Wednesday, May 6, 2009

And, I'm Back From Date

just wanted to state first of all that unequivocably that if i couldn't listen to my tunes and blast it in my face, i would fucking put a bullet in my brain. i have some kind affinity for over the top things. loud music, crazy art--mad dash through wonderland.

my date and i chat. jackson pollack we talked about. he asks me my favorite artists--van gogh of course being my bipolar hero, gaugin, monet manet, la trec, mary cassett, pissaro, dejas, frida kahlo, diego rivera, picasso, jackson pollack, warhol, the fucking odder the better, that is my head. that is what it is all about. i am esoteric when high on pot.

i am so sensitive to every thing. i experience music in every pore. i dance. i feel jaded. i feel not so pretty anymore. i remember how pretty i looked when watching myself in mirror onstage as exotic dancer. i don't like losing my looks. my looks made me money. my looks attract men. helps get me a job. it is hard living in LA single and looking for a mate at age 50. i am introverted and solitary most of the time. the clinic sends my therapist to me. i tell some of my online friends i am bipolar. some i ask to read my blog. it is too hard for some to read cuz they are from other countries.

i have a mad crush on this italian doctor who i chat with sometimes. he is so handsome and smart and is a doctor. he travels around helping others, like doctors beyond borders. i have told him he is my ideal man. smart, handsome and dark and italian, well traveled, philanthropic. adventurous. very married with two kids, but is wanting to chat with me anyway. wants me to buy a video camera so we can chat and see each other. he tried to help me over instant messaging to set up skype account so i could see him. didn't work. bummer. he is hot looking.

but i digress...

back to date. went to hip trendy sushi restaurant in venice called wabi sabi. i had been there before on yet another date. that is how i knew about the place. the street abbot kinney is the main drag of venice. funky and trendy shops and boutiques and restaurants, coffee shops and bars. never experienced walking abbot kinney. always in my car passing by. very cool place. lots of galleries. some wierd art. i saw one with a baby on fire --ok, where does that idea spring from. some art is stupid. i said, let's just keep walking.

that is after dinner. during dinner, he is very knowledgeable about the history of film as i am. he is spouting tales i have heard many times about historical fiqures i have taught myself about. " yes, i fucking know that cinco de mayo celebrates mexico's independence from france. yes maximilian was taken out and shot by civilians." i think to myself. i don't say it though. i am beginning to get a little peeved at his knowledge overload. like he was trying to impress me. shit he's gonna want to kiss me and hold me!

the guy is educated. went to prep school. father was in show biz. i find i am not attracted to him. we drink sake. we cinco de mayo, to israel, to haifa. we toast billy wilder, one of my favorite old directors, we toast i forget several more times. i didn't get drunk enough though. he is interesting. he is successful. he has nice watch and brand new SUV. he plays nothing but rock for me on his car stereo. we eat tons of sushi. elaborate looking. very artistic. one looks like a dragon. i saw his face when he looked at the bill, and he looked shocked. i just think, oh shit, he's gonna want to kiss me. oh fuck, i wanna go home. we held hands and walked and talked. i kept thinking how i wish it was paul walking the street with me, commenting on all the unique places.

he brought me two dozen pink roses, my favorite flower. he makes me want to go home. he is for someone else, not me. but he wants to see me again. some old humphrey bogart movie is playing at the billy wilder theater on the campus of UCLA next month. he asked if i wanted to go. "maybe i say", no i said a tentative yes. i say "but we don't know each other well yet, and i am a shy person that has to take it slow." but if i am into a guy i do him, so fucking what. i either do them too soon or not at all.

so i tell him i want to go home. it is only 9pm and that i want to call my mother. he drives me home. i have tons of sushi left to bring home with me, cuz he ordered so much. i feel kinda guilty about it. i mean we had tons of sushi. and tempura. so i just want to go home. he walks me to my gate of the building. i say, well, thank u so much, i really appreciate, blah, blah. blah.

i don't encourage him to linger or walk me to my door which is 4 stories up. he didn't take the hint, and proceeded to accompany me to my apt. i felt very put upon and uncomfortable. maybe he thought he was entitled to something cuz he spent money on me? i don't know. i didn't want him here. i have a small apt. and he was a big man. my space felt invaded. he wanted to hang around. he poured water in the sink and cut the ends off the roses. i want him to leave, i feel stalked. i had seen him staring at my lips during dinner. he had tried to kiss me on our walk around venice,and i ducked away. i finally say, u know, i really need to call my mom, she's been sick and it's getting late. i went and opened the door and stood there, waiting for him to leave. i ducked from him again, but then thought , what the hell and said, i will kiss u now. i pecked at him, and he tried to pull me close, i shut the door in his face. what can i say? nothing but revulsion at the thought of him kissing me. meanwhile, my loser ex boyfriend carlos is trying to get back into my life. he just got out of jail. i hate his guts. he is a meth addict and a low life. he sent me an email, asking for another chance. yeah right. die asshole. womanizer. i just want to find a good man THAT I AM ATTRACTED TO and get married and have a life like anyone else.

this dude tonight quoted mark twain to me, talked about famous mexican muralist on olvera street and i just wanted to leave. this man can provide a better life for me. i have had several men say they want me and would help me or take care of me. why do i always chase them away? because i like funky guys. off beat guys, but stable guys. not drug addicts. a working artist. that i am hot for , and him for me. i don't want a business man. i want paul. he is married. i was his revenge fuck to get back at his cheating wife. i sent him an email and told him off. told our mutual friend to deliver a message to him for me: fuck off and die. he started the ball rolling. he asked me out. he pursued me. he is a pussy to me now. he went running back to her. we could have had some awesome times. he wanted it his way. me on the side and him still married. no thank u. it is one thing for him to hint he wants to leave his marriage, and another where he talks like her like he's madly in love with her even after 20 years. she must be a good fuck? i don't know. i think he doesn't get that much, i don't care, but he reached out to me to find love and sex. so he must have not been getting tons that he would have gotten with me. his loss.

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