Amanda in Malibu

Miserable day in LA.  Misty British rain rather than the fat tropical raindrops we usually have.

After breakfast with John and the lads I drove to Malibu and built a HUGE fire.  It was raining so hard I had no view what so ever.   A huge cloud had gobbled the entire house.  Luna went on a garden adventure in the rain and came home covered in mud.  I had to turn a hose on her, which caused her some consternation, then, being the Luna dog, she began to LOVE.

Now, when it rains, rather than looking downcast, worrying about how many weeds I’ll have to clear in the spring so my house doesn’t instantaneously combust when the fires come-my eyes sparkle.  The property is now one big goat buffet.   I cannot wait for them to arrive!

One of my readers suggested that I contact a goat rescue if one indeed exists.  And, blow me down; one really does exist in California.   I’ll call them tomorrow.

The general contractor arrived to discuss the changes I need to make to the roof to accommodate the solar cells required for me to get off the grid.   I also discussed how we would pump the spring water that bubbles up at the bottom of the property into where the vegetable garden will be.

Anna as Garbo

Last night Anna invited me to a party at her and Mel’s house in East LA.  I was the only man.  It was such a groovy party.  We wrote down on pages of Anna’s old script what we wanted to forget about last year and what we wanted for 2010.  I wanted to forget rather a lot.  My aims for this year are simple and sure.   I stayed a couple of hours, chatted with Jamie Babbitt and some girl who is going to be in the reality version of the L word.

Since writing yesterday how much I had forsaken during the past three decades in pusuit of hedonism I began today to formally grieve.  In pursuit of selfish ends I have destroyed a potentially wonderful career, the chance of a lasting intimate relationship and an enduring happiness.

This is no time for self-pity, however.

Misty View December 2009

My father died when he was only 53 and I like to remember that on his deathbed he would turn, at last, to God.

I’m so glad that I have a God in my life who I trust will show me the way, regardless of whether the route is treacherous or not.  To put ones life in God’s hands is not for the fainthearted.

Tim and Amanda drove from Beverly Hills to sit by the fire with me then we hacked back down the mountain and ate lunch at a raggedy hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant on the Pacific Coast Highway.  It was perfectly delicious.

As we were leaving we complimented the chef who was also lunching but on a plate of boiled hen heads.