems next week.  I told her, WARNED her..that under no circumstance date ANYONE who knows her from TV.   Avoid!

I told her my sorry story.  She looked aghast.

I have been dreaming very vivid dreams.

I dreamt that I was at the back of a church watching Jake get married to a man.  He was wearing a white suit.  He looked sooo happy.  In the dream..I was happy for him.  Then I woke up.  I wasn’t so happy.

I went to therapy this morning at 7am.  It was very helpful.  I listened intently to the men in that room and found solace.

There are things I need to do to make it all better.  Help others rather than myself for instance.  Concentrate on positive thoughts.

I bought a mouse trap.

Wish I hadn’t looked at that picture of Jake.   He looked happy.  He looked like he was having a blast.  I am now merely the wreckage of his past.  He plunders my life and just behaves like it’s party time.  It galls me so.

Yet, have I treated others like that?  I think I might have.  That was coy.  OF COURSE I HAVE.

Categories
Death

LAX

Flying back to LA.

That was quite a chore!

Now, all I have to do is pack up remaining items and move out of LA.  Then it’s the dog orientated trip home flying via Paris to London.

There I will have my operation and hope that it hasn’t spread.

You know that I like to tell you the truth here on these pages.  Well,  I want to share that I found being in NYC really miserable.  Why?  I was anxious that I might bump into him even though I had texted him telling him that I would be there and to avoid where I live and SHNYC.

Even so, I felt terrible and dreaded dread dreaded bumping into him.

I dread the small claims case in October too.  I dread seeing him.  I wish that these painful feelings would just go away.  I wish he had never contacted me.  Why did he fucking contact me?

Manhunt date number 3 was good fun.

A giant of a man turned up…it turned out that we had friends in common.  We talked about Jake.

It’s funny that even though he had been through a similar experience with a man his immediate response was to chastise me for getting involved with someone who was BLATANTLY unready to be gotten involved with.

Yet, as I have found out..we ALL seem to make really bad choices in love.  My straight men friends routinely describe the females they get involved with as insane.  The women I know describe the men they get involved with as douche bags.  People make mistakes in love.

It is very hard to control a yearning heart.

I am just so angry with myself that, a. I believed him.  b. fell in love.  c. took him home.

Why the hell didn’t he tell his friends that he was gay rather than me?  Why?  Somehow my TV confession spurred him on to confess..yet, as I pointed out to manhunt date number 3..I am NOT a TV character..I am a man.  I am profoundly UNLIKE the way they edited me on TV.

This is ripping me apart.  It is just so unfair that I let some crazy fan into my life who wanted me to be like I was on TV and I…fucking IDIOT..fell in love with him.

I was on Dan’s lap top today checking a friend’s Facebook page and there he was making some Camille Paglia comment.   His new profile picture was weird.  Mugs and fruit.  His hair was all flat and he looked thin.

I know that sooner or later this mess will pass.  That I will start to forget.

You may think me mad but really what you are reading is the real and daily trial of being an addict.  That I can have all at the same time huge compassion for him and a consummate loathing.

There was a moment is Sanary sur Mer in France where he was sitting at the end of a jetty looking at the sunset.  I slipped quietly away.  He was thinking about her.  He was sad.

Thankfully there is still one sacred place I didn’t take him.  It remains mine.  Unseen by crazy fan eyes.

I pray every day for the obsession to be lifted but I guess it will vanish in God’s time and not mine.

Categories
Gay

East Village!

Veselka, 9th St.  East Village.  NYC

Leon drove me and the art to LAX.  The little dog loves his traveling bag and climbed into it willingly.

The flight arrived 55 minutes early at JFK.   5am.  I was knackered.  We dragged the art onto a trolley and into a cab then dropped it off at Phillips.  I stayed there for an hour drinking coffee and ate a pain au chocolat.   I sat on my own reading The Times waiting for Dan to wake up so I could drag my sorry ass over to the East Village.  Finally we just walked from 9th Ave.  It was so GOOD to be back in NYC…after the operation I will be here full-time.

The Little Dog was determined to explore Tompkins Square Park so I acquiesced and he got his wish and stared at squirrels for an hour until I just had to go home and rest.

By 10 I dropped off art at the auctioneer.  Very cute lighting man to gawp at prepping a fashion week party.  The whole area around Meat Packing ALIVE with fashion week events.  Bumped into my friend Liz who invited me to Mulberry party.

Took cab back home and slept until 3 when I met the first of my Manhunt dates.  Date 1.  Nice guy, did not misrepresented himself in any way.  Charming. If I had been JB I would have had sex with him but I am not JB so we had coffee and went for a long walk around the East Village.  Not much eye contact but I think that might have been my fault.

At 6ish I went home and took more of a nap.  Dan arrived at 7.30 and we had dinner at Westville where I saw you know who’s ex.  That was rather fascinating.  We were obviously aware of each other but were not going to swap war stories any time soon.

Walked to Mulberry party where I had a blast being told how good I looked by old friends.  I have lost a lot of weight..mainly because I have been so unhappy-but this seems to have paid off!

Saw Preston and snuggled with him.  He’s an ex of mine from LA.

Walked home, ate frozen yogurt.  Cute man stopped me in the street and made me feel even better about myself.

This morning I had manhunt date number 2 with very sweet Brazilian man who said that I come off as the sort of bloke who has a very active sex life. HAHAHAHA.  That’s FUNNY!  I told him my miserable fuck count (12 people) and he was shocked.

JB has probably had 12 fucks in one week.  More.

Anyway, everyone I am meeting could be a friend…maybe more but to tell you the truth I am just not feeling it.   After feeling so connected with JB and so loving and SO intellectually compatible…I don’t know if I will ever feel that again for anyone.

Busy day ahead.

Onward and Upward!