Writing Of Summer From A Winter

I was getting ready for Argentina this time last year, early June.  The gloom was in the air in Santa Monica, and it was winter in the South.  America de Sud.  I told myself that it was somehow fitting because I was going down there to write a book about Winter.  A strange winter, a difficult one, that took all of a year to plow through.  From Santa Cruz in the early fall, right up to the next October autumn.  With a long cold winter in between.  Yes, it's about a low, but hey, I had fun too.

This book is about Winter, true, but truer still I pray this story rings with the coming Spring.  That Spring, the one in the book didn't come until the summer.  'til the lease was up in Santa Cruz and I moved back down to LA.  In the summer, and sometime in July like pressure looking for release, I found it.  Or I should really say it was given to me in the female form of my good friend Lili.  And probably not in the way that you immediately pull away from that.  We were at a bar with some friends--bare with me.

So we're at this bar and we're drinking and talking just over the music in a dim-lit bougie hole-in-the-wall place by the pier in Santa Monica.  We didn't see each other often, like we used to in high school, so we always had a lot of catching up to do, and she's the kind a gal that's definitely fun to catch up with.

She always had her mystery men.  She'd secretly faun over and flirt with them.  But that life was a separate one, of more meaning and importance to her, than the one I used to be privy to.  Back before Paris.  But anyways, that's why I think she was so interesting in a way.  She always had some greater secret, some cunning that she's devised behind her eyes.  And well, you know me, dear reader.  I've always been one for a secret or three.

Miss Lili sometimes (rarely) had some for me.  Sometimes it's just so simple of a thing to say that can start some whole master ball rolling.  If it were marbles, this would be the slammer I'm talking about. It takes two things to send you that high: one, high pressure built up like rocket fuel, and two, a catalytic ignition.  Or hell, if the pressure's high enough, all it takes is a release valve; an escape route.

That's short sighted, but oh well.  Lili was studying abroad in the fall.  Studying "International Relations."  Uh-huh.  That night at the bar she said, "Come to Paris and write for a bit."


[stop]


What were those weeks like? Remember!

I can feel the seed sprouting in the sun here on the terrace at Boulevard.  Oh, this Sutton Place.  There were girls.  There was drugs and festivals, and two jobs up North, and living at home down South (see Running Away), me and my bicycle and my surfboard.  And of course my trust Ford Explorer Sport, the White Mamba.  And at the end, it all coming to a head, and release.  It's like Igby Goes Down.  Gag.  Somebody punch me.

The Globe And Mail

I never worked in construction, so I can't really say I know too much of the matter.  However, I am familiar with the feelings he's so enamored with.  That ant mentality, and the power of small things.  He had somewhat of a jarring experience to snap it into prominence, a fall, a hanging between certainties at a construction site.

Mine was on a tropical island.
After a night of motorcycles and beer.
And redemption as an antiquated belief system.

See, I believe in the truths, the uncharacterized and real defined tenets of naturalized crime and punishment.  I believe in comeuppance.  I believe in that which we deserve in our lives based on what we've done and how we've treated others.  I believe in respect, and in the certain specifics in my mind that come with earning it.  I believe in the value of design and the beauty of words.  I believe in a reasonable return-on-investment.  I believe in photography.

Modern Guilt

When I take a deep breath and step back to blink twice for fresh eyes, I can't help but think to myself, "What a strange and wonderful place this is that all my life's stumbling's taken me to."  To be a necessity in some wonderful woman's eyes, it's what any man would dream of, isn't it?  Or maybe that's the catch, the rump right there.  I never needed anyone in my life.  I had people, but I ran away. I was good at running, and I was always honest, which made me tricky, I suppose.  Did I need them though?  No.  There was never a need, I don't think (or maybe I'm just being daft) I never needed anyone.  But for forever and as long as I can remember, I'd always wanted and wished to be needed.

The old adage holds true: be careful what you wish for, as they say.  Except I think it'd be a hard stretch to call me careful.  Lazy, yes.  Scattered, most definitely.  But not careful.  No, being careful's about holding back, which personally I think is a waste of time.  The only thing I've been "careful" about is probably publishing books, and look how that's turned out.  No, if I'm going to be something when it comes to wishing, I'd rather be grateful.

Grateful.  Cognizant.  Deserving.

I need to deserve this, and that's how she makes me better.  Thank you, Claire.

Dustin Hoffman

Incredible actor.  The Graduate, have you seen it?  A must see, absolutely.  The crux of it is this tug-of-war between innocence and adulthood.  Well no, it's much simpler than that as well.  It's cat and mouse, predator and prey too.  It's the difference between what's right and proper and a societal norm, and what fervor of reality can really be.  It's not everyday, but it's out there, and it's perfectly possible; through any lens, with any set of characters.

And so what's easiest to see through other than the lens of one's own life?  So the setup is this: Two girls living in LA, roommates (because living by yourself is boring).  One recently received a Masters in Business online, she's the Graduate.  The degree was paid for by the company, she works in TV.  Roommate, best friend, soundboard, comic relief, etc. (see Caitlyn Ritter in Apt. 23) is a hair/make-up artist.  They met on set.  The Graduate is a producer, older, working with the studio.

At a work event, gala, awards ceremony, whatever, Graduate's boss makes an introduction, an older man, accomplished, show-runner/creator.  He's handsome, polite/cordial, maybe a little distracted.  He wears fine clothes and an expensive watch that he checks quite often.  He tells the Graduate he'd very much like to see her again.  They date.  He has a son, Archie.

Archie's younger, adopted at an older age by show-runner/creator.  He'd wanted a son, had never married (wasn't the best with women, always busy, like producer from Californication maybe?) Found him at a foster home, had flipped through his notebook, adopted him, took him home, and turned his story into an award-winning show.

Took notebook, by force basically, force of will, "I'll buy you another notebook, I'll buy you ten notebooks, this one's mine."

They don't like each other, not anymore.  Not after that.  But he's his son now, and father's always hoping to scoop up another hit.  Has the maids read the notebooks.

"I just write poetry in it now, a short story every now and again to keep his lips moist.  I'm not an idiot, I know how to keep my stay because honestly, this stay ain't bad.  I mostly stay out of sight.  Half the time, I think he just keeps me close, keeps me happy because he doesn't want it getting out."


Meetings:

(1)
Nice dinner at Big House with Creator; fancy, chef-prepared, waited on, candle lit, outdoor in the Hills, sees the son come in with a girl through the glass windows.  "Who's that?"
Pause, "That would be my son."
"You have a son?"
"I have a son."  He's a man with secrets apparently.

(2)
Party at the Big House.  Lots of people, best friend comes along, she likes to party.  Graduate sees her with Archie.  There's eye contact.  Graduate is at her man's side the whole time pretty much, has a few moments with best friend.  It's a launch party, new TV show.

(3)
Next morning, coming home, Archie's there in his underwear.  Friend is in the shower.  He put's his pants on, but not a shirt.  "You know what? I actually haven't the faintest clue where that might be... But come on, it's summer, and I run hot."
They small talk until friend comes out in a towel, and his shirt in his face.
"You're home! And you've met Archie, I see.  Archie, this is [Graduate].  [Graduate], Archie."
"[Graduate], hello."  And to Friend: "Ah, and that's where my shirt's been. Well, ladies," finishes coffee, "I must be off.  I've got work in thirty minutes."
Friend: Workin' on a weekend?
Graduate: You work?
Archie: No rest for the weary, love. (mouths) call me.  (to Graduate) It was a pleasure.
Girlfriend storytime: "I was actually talking to ACTOR for five minutes before his girlfriend walked over."
"You're such a little slut! Do you know who that was?"
"I don't know, the bartender?"

Archie's too charming, not a gentleman mind you, but a charming little shit.  And he curses like a sailor.

And eventually he's going to fuck his dad's girlfriend.  He's made up his mind about that.  He's a genius, but only pertaining to things he truly cares about.  He's cunning and manipulative.  He's Mrs. Robinson.

Big Minds: Archie, Graduate
Small Minds: Creator, Friend

Scene:
Creator's flying out of town for work, up north to Vancouver.  Graduate spends the night kisses him goodbye in the morning out the door.  She makes coffee.  Girl comes down, "Archie said there's water in the kitchen." She's a mess kinda.
"You're Uber has arrived."
"Oh, they usually have water in the car don't they. Ok, bye." She leaves.
As soon as the door shuts Archie sneaks down with a towel around his waist, smooth getaway, and unknowingly flashes the Graduate, and she sees him off guard, seeing her only after it was too late (long hallways, sweeping stairwell, whatever), then an awkward standard, "I just saw your penis" talk, before she says she really should be going.  "I really should be going," she says.
"Wait! Have you had anything today? You know, to eat?"
"I was just going to-"
"Because Maria's just made all this lovely food for two and Angela's up and called an uber for breakfast." Looking at the food... "I can't eat all that."
There's bacon.  We should know that the Graduate loves bacon.  And it's the fucking best-looking bacon she's ever fucking seen.

[cut to commercial]

There's a scene before at brunch with roommate that she goes off about bacon.  I should say on and on really.  She really fucking loves bacon, they both do.  It's  bonding point for both of them, the last piece of bacon, like Lady and the Tramp.

Things I Tell Myself

I'm going to marry this woman.

And I've never had a starter anything.

Similarity / Familiarity

I may or may not be writing from the future technically, as I'm not exactly sure what day it is.  All these days may be the same though up here in the temperate North, and I mean that in the most inexplicable way.  It's wonderful, to put it lazily, and lazily is most definitely the way these days.  I feel relaxed, at peace, and my girl's the happiest she's been in years, she says.  And here, in this sphere of reality, I want to do nothing but write.  It's strange.  And yet, it's not unfamiliar, this feeling.  I know it well, I've felt it before.  It's life without design.  Organic living.  

Canada, Ay

Do you know what I love most about flying?  It's the sensation that sways me.  It's two Caesars and the sound of the air pumping through the cabin.  It's the pressure building in my ears as we descend.  It's me and bae.  And I've got so much work to do.  
I can't wait.