I am free to come and go without fear of having nowhere to park.
This may mean nothing to those of you who live in parking heaven-like Kensington London or Bourke Street Sydney but to me in Hollywood club land where every miserable Saturday night I spent HOURS looking for somewhere to park it is like driving through the pearly gates.
I can now glide effortlessly behind my mechanized gate and slip into a glove of a parking place. Bliss.
Implications: less gas used in car, less walking to and from the house, less time squandered looking for parking, accurate departure and arrival schedule. I no longer curtail my pleasure in fear of no parking.
Oh brother, that I conned myself into not paying for assigned parking because I would save money! I ended up paying $700 in parking tickets last year. Can you believe it?
The little dog and I have an exciting day ahead of us. Very glamorous party in Beverly Hills. Dinner with Dane. My morning meeting in West Hollywood first though. Let’s get reconnected with God and AA and start today as I mean to go on, getting stronger, refilling my poor depleted heart with the love of mankind and not one man but all of you-the great collective.
Why in hells name is love so fucking painful? Why do I do this to myself? Why? What lesson do I refuse to learn?
I know things are bad when I start imagining that I am a great chanteuse wearing Chanel. At least YOU got a laugh out of it dear readers.
The truth will set me free. That is all we have. At the end of the day, that is all we have.
P.S. And I promise this is not some morbid recall. One of the best things you know who did for me when he was being eager-beaver-boy was to start editing my blog for publication.
I must admit that it was really rather good. This makes me think that I should pull out those ancient diaries and start cobbling together some sort of autobiography. It would be selfish not to really, wouldn’t it?