HO HO HO

December 22, 2004 Evening

Well I’ve found an advantage to my difficult wake-ups and falling asleeps. They ground me after these days that have been so intense and almost magical, and quiet the lurking fear that maybe I’m just having a series of manic episodes. It’s been that intense. But really quite wonderful.

After this morning’s blog entry, I went to lunch with my friend Mark, and we had one of the best conversations we have ever had, and in fact it was up there in the good lunch conversations I’ve ever had period. He’s just a delight. And the gazpacho at "Le Pain Quotidien" is among the best I’ve ever had. (I used to be a connoisseur of Bloody Marys. I now officially declare a switch of allegiance to Gazpacho. In my new vocation, I intend to travel the world in search of the best of them, and to report my findings faithfully.)

Then I walked to a newsstand to buy him a pack of cigarettes (really, he couldn’t leave the showroom where he works) and a beautiful woman was buying Elle, Decorator, Vogue, House & Garden etc. I said to her (thinking of a scene in Vera Drake) "you’ll be like one of those rich British woman sitting on their couches, just reading through a magazine" and she laughed and said that she was looking for decorating ideas. I told her that my friend ran this showroom down the street and was also a great interior designer. I share this story not to show off my networking skills, but to point out a complete difference in the way in which I am viewing the world. Everything is an opportunity, and it’s okay to talk to strangers! (It goes both ways. On the bus, the other day, a complete stranger—Mr. Milquetoast incarnate--came up to me and asked me to make movies with him. Thinking it a come on, I said "Erotic?" And he said: "No. I just need someone to make films with me" I told him "well sorry, I’m moving to Albuquerque" and he said "Oops this is my stop!" and got off. Poor, lost soul. If you want to ask a stranger to make movies in this town, you better be riding a Jaguar, not the 217 Bus.)

Any way, I walked along, looking at everything with a fresh conscious eye. I have to say, one cliché about L.A. is true. This is the land of beautiful people. They are all over the place! I resolved to do something about this, and passed "Kenny’s Barber Shop," which, I was told by the Moldavian barber as I settled into the chair, has been there since 1947. Think of the history! Whose famous and infamous butts had graced that very same plush red leather? Whether it was the offer of a massage from my sister I had declined, or the inspiration of Sam Goldwyn or Al Capone doing the same, after my most excellent haircut, I found myself saying "yes" to the first barber’s shave of my life.

First the hot towels, then the lather, then the shave, and the cream, and the towel and the facial massage. All to the playing of Bailaika Disco! OH HEAVEN! (I had to keep reminding myself, though to enjoy the moment, and stop wondering how I was going to word the blogging of it! But I did, I did!) Anyway, thanks Sandra, and I saved you $40. The poor man’s massage, and I walked outta there singing "Voinka Droi" (the remix) and feeling like a million bucks! Beautiful people, HA! I’ll show them all!

When I walked in the door the phone rang and it was, finally, D., the addressee of "Surviving Rob." He had not read the blog entry yet, but I think by the time we finished talking an hour and a half later, I had pretty much covered it. I just heard from his (still delightful, and assumedly still handsome—but not as handsome as me after the shave!) nephew, who heard from D. The conversation may have done some good, it certainly did no harm.

I am not the first to observe that in life you often need to do the work, and let go of the results. I also remember that there are always turning points, if sometimes only in retrospect. I hope this will turn out to be one for him.

I’ve had so many turning points in the past week (and yes, I do note that they coincide with me going to meetings every day-including one tonight) I can barely see straight. Although seeing "straight" has never been my strong point. [INSERT ANNOYING SMILEY FACE EMOTICON].

I just got a call from another friend telling me I’ve got a ride to Union Station tomorrow night. I may not get to the blog tomorrow, as I have to get my pass from the P.O. in the morning, then run back here and pack and clean up. Hell, I may not even blog till after Christmas, but you all will probably be too smashed on eggnog to notice (except for the-you-know-who’s-and-I’m-an-alcoholic’s among you).

I leave you with the short Christmas anecdote, to chuckle over as my train goes clickety-clack across the Arizona desert. On my way to a meeting last night (when I was still one of the Unbeautiful, Unfacially-massaged People), I passed a homeless black woman with enormous breasts pushing her shopping cart. She stopped and said "Hey, Gorgeous!"

I was so grateful I immediately thrust a dollar in her hand.

HO HO HO (Me, not her.)

MCO 2004