I should have called this post: Pre-Existing Condition.
I have always been embarrassed by my piles. Hemorrhoids. I have always had them. Ever since I can remember. Thank God I was never a bottom.
Whilst the rest of the world looks on in horror at the inevitable nuclear meltdown in northern Japan, the brutal attacks on protestors by the Bahrainian police force, the Libyan civil war I spent this evening with a complete stranger from the internet who arrived at my home with a bag of groceries and cooked me dinner.
Whilst he did that: I fainted. Very, very Jayne Eyre of me.
The upshot being that I badly bruised my back on the fucking chair Michael Temple made for me. The chair looks nice but it’s a FUCKING DEATH TRAP.
That’s what we do in LA. Strangers come to our mountain top mansions and prepare Penne Carbonara. I served coffee in delicate Sevres coffee cups. The dog was FREAKED OUT when I fell over. He ran away from me when I tried to placate him.
This morning Charles left in his neat black suit and freshly pressed shirt and tie. He looked so sweet. I had film stuff to do after he left. After a few film related conversations on the telephone I walked to the PCH. All the way there and all the way back. He chased many ground squirrels.
I sold some art.
This afternoon I watched Sophia Coppola‘s film Somewhere. I really enjoyed it. The language and locations of our Hollywood lives. Too many afternoons floating on the pool, too many hasty hook ups. Too many facile conversations. Too many text messages from people who either want to fuck you or fuck you over. Not enough substance. Set against a back drop of elegant hotels with fancy toys to play with.
I once lived in the Chateau Marmont for a month. I moved there when the mountain burned. I have spent many hours there making new friends.
I remain isolated.
Most of us are isolated here. However successful we are or we are not. However many parties we are/are not attending, however ‘connected’ we are.
Sitting around.
Waiting for a great idea.
So now the next great idea has come upon me and I have convinced others to work with to make a dream come true. Suddenly this town makes sense.
Los Angeles, oh you strange and terrible place.
The christian twins are coming to stay. The beautiful, twenty-year-old twins are coming to live with me at the house, live at the house whilst I am in NYC. When they return from Utah. My born again beauties.
I ate the pasta/caprese salad/garlic bread and he left soon after we finished our coffee to my strange, secluded mountain top life.
He was perfectly nice.
The bruise on my back is worth photographing.
