Archives for posts with tag: Datura

My 500th Blog!

Such delight and disdain it has caused.  Such heartache and joy!   Thanks readers.  Thanks.

Duncan x

There’s almost too much going on inside and outside of my head.

Firstly, the garden.  Every day for the past few weeks I have worked in the garden.  Pulling tons (literally) of weeds and leaves out of the flower beds.  Reclaiming the paths.  Defending the vegetables from the gophers and rabbits.

I have planted Datura and Hibiscus.   Salvia, basil, onions, beans and tomatoes.

A bumper crop of plums this year!

For the first time in 4 years I managed to get to them before the birds.

Have hooked up a pump to the spring water reservoir.  It’s located at the bottom of the garden, now watering parts of the estate I can’t usually justify irrigating with expensive, potable water.

The previous owner built the two huge tanks.  Until last week I just hadn’t gotten around to buying the small, inexpensive pump.  Absurd isn’t it?

Having this free supply of water means that I can clear part of the garden and lay turf which in any other situation would be immoral, irresponsible.

Everything in a tropical garden has spikes or thorns or needles.  My hands are cut to ribbons.  Robbie has been here twice this week helping me and his arms and legs, poor thing, are shredded too.

Dinner last night with Anna and Jeff at Nobu in Malibu.

Apparently I was mentioned in passing by Derek in the ‘A’ List last night.  I can’t imagine that I will escape lightly from this situation.  I am perfectly sure my posing as the ‘Mister Big’ will make me the laughing-stock of Gay New York.

Whatever.

The weather in Malibu is perfect.  Hot as hell in the sun but a delicious sea breeze blowing onshore.

The crows are hunting chicks.  They bombard the trees. Tiny dead chicks on the paths.  So sad.

I took the picture at the head of the post last weekend at the Piette’s.   Their house is soooo depressing.  Even though it’s located on the lake and the twins are living there now.  It’s so dark inside at night.  Gloomy.

You know what?  I should be getting on with something else.  I should be leaping all over my novel.  I should be writing the film.  You know what it’s about don’t you?

Two gay men want a baby but end up with an old man instead.

This was one of the videos Charlie and I shot when we were researching our film.

Trans Alexis, The Scarlet Empress, must be in her 80′s.  She was at Triangle House, a home for elderly gays and lesbians in Hollywood.  Getting old is a pain in the ass for everyone but elderly gays seem to find it particularly difficult.  Most of the men and women at Triangle House have endured homelessness.  Old age, as they say, is not for the faint hearted.

Lesbians, apparently, don’t seem to end up so isolated but gay men do.  Lesbians are often dialed into an extended family of other lesbians and are less ageist.

Anyway, I’ll write more about Alexis and our film which maybe should be a documentary.

I don’t know.

The elder gays we met were really quite wonderful.  The gay men we met who had surrogate children or were going through the surrogacy process were less wonderful.  Downright awful in fact.

Robby is on his way over to help me in the garden.

Is Toby right?  Do I live in the past?  Am I addicted to what was rather than what is or what could be?  Fuck.  Maybe he’s right?

Amy Winehouse is dead.  It comes as no surprise.  She was an out of control drug addict and alcoholic.  She dies alone.  She died an addict.  I am sorry for her family.  It is always the family that has to pick up the pieces and go on living.  Amy did not choose life.  She sneered at the prospect.  She thought she could get away with a dance with death.  She failed.

I will remember her like this:

Phew. I am in Malibu. It is hot and windy.  Luna has vanished but she always returns, there are three acres for her to explore. The little dog likes to stay within a few feet of me; he has found his favorite patch of sunny carpet overlooking the property. The sea is sparkling in the distance and the palm trees glisten like cellophane in the mid-day sun. I think that these are the Santa Ana winds, my eyes are burning and I am thirsty-desert thirsty.

Luna just returned from her garden adventure, skipping up the path.

I wish I could accurately record the beauty of this place for you. Looking down at the valley below, it feels up here like a Tuscan hill fort or a Chateau overlooking the Cote d’Azure. Listen to the humming birds, smell the sweet Datura trees and the giant honeysuckle. Nasturtiums drift from the top to the bottom of the property. Huge succulents; agaves, aloe and euphorbia bloom at this time of year. Great orange spikes of alien flowers. I wish you were here.

Sadly, this may be my last winter in Malibu. The house is FOR SALE and I want to leave by the end of June. You know where I’m off to.

I started today in Noah’s bagels on San Vicente drinking a vast cup of coffee when a man approached me and asked if Cari Ann was OK. I told him that she was. It is still surprising to me when total strangers know who I am.

Yesterday I spent time chatting with my friends in New Jersey and Charlotte NC. I had dinner with Emily and helped her assemble her bed and watched Sex Rehab with her and the dogs.

Yesterday’s Sex Rehab was nothing like I expected. Judging by what was tweeted and commented earlier in the day I thought you all had seen what had really happened. To tell you the truth I was much ruder to that trainer than they showed. When I said I had a melt down I really did MELT. What you didn’t see was exactly who would catch the full force of my Anthony wrath. It certainly wasn’t smelly trainer lady.

A really beautiful camera assistant came to work one day with his jeans worn low revealing his perfect butt. He was a terrible trigger for me. I had a ghastly crush on him. They told him to pull his pants up but he was always letting them slip back down..

So, the meltdown referred to last night on the show was not with camel toe trainer lady but aimed at the camera assistant. I yelled for production to get rid of him. “And you can get rid of that!” I screamed at the poor boy- he was only doing his job. His ass was driving me insane in the same way Phil was being driven bonkers by Cari-Ann’s ass hanging out of her..out of her? Out of her. We were all so sexually charged by the second week of Sex Rehab; feelings were violently erupting all over the place.

BTW I apologized to the camera assistant and the Rehab tech.

I really loved episode 5.

Like many people, watching Jill’s ‘smile’ work with Cari Ann moved me to tears. Carri-Ann was a tough nut to crack. I was also quite teary when I saw my therapy revelation with Dr John Seeley. That was the first time I had been introduced to the idea of retraumatization and it made perfect, astounding sense. It was the smoking gun. It was the moment for which I had waited too many years.

That perfect realization for all to see and the anger revelation were two moments that I will take to my grave; they would irrevocably change my life. These insights had immediate effect on me. From that moment on I would no longer let Anthony defend me and I would always be aware of exactly what I was doing every time I entered that dangerous sexual bubble that leads to retraumatization.

OK. A little controversy:

There has been some debate/consternation on these pages about my views on the ‘politics of obesity’.

As with sex we need always to have a healthy relationship with food. As sex addicts we hold onto our old sexual behaviors as over eaters hold onto theirs. There is a huge amount of entitlement connected to sexually addictive behaviors. I assume, from what is posted here, that this entitlement may apply to over eaters.

Firstly let me tell you that I have a huge compassion for those of you who wrestle with your weight and the consumption of food. However, let me make my point once again:

The purchase of healthy food in the USA is restricted to the wealthy, urban elite. In countries where rich and poor shop at the same markets, where all produce is democratized there is little or no obesity.

Where processed food is sold cheaply to the poor or the poor are not educated to buy what may be considered healthy food or the poor cannot afford healthy food and forced to eat processed food-then there are higher incidences of obesity.

Freedom of choice can only exist where there is real choice and where freedom is respected. If I live twenty miles outside Albuquerque and all I have to choose between at the local strip mall is a Super Market full of processed food and a Subway..I have no choice. I cannot make healthy decisions. My freedoms are restricted. This also applies to religion, sexuality and education.

Both ‘sexual politics’ and the ‘politics of sustenance’ are in many ways very similar.

So, let me repeat this unpalatable truth: people are kept enslaved by debt, obesity, ignorance, fear and shame-all of which are endemic in the USA right here, right now. Educated people, hungry people, fearless people, shameless people are difficult to control.

In my opinion the ruling elite of the USA did not ditch slavery in 1865 they simply enslaved everyone else. To break the shackles of your slave master: lose weight, get educated, get out of debt and stop believing in a damning God.

BTW I am 54 days sexually sober..

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