Early to bed after an exhausting day of brush clearance.

We hired four, sturdy day labourers from outside the Malibu courthouse.  Moved a ton of dry leaves and branches from the end of the drive.  Now I am obsessed with making that part of the garden beautiful.

Mulching the trees there have made them glorious this year.  The cherimoya, the Mexican Guava, the Mango…all flourishing after the wet winter and mild summer.   This morning the sun is shining.  No marine layer.

It’s going to be a hot one.

Yesterday I had lunch with Cathy Griffin…the writer not the comedienne.   Ha!  Gotcha!  We went to Geoffrey’s.  The restaurant staff, obviously expecting Cathy Griffin the comedienne, looked a little disappointed.

I saw Matthew Perry having lunch with a friend.  He looks terrible.  We used to be close.  I have a soft spot for Matthew.

Anyway, Cathy co-authored the auto-biography of legendary Hollywood hair stylist Sydney Guilaroff.

Sydney dressed Marilyn Monroe‘s hair all through her life, creating those iconic looks…and after she passed, he dressed her hair one final time.

He was the last but one person to speak with the legend before she died.

He told Cathy that Marilyn was miserable that night because Bobby Kennedy had dumped her.  Isn’t that odd that I know Max Kennedy, Bobby’s son?  My friend’s father was, apart from being cruelly assassinated and a political visionary, at the heart of one of the worlds most shattering Hollywood scandles..ever.

I have never had the guts to ask him about it.

Anyway, Sydney never wanted anyone to know he was gay…or a jew.  Is that self hate or realistic in 1950’s America?   I guess it was all about self-preservation in those days.

A tormented soul, devoted himself to the women he worked with…Crawford, Taylor, Monroe etc.  Lived in penury with a Brazilian gigolo.  He sure has a great story.   A little like Truman Capote and his ‘swans’, placing himself at the heart of their dramas then spilling the beans.

There are those of us who adore women, love being surrounded by women…I call myself emotionally heterosexual.  So much easier to love and be loved by women.

I wonder…perhaps there’s a steamy, sexy Hollywood film idea tucked in this story?

I love that scene in the movie where the old friend of the recently departed dresses her hair, gossiping, remembering their adventures…even though she is dead.  I love that scene.

Anyway, check out Sydney’s work.  Google him.

The food at Geoffrey’s was better than I remember it.  Much better.  Had the lobster salad.