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art Fashion NYC

NYC Fashion Week Day 2

 

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art Auto Biography Fashion Gay Hollywood Los Angeles Photography

Laurel Hardware

1.

It was a day.  Yes.  Yesterday was a long day.  Good.  Kind.  Revealing.

I walked the dogs.  Through the bourgeois streets of suburban Malibu.   Early morning.  Before the sun breaks through.

I have struggled with writing both the end of the film and the novel.  Because, I suppose, they are both so firmly planted in the experience of being me.  My Producer is fine with everything.  Everything but the last page.  He wants an epiphany.  So, that’s what I am striving for.

The film is about a sociopath, a charming sociopath.  In fact, the film is about two sociopaths.  I can’t discount my own bat shit craziness.  Let’s face it… I did some terrible things.  For those of you who have been reading this blog for the past two years… I think you will be pleasantly surprised by the balanced and sensitive way I have drawn the characters… but that is not my credit to take.. it is my dear Producers influence.

If I had my way there would have been murders my dear…  His genius for editing and re positioning.. for making me (and you) care for the person I loathed and loved.  For revealing the truth.

I headed into town at 11 to meet my assistant at the club.

I’m test shooting cast this Sunday and having informal crew meetings.  I met a very competent First AD this week.

At the club I met Scott Cooper who made Crazy Heart and we stood in the bathroom discussing his new film, Out of the Furnace with Christian Bale.   He is understandably excited.  Really lovely man.  I bumped into Nona Summers who was with a loathsome Greek from my distant past.  Kevin and I sat with Jacob Brown from the New York Times. A super cool kid who is making his second short film.  We watched his first at the table.  Enigmatic, sexy and very well shot.

Jacob has excellent taste.  He and Sean Devany are the up and coming generation of young gay film makers fearlessly re-imagining their own experience as gay men, using film for their catharsis.  I am heartened that these smart young gay men are once again beginning to tell their stories.  For the longest time young gay film makers shucked their own experience in favour of chasing a bigger, straighter audience.

As a result… our community became less vibrant.

The gay film festival circuit, until recently, was lack luster and uninspiring… this year, at Outfest, there were so many interesting and well made gay films.  It warmed the cockles of my homo heart.  Gay men want, understandably, well made films with high production values but financiers are loathed to invest… scared that the audience wont come.  The tide is turning.

2.

Brock pitched up looking incredibly sexy in a tight, pale blue polo shirt.

We ate Caesar salad with added chicken.  After lunch we met Rafi Gavron the hot, hot, hot British actor who was ass raped in the TV series Rome.   He was with his cousin Dean McKillen the owner of the super chic new restaurant Laurel Hardware in West Hollywood.  Dean invited us for dinner on Saturday.

Brock and I hung with Kevin and Fielder at their home on Martel then decided we would preempt the Saturday invite and go to Laurel Hardware.  The place was packed with a really interesting crowd.  A smattering of Young Hollywood and some cool looking gay men.  Dean made us feel very welcome, sending us delicious pizzas covered with burrata and basil.  The boys drank beer and I didn’t.

I drove Brock back to his car and met up with my night-time companion,  collapsed into bed.

3.

There is an odd collision of circumstance:  Jacob is the best friend of the best lesbian friend of you know who.  One degree of separation.  It doesn’t surprise me.  It is a very small world.  We trawled through Facebook.  I looked in awe at pictures of my ex and his new boyfriend.   They are indeed an unusual couple.  Dressed in outrageous and colorful garb.   When my ex’s bf wears his heels he must be 7 foot tall.

There was a picture of them holding each other in a bucolic setting.   My ex is quite short and his beau wore heels.  The height differential was staggering.  It looked like a post wedding picture.  You know, after the vows.  I wondered what they would wear when they actually got married.  If Thom Browne would make the costume.

They looked very, very happy.

Diane Arbus would have photographed them.  I mean, it was like that… like a Diane Arbus picture.

I expect to feel different things when I see them together but I always feel the same.  I am truly happy that he is happy.    From a distance I share their obvious happiness.  It is a relief.  I am pleased that even though we will never know each other… will never speak ever again… that I was indeed somehow, in some way responsible for forcing that boy out of the closet and into the life he should have enjoyed since his teens.

Mostly I congratulate myself for saving her.  It baffled me, for the longest time what terrified him about being gay.  I understand now.  He wasn’t scared of being gay, he was scared of being that kind of gay.  Flamboyant, creative, a dandy.  Every time I see him in the virtual street my questions are answered.  A picture, as they say, is worth a thousand words.  I hope that she is doing ok, that she has found a good man.  An honest man.  I wonder if she forgave him?   I mean, there’s only so long one can hold such hatred in one’s heart.

Perhaps one day she will thank me.  I don’t expect any thanks from him.

4.

My great friend, the abundantly talented Lady Rizo is off to the Edinburgh Festival.  Packing her Marchesa frocks and her false eye lashes.  I urge my British friends to urgently seek her out.

You will not be disappointed.

5.

I am headed to Provincetown to stay with Benoit.

Categories
Hollywood

Lady Rizo

Lady Rizo in LA for a few glorious days.  Listen to her on NPR here.

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Categories
Hollywood

Dog Breath

Benoit Denizet-Lewis has been staying. He’s writing a book about dogs. He has driven from Boston in a huge RV with his dog Casey.

In Northern Arizona he found another big, black dog, a stray he called Rez on an Indian reservation. Her nipples torn from a recent litter, she had a bladder infection and a bad ear but he, with Cesar Millan‘s help, put her back together again.

It’s been very busy at Chez Duncan.

Lady Rizo is in town so we saw her show on Sunday night. Her debut LA show, she had to quickly tailor it for the austere LA audience. By the end of the set she had them eating out of her hand.

Sans follow spot, her work cut out for her, she did a miraculous job. Special guest Moby had the audience rippling with excitement.

Twins had their birthday…can’t remember if I’ve already written about that? Anyway, it was a miserable afternoon (storm clouds) but we had a great time and I cooked a huge feast. They moved out of my house the following day and into their new apartment in Hollywood.

I’ve seen quite a bit of Robby..of course..since then but little of Miles who is busily writing a documentary about (from what I’ve been told) attraction.

I testified downtown at City Hall before the city deputies. Prison Violence. I told them what I had witnessed at the Men’s County Jail. They, in turn, asked questions.  They looked at me very curiously, peering over their lecture.

One of them had read the Richard Rushfield piece in the LA Weekly and quoted it.

I left down town, the fierce heat, drove over to Robby’s house and fell asleep on his sofa. I found it all very exhausting.

On Saturday I went to Honor Fraser‘s galleryon La Cienega to see the hightly anticipated Kenny Scharf show. He was in fine spirits. Showing good new work, performance art by Ann Magnuson and a great crowd.

Sam McEwan flew from London. We are all looking old….apart from Honor who just looks more wonderful and chic…wearing Alaia.

“Hodgepodge,” featured paintings, sculptures, and a Cosmic Cavern installation.

The centerpiece, a gaudy customized Cadillac served as Ann Magnuson’s stage for her performance work “Finism”.

First performed in 1984 the piece was fresh, enticing and, of course, very funny.

I liked the picnic table with an atomic mushroom cloud exploding from it that forms a parasol.

“Hodgepodge” runs until May 19.

Wish I hadn’t sold my Scharf. What a moron I am.

Then, rather amazingly, I bumped into Marius Bercea the artist showing next door at the Francois Ghebaly Gallery.  He reminded me that we had met at the Cluj Film Festival in Romania a decade ago.

He was just a kid who took me back to his studio.

I remember being impressed, writing about him in my diary, now look at him. We sat outside the gallery and smoked cigarettes and ate doughnuts off the Cadillac parked at the back of the Scharf show.

Lunch with Mike Manning, his super smart sexy boy friend and Fielder. Mike has tiny eyebrows.

Thankfully, since my AA Big Book burning tirade most of my AA friends have unfriended me on FaceBook saving me the time and effort. I think my blog has caused some amusement and consternation…judging by the number of people reading it. Fuck AA LA.

I’ll write at length some other time about my years in LA AA, the cult with a smiley face.

Look at the gorgeous things from the Out of The Box Collective vegetable delivery. The spring flower box. Delicious.

Categories
Gay

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.

Categories
Fashion Gay

Beige

Day after day the sun shines and the people shed their winter clothes revealing their creamy skin.  The dog and I traverse the city, traveling from one exciting assignation to another.  Yesterday was no exception.

I woke early helping Dan with his luggage.  He is off to LA until Wednesday.  I really don’t like it when he leaves.  We get closer and closer.  He is kind, generous and appreciative.  We are the same age.  Our perspective is very similar.

I have been thinking a great deal about how I am going to spend the summer.  I continue to write my film.  Bumped into Paul Haggis yesterday who asked about my film.  He loved the story…as most people do.

Remember holding his Oscar at the Crash party at the Chateau Marmont wishing it had been mine?

I couldn’t go back to bed after Dan left so I walked the dog around the deserted East Village until I bumped into a young friend of mine.  A yoga teacher.  We drank coffee and ate pain au chocolate at Ost on Avenue A.  He is the sweetest young man.  Looks directly into your soul.

We are going to spend the day together tomorrow.

Met Lady Rizo for lunch (chopped salad) then we took a cab to my lawyer on Wall Street.  Driving the West Side Highway we passed office workers taking their lunch walking the water front.   A brief moment in the sun.

I had to sign a bunch of papers.  I signed them whilst Rizo bought us ice creams.  As we were in an unknown part of town we decided to explore and ended up in a tiny Italian Deli eating profiteroles and singing show tunes out loud.  She has a hugely exciting gig in June.  In the mean time come see her perform on May 20th at Joe’s Pub.

Took Subway (I never do) back home and rested for an hour.  Met Rizo’s friend Gilly on the corner of Tenth and A just as a skateboarder was nearly run down in front of our very eyes.   He escaped death by jumping over the hood of the car.

My second ‘scene’ for the ‘A’ List. Austin is throwing a ‘party’ at this cavernous restaurant called Almond.  It seemed designed for me to explain why Derek Lloyd Saathoff had wanted me to be his ‘Mister Big’.

I was uncharacteristically nervous meeting the other cast members.  They are all very charming.

Obviously they have their on-screen personalities.

TJ is very ebullient when the cameras are on.  Thrown directly into the ‘A’ List mix, TJ positioned me like an on set director and asked acerbic questions and about me and Derek.  I came clean.  He was quite strident.  Off camera he is affectionate and warm.  They all are.

Reichen Lehmkuhl seemed reticent and quiet.  He has a troubled soul.  Very beautiful, great story, gentle.  I liked him.  His brother lives very close to me in Malibu.   I spent the most time chatting with him.  We talked a great deal about how one can get ones needs met in a relationship.  I told him The Penguin story as my very own reality cast member cautionary tale.

Crazed fans who think you are what you are not.

We talked about how we are edited, how one is perceived.  The reality and the fantasy of ones on-screen and off-screen persona.

I really enjoyed meeting Ryan the salon owner.   Blond, sweet-natured and very genuine.

This is their second season.  They have become very adept performers.

I have no idea if I will ever see any of them ever again.

Stephen joined us and Rizo, Gilly and I ate dinner at Westville.  I bought The Little Dog a chicken breast as he had been so good all day.

Tonight is the very last night of Beige the long running weekly party held at The Bowery Bar.  It must be twenty years old.  I went there first when I was still drinking so it must be ancient.  Remember dragging Joe there?  I think he enjoyed it despite his protestations.  I will be there tonight if anyone wants to serve papers.  Zach said, “Nobody gets laid at Beige.”  which was never my experience.

I have had amazing Tuesday nights on The Bowery with Boy George, Issie Blow and Leigh Bowery.

I remember staying at The Mercer and dragging a drunk straight boy back from Beige for oral gratification.  Oh God, that was many years ago.  I remember…do you?

Categories
Travel

Big Breakfast

Veselka, eating a huge breakfast and trying to write.  Trying to tie up loose ends.  Trying to make sense of everything here.

Now that I am here.

It’s been so cold.  Where’s my beach in the sun when I need it?

Last night I went to the theatre with Amelia.  The Soho Rep below Canal.

Dinner after the show at Macao Trading Co. paid for, very kindly, by the owners.

The theatre show was called Jomama Jones: Radiate.  Jomama (drag queen) is a returning seventies singing sensation.

Glittering costumes, huge fro.  Jomama lives in exile in Switzerland because she feels alienated from her mother land.

When asked to return to perform by a new generation of fans she agrees.  The show is that show.  It was really beautifully conceived.  Great set and costumes…amazing music.   Beautifully performed.

The story really worked except the end which was a bit mawkish and sophomoric.  Even so, probably the best fringe theatre show I had ever seen in NYC excepting Weimar New York…which I ended up producing in LA.  The Green Door never ever paid us for putting on that show.

My favorite part of  Jomama Jones Radiate was when she described how she fell from grace.  When the record execs heard her angry political ‘new’ album…”They told me to relax!  They told me to relax my lyrics, my performance and…my hair.”  When she refused her record label let her go.

Lady Rizo and I were invited up on stage to dance.  It was quite liberating to do so in front of a packed house.  Loved it.

Spent today receiving friends.  Getting into it.  Selling art.  Going to make my movie.

Categories
Rehab

Elsie de Witt and the Bad Baby

One of the unseen moments in Sex Rehab included our crafting in clay what our sex addiction looked like.   The monster inside.  Mine was a fragile baby.  So fragile in fact that it’s head fell off the day after we made them.

The baby is somewhere in the house but I can’t find it.  When I find it I will take a picture of it and post it here.

The idea of the bad baby stems from something my step-father once said to me, that I was a ‘bad baby’.  Of course that’s absurd isn’t it?  A distressed baby maybe but not bad?

One of my performance pieces was called Bad Baby.  The mother in the performance lived in the fridge.

As for Elsie de Witt?  Well, she’s a character that I invented with Lady Rizo during one of our epic two-hour putting the world to rights telephone calls.  Elsie is the great chantreuse, the over stuffed opera singer who resides within..as well as the bad baby who also inhabits my currently very thin frame.   The dramatic and dynamic Elsie and the screaming baby.

Finally received some of the money that JB owes me so in a gesture of good will I took down his full name in my blog.   His spidery, fragile hand writing all over the cheque softened my heart.  Now all he has to do is send the rest.  I wrote to him offering to reduce the amount of money he owes me if he would just show willing and send it.

 

Bad Baby made in Sex Rehab

As JB fulfills his obligation to me I feel myself detaching from him in a positive way.  He has held on for too long by owing me this cash.

I wrote him a conciliatory note urging him to send the rest of the money.   I imagine that he wants to go to court and fight and that is his prerogative but all this will achieve is yet another cataclysmic collision.  I imagine that he is being urged on by his new gay friends who never like to take any responsibility for anything.  His new cheerleading team after I was dismissed.

Occasionally they write to me.  His new friends.  It’s funny.

So much more is happening in my life than you can imagine but I cannot write it.   I don’t want to jinx potential job opportunities, burgeoning romances.  I am loathed to write even the silly things..like the spa in my garden that I have renovated and is now operational.  It’s the oddest contraption.  Heated by an ingenious wood burning stove which almost boils the water like a huge kettle.  A friend and I sat in it last night under the stars, looking out over the ocean lit by the full moon.

Willie, as he is predisposed, stole my friend’s sock.

Do I at moments like this wish that it was JB in the spa?  Well, less so.   Those are indeed moments that should be shared with a lover.  He had ceased to be my lover, to be my one and only long before we ever left for France.  He was just pretending to my lover.  I felt the disconnection.  Knowing that he probably already had someone else to fixate on.

I realize now that he had already met somebody else and simply came to France because he could.

Yesterday I went to therapy for the first time in ages.  The theme was integrity and the others mused upon the lies they had told to wives and co-workers..yet to me a lie is subjective and we live in lying times.   The truth is subjective.  As I have said before,  exponentially the more honest one becomes the more isolated you feel.  One can only hope to do the right thing by those we share our time.  That’s all.  If we can’t or don’t?  Well, we make our amends.

JB was incensed that I lied to the Ferry people in Calais to get us all on board without incident after they told me that Lil’ Dog’s carrying case was made of the wrong material.  If I had told the truth at that moment it would have meant taking a cab into Calais Ville buying the correct carrying case.  This exercise in honesty would have cost a fortune and we would have missed endless ferries and dinner with Georgina in Whitstable.

He used that as an example of how I always told lies.

Lying about a dog’s carrying case and cheating on someone for years seem like two very different kinds of lie.  One expedites an unnessessary situation the other steals a soul.  Perhaps he couldn’t see the difference?

Naturally there is a philosophical conundrum for a man who says, “I always tell lies.”

I learned so much from JB about myself and others.  I learned a great deal about gay men.  Their attitude toward him for instance.  That he had no option but to behave as he did.

At the beginning, when I met him and he came out to me, we started flirting, sex camming etc.  I knew immediately that it was wrong to do what he was doing to her and as I reread emails within a few days of his coming out to me I was urging him to get honest.

I was conflicted about his coming out as we became closer.

It suited me that he was with her because I knew where he was at night.  I knew that he was mine.  I knew that the moment he was free of her he would be just like all the rest.

Everyday this JB stuff gets better in my head.  As I sift through every detail.  As I attempt falteringly to detatch with love rather than hate.

Categories
Malibu

He Deserved It

Sunday, forgot to tell you,  chatted with Lady Rizo.  I love her so much.  The call lasted all the way from West Hollywood to the PCH…giggling and analysing.

Spent the larger part of this morning in bed skyping with Tim Willis whose book about Nigel Dempster hits the shelves today in the UK.

Dempster was an old-fashioned gossip columnist who worked for the Daily Mail and the satirical rag Private Eye.

When I was a small boy living in Stanley Road, Whitstable I used to just love reading his column.  A window into another altogether more exciting world.  A world with which my Mother was very familiar from her days working as a waitress in the Carlton Club.

I was secretly shocked and delighted by his salacious Royal gossip.  Dempster’s code name for the Queen when he wrote about her in Private Eye: Brenda.

I think more than anyone it was he who inspired prepubescent me to search out the fun-loving aristocrat and the demi-monde.  I alluded to him at the beginning of my film AKA.

Years later he wrote about me unfavourably after I was caught pretending to be ‘one of them’.

Nigel Dempster and the Death of Discretion published by Short Books.  Buy it.

Today I am strangely at peace with myself.  It’s been this way more often than not these past few days.  I have no idea why.  I guess because I am no longer in love.  No longer pining.  No longer focused on another.  I am listening to Copeland, majestic strings elevating the view, the moment..this life!

Two good friends called for advice.  Isn’t that strange?  I can help others when I tend not to be able to help myself.

Now that my fantasy of loving another has been safely stowed in the overhead compartment or under the seat in front of me I can concentrate on what I do best.  Dreaming.  The dream of love is so much better than the reality.  Good God it is so exhausting being in love.  So consuming.  Being in hate can be just as tiring.  Thankfully I am neither.

I have named the lil maggot on my ball.  A pain in the balls.  I have a picture of my tumor.  I will put it up when I can.

Categories
Dogs Gay Hollywood Malibu Travel

Little Dog? We eat those in our country..

Amelia (Lady Rizo)

Just spilled water all over my lap top which after a few shakes is now working again.  So clumsy today.  All over the place.

Firstly, I have to tell you THIS:  The NYC heat is frying my brain.

Now, I must tell you this:

I have been sitting on/keeping from you an insane and shocking moment the past couple of months.  I just didn’t know how or if I should even mention it.

One of my freaky Hollywood neighbors text me after we had dinner before I left California asking if I had ever ‘been intimate with the little dog?’ it was NOT a joke.

He intimated that he had ‘feelings’ for his kitten.

I really didn’t know what to do.

I urged him to get help.

This is just one of the many reasons I don’t want to go back to LA.  I missed my flight – overslept.  Had to buy another ticket.  It’s all the same.  There must be more insane/lonely/desperate people per square mile in LA than any other city in the USA.

I know that this might sound a bit racist but every time a Korean looks at the little dog I wonder if they are thinking what sauce they would eat him with.  Once, outside the Mud Cafe on 9th a Korean told me with a smug smile that she could not understand our absurd preoccupation with an animal that they grill.

Saw the Kids are Alright yesterday evening with Amelia.  We had a lovely lunch in Williamsburg.  We made plans after her genius performance at Joe’s Pub the previous night.  I had to walk over the boiling hot Williamsburg Bridge as it was unexpectedly closed to traffic.  Walking over the bridge made it all the more exciting adventure.

After our lovely lunch in Williamsburg– omelets and watermelon/mint juice we, Amelia and I hunted the shops for exciting sale items.  I bought socks and underwear at the 70% off Paul Smith Shop.

This is the performance from the night before:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtbfBrHH3KU]

 

Saw Amelia perform Lady Rizo with Jake.  He loved the show.

Afterwards we hung with Amelia and her husband at a small bar on Lafayette.

The following afternoon me and Jake bid our adieu.  I have absolutely no idea if or when we will see each other ever again.  We have not made plans.  We will see each other if it feels right I suppose.

Last night, the streets were boiling hot and humid.  At night the thunder, lightning and torrential rain cool everything down for a few glorious moments.

Anyway, The Kids are Alright: Annette Benning is marvelous in Lisa’s movie.  A totally convincing alcoholic dyke.   The other performances were wonderful too but Benning’s was by far my favorite..and there again was Mia Wasikowska!  Our Whitstable lunch condiment.  I assume she is well on her way to getting an Oscar, possibly next year?

Julianne Moore lacked control in A Single Man, her talent all over the place like a prolapsed labia.   Compare that asinine performance with the very genuine, tight..measured performance in the Kids Are Alright.  I would have preferred Olivia Williams of course but who the hell wouldn’t?

My ONLY gripe with the movie was the wholly unresolved issue of Ruffalo’s character who just vanished in a puff of metrosexual angst, ferociously seen off by Benning’s well observed impression of an alpha male.  Unfairly berating Ruffalo on her doorstep, telling him that he was an ‘interloper’.

He was the sperm donor.  After all they had been through, he should have been included in the family at the end of the movie.  The kids wanted a relationship with him.  It seemed unfair and churlish to jettison his character..although probably quite realistic.  After all, it was they that contacted him.  Moore who seduced him, Benning who suggested the ill-fated dinner at his house etc. etc.

I wish, when I had found my real dad he had been like Mark Ruffalo rather than the lying villain on offer.

Somebody suggested that if it had been a straight couple who had cheated with a surrogate mother..would the mother be part of the family?  Well,  if the kids wanted her..I suppose so.  It posed many interesting and complex questions about what family means.   What it could mean.

I loved everything about this exquisitely crafted movie but one thing above everything else totally blew me away:  all of the characters took turns being the persecutor/rescuer/victim.  Genius.  There was so much at stake for all of them.

Saturday after the movie met Ian at Soho House NYC, which was jammed with gays.  One particularly drunk, gay in swim short was making a total fool of himself.  He should have been chucked out but everyone was a bit scared of the repercussions I think.  Ate pork chops.  Took cab to The Phoenix, a gay bar in East Village.  Drank sickly diet coke.  Met 20-year-old Persian boy.  Nice for the ego.

This morning I saw Mike Z, a friend from LA, at the park whilst walking our dogs.  Now I am waiting on him to come pick me up for lunch.  He may forget.  I am really hungry.  Ravenous.

Ended up eating polish sausage on my own.  Never trust a drinker to do what they agree to do.

Busy week ahead.  No idea what’s in store.  All I know is that once I get home I am going directly to the new road to see it being built.  I can’t wait.