Living in LA.  Driving everywhere.  One learns a great deal about the human condition.  How brave those with no real strength, a fragile old lady for instance, becomes in her SUV.

Hiding behind the wheel of her huge (and not so huge) car she can charge at other cars like a wild bull, she can intimidate like a boxer facing off before the big fight, she can insult anyone she pleases like a street drunk after midnight.   Stop at a stop light however and scream at her in the real world for her appalling behavior, stripped of her super powers… she apologizes, looks horrified.

We delude ourselves that we are protected by our big car… or the anonymity of the internet.

The internet.  From time to time… the hating trolls can’t help themselves.  In their haste to leave vile, anonymous messages the stupid ones forget the trail of evidence they leave behind in their rush to insult and malign.

Like a hair loaded with DNA at the murder scene… they leave behind their IP number.  The ever more accurate, location revealing IP number.

The most recent hater?  Ohaiman.  This particularly stupid troll lives on Elm Avenue in Norwood, a suburb of Cincinnati.   With Google street view I opened a window into his sad life.  I stood outside his shabby apartment building, I wondered which one of the beaten up cars parked in his parking lot was his.  I wandered dolefully up his treeless, ugly street.  I flew over his nondescript building in my google plane.

I felt like the NSA.

Not realizing that I already knew too much about him I engaged in a long conversation with Ohaiman… this vicious troll.   He had opinions about every aspect of my life.   The life of my boyfriend… apparently my bf is in the closet.  He told me who I should be dating… someone over 50.  He let me know how much money he thought I had.  There was no limit to the reach he thought he had into my life.

Can you imagine what it must be like to have real celebrity?  What chaos these trolls cause?

After he unravelled more than enough rope to hang himself… I revealed that I knew exactly where he lived.  Like rolling down my window at the stop light…   He balked.  He apologized.  He was ‘just joking’, he didn’t mean what he said.

Understandably, I haven’t heard from him since.

I don’t care what people write about me in that secret space created by the internet where foolish men believe they are the kings and the queens, ‘super users’  addicted to outrage and poorly formed opinion… mostly without consequence.

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Fashion Hollywood Los Angeles

I Google You


The Boy Mondino

Google you

Late at night when I don’t know what to do
I find photos you’ve forgotten you were in
Put up by your friends

I do, I Google you
When the day is done and everything is through
I read your journal that you kept that month in France
I’ve watched you dance

And I’m pleased your name is practically unique
It’s only you and a would-be PhD from Chesapeake
Who writes papers on the structure of the sun
I’ve read each one

I know that I should let you fade
But there’s that box and there’s your name
Somehow it never makes the pain grow less or fade or disappear
I think that I should save my soul and I should crawl back in my hole
But it’s too easy just to fold and type your name again, I fear

I Google you
When I’m all alone and don’t know what to do
And each shred of information that I gather
Says you’ve found somebody new
And it really shouldn’t matter
Ought to blow up my computer
But instead…
I Google you




Happy Birthday Me

Here are some of the pictures Dan took last week at my party…I will add them as and when they arrive.  I am having my LA birthday party tonight….should be fun.

Lady Rizo

Lady Rizo sang Lilac Wine, Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend and a Brittany Spears mash up.

Devon, Aleksa and Me

Aleksa came with her husband Devon…straight from the set of Boardwalk Empire

Dan and Stephen

Dan took all the pics but thankfully had one of himself.

Ian and Bradley

Ian Drew and Bradley from US Weekly…who told me yesterday that I am indeed in the upcoming A List.

Rob Roth who sang ‘I’ll Melt With You‘ rather wonderfully and the legend who is indeed Chandler Burr.  The performance artist and NYT scent editor…

Duncan and Robby

This trip to NYC changed darling Robby’s life.

Sweet friends from LA Jess and her lover.

Victoria Whitbread and her friend Tom with Dee Mansfield who flew from Hong Kong for my party.

Yaniv, Michael (GLADD) and Cyndi Stivers who started Time Out NY

The Black Soft

Chase and Joey from The Black Soft came and not only performed their new song for me but totally wowed their new audience.

Zach and Alex

Joan, Lady Rizo and Joe

Greg Lucas and David Stillman Meyer

Kaolin, Friend and Zach

Lady Rizo and Donovan.

Duncan, Charlie Parsons and Tom Desanto

Jeff and Robby

And over to you LADY RIZO!!!

OK, that’s it!  More tomorrow from tonight’s party.


Kristian Digby

My friend (briefly my lover) Kristian Digby died yesterday; apparently of auto asphyxiation.

Kristian was a sweet, thoughtful intelligent man.  Not intelligent enough, he would have scoffed, to think twice about pulling a bag over his head, a belt around his neck and deprive his wonderful brain of oxygen.

By inducing a lucid, semi-hallucinogenic state called hypoxia-combined with orgasm, the rush is said to be no less powerful than cocaine, and highly addictive.

Kristian and I met in 2001 at the International Cannes film festival waiting in line for the Soho House annual Cannes party-bonding over the sight of Andi McDowell being pushed and shouted at by her surly, over weight publicist.  After becoming immediate friends-later that night, very drunk and having gate crashed a very grand yacht party, Kristian told actor Ray Winstone that he had always fancied him and tried, much to my horror, to kiss him.  Like most of his antics it was very, very funny but realizing how inappropriate trying to kiss Ray was we ran like mad children into the night and had a very romantic time walking bare foot back to his hotel room along the deserted beach at dawn.

I introduced Kristian to one of his many and varied heroes, the glorious Marianne Faithful. We were at Will Self’s house.   He sat at her feet.  She spilt red wine on his white linen trousers.  Whilst she fussed over the stain he was delighted that Marianne Faithful had spilled red wine on him.  Delighted.

He did not have one bad bone in his gorgeous body.

Creative, funny, erudite.  He had so much further to travel.

Kristian loved the films and books of Dereck Jarman-his true hero.  We had great fun exploring the dead filmmakers garden at Dungerness.  We ate a very high tea (english expression not drug induced) at a local hotel over looking the bleak gray sea.

I was always in awe of Kristian and those of us who knew him very well knew that there was much to be in awe of.

During the time that we knew each other best (when I moved to LA permanently we saw each other less often) we explored ideas, cites and over coffee in Old Compton Street the state of our gay lives.

He was a regular visitor to my house in Whitstable.  Everyone that met him there loved Kristian-I have been overwhelmed by sad emails from friends he met from my old home town.

He was not without his dark side-a troubled childhood and un-accepting parents blighted his early years as a gay man.

Lastly, let us not forget how much enjoyment he gave to those who never knew him personally: his loyal TV audience.

Oh Kristian, you silly billy, what did you do that for?  I will really miss you.