Archives for posts with tag: Anne Hathaway

I sometimes wonder if it is me or the planets that determine my relationship with the world?

With Venus in retrograde (huh?) I have a lightened spirit today.

Actually, regardless of the orbiting planets, nothing has really changed other than the volume of the conspiring demons in my head.

Let’s do a little inventory.

Firstly, having Ashley living at the house makes everything more fun.  The truth is if she can get to me with coffee and fags before I write my blog the whole tenor of this blog changes significantly.  I tend not to dwell on Jake for instance….who ever that (Jake) is…so much time has passed since we communicated I am just left with a few shards of unresolved resentments and a few hundred pictures of him in various states of undress.

What the hell were we doing together?  Two desperate renegades or two men who had a genuine connection that I should learn to honor?  If I compare him to the men I meet now, have met..then the attraction is obvious!  I loved his pickled brain, his logic, I was even attracted to the shadow in which he lived as it heightened the emotional chiaroscuro.

I hope I get to the point when I can think about him fondly, not skip over the many, many pictures of him in my photo library, not endlessly relive the betrayal,  get some perspective….some forgiveness.  What am I writing?  Have I forgiven him?

Today I absolve you Mr. B.  Just for today.

So, what forced me out of the hideous funk?

Getting out of the house sure does help.

Yesterday,  JA arrived after the therapy group that we were meant to go to together but I haven’t been to for some time.  We drove to PC Greens and bought a delicious lunch.  I saw Sarah.  We hugged.  I cooked two steaks on the grill and tossed organic vine tomatoes and spinach together with a salty vinaigrette.  We sat on the terrace overlooking the sea and ate it.

I have this idea for a film.  The sort of idea that I know will end up on the screen.  I may not write it myself or even direct it but I sure am going to be its midwife.

I tentatively discussed the idea with JA.  He loved it!

So, after we talked it through I offered to write the treatment and finish it by the end of the week.  A little research..but mostly it’s there in my fingers waiting to be written.

I spent a little time on a gay hook up site and arranged to meet a particularly attractive young man in West H’wood.  We shall call him Manhunt date No. 8.  JA also invited friends.  One of his friends turned out to be a small, timid, New York Jew.   29-years-old.   Talent agent.  Very intelligent.  SOUND FAMILIAR?  I laughed at how God plays games with the heart.  I was very nice to the NYC Jewish guy and knew that had I not gone through what I had just so recently been through I might have gotten further involved.

After all..a good brain is worth a thousand abs.

No.

My hook-up arrived, tall, willowy, perfect face and body..lovely demeanor.   The attraction was mutual and before very long we were headed toward Malibu.  I invited him home on the understanding that I did not want to have sex but after a few hours asleep I woke up feeling like breaking that particular promise.  The problem is: the passion that Jake and I shared in the bedroom/forest/shower does not transfer easily to another.   Our passion was based on knowing each other.  A magnetic attraction.  A profound level of connection.

Sexually, I am very aggressive.  I am not interested in being taken.  Never have been.  I know what I wanted at dawn but I also knew what I was doing: bringing the passion I shared with Jake into another bedroom…it simply does not work.

By the time Ashley brewed the coffee this morning the beautiful stranger was gone.  Will I see him again?  No idea.  Up to him really.

Birthday party today.  I WILL go.  Eli Roth etc.  Maybe fun.

Of course I am thinking about the treacherously intelligent agent.  Funny little man.

I did not hear back from my old love yesterday.  He is in Vegas so probably very busy.  I would adore to see him but strangely just having a brief chat on the phone gave me confidence that there is always closure however long it takes.

Then, when the resentments have been laid to rest, only love remains.

I have a treatment to write.  Let’s see if I can write the diary of a film getting made with the same verve as I have Jake these past nine months?

A film getting made rather than a doomed love affair?  I don’t doubt that some of you will be interested in this process but not nearly so much as you were in my imploding relationship.

Everybody loves a train wreck..

Billy Childish Painting

A very old friend returned my call yesterday.  I had no idea that he was here in California and not in London.  It really lifted my spirits.  I could stop writing right there.  My spirits are lifted.  At peace.  The comfort of listening to the voice of a man who had known me and loved me through thick and thin.  I am greedy to hear him again.  He is within 100 miles of me.  I need to see him.  I need to spend time with him.

I was so unwilling to let him love me when we were together.  My loss.

When are we ready to accept love?  I wasn’t ready to accept love for very many years.  I did not understand how love between men worked.  It terrified and confused me.  My old friend loved me very much but I didn’t know what that meant.  I suppose that Jake must have felt the same way.  My loving him was confusing and scary.  How do men love each other?   How do I say I love you to another man?

When I have fallen in love with women the very act of saying I love you is said with ease, after all..every song on the radio, every poem about romantic love seems written about the love that exists between men and women.

When Elton or George Michael sang about love and disguised that they were singing about men I felt betrayed.  Tell me what it feels like to fall in love with another man.  To lose them.  To reflect on that separation.  Sing that song.  Read that poem.

No wonder our popular culture has sunk into a world of miserable hook ups.

I met someone else from off-line.  He brought me toys for the dogs.  This morning the cow and the bear lay abandoned on the carpet.

Like children have been playing here.

Eric popped by.   Other people came in the morning.  I was grumpy because my leg hurt.  Had massage which seemed to help.  Realised that I have not been touched with any kindness since Jake.  To be touched.  When my Mother stayed I offered to get her a massage but she balked.  She said that she didn’t like the idea of a stranger touching her.

Eric asked how I was doing.  How am I dealing with the Jake thing?  Well, I think about him occasionally..when the masseur was working on my back.  Thoughts shifting between loving and loathing.  I allowed him into my very soul.  It’s hard to wash away this particular stain.

So, when the old friend called, my old love..it reminded me that we can all heal. We heal, that time is the greatest distance between two people. That one day no vestige of him will remain.

I thought about Jake when the man arrived bearing gifts.  That he would have had sex with the man but I could not.  Part of me wanted to prove that I could.  I wanted to leap on him and do what was expected of me but I could not.  I simply can’t have sex with strangers.  I can’t.  To know someone is my aim.   He stayed for a couple of hours chatting and by the time he was about to leave I felt that in some small way I knew him.  The very act of leaving made him attractive to me.

Everything seems ruined by Jake.  The joy, the enthusiasm, the monumental optimism that I used to begin my day.

After Eric left I watched make-over shows and cooking competitions.  I did not go out and meet friends as I had agreed.  Every night this week there have been invitations.  Every single night.  I could have hobbled out last night but I did not…favouring this perfect isolation.

I am going to hang pictures.  One picture that has stubbornly refused to find a place to hang.

Late night call from another addict..struggling with his life.   I am so glad he called.  It gave purpose to another day.

Of all the men I have loved I seldom see any of them.  To hear the voice of my old love within 100 miles of where I am…well…it is possible to forgive.  To love and be loved by those you never thought you would love again.  It is possible.  I know it.

As for my tiny black maggot? I can’t leave here until I know that everything is OK.  I don’t want to lose everything.  I need to go home.  I need to get this sorted but I just can’t until I know that nothing is going to go wrong here.