…of what ever dramas he may be initiating.  I am really happy.

Last night I ate with my Ohio friends and a really cool young surfer from Florida and a pot head fabric designer.  Gemma, under The Bowery Hotel.  Service bad.  Food OK.  Conversation riveting.

I was on such good form. Really buoyant and witty.

The whole city was alive with people and late night shopping and drama for Fashion’s Night Out.   It’s like a very chic Halloween.  Fashion week brings out the very best and the very worst of the gays.

We ended up at 3am on the SH roof.  My sanctuary.

I am glad that we got the Order of Protection drama over and done with at the beginning of my month here on the East Coast.  In a strange way I really couldn’t justify coming here so often if it hadn’t been demanded of me.

I forgot to write about my health.  I think because I was scared and made me look weak.

I had my cancer follow up visit to the doctor before I left LA.  All good in the scrotum department.  The colonoscopy revealed a forest of ‘pre cancerous polyps’.   They are doing further tests.  The best bit about it was the sedative.  I’ve never like things in my ass.

I’m just not that kind of gay.

Strangely resilient at the moment.  Happy to be alive.

Yesterday’s drama made me stronger, more determined.  Channeling my father.  Harnessing the strength he had to fight anything and everything that came his way.  I could feel him.  I really could.  Urging me to fight.  For him.

It was the first time in my life that I felt him beside me.  I can feel him beside me now.  Sneering at other fathers.   Their weakness.  Their lack of respect.  I am proud to be a fiery Persian…as was he.

I am no longer interested in being compassionate or forgiving.

A price must be paid when fools rush in.

When your back is against the wall…well, we must do what we must do.