Would it be out of the question to wonder what comes next?  Even though I shouldn’t…I am here on the mountain…whiling my days away.  I have been writing like a mad man.  The novel, the screenplay…and this, my trusty old blog.

The euphoria I experienced for a couple of weeks is waning but I can still grasp hold of it…just.

I bumped into an old lover, somebody I had seen in 1996.   He was young then…he is still young.  He remembered that I had shown him around London, taken him home.  He remembered my scent.  Vetiver.

Had dinner at Gjelina last night.  Met friends on Abbot Kinney  for coffee after.  Skate for dinner.  We sat opposite Jackie Collins.  She looked great.

There’s a small business in Whitstable I would love to own.  I called the owner.  He didn’t want to sell…yet.

The weather is perfect.  The house is tidy.  My love life is boring me to tears.

I have a friend living downstairs in the guest house.  Anna arrives on Sunday.  Next month will be very busy…but for now I am just enjoying today.

Those disturbing images on television, in the newspapers, all over the net..of yet another thoughtless dictator being dragged screaming and bloody (so red) from the drains.  Shocking and ironic…after all, Gadaffi had made peace with the west to avoid such an ending.  He had seen Saddam‘s undignified capture and rather than avoiding it…his hubris caused the same.

What will be…will be.

So I danced around the garden listening to Evelyn ‘Champagne’ King‘s Shame!

I thought about ransacked golden palaces, tacky furniture, bad art.  Pale pink leather sofas.  Good riddance to bad taste.

Now we must turn our attention to Syria.  Route the cruel Bashar Assad immediately.  Tout de suite!