Stayed over at the Lake House. Woke early. Made coffee. Fed Max.
Two sets of novel notes arrived yesterday…both were extremely promising. One from the publisher in London and the other from my friend who teaches at NYU. Very positive. I am still undecided about the end. Wish I could write about it without spoiling it. Something good is finally emerging from my time with him.
That pustulent, suppurating, festering, odious, limited…ugly little man.
Something beautiful is being born. From out of the shadows I will make something glorious! Eh up lad. Where there’s muck there’s brass.
Today I am in pursuit of beauty! In all its many forms. A row of freshly planted melons. A perfect cup of tea. A beautiful penis.
I have a friend on FB who takes the most beautiful photographs and yesterday he shared a picture of Thomas Heatherwick‘s Beach Cafe at dusk. Too perfect. This man Heatherwick is a genius. This is exactly what Whitstable needs. A fantastically bold architectural something.
I met a boy yesterday. A brief assignation with a 22-year-old from Maryland. A hotel room in Santa Monica. He was on vacation with his parents. He was my height, muscular, masculine. He had the most enormous penis. Incredible shape, thick. He wanted to ‘role play‘ but I refused. He was deaf. I did not want to know his name.
Robby waited outside until we had finished.
Spent the rest of the day planting neat rows of cantaloupe, honeydew and water melons..we planted far too many. We also planted far too many ‘heirloom’ tomatoes. There are other bits and pieces in the raised beds in front of the house. Squash, pumpkin etc.
I am perplexed. There is a bare patch of land where the huge Bougainvillea used to be. Needs filling. Needs something. What?
We weeded and watered and dug compost into the dry earth. We trimmed the grape vines. The sun began to set.
Joined the Piettes at The Malibu Community theatre for Hannah’s performance of Tweedle Dee in Alice in Wonderland. The play was great fun. The girl who played The Mad Hatter (Sage?) was not only very beautiful but incredibly talented. Ate pizza during the interval.
We stayed until 10pm. Hopped straight into bed when I got home.
Tom suggested that I reprise my stage version of The Baron in The Trees.
We picked lemons and grapefruits and cleaned out the plunge pool. We cooked dinner. We walked on the beach. I wrote more of my film. I met another DOP. I wrote more of my novel. I am presently writing a thousand words a day. More if I count this and the film. We planted a tree and swept the paths. The days are full up with life and laughter.
The twins are incredibly funny and kind. Their Mother called me yesterday and thanked me for looking after them. It’s a treat to do so. They are honest. They give more than they take.
I don’t want to go back to NYC so perhaps I won’t. There’s nothing there for me other than sadness. Disaster. Therapist Jill gets back this week and hopefully I can get myself into some sort of rehab by the beginning of May. It’s the only way I can imagine dealing with everything that has happened. The pain and the resentment.
I can start again.
He was wearing the jacket that I picked out for him in the most recent picture I have. Staring at a near empty pint of beer. I hope he chokes on that fucking beer. I hope that every time he pulls on his jacket he thinks of me and London and and how much I tried to help him. What lengths I was prepared to go to make his new gay life better.
You see? When you let a liar into your life what havoc they cause? What pain and suffering they inflict? Oh get over it I hear you say…but I am not like that. I can carry around a resentment for years. Some relationships take years to get over. Especially when you know in your heart that you will never love like you loved, feel what you feel, be what you were with the man who you loved…ever again. Even if he was a liar, even if he is impossible to forgive. Even if I want so badly to put things right and be at peace with the world.
The twins are off out to Santa Monica. They are leaving me here to write and ponder.
Life cheats us with shadows. We ask it for pleasure and it gives it to us with bitterness and disappointments in it’s train. Oscar Wilde.