Category: Rant

Categories
art Malibu Rant

Sweet Thing

The rain has finally stopped pouring over the house and into the view.  The skies have cleared. The sun is shining.  The sea is glistening…etc.

Confined to my room with painfully torn ligaments.

Ashley has been running around fetching and carrying.

Sweet thing.

Paying gardeners, buying logs, feeding me pain pills.

This evening she and her friend Aaron Rose sat by the roaring fire whilst my blue eyed friend Bowdy entertained us with unusually funny impressions. When he started his ‘performance’ I was dreading that he was going to be terrible.  He was GREAT!

It’s incredibly unusual in LA to meet a young actor who can actually act.

Aaron is curating a street art show at MOCA.  Next week he is in Paris working with young artists.  A commercials director..apparently they make a ton of money.  Do I wish that I had the ability to make commercials?  Just talking about it, the prospect of it…made the inside of my mouth dry up.

With Ashley making busy around the house life is filling up again with unusual and interesting people.  She is such a doll.

We discussed these three words:  Nigger.  Cunt.  Faggot.  The impact each word has and the power we invest in them.  It was a fascinating conversation.  We felt really naughty talking about each of them…as if overheard we might be arrested or torn from our lives.  It felt subversive.

We were talking about the concentration camps and Aaron revealed that he didn’t know that the pink triangle, symbol of gay pride, originated there.  The pink triangle (German: Rosa Winkel) was one of the Nazi concentration camp badges, used to identify homosexual men, as well as those imprisoned for sexual offenses such as rape, bestiality, and pedophilia. Originally intended as a badge of shame, the pink triangle (often inverted from its Nazi usage)  is second in popularity within the gay community only to the rainbow flag.

Alan Davies the British comedian and I had a fight in the Neptune Pub, Whitstable twenty-five years ago when he started wearing the Pink Triangle to prove his solidarity with gays and lesbians.  The problem was,  he was homophobic towards me.  After a huge shouting match and a bitchy struggle he removed the pink triangle.

I have been reading my old blogs.  The ones written when I first arrived here in the USA.   Not only are they a very good read but life sure was full up with people places and things.  Of late (and more contemplative) the written journey has been internal rather than external.

Every day I get closer to my goal of exorcising the ghosts of past love.  Things are getting so much better.  Not so very long ago I didn’t think I could go anywhere that we had been together..not Paris nor New York or Whitstable.   I feared that just walking down the same street we had strolled would ruin it for me.  But, you know, that was the voice of shame whispering seductively in my ear.  The shame I felt about failing to keep him.  The shame of making bad choices in love.

I am better than that.  Paris is a big city.  I am a bigger man.

I sometimes wonder in whose arms he rests now?  Placating him.  Telling him the lies he needs to hear.  Is he happy?  I know in my heart, I know that he will never truly be happy.  He has made terrible mistakes and those mistakes may never be forgiven.  He will try to put it right but not for her.  He wants her to forgive him so he can feel better about himself.

He will be in perpetual torment until he truly understands a selfless apology. Equally, she needs to fully embrace the act of forgiveness.  Can she forgive him?  Eventually she will.  She has no option.

Living with hate or resentment in one’s heart can ruin your life.

Forgive him for being frail and flawed and weak and cowardly and for telling inexcusable lies?  Yes, we can do that.  Eventually.

We are connected forever.  A dance with death.  A marriage with the Devil.  There is something oddly Gothic about it.

I called the small claims court to have the date moved so I can go to London and deal with this bollocks stuff.  Directly to London.

Sooner or later Jake and I will face each other.  Whether it is in the court room or on the street he will pay what he owes me.  He would be such a fool not to.

We will bump into each other.  I know that scenario.  If he has worked properly on himself he will have undergone the change he so badly wanted.  He will be gay.  Not like when I first met him:  A gay man sheltering in the husk of a straight man’s life.  He will be true to his own nature, to the mannerisms and voice that he was so scared to reveal.  I began to see the occasional gay moment when we were in France, the twist of the mouth, the limp wrist, the effeminate draw on the cigarette.  All quite normal for a delicate, passive homosexual.  Endearing.

Like so many ‘straight acting’ gay men he is petrified of being seen to be gay.

He will be revealed.  He will find happiness.  I pray for it.

Categories
Malibu Rant

Raining

Raining hard here in Malibu but you wouldn’t know it if you look at the weather websites.

There is a leak from the skylight.   I really didn’t expect the rain for another few months.

Unexpected and welcome water for the garden.

My tummy aches and so do my balls.  Nothing much to report today.  I have to work my way through a pile of papers that need dealing with.

Neither of the dogs are enamoured by the rain.

Yesterday friends popped over.  It was nice to see them.

I may just go back to bed.

Oh yes, I went to WeHo to a gay AA meeting to get a 14 year ‘cake’ then dropped in on John.

I should get on my knees and pray.

I keep thinking about all those men I knew who died of AIDS.  Years ago.

Categories
Dogs Malibu Rant

For Sale

I showed the house for the first time yesterday.  A Persian man who lives not far from here.

He was looking for a cheap house as an investment.  I really don’t care who buys it.

I spent the morning rearranging.

I rearranged the furniture so the dining area is set above the sitting room on the terrazzo plinth.   It looks great.  I used the black leather chairs that I bought for ElCerrito Place.  I tried using the Morrison chairs but they looked too complicated.  Compromised the aesthetic.

I am going to sell my Jasper Morrison dining room chairs.  They are now stacked outside looking really forlorn, they need to go else where..where they can be loved.

Had tea with JA in West H’wood yesterday.  Everybody is in such a funk.  Things have ground to a halt.  Is this just on the West Coast?   Nobody knows how to crawl out of this hole?  Maybe we don’t crawl out of anywhere but learn to live with new parameters.

Popped in on Trevor at the bottom of the canyon to see the young doe that the coyote had savaged in his garden.  It was all gnawed at.  Its tongue sticking out.  Trevor’s wife was a bit pissed that I had made the effort to see the dead deer but not their new baby.  Sorry Jen.

Meg Whitman the ex Ebay CEO is running in the Gubernatorial race here in California against Jerry Brown.  She has spent over $119, 000, 000 of her own money on her campaign.  She becomes the largest self-funded political candidate in history.

Yet all of this might come to naught if her ex-maid and nanny of nine years Nicky Diaz Santillan swings the vote.   Nicky’s story is a familiar one in California.  An illegal immigrant (undocumented) who worked hard for Meg and her husband is cruelly let go when she asks for help to become legal.

“Thown away like trash.” she sobbed on TV.

The latino population in SoCal will take notice.  They know what that feels like.  To be part of a family, whether Witman’s or family USA only to be thrown away when things get tough.

The economy in this part of America has relied heavily on the cheap labour that these illegal immigrants offer.  Making the rich richer, they are hard-working, uncomplaining people.  I have employed Spanish-speaking men at the local labor exchange and they work tirelessly in scorching heat, lugging great hessian bags of garden waste up and down the mountains like donkeys.  I don’t ask any questions.  Nor do my neighbors.

These latino workers have no expectations, except to be treated poorly by white folk like me.  They don’t have much choice.

When they do not get treated poorly they are grateful and go the extra mile.

The truth is, frustrated white people in the USA very begrudgingly gave up their slaves so having illegal Mexican immigrants who do as they are told for very little somehow placates their desire to be slave owners.

White people may say they are pissed off by illegal immigrants yet I don’t know any one of them who would be prepared to do what these people do.  Washing up, gardening, busing, etc.  Menial tasks.  White people wouldn’t know how.  They don’t know how.

We tried to import a bunch of colourful faces into the UK to do the same during the 1950’s but they opened corner shops and restaurants and got richer than the people who imported them.  Anyway, we had colonial apologists who refused to see these people used like American white people use Latinos.

Thank GOD for bouts of socialism.

I could bang on about the racism that exists here but I can’t be bothered.

White people are hurting.  They have lost their jobs and their homes. There is no industry.  They can’t seem to relearn working skills and get humble and wash dishes for other white folk.  The dream is dead.  Arianna Huffington is on TV telling people that America is a Third World Country, that the middle class is over and that the American Dream has been compromised.

Similar circumstances existed in Germany before the second world war.  Crippling debt (war reparations) unemployment, hunger, desperation, hopelessness.  Do not underestimate the gruelling effect of hopelessness..regardless of how comfortable you are if you feel hopeless your view on the world changes.  It gets easy to blame the immigrant, the jew, the gay…the innefectual black President.

I pray that I am wrong but given the current state of the USA, these extreme economic circumstances I am guessing that the people of America will, come the next election, elect a far right, socially conservative Palin type President who will irrevocably damage the entire world.  We are desperate for strong, innovative, modern leadership yet it seems that only the far right have the balls to serve what the people hanker.

We are witnessing the cynical destruction of the USA as we, and millions before us, dreamed it.  It is a crying shame.

By the way.  Rich Sanchez the latino CNN host fired this week for saying that Jon Stewart was pompous and that the media was controlled by the Jews.  Well, that’s how it was reported.  Not quite the way he said it.  Actually he said he felt bullied by Stewart, looked down upon.  That people like Stewart look down on latinos..and he’d be right.  I am sure what he felt about Jon Stewart may very well be right.

I rather like Rick Sanchez.  Isn’t it amazing that Sanchez can get fired for saying two rather obvious things (one an opinion and one true) and that Glenn Beck gets to say terrible shit everyday but nobody lifts a finger?

Willie just took a huge dump on the carpet…nice.  Thankfully I know how to clean a rug without resorting to calling a maid service.

Categories
Hollywood Rant

Goodbye Hollywood

So, all packed and moved out.  I left the apartment empty and covered in dust. I have to go back tomorrow to collect deposit and hand over the wi-fi thingy.  I am pleased not to be going back there.

When Jennie and I moved into The Chateau de Fleur we did so to escape the lives we had and wanted to change when we went into rehab.  For Jennie it was the beginning of a life away from being a porn performer.  For me it was to escape the exquisite monotony of Malibu, the pornography, the internet hook up sites and the gruelling symptoms of sex addiction.

Amazingly, for the longest time, I steered clear of the worst of my sex addict tendencies.   Until, of course, I met Jake and collapsed..once again..into active addiction.  As much as I try..I cannot forgive him.  I was doing so well.

I tell you, I hate him now more than anyone I have ever been wronged by.  More than the vile people who ran over The Darling Big Dog and more than I ever harboured for my step-father.

Masquerading as an innocent, timid boy JB knows exactly what he is doing.  I would urge anyone that gets involved with him never, ever believe a word that comes out of that mouth.  His lies are not even very amusing.  An amusing liar, like Leigh Bowery or Diana Vreeland can enhance a dull world but a tepid, self-serving liar like Jake can only make the mediocre a paler shade of taupe.

The only good thing that came out of his mouth was my cock.

I though I might write about the day my dog was killed in front of that building, in front of me and the little dog..but I can’t, not least because the memory of her written on the same page I write his name would sully the memory of her.

To think, he left his gf and flew to me.  I tended him, looked after him, cooked for him, dabbed at his tears.  I reassured him again and again that things would work out fine..and I am sure they will for the conniving little cunt.

Goodbye Hollywood.   Hello New York City.

Letter from Susan:

I drove my father to the Stiperstones last Saturday  – creamy golden late afternoon sunshine lighting all that hilly beauty – he was so happy. But all I could think of was the time we drove up there in his little Mini – I rammed the car off the road at a funny angle and we then draped ourselves around the seats and dashboard. Do you remember how much we laughed when people came to help and we woke up ? I still find it quite funny.

I do remember..and it was really funny.

Categories
Rant

Please Like Me? Please?

I sat in my therapy group this morning at 7.30am.  A gay man in his early thirties shared his addiction story (drugs and alcohol).  He caught my attention when he said that he didn’t come out until very recently because he wanted people to like him and he feared that if he told those he knew that he was gay they wouldn’t.

Pathetic.

If I had heard his story a year ago I might very well have sympathized with him but I sat there remembering that this was Jake’s rationale for not coming out until the end of his twenties.

The desire to be liked has never really interested me, being disliked is far more rewarding, one always knows exactly where one stands.   Yet, I think that this desire to be liked may be how a great number of people think.  It seems imperative that they are liked even if they have to live a total lie.

To be liked?  It seems so desperate.  I guess that pathetic JB is getting a whole lot of sympathy from family and friends but especially from susceptible gay men as he miserably tells his tragic story.

Poor Jake knew that he was gay when he was 15 years old, brought up by kindly, understanding liberal parents (why didn’t he tell them?) went to Ithaca University upstate New York (I know out gay men who were his contemporaries) couldn’t come out at Uni apparently because it was a macho uni..he told me that if he had gone to NYU he would have come out earlier….blah blah blah. He then decided to work in the film industry which, as you imagine, is sooooo homophobic.  Couldn’t wouldn’t tell a fucking soul…OH..WAIT…he did tell a soul..he told all the men he was fucking because an ‘on the down low’ gay guy is MUCH sexier to fucked up gay men than just a regular gay guy.  He learned that very quickly.

When he finally came clean, came out, thrown out of his East Village porn performance pad he was GENUINELY disturbed that her friends, their neighbours didn’t see it his way.  Where was the fucking sympathy? Where’s MY SYMPATHY!!!

Even though she tried extracting the truth he STILL couldn’t tell her everything.   He continued lying to her even though she gave him ample opportunity to tell her the truth.

Listen, I sit in those therapy rooms listening to men who get caught cheating every single day.  How pathetic they become when their world of lies and intrigue is blown apart.  It is almost FUNNY how wronged some of them think they are.

I sat in that room this morning loathing that stranger telling his story.

Poor guy, he wanted to be liked so he lied to everyone including his parents and his girlfriend etc.  It was horribly familiar.

Fuck you lying addict gay guy.  This arrogant raconteur, this self-obsessed, manipulative, entitled asshole.  I was just amazed that in this day and age he expected us to feel sorry for him.  In 2010 are we still feeling sorry for people who want to be liked so much that they pathologically lie to the whole world?

Jake lied and lied and lied.  He took risks with his own and his girlfriend’s health.  He set aside his career and his ambition, and when he finally came clean blamed his ex gf for ruining his life because she threw him out of the house.

Want to know something even more damning?  He urged me to see it his way.

Most gay men would…but I didn’t.  For all of you, like Tres Triste, who want to blame me for his misery just give a thought to how I bullied him into telling that poor girl the truth.  Yes, I bullied him into it…because what he was doing to her was cruel and dangerous and one day she will thank me because he would have married her.

Think about HER.

Those of us who bravely told the truth when we were young about our sexuality were made to pay the price.

Before this morning I really hadn’t given Jake much thought.  I don’t bother imagining his life now because it doesn’t take much imagination to figue out exactly what’s going on.  Jake is an addict and his life’s trajectory is obvious to any of one of us who identify as addicts.

The asshole who commented that I was dragging Jake into my fucked up world forgot, it seems, that Jake in fact dragged me into his fucked up world.  A world of lies, deceit, false promises and a desire to be liked at all costs.

That pretty girl squandered her twenties (as well as finding true love) on him, she should sue the nasty little liar for what he stole from her..because it can never, ever be replaced.

Thankfully the $2,000 that he owes me can and will be replaced.

Can you imagine waking up on the eve of your thirties expecting to marry the man of your dreams only to find out that every moment of every day you shared with him was a total lie?

Apparently it was her fault for not realizing that he was a lying.   After all, he didn’t have any interest in sports.  At the end of October that poor girl has to move out of her home, has to find somewhere else to live.  Just because he wanted to be liked at all costs.

The gays will love him.  They’ll understand.  As long as he’s cute and puts out and doesn’t have any emotions.  Oh yes, he’ll fit in with the mediocre, middle of the road, bourgeoise gays..just fine.

It’s still fucking hot here in Malibu.  90somethingdegrees.  I feel a bit tense.  I feel a bit miserable.  I feel a bit powerless..hence I end up blogging about Jake.  Somehow blogging about him makes me feel better.

Finally, the guy who shared this morning told us that he is HIV positive because he was taking meth.  Oh GAYS!  The gays don’t seem to think about condoms when they are high on meth which is great for the drug companies because every expendable gay with HIV is worth $3,000,000 to big pharma.

Categories
Gay Love Malibu Rant

Smile on my Face

I am listening to Keith Jarret’s iconic Koln Concert recording.

It’s a beautiful day here in Southern California.  I woke at dawn.  The huge eucalyptus outside my bedroom window, back-lit by the rising sun, it’s smooth silvery bark and majestic limbs delightful to wake up to.

I made iced coffee.  I am going to boil an egg.

Must not forget to eat today.  This thin thing is getting tired.  I am too thin and my nails are cracking.

Regardless of my dwindling weight I am feeling totally settled again.  In my own body.  Out of my mad head.  Thank God I am no longer waking up in the morning feeling like shit.  The morning has always been my favorite time.  Renewed, refreshed, full of promise.

I awake every day to the glorious, sun drenched morning here in California.  I am a lucky man.

Remind yourself:  I am a lucky man.  I have lived a life others could only have dreamt about and if it ended tomorrow..well,  I would be at peace.  That’s all I ever wanted, to die at peace with a smile on my face.   Ducks in a row.

Last night was one of those nights when the sun went down and it didn’t get any cooler.  I suspect it’s going to be like that all this week.  If it becomes unbearable I may just head over to Hollywood and stay there until it cools down.  I don’t like watching the dogs panting, it distresses me.

The organic box arrived yesterday from Jennifer.  The raw butter, yogurt and milk are all delicious.  The vegetables were mainly good except the rather pathetic beats that are small and shrivelled.

The fridge is now full of wonderful things to eat including crab claws from Santa Barbra, fresh pasta, home cured bacon and free range chicken and pork loin.

I am cooking with Ashley today.  We are having a lunch for thirty but I suspect more people will arrive.  Today has THAT sort of vibe.  This is a great house for a party.  It always has been.

Ah, finally..there is a light sea breeze washing through the house.

Now I have a date for my operation I really don’t give my balls much thought.  I know that this thing is inside me and I know that if I don’t deal with it..well, we all know what will happen.

I can spend hours in this house not really doing anything at all.   Just rearranging.  This is a good substitute for me being a writer?  No, not really but now the love shackles are off I can concentrate on other things.  It’s a great start.

No Manhunt dates planned.  Especially now I am in Malibu.  It’s all a bit of a hassle.  Anyway, I don’t want to go through anything like I have been through recently ever again.

It was a terrible madness: enmeshed, co-dependent, destructive, cruel.

I remember writing this:  I am never lonely when I am on my own, I am only ever lonely when I am in a relationship.  I yearn for the other at the detriment of all other things.

Today I am not lonely.  I am capable.  I am a good person.

Try saying that out loud!

“Hello, my name is Duncan and I am an alcoholic/addict…and a good person.”

I am a stranger to those I have loved.   Let’s keep it that way.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qMN4U-Alqfc&feature=related]

Categories
art Rant

Suddenly Inspired…

…to write a film. But, guess what’s getting in the way? YOU GUESSED IT! The lieing twat of Westchester. That was something else he sneered at. My film making. “Oooh,” he chided, “It’s shot on tape.” Yeah, fuck face..shot on tape..went to Sundance nominated for a British Academy award. He really tried to undermine my confidence. Sneery cock whore that he is…

Ok, relapse! That’s what happens. I remember just how ‘ironic’ he is about anyone who tried to achieve anything..like kids or films. I wonder if he can communicate at all with the artists he is meant to represent when he is so desperate to be one himself.

He did make a sort of film. A high school parody. He thought it was HILARIOUS.

How will he ever encourage the best out of his clients? Unless he is getting fucked by them of course.

Wanna know something funny? He loved reading my blog when I was writing shit about other people. It’s a bit uncomfortable now tho isn’t it JB?

Hahhaha.

RENTER ALERT!!!

OK, yesterday, when I got back to the apartment in Hollywood (almost finished packing) there was a vicious note from Viken Douzdjian’s two-bit lawyer demanding his money back for the rental. Viken is a surgeon from Portland Oregon who rented the house for 7 people for $250 a night. He arrived and left immediately because the ‘TV was too small.’ and ‘There was a stain on the carpet.’ Let me remind you again Viken..that’s why it’s $250 a night rather $2, 500 a night like the guy next door or $25, 000 a night like the houses on the PCH. This surgeon from Portland told me to alter a cheque that he had misprinted then recalls the cheque! What a fucking twat. Then..get this..he tells me that he can’t stay in the house of a homosexual.

This surgeon better not be cutting you open if you are gay..cause he hates us gays!

Thank God I keep every email..including the one where he tells me to alter the cheque. Read the fucking contract dick-wad surgeon, homophobic, LIAR.

Viken Douzdjian is a homo hating, rental con-man who can’t seem to read the contract he signed. He joins the Renter’s From Hell Hall of SHAME.

Viken..let me introduce you to Irene Brown from Maud Place Hawaii and Dave Stewart from who gives a shit ville. Dave did the ‘we are Christians and can’t stay in your house’ bullshit.

“There’s PORNOGRAPHY in your house.”  they squealed like pigs after finding some funny postcards in a draw..without nudity I might add . Actually, I thought Dave was gay when I met him. My gaydar went off like an Amazonian dawn chorus. Mrs Dave probably put him through Christian gay-boy rehabilitation…so they could have those ugly kids.

Fuck Christians.

All of you.

Oh yeah, and when I spoke to Viken’s moronic lawyer I tried to make a point about Jews and Gays in the concentration camps and why homophobia should not be colluded with in the same way we have no truck with anti-Semitism.

He thought I was being an anti-semite..not realizing of course that JB is a Jew, my sponsor is a Jew..and so was my GRANDFATHER.

Fucking idiot.

I am in NYC. Alive..although maybe dying…here for fashion week. Hope I don’t bump into the lying fuck face.

Categories
Malibu Rant

I’m Getting Older Too…

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WM7-PYtXtJM&feature=player_embedded]

This is far better than the original…

I JUST REREAD THIS POST.  IT IS SO BORING!

Hahahaha

Without intensity and drama what becomes of me?

I woke up feeling really positive.  I am really beating this one.  Really.

A simple day.  I am losing weight.  I saw my reflection.  It gives me great pleasure to see a flat tummy.

I decided to give Manhunt a try as I had paid for that account to snoop on u know who.  It was good to get some interest from cute looking men but I felt as if I had come full circle since I was last living here.  At least I am being myself on Manhunt rather than disguised by some fake profile just to hear the reassuring ping of interest.

Almost immediately two men recognized me from the show and two friends.  It was fun.

Talked to realtor about what he wanted me to do to the house before we put it on the market this November.  He said nothing.  He said whoever bought it would probably tear it down.

I made jam.  I made a jam.  Strawberry jam.  Tomorrow I am going to finish up after the gardeners.   Today the little dog ran around after me in the garden.   We drove to Venice and ate breakfast at Sauce.  How quickly the staff get to know me.  They remember after just two visits what I have and how I like it.

I like that.  I like being taken seriously.

Scrambled, tomatoes..grilled.

Categories
Rant Uncategorized

OK, I Went Too Far

I went too far this time.  Vile beyond description.  Going quietly insane here.  Not so quietly.  Very publicly insane.  Somebody wrote to me imploring me to get help.  I don’t really know how.  The feelings are so overwhelming.  This has nothing to do with anyone currently in my life or recently out of it.    I was reading over my blog pre January and it’s like reading a different person.  I have become madder than the maddest man in madland.  Totally unhinged.

You can read what he/she said at the end of the DEAD WEIGHT blog.  For some odd reason it cut through everything and made sense.  I took notice.  8.43pm on Monday night I am taking notice.  I dread the morning when the fear sets in.  The fear and loathing.

You have to believe me I am battling with terrible demons at dawn.   Lost and empty.

Trying to juggle everything so I can get back to London and go to hospital.   Perhaps it’s just time to let the balls fall where they may and leave.

What he/she said about Jennie and the big dog was accurate.  I make myself vulnerable and then I punish those about me who see it.

Listen, I’m not trying to excuse myself.  Today there are no excuses for my behaviour.

I’m just trying to work it out.  Trying to navigate my way back to sanity.

There is no therapist.  I just have to accept what is happening and go home.  It’s time..but I’ve said that a million times.  It’s time to buy goats or leave a situation or..well..there are millions of examples of just how I say I want to do something then I never do it.

Rather flagellate him I flagellate myself.  This wasn’t how it was before.  I can read the difference between me then and me now.

I would really like to cry but I can’t.  Too many tears shed for nothing.

It’s amazing that in less than three weeks I will be celebrating a sobriety birthday.  Huh.  Perhaps I should just say I have one day.

The pain in my balls and back is getting worse but I think that this might just be in my head.

What would it mean if I just took one drink?  If I could drown these terrible feelings of loathing (and self loathing) I am overcome by?

A day off.  I want a day off from Duncan Roy.

Categories
Rant

Moving Back to Malibu

I did not go to therapy this morning, instead I stayed at home and did my chores. The faster I can complete everything here the sooner I can get back to London and deal with this problem.

I am in a sparklingly good mood.  I tell you, being single, not having to worry about Jake and being here on the temperate mountainside is just perfect for lifting the spirits.   I don’t want this to sound embittered but I feel like I have woken up after a very bad dream.  As if for the past eight months I have been watching myself act out the charade of being in love.  Deluded old fool.

Just finished reading an advance copy of Tony Blair’s riveting memoir.  A JOURNEY.  The age explained.  I voted for him and was pleased to see him elected.  I was upset when Will Self told me that he hated him.  I was saddened when his occasional speech writer Stephen Fry told me that Blair would go to his grave with the word Iraq engraved on his heart.  Like Mary Tudor had Calais engraved on hers. (“When I am dead, you will find Calais lying on my heart“)  Yet, I am afraid, they were both quite right.

What did I like about the book?  As a recovering alcoholic I loved that he admitted that he drank too much..that was rather inspiring.  Is he an alcoholic?  Perhaps.  Drank on his feelings.  Reading the British press I am a little confused, as I think they may be.  Why should this book be such a revelation to most British political commentators?  Most seem to think that the moment you become a leader you stop being a man.  That all human vagaries should be set aside.  How naive.  They wonder at his childish spats with Brown, that Blair admits to self-doubt, frailties, manipulation and the like.   They marvel at how frank he is.

They seem embarrassed and caught off guard.  However poorly I may now think of him, however he will be judged by time and further revelations..I was impressed by his book..how very candid and relaxed he seems.  Although I am sure he will be further reviled and doubted by most for this entertaining memoir, I rather enjoyed it.

There is, as my granny would say, no peace for the wicked.

I must remind myself of that sometimes.

I forgot to mention just how wonderful the last renters were.  A sweet couple and their gorgeous dog.  Vegan, into meditation and rebooked immediately for next year.

I am slowly moving back into the house.  Brought a bunch of things with me from Hollywood yesterday.  I am enjoying ironing the linen and folding it neatly and making piles of sweet-smelling pillowcases.   Putting everything away.  Lovely.

Simple pleasures.

Not much to report other than a very funny story I heard from my six-year-old and very beautiful god-daughter Lily.  She loves acting and singing and three times a year performs as part of a local theatre group. At the end of this summers performance she told me that an old lady in a fur coat came up to her and told her how wonderful her voice was, that she had seen her in the last play and how delightful she was.  Her parents giggled, the old lady in the fur coat was Barbra Streisand.  That’s Malibu life for you.  Just a little community of regular beach dwelling folk who are, for the most part…billionaires.

Had dinner with Eric at Sauce in Venice.  I love that little restaurant.  The waiter had huge hair and a cheeky smile.  I ate pulled pork.  Delicious.

I am going to get dressed and walk to the new road.

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