Categories
Rant

Choose Life

SH and DR

Suddenly enthusiastic.  Suddenly full of LIFE.  When I got sober I chose life over death…so I better get on with the living.

Yesterday ended up in steam room with the MOST GORGEOUS MAN.

I shudder at the recollection.

This morning he is sitting beside me writing.

Had long conversation with Jennie K.  It was so great to connect with her again.  I love that woman.

Mostly talked about what happens to a testicle when it is removed.

It is cremated.

My friends Joey and Chase have written an album that I love so check it out ..they are called:  THE BLACK SOFT

SH

Had long chat with CP about film.  I am going to have a stab at it before we hire a writer.  Cheaper that way.

Had dinner with SH uptown in some ghastly Korean restaurant.  I love that boy.  So lively and intelligent and good-looking.

Taxi to East Village.

Dan and I sat around giggling when I got home.  Loving living on 10th St.

Having chat with lawyer today…about STUFF.  Let’s see.

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Categories
Rant

Sarah Palin Murderer

Just one of many murders allowed to walk American streets freely whilst innocents languish in prison.

Add her name to a growing list of treasonous Americans who regularly incite hatred and violence against their fellow country men and specifically their President.   Sarah Palin, Rush Limburg and Glenn Beck: this grim triumvirate has become an impressive killing machine.

Bloated, ignorant commentators using freedom of speech as an ideological shield from behind which they scream their uninformed, toxic rhetoric.

In turn the dumb American proletariat, unable to fight for their own, turn on those who want to help them the most.

The ‘Christian’ hate speak of Sarah Palin and her legion of devoted followers has claimed the first of many of it’s intended victims..because, make no mistake, in the Palin home today they are praying that Congress Woman Gifford dies.

The meaningless sop, theses ‘thoughts and prayers’ offered to Gifford’s family and the American people from Sarah Palin this past twenty-four hours disguises a plain truth:  the only prayer to Palin’s God is that Gifford becomes just the first of many elected officials who will either be killed or too scared to stick to their ‘progressive’ principals.

This highly motivated fascist machine with its unpaid hit men will not, cannot be stopped with or for any reason.  They are deaf to anything other than their own message.

Still furious that a black man can be President these pink, treasonous men and women have done everything possible to stop Obama from achieving anything he promised the American people during his campaign.   Small minded folk, red necks, laughing amongst themselves as they take turns insulting the black man, tripping him up and laughing as he falls, spitting in his face…dragging him behind the car…hanging him from the nearest tree.

If only Obama didn’t look so damned scared, when Joe Wilson screamed ‘you lie’ (boy) “I called that nigger a liar to his face.”  Obama looked appropriately  sheepish at the good old boys.  Scared of the white man.  Michelle, on the other hand, shot them back that look..she isn’t scared because she knows exactly who these men are and who they represent.  But we all knew about her, we had been warned that she could be…uppity.

Their pink skinned agenda, as if you weren’t already aware:  No abortion.  More War.  More Guns.  More Prisons.  No Respect for the Environment.  Free to be Racist/Homophobic.  Free to ‘take down’ anyone with opposing ideas.  Free to make money by lying, cheating and stealing.  Free to treat the rest of the world as America pleases.  But most of all they want you to see things their way and no other way will do.

Today Sarah Palin’s followers are rejoicing that a health care supporting ‘blue dog’ democrat has been gunned down in the name of ‘freedom’.

I am neither surprised or disgusted because this is the American way, this is how Americans do things and will always do things.  Frankly, if they wanted it any other way..the rules would change.  Remember Martin Luther-King, JFK, Harvey Milk..etc. etc.  This is the most violent culture in the world.

If you have the guts and the motivation to assassinate then go right ahead.  Pay the price but go right ahead.  Survival of the fittest.  Manifest destiny.

The murderer is still alive to talk freely about his motivation.  I, and the rest of the world, will be fascinated by his story.  He didn’t bother to kill himself but let’s see if he survives to tell his tale.  He has served his purpose.

He has already been cast as a rogue liberal by the Tea Party…a Marx reading,  Hitler devotee..a loner and an iconoclast…he will be called a great deal more but none of it will be accurate.

(Surprise surprise…when he appeared in court the CNN reporter reported with some amazement that the mass murderer looked ‘normal’ ‘calm’ and ‘cooperative’.  He was not behaving like Charles Manson..he could be any one of our sons.)

Sarah Palin may very well be the next President of the United States, not just because she appeals to the lowest common denominator but because after years of pathetic ‘honorable’ Obama leadership this crazy, intensity addicted, short termist American public craves more drama…like a TV show..or an action movie…

The President of the United States is no longer elected, he is re-cast.

This childish, self-serving society gets the leaders it deserves.  Don’t tell me that it isn’t possible for someone like Sarah Palin to be president…that’s what they said about Hitler..the giggling German intellectuals…that what they said about Adolf Hitler.

If American liberals can’t stand up to these thugs then the rest of the world must.

Categories
Rant

No Hot Water!

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Categories
art Gay Money Rant

How do you Solve a Problem like Amanda Eliasch?

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Amanda Eliasch is very, very rich.  She is the ex-wife of Johann Eliasch, owner of tennis racket and sports wear company Head.  Currently Amanda is trying to get me to remove a blog reference made last week after she posted some nastiness about me on Facebook.

Sadly, as Jake found to his dismay, even if I removed any or all evidence… the blog will remain in the virtual ether forever and ever. FOREVER.  Then, she persuaded some weird friend of hers to say that I only have 3 readers a day…that’s like telling a man he has a very small penis.

Let me remind you how I know this woman Amanda Eliasch…she was/is going out/hooking up/in confused hyper emotional ‘relationship’ with my old friend the genuine article… writer Tim Willis.  Poor Tim, the first time I was summoned to her house he was a quaking, smoking, drinking wreck. Exiled to the tennis court at her architecturally significant, now recently sold Beverly Hills house. His already weakened body covered in welts from Amanda’s sharp little tongue.

The 1st and least problematic of the litany of problems with Amanda: she is a bully.  In some lame attempt to stop me from posting anything about her on my blog she reminded me that she had let me visit her home. OK. So? I reminded her (pompous hag) that I let her visit mine. The next barrage of emails, no doubt, will include reminders that she paid for a couple of lunches.

The emails after that will include homophobic slurs.

Well known to architects, and interior decorators as a person who loathes paying her bills, (I know two personally) She is currently working with ‘interior designer to the stars’ Martyn Lawrence-Bullard who told me he went to Eton… does anyone know if this is true? I met ‘interior designer to the stars’ Martyn Lawrence-Bullard with Chris “The King” Cortazzo the  realtor.  Why will ‘interior designer to the stars’ Martyn Lawrence-Bullard definitely get paid for renovating Amanda’s new home in LA? The simple fact is: ‘interior designer to the stars’ Martyn Lawrence-Bullard is far too well-connected not to get paid.

As well as converting Amanda’s brown Wimpy home (ex Janet Leigh) into a white clad Wimpy home ‘interior designer to the stars’ Martyn Lawrence-Bullard is also converting a small apartment in Sierra Towers Los Angeles as something ‘nice’ for Elton’s Nanny and child.

I really did not want to start the year slagging an old slag but hey, at least I’m not writing about Jake, eh?

The most perplexing problem with Amanda: she is totally bonkers… and not in a good way. She has no style, no friends and leaves a nasty taste in one’s mouth whenever one chances upon her.  Her conversation is limited and punctuated with barking noises… is this some sort of tick?  I have never once been able to get a reasonable opinion or for that matter ANY opinion out of the woman who wasn’t cribbed from some Daily Mail commentator/op ed…consequently her politics are slightly right of Hitler’s.  Amanda once complained to me, like many of her ilk, that there wasn’t a decent right-wing newspaper in Britain.

Now, I know that she will take issue with the ‘no friends’ claim but after her $500k fiasco of a birthday party last year where half her Facebook friends didn’t turn up… and, like an eastern European traveler, she tangoed for her startled guests then… to their growing horror played a sycophantic film ‘produced’ by her friends waxing ’bout how wonderful Amanda is. I wonder how she manages to keep the friends she has!

Good God! You can’t make this stuff up!

Amanda is surrounded by a certain type of woman, the ball breaking Aliai, Lady Forte, the ball breaking Tracy Emin and the drunk most of the time but harmless… unless sober when she too becomes a bone fide ball breaker… Kay Saatchi.  Throw a few insignificant men into the black lacquered pot and bob’s your uncle: Amanda’s World.

The unforgivably huge problem with Amanda (and British social-climbing women like her) she is ever so slightly homophobic. She likes to remind gays that in Amanda’s World they have no right to demand rights or equality ‘what ever that is?’… that we have no place in the army or in sport and she questions our integrity in the school room.  She tells us that we are of ‘no use’ to her… unless we are ‘decorating’ or ‘making things look pretty’.

Amanda, like her ball breaking friends, is also a low-grade racist and treats her black chef with imperial disdain.  Amusingly she has a desire to be close to film stars and celebrities but they are not eager to be seen with her.  Her life interminably chasing yet another film festival, film opening, red carpet event… is pathetic at best… tragic at worst.

Amanda, if she doesn’t mend her ways, will end up like Wallis Simpson who, though remarkably chic, died isolated and miserable. At Wallis’s funeral the bulk of the wreaths came from vendors all over Paris who, without doubt, missed her very generous patronage.

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Categories
Health Rant

Invincible

There have indeed been months of worry and a pervading sense of doom.   Liberated from all of this…I feel invincible.

Emotionally, physically and spiritually life has been particularly nasty.

Now, unencumbered with either fear of imminent death, financial insecurity due to exceptional sales of art and my recommitment to a more sober life (without internet obsessions) I will fight what ever I need to fight to make my life comfortable and fair.

I will step out of the shadows and into the light.

I promise you all that the next man I let into my bedroom will be treated like a whore.  The next man I let into my heart will be treated like the king I expect him to be.

No more half measures.  No more wasted tears.  No more.

I will never again let a liar and a thief rampage through my life expecting him to value what he is given.   I would rather be alone than suffer another fool.  Diminishing returns are not my thang.

Monkey man on my back.   A crazed fan who thought he knew me from seeing me on the TV and was appalled by who I actually am.  Even how old I am.  Oh, God…thank you for delivering me from him.  There are occasions when no amount of forgiveness will do.

As for going back home to LA?  I sent a picture of my cock and sack to my worst enemies and told them to expect me home soon.    I let them know that they might have been wishing for a different outcome but their prayers failed.

That includes you…my Westchester readers.  Go fuck yourselves.

The first thing that needs to happen?   The house comes off the market.

The second thing that happens?   I make my next movie.  Try stopping me.

The third thing that happens?  I move back to NYC .

If I ever see his ugly mug again?  I will chase him up the street like the cheap crook he is.  God didn’t give me a second chance to get weak..he gave me a second chance to make my dreams come true.

I do not need a man to make me whole.  I am whole.  I am strong.  I do not need to love a man to make me feel complete, nor do I feel lonely when I am alone.

I have never needed anyone but quite by chance I have you…the people who read this and make me feel better, connected…thank you…again…thank you.  The people who only met me on the TV, the people who know me for real…the people who opened their houses and their hearts during this most terrible few months.

I left school when I was 16.  I did everything I could to survive-including not sleeping with every man who promised me a dream.   My greatest adventures are still to come.

Did you like the picture of me and the Picasso?  I thought that sitting below a $35, 000, 000 picture would give you a clue to where I can sit when I put my mind to it.

Categories
art Auto Biography Love Rant

Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know

I was informed you were dangerous and to only speak to you when chaperoned.

AMANDA ELIASCH

You know who coined the phrase Mad, Bad etc?  Lady Caroline Lamb of course… about Byron!  Although my fun friend the sadly departed Matilda, Duchess of Argyll thought the same of her predecessor, the even more glorious Margaret, Duchess of Argyll whose husband found Polaroids of her sucking a huge cock… naked but for a string of pearls.  Frankly I would rather have been Margaret than Matilda.

Margaret said, “If you have to be a Duchess you may as well be the Duchess of Argyll.” I loved my Duchess adventures in Edinburgh and The Highlands playing back gammon and drinking whiskey, even though she hated paying her gambling debts.

Tell me how brilliant that is?  Amanda warned off me?  Most people are in no uncertain terms.  It certainly separates the chaf from the corn.  (The Chav from the Thorn). The people who remain in my life are up for the adventure of knowing me.   My new friend Ed, for instance, who I am spending tomorrow evening with…  what a sweetheart.  Of course there’s a long list of oafs who cannot bear the heat in the kitchen…  more fool them.

When I left Joe he told the friends who remained my friends they were ‘spineless’.  I am PERFECTLY sure that I would do EXACTLY the same. I am excited by my own life all over again.  What adventure will I have next?

Amanda and Tim are once again breaking up…  but the truth of the matter is that Amanda… poor old bird… can’t bear to be separated from Tim.  I know THAT feeling.  I hate to be separated from the man I love.  I want to punish the fuck out of him… so now she’s upon FB slagging him off like an old fish wife.

I was never so lonely as the moment I left him.

Tim’s being very discreet but really!!  These two star crossed lovers must decide what they want to do!  I can’t be the sacrificial lamb every time they fetch out their AK 47‘s.

Amanda’s beef?  Tim bought her a voucher for a ‘Garden Center‘ turns out that the ‘voucher’ is for her to buy something from the glorious Chelsea Physic Gardens a stone’s throw from her Cheyne Walk home.   Now, I would love that as a gift.  I don’t really care if Tim berates me behind my back.  It’s his prerogative but the simple fact is… I don’t care!   He’s in excellent company.

What’s been going on in FREEZING COLD Whitstable?  Had breakfast at Windy Corner Stores.   Wandered home along the  beach.  In the very short time it took me to get home something of a miracle  happened…I began to inhabit my own skin once again.  Every time I pray for something it is swiftly delivered.  The only problem is… I don’t pray enough… because I’m frightened that the magic won’t work!

Typical Boxing Day… cold meats, TV, pickles, a trip to the pub.

Whitstable, my darling home town grounded me.  Everything is going to be OK.  This is where I have lived and I will die.  The people who know me..know me.   I am so happy here..even though it is not my current home there is always, and will always be room for me.

PS You’ll need more than a chaperone to keep safe around me.

Boxing Day 2010

Categories
Rant

Migration Me

We must be the first generation ever where the option to freely migrate has become almost impossible.

Humans have always fought for their freedom; whether religious, political, racial.  Finding themselves and their ideas in conflict with the majority, no longer able to live with their fellow man or persecuted and driven from their homes.

In recent times the minority were able to emigrate, find sympathetic others or start their own like-minded group in fresh pasture or foreign lands.

Sadly this is no longer achievable…singularly maybe as a political refugee but no like-minded group can move as one and find virgin territory to freely express their differences.

Migration has always been key to human success and innovation.  Stifling this primal desire to up sticks and move is patently detrimental to the human race.

We are tribal by nature and proudly so.  Most are happy with the tribe they were born into.

By fixing communities in one place the negative effects are plain to see.  Dissatisfaction reigns.

I have never been a proponent of integration.   I am a loner but my adopted tribe, the gay tribe, has enthusiastically created comfortable ghettos where they feel safe and valued.  The same can be said of Asian communities in Northern England, Hasidic communities in Brooklyn, Posh people in Gloucestershire etc.

Where we are trapped together in unhealthy union fights between opposing tribes become not only more frequent but also more relevant.  Forced to share increasingly limited space, integration and multiculturalism become the buzz words for panicked community leaders and governments all over the developed world.

Remember the Rwanda genocide?  It is no coincidence that before the genocide Rwanda had more humans per square meter than any other place on the planet.

There was no more room.  Nowhere to run.

One tribe hacked the other tribe to death.   It is what we do.

In Thomas Hardy‘s desperate last novel Jude the Obscure, there is a small boy nick named by his Father, ‘Young Father Time’ an anxious little thing who murders his siblings then commits suicide upon hearing that his Mother is worried at how they might all be fed.

He hangs himself with this tragic note pinned to his vest:  “Because we are too many.”

Genocide may be a valuable part of the human story.  It maybe a very healthy part of our story, as unpalatable as that may sound.

If we are unable to migrate we are unable to evolve.  Our ideas become increasingly inward looking,  we become prone to mysticism, religion and superstition.

At this moment in the history of man we are all, unfortunately, Native Americans forced into reservations, like Inuits and aboriginals obliged to accept the limitations of an over crowded and over regulated world.

Bedouins, gypsies, nomads no more.

I have always felt separate from everyone.  Separated by class and circumstance, by wit and intelligence, by impatience and sobriety.

My tribe of one has found his place in acres of rolling scrub overlooking the Pacific.   The tribe of Me walks safely in my own home town.


Categories
Christmas Rant

It Gets Better?

It’s six o’clock on Friday morning.  There’s more snow forecast and plummeting temperatures.  I really love the cold.  I love wearing long coats and big hats.  I love roaring fires and drinking hot tea in the street.  The little dog has miraculously grown a thick white coat and his previously bald belly is now covered in downy fur.

I spent the day in London yesterday.  Partly to deal with the Jake’s lost iPod incident and partly to see friends but mostly to go to an AA meeting in Soho and connect with my tribe.

I left my laptop and my iPhone at home and consequently enjoyed the train ride to London thinking..thinking about how it doesn’t get better.  Dan Savage‘s ‘It Get’s Batter’ campaign is a load of baloney designed to encourage gay youngsters not to kill themselves because anything is better than death.

The truth is not so obvious.  I have been thinking hard about America, about gays in America and how totally useless my gay brethren have been about getting things changed for themselves, politically, socially and morally.

I wrote to Peter Tatchell last summer asking his advice about how things could possibly change for gays in America..his response…from a brave, hard-hitting activist shocked me.  He thought the situation depressing and hopeless.

It is.  The people refuse to be seen.  They refuse to leave the comfort of their den, their TV, their fast food..they refuse to hit the streets and demand a morally accountable government.

The simple fact is this:  gays in America, for all the millions they spend trying to change the laws, with a ‘sympathetic’ Democratic government and a ‘change’ motivated President things have not changed one iota.  Marriage/Civil Union is still a state by state privilege and not a federal right.  Gays are still not welcome in the military and I have come to realize that gays are simply not welcome anywhere.

Gays are not welcome to live honest and open lives in America..so they don’t.  The gays I meet in the UK are leagues ahead in their thinking and the openness.  They can depend on their government, their church, their judiciary to support them.

In a country like the USA where Christians define the moral terrain I have never lived anywhere that is so morally bankrupt.  The people are routinely lied to by successive Presidents, they are gouged by the government they elect, they are continually bullied by church and state and do nothing what so ever about it.

The people are not free.

They are terrified of their government.

Unlike our students in the UK who got off their asses and demonstrated (invigorating a generation of new activists) Americans angrily run to their expensive lawyers and seek judicial review for their many and varied problems which end up taking so much time to resolve that when their cases are finally heard the fire, passion and determination has been dampened…the urge for change forgotten.

Change happens: sometimes slowly and sometimes quickly.

I despair for the gays and the liberals and the moderates in the USA.  

Morality has been hijacked by the right because we were too cowardly to understand what it meant to us.

Mention the word morals to most gay men and they balk.

We have no morals. Jake invited me into his amoral world and I willingly walked through the door.  Most gay men think it is perfectly reasonable for him to have behaved immorally.  Morals don’t count for anything in the gay community.

How does it get better by not killing yourself?

Most American gay men I know have, at some time, wanted to kill themselves.  They have given it serious thought.  So, you don’t kill yourself…what have you got to look forward to?  The gay community riven by sex and drug addiction, by racism, by homophobia.  Yep, you heard it here.  The gay community is riven with homophobia.

Delicate gay men who don’t want to sleep with anyone unless they are ‘straight acting’  (read invisible).   They are terrified of looking in the mirror and seeing themselves age.  They are terrified that will never be rich enough to buy a baby.

Sometimes I wonder what will happen to Jake.  Will he settle down and want a baby?  Will he get the sex with everyone out of his system and concentrate on one man?  When I meet him twenty years from now, when I am an old, old man..will he have lived the life he bargained for?  Will he become one of those ghastly gay men flying around the gay world, refusing to grow up,  like some grotesque Peter Pan?

So, I went to court yesterday to deal with the Jake iPod incident.  I told the court that I was Not Guilty and now there will be a full on trial in March.   It made me hate Jake even more.  Fuck you Jake.  Timid, cowardly Jake encouraged me to go after those kids, standing behind me, not stopping me, encouraging me, knowing that I would defend him because I loved him.

He lost his fucking iPod.  He lost his iPod in a drunken blackout and I am now having to deal with this shit.  It infuriates me.

If you are a sober person..try and avoid people who take drugs and drink.  Please.

Had a lovely evening at Soho House, met Suzanne Portnoy who is great fun and told me that she stopped blogging because it impacted her sex life.  Ironically she too met a literary agent through her blog with romantic complications…those fucking agents.

William Borthwick the cool director and the very beautiful, very flirtatious blue-eyed Kenny Doughty on the terrace for mince pies.

They were lovely.

Had dinner at Wheelers with friends.  Haddock.  Delicious.

Categories
Gay Hollywood Rant

Elizabeth Hurley Sex Addict

If Elizabeth really had broken up with Arun a few months ago as she claims..why is she having clandestine meetings with Shane Warne in hotel rooms rather than in her Kensington house?

I wonder if Arun remembers my dire warning for him to run as fast as his little legs would carry him when Elizabeth introduced us.  Much to his chagrain I sat him down like a good brother and told him that no good would come of knowing Elizabeth…only public shame.

That was when we were filming The Method in Romania when she was publicly toying with him to the amusement of her snotty friends and family.

Dressing him up in Mao collars at Richard James.

Shagging him in her trailer…you know the story.

I wanted to write a bunch of stuff about Elizabeth being a sex addict but I wrote a thousand words and then the computer crashed and it all vanished.  I can’t be bothered to write it again.

I was reminiscing about the first time I met Elizabeth and she was laying on the floor of her sitting room…her legs apart, her lips pink and swollen.

I wonder if she remembers telling me about her whipping club in LA?  How she loves to ‘take a man in hand’.  I wonder if she dominates Shane?  He looks like the sort of man who needs to be dominated, coerced, his power stripped from him by a woman, a good..strong woman like Elizabeth.  And..of course, we never mention the lesbian interlude.  Know about that?  I do.

I hear that she was in San Lorenzo last week looking a bit worse for wear.  Drunk.

I wonder who is looking after the kid?

The problem with Elizabeth is that she is a mere actress/celebrity when in fact she was born to be a high priestess or warrior princess, acolytes tugging at her skirt.  Gladiators hand-picked from the forum to pleasure her.

Poor Elizabeth!  She’s the straight equivalent of a gay ‘power bottom’.

Elizabeth!   Go and sort yourself out at Sex Rehab.  You are one of us!  You control every straight man within sniffing distance with your pussy perfume, the intoxicating scent of your vagina.

Oh, I have seen it with my own eyes warrior princess!

Until you get yourself a kingdom I’m afraid it might be rehab for you dear.

On an entirely different note…do you like my new socks?

Categories
Health Rant

Guilty as Charged

Plagued with appalling thoughts and feelings.  Has more to do with going home than anything else.

Fatigued.

Have to go to vet to get the Little Dog a certificate to travel and the tick and worm treatments that are mandatory for our trip to Europe.

Yesterday in terrible funk.   Had breakfast with Dan in East Village.  Lunch with Pierre in Chelsea.  Late tea with Amelia and Andres at Gitane then walked North to see Wendy Asher’s curated street art show back in Chelsea.   The gallery belongs to Robin William’s son.  The art was terrible.  The guests?  Rich women from the Hampton’s.

An LA show in NYC.  Perched precariously at the edge of some aesthetically inchoate oblivion.  Will sell out.  Doesn’t deserve to.

I wandered around the city in a daze.  Dreading bumping into Jake.  In every coffee shop there seemed to be short, bearded men who looked just like him diligently working at their laptops.  Every single time I saw someone who even vaguely resembled the poison dwarf I felt sick.  Is this what being in NYC is going to be like?

I have not felt like this since I was in Sydney 13 years ago after Jamie and I split up.  Foreboding.

I am perfectly sure he is delighted by my unending, nauseating apprehension.

It is like being gripped by the throat.

How did I deal with it last time?  I kept praying and praying to be relieved of the obsession.

When I think about this coherently I know that this has more to do with my fear of going home and what awaits me there.  Not only do I have to deal with my balls but I also have the tail end of the iPod situation to deal with.

Everything is such a MESS.   Remember how buoyant I felt before I met him?  I was sexually sober, looking for a book agent (or rather, they were looking for me) mind cleared of rancid thoughts….now look.  I think I need to go back into rehab.  This is almost WORSE than before.

One stupid Facebook message later and there he was, this dull barbarian invading my life.

I keep trying to persuade myself to take action.

Somebody asked yesterday how I could possibly fallen so hard for ‘somebody so patently unsophisticated’.  Exactly.  But as I have written a million times before…love has no logic.  Nor does hatred…so it seems.

What formerly delighted me now sickens me.

He would like you to believe that he is a seasoned world traveller, close to glamour, sophisticated and erudite.   I imagine that his new friends think he is all those things but when you hang out with kitchen salesmen upstate then you can be pretty much what you want to be.

If you look at his public Facebook pictures they are designed to deceive you into believing that he is one thing when he is most patently not.  The truth is that the picture of him by the Oscar is totally fraudulent (under his suit he is scarred by poison oak) and the pictures taken of him in Peru and the South of France were taken by people who loved him and over whom he ran roughshod.

Cheating and lying.

Wearing my hat,  taking my time when all he wanted was his new friends.   I took many pictures that month we were away but he didn’t take one of me.  Not one.

Rather pathetically he is seen in one picture stroking his cat in his old apartment with his gf.  The caption reads ‘the good old days’ or something equally, utterly bogus.   The good old days for him maybe…as he was living a totally double life literally risking the health and well-being of the woman he told he loved yet lied to every single fucking day.

Oh yeah, go on Jake be sophisticated and fabulous at other people’s expense.   Charm them with your lies and your cock.  But just remember that I am out there keeping an eye on you.

I gave you the chance of making this good but you declined my offer.

On August the 21st I offered you a kind goodbye and you spat such venom at me…after everything I did for you.  After every late night call.  After being there for you.

Every time I tried to break it off you came crawling back like the SNIVELLING prick that you are.  I showed you my most vulnerable underbelly and you stabbed me in the heart.   Nobody will treat me like that again and, if I have my way, you will never treat anyone like you have treated me and your ex gf.

You may be laughing in all those pictures designed to ensnare other men, you may have a host of sycophantic friends around you who believe that you are a good guy, a naive innocent…but sooner or later your machinations will get the better of you.  Just you wait and see.

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