Archives for posts with tag: Larry King

Spent yesterday feeling very spirited and positive.  Things just got better and better.

Getting out of the house helps tremendously.

My Palisades 7am AA meeting set the tone for the rest of the day.  This, coupled with my no longer wearing the CLOAK OF RESENTMENT! cast off a couple of days earlier had the effect of opening my ears to the nourishing effects of a good AA meeting.

It was like taking a psychic shower.

Cleansing and salubrious.

The Bad Baby sleeps.

When I got home after my meeting I had totally forgotten that I was meant to be meeting another Manhunt man in Venice.  I dashed down the hill.  Manhunt Date No.11:  Chubby and sweet but not my cup of tea.

Whilst at breakfast I received a call from a member of my Wednesday meeting who said that my particularly violent share this past Wednesday morning had upset him and others.  Well, if we can’t talk honestly about our feelings in therapy where can we?

The ongoing effects of early abuse continues.  Wretched feelings of powerlessness.  The furies.  I talked about it graphically.   John pointed out correctly that part of why JB and I had such a connection was our master and servant…S&M…me firery…him timid arrangement.   There were indeed elements of abusive behavior carried on in our relationship that I had learned from my step-father.

I become him when the other demands it.

My hand on the back of his neck when we were driving is all at once erotic and controlling.  A man who needs a firm hand.   I attract this often into my life.

I can feel his soft skin on my fingers.  The soft hair on the back of his neck.  Let me remember these perfect moments.  There are plenty more but it’s still hard to remember them.   His birthday in NYC.  Jane Hotel.  Watching him walk.  Catching his hand in mine.  Let me remember what was good.  Thank you.

Last night!

Met J & J at SHLA for the Robert Evans screening of The Kid Stays in The Picture.  I sat with Robert DuPont at the back of the plush new Soho House screening room.  Ms DuPont was dressed as Warhol for Nikki Haskell’s Halloween party held at Truesdale.  It was all a great deal of fun.  Ashley introduced Evans and the film.  After the credits rolled Larry King asked Robert Evans the kind of questions he is famous for.  Evans reminisced about Larry Olivier, Dustin Hoffman and his wife Ali McGraw.  He talked movingly about how she was still his friend even though she was a ‘bohemian’.  We were all in awe.  He described in the film and in the room how he lost the only woman he had ever truly loved.  It brought a tear to my wrinkled eye.

A passionate, wonderful man.

Bold Facers in attendance.   Lots of them.  Bumped into Michel Comte who, even though I really like him and his wife, can be a vapid contrarian.   He owns the most beautiful house in LA by far.

There was a huge buzz in the club after the screening.

What a life!

I came away feeling energized, inspired, heady.  Nobody is going to stop me from making this next film.  Nobody.

For those of us who have had wonder, delight and great triumphs early in life nothing can be bettered or compared.

I am listening to sad songs.

I can listen to a sad song one of two ways.   I can feel miserable about the past or accepting of the past.  As I listen to moody music this morning I have a smile on my ugly mug.   Remembering all that was good.

Let’s remember the scene in our romantic movie.  A huge wide shot of the sea, panning toward 4 men and a little dog.  Let’s remember walking from Adam’s Mother’s house after he took the picture I now use as my blog Gravatar.  Walking from Seasalter to Whitstable along the shingle beach with JB, Barry, Adam and The Little Dog.  The sun shining, taking a route I had taken for half a century.  With a man I loved.  One of the men looks back at the other and they exchange a glance that only lovers know…

Screening tonight and Halloween parties all weekend.  Then…London.

Cloud over Route 66

I managed to stay in my bed until 6am.  Winter finally arrived in LA and there were flurries of snow in Malibu.    The city now has a backdrop of snow-covered mountains.

Feeling fractured today.  Balls and lower back still aching.  Don’t trust doctors.  Especially here where they just want your money.  Hail socialized medicine!

I finally watched episode 6 of Sex Rehab.  Kari Ann continuing to provide a rich seam for the producers to mine, almost not worth commenting on until Selma’s dismissal.  The facts are:  Kari Ann failed every one of the mandatory drug tests and was not thrown out of the Pasadena Recovery Center.   Active drug users are not allowed to stay in Rehab because they are actively using drugs!  The excuse for the meth found in her pee was that she was also taking prescription medication that may have made her test positive.  So, whilst the ‘rules’ applied to Selma they did not apply to Kari Ann.  Kari Ann’s behavior would never have been tolerated in any regular rehab facility.   Selma should not have been provoked daily by the antics of a known drug user in the facility.  Selma, in my opinion, was thrown under the bus for the sake of MORE drama.  Disturbingly, both Drew and Jill seemed complicit with the producers rather than with us the patients.  After Selma’s firing was aired the attitude within the community of recovering men and women toward the show changed considerably, in fact, Sex Rehab lost a great deal of credibility and for that I am very sorry.

Since the New York Times guy interviewed me I am feeling more suspicious and less warm toward the Producers of Sex Rehab.  Whilst I feel that I am being fairly represented, albeit not chronologically, others are not.

Grand Canyon Chic

As for James all I have to say about James is that you witnessed an ‘incident’ between us.  After our spat we all got on very well.  I taught him to knit, went to his house, have been in contact since.  The ‘incident’ between Jenny and James happened 5 days after we arrived in rehab.  Most viewers fail to realize that the show was shot 7 months ago, we were in the facility for 3 weeks and that there are 504 hours of real time shot on 20 cameras squeezed into 344 minutes of TV.  You see only a fraction of the work, interaction, activities, etc. etc.   It takes months to edit a show like Sex Rehab.  The project ping pongs from Producer to Network until the amorphous ‘show’ takes shape planished by the tiny suggestions, remarks and notes of all the concerned parties.

As a filmmaker would I have edited it differently?  Of course I would!  As a Brit I am probably more ponderous than most Americans.  We like a slower pace; we like to ‘live’ with the characters.  Along with millions of other fellow Brits I used to watch the Big Brother contestants sleep at night.  It was reassuring.

I promised Luna that I would take her to Runyon today.  Today is a perfect day for a long walk.  Cool, bright, views as far as Palos Verdes.   The little dog is in pain-his dewclaw all swollen and pink.  Luna in on my lap watching me type.

Gracelands Bus Driver and Pink Umbrella

For those of you who may think that I have not explored my adopted country I want you to know that I have driven four times across the United States from LA to NYC and back again.  I took both the southern and the northern routes. I spent time in New Mexico, Tennessee, West Virginia, Texas, Connecticut, Florida, and Mississippi.   I particularly liked Memphis.   I was stunned by the Memphis neighborhoods that had a church on every corner.  In Arizona I marveled at the snow covered Grand Canyon. I listened to folk tell their stories and wrote them down for a novel that will probably never be written.  I wanted, briefly, to retire to Austin.  I gawped at the massive crosses on the interstate highways, I ate barbeque, catfish and chicken fried steak and scoffed at the provincial cuisine.  My eyes widened when I saw the black men in Tampa Florida who all looked like stately Massai warriors.  I smuggled the dogs into non-pet friendly hotels and was glad that I drove in the winter rather than the summer.

I have lived in your country for 5 years now and I have loved  your warm welcome however London is calling me.  It is charming me, convincing me to come home.   I am committed to LA for the next six months then I really must be moving on.

By the way, this post should have been called, Fuck you Larry King!  as yesterday we were bumped from appearing on his show-we were meant to be appearing on Friday.  Amanda Knox trumped us.  Damn you Amanda Knox.  Damn you.

Interstate barbeque Memphis