these days of leiderhosen

Subject: 4:35 AM Santa Cruz The Dream Inn has been utterly redone, from the ground up. It's maybe a little more Mod than my taste, (use of orange/avocado, blockier lines) but the sheets are very nice and it's quite elegant in its own right. Plus, there's the ocean: the perfect soundtrack. Our room overlooks the pier and the Boardwalk. I can see lights all around the Bay and the odd car far, far away. We walked to the Surfing Museum at sunset. It must have been Prom last night in Santa Cruz with every young person all glammed up and taking photos. Prom dresses have become even more hideous, if that is possible. Neon orange, indecisive hems, dubious uses of chiffon. One lady wore a full length bronze sequin contraption that looked a bit like a massive fishing lure. I sound ungracious. They were all young and fresh and happy and glorious. Perfect for a Friday evening in Paradise. Young men, alas, ALWAYS require the lecture on blue tuxedos and rented shoes, but they will outgr...

Strangely I've been more involved my Da's life.

Sherlock S3 Extras 1 by holmesandwatson

The other night I managed to coax the Steven for an evening walk down Market to the Ferry Building. It was lovely: pinky-gold bouncy light, the surprise of bright yellow antique street car, a clear deepening sky. And the holiday had hit and San Francisco can even make that shit look good.  "Teenage American Graffitii" was sounding pretty good so we ankled-over to the North End and after a good long wait, there it was: dinner. As we nibbled each garlic fry it be came evident that the large European family who had squashed themselves in to tiny table overlooking the ice rink on the Embarcadero was entering into a bit of an arguement. The Father could not have been older that I, yet he had five kids! And was still together with the Missus! And had managed to a vacation and snow hats for all his family! In temperate California! Amazing. Flag green crew sweater, angular and expensive Euro glasses, red socks and long shorts. He looked like Tintin might look if he lost every ca...

Hi, Honey. Can you believe it's been half a year? I wonder how you are: You, B, all your grandkiddos, all your summer shenanigans. I need you to do something, please.: take B out to see Joss Whedon's movie Much Ado About Nothing.  (Whedon's the bloke who wrote and directed The Avengers. He's a huge favorite director of mine. Shot it in black & white, in two weeks with friends/actors from other projects, at his own CA house.) Roberta & I had been waiting for it since it was a rumor and now that it's here and I've seen it, I have such an ache to talk to her about it. Plus: the actors don't hold back on the physical comedy. (Yeah, yeah: Shakespeare... Blah...blah. Call us the pretentious twits again, but the first ten minutes is always Greek until your brain clicks into the language. It's not you, Pal; everyone needs that ten minutes.) I'll not put you through a long stupid conversation about it, but I want some other part of the ...

It's a lovely day, it really is. Just gorgeous. I still have that skull-fucker of a headache from Therapy on Wednesday, in which I recounted that awful day. There might have been a hundred good reasons not to be flagellating myself again but thought I needed to drag iut out one more time. I wasn't sure I had told C. the whole story. I need a better plan.

So what part of our brain is it that keeps the memories that are painful off to the side, behind some dark curtain? I used to know but now I have me some other fresh problems. I've had a lovely four days off, almost a vacation, where I slept enough, drank enough coffee, spent a little money making my space a little nicer, re-homed a few belongings, read, cuddled Otis until he fell asleep in my arms. What cat falls asleep while being walked and bounced like an infant? One of my favorite delicious treats is mid-day napping, preferably in The Steven's bed that overlooks the garden and the wall the sun sets behind. I like it when he is in the room, typing away. He repeats the sound of my snoring when I wake. When I am here alone in my own bed every night, I fear I won't sleep. I fear I'll call and no one will answer.