Birthday lunch Wheeler
Apparently George Clooney did NOT have lunch at Wheelers. A modern myth in the making.
I have amended this blog as it was too incendiary. Waiting for daylight. 5am again.
I thought long and hard about reposting this. It exists. I may as well post it.
I tell you though..it gives me no pleasure reading it. Seeing what a vile person I can be.
I received many, many messages privately after posting this blog and the one I would write later the same day.
Messages of support and condemnation.
The point is: I have to STOP investing in stinking thinking. Even if I am 100% right (I am not) this is getting in the way of what could be. Other opportunities. My desire to fight back, paramount.
Addiction shrinks an addicts world. Just me and my crazy head. That’s all I am left with.
Love, when it happens, even of it is with someone totally unavailable cannot be tamed. Have you ever really fallen in love? So that your life becomes beautiful? I really loved him and I am not going to beat myself up about how ‘available’ he was. Who is truly available? Who is truly appropriate? Which one of you has not failed in love?
I am not interested in hating him. Not today.
Oh yes..and without much effort I found the missing diary 1986. I will add the pages when I get my scanner moved in.
So, without being hurtful I am reposting this.
Here you go:
George Clooney in Whitstable having lunch at Wheelers? It’s almost funny.
Who would have thought that Richard and I could have caused with the flap of our butterfly wings, opening the Oyster Company that wet summer weekend so many years ago the storm of international approval that would one day hit our little town?
Of course the last time I sat in that Wheeler’s back parlor I was with Jake Bauman who, even though it was my birthday, let me pay for his lunch.
That night in fact he ended the day fighting via email with his ex girlfriend about who would pay the electricity bill in their old apartment.
So there we are in Whitstable, him on his lap top fighting about an electricity bill.
He would fixate on his laptop telling me to leave him alone when they were having their fierce email exchanges.
Of course, I later find out that he is maybe not even chatting by email with her as he claimed. He could be talking to SebastianNYC on Manhunt who was in fact me disguised as a potential hook up so I could get a glimpse of what he was doing behind my back. A French gallerist from Chelsea who with some ease arranged a meeting with Jake upon his return from Europe. Sending alluring pictures like this:
Jake's Alluring Ass
Jake was on vacation with me arranging to meet other men. It was easy to fuck him hard knowing what he was doing.
I think of how much time he spent on his laptop in Europe ‘working’..when in fact all he was doing was communicating with his manhunt hook ups.
When we first met…it was intoxicating.
January 30th 2009
in case it’s not clear I am having the same feelings as you…we are magnetic
I wonder if we share the same feelings now?
The emotional deception continued throughout the new year. When, in February and he had jerked off a million times on Skype, (I didn’t because I couldn’t) I began to wonder out loud why he was at home all the time naked on the sofa, the curtains drawn like a crack addict. He said:
I tend to sit shirtless in my apartment any time of day. I’m a bit of a nudist I guess.
In February we finally meet for the second time after our long distance Skype romance. He was going away with friends but I just didn’t trust him. Without irony he wrote:
i am not lying, why would i lie? i am going to my friend al’s house in the catskills with a few others, we’re going skiing on saturday. j will be in atlanta visiting her friend’s baby (ew)
j gets back from at atlanta in afternoon so there’s a good chance I will not have an opportunity to run freely into your arms. perhaps in the afternoon though, not entirely sure of schedule but my first priority is seeing you. I will keep you updated.
That night we met in the back of a small bar and kissed each other for the first time. After twenty minutes he ran back to her and I to Cooper. Who is Cooper? The man I had begun to see but had not had sex with or made any commitment.
i don’t think i can escape tonight…but i am still high from seeing you…feeling your lips on me, your hands on me…your hand down my pants, rubbing my ass, my cock, telling me what you’re going to do to me…..you are mind-blowingly hot…and you are going to have your way with me all day tomorrow…i want it so fucking bad
I believed all of this. I am the fool?
Love is not love that alters when alteration finds nor bends to the remover to remove.
When we got back from Europe, knowing that it just could not continue, that I had to GET OUT.
I had been to the doctor I sent him this:
there’s a moment when you just run out of fuel. when the fire dies.
i remember when you told me that you had been irritable with J because
you wanted to see me so badly. now you are irritable and uncommunicative
“Why are we talking about me?’
I understand. I am like that too.
I know how that particular scenario plays out.
it’s best that we don’t talk. we don’t seem to have much to say.
i have problems I need to deal with here. i just need to get on with them.
I am not in love with you any more. that doesn’t mean that I hate you, want
to write badly of you or anything negative. but i don’t want to drag out a
situation that feels so one-sided.
you have to get on with your life without me in it.
I was stupid to want anything more than what you were capable of giving me.
but as John said today, you fed me just enough to give me hope when
actually the situation is hopeless.
good luck at the hospital today duncan..or, it would be great to see you, or
i miss you.
I am not even sad, just feel empty. that’s all.
You can console yourself with the new gay friends you make. i am happy for
you that you are no longer living a lie, that you have a world of
opportunity at your finger tips. just get on with it.
I wanted to write something kind and clean and clear. I wanted to leave with love but he fired back:
I agree that it’s best that we don’t speak anymore or ever see each
other again. I could respond to everything you said in your email but
frankly I too am “out of fuel.”
The further I can get away from
your twisted, judgmental, sycophantic universe, the happier I will be.
please do not contact me again. do not call me or text. I am not
being melodramatic. I too am done. And I mean it.
We had come a very long way. Traveled quite a distance.
I tried with dignity that day to separate our lives and be clear about the boundaries but he fired back with such cruelty I simply can’t forgive him. I try every day but I can’t forgive him. In the words of Ian Curtis: love tore us apart.
Monday. Malibu. I am cooking lunch for 12 friends.
Reading over the years of written journals I have stacked around me I wonder if my life has not been wasted? A wasteland? When I compare it to Jay’s of course it seems dull but to those I grew up with, those who genuinely expected me to vanish, to die, to never achieve a single thing ever..then I have done OK.
I will publish more pages from my diaries. I think the 1986 diary has been stolen. It can’t just have disappeared.
I want so much to forget about JB. To totally erase him from my memory. I want to forget about his stinking sofa, his ex girlfriend and his friend in Washington Heights. I want to eradicate any memory I have of his parents Westchester house, his penguin walk, his inability to communicate unless drunk or stoned. His money issues.
I think you all understand why..or at least..you’ll have a better idea.
PS Had lovely time on Saturday night with Josh and Fergie..yes, that Josh and Fergie. When we met he said, ‘I know you from Vegas!’ I said, ‘No, you know me from The Early World in Brentwood on a Wednesday Morning.’ Fergie is so much prettier in real life.