I wrote a little about what I did while I was down in LA over the long weekend. Don't bother to read if I already told you what I did there. I just need to post this info, or I'll end up forgetting all about it.

Wednesday

We headed for LA around 3:30pm, and we just got in. It's 2am. I left home thinking "LA, schmeLA." It's been a couple years since I'd last been to LA... during a totally different era of my life. I didn't expect to reminisce when I got here. Whatever feelings and thoughts I associated with LA in times past would've faded away by now, I thought.

The long drive down was bearable only because I had the very good CD to listen to. BT's Movement in Still Life was perfect for racing through the lonely darkness on a balmy night to a distant destination. I must've sighed a thousand times... felt kinda high, felt like getting out of the car and running, sweating, panting under the pretty sparkles in the nightsky. My mind ran, elevated by the music, and the speed, and the glowing reds and whites... yet tortured because each mile was a mile farther away from you. More freakn bittersweet... In my head, I heard you say...

dance with me
give me a chance to be
your pill and I will
rid you of the bitter ill
leave you thrilling in the sweet
through mystic ways
thumpbeat and cryptic gaze
i'll light your eyes
and swell your heart
revel in my reverie
let me be your e

And then, an hour away from our destination, I started to reminisce.

Thursday

Got outta bed around 11:30am. In our room, here at the Doubletree Hotel in Santa Monica, there are some wonderful skinny-fying mirrors. Whoa. They make me look thin... naked! I took photos (available to the public for a fee). :P Yep, I am a shameless narcissist.

We walked up and down 3rd Street Promenade. People-watched. One of the street performers was able to manipulate a number of clear balls in both of his hands to music. At one point, he had eight of them swirling and twirling in his hands, traveling from one to the other and up and down an arm, moving by subtle movements of his palms and wrists, movements so fluid. I was impressed. I should've placed a dollar in his hat.

For brunch, I had a mushroom burger w/ fries at Yankee Doodle's. Ugh. Stomachache from packing in so much food... Guilt.

Headed toward the Santa Monica pier around 4pm. Sometimes Dave snaps crappy pictures, especially ones of me. I tried to explain that I don't want to be in the center of the pictures. I should be off to the side so that attention is focused on the scenery behind and around me. Maybe Dave's method of taking pictures of me says something about how he pictures me in his life. I'm in the center of it, and the detail going on in the background is much less significant... whereas, in my life he's more of a complementary, yet off-center, part of scenes that I want to remember for their beauty and harmony and... oh I dunno.

For dinner, went to Miyagi's in West Hollywood. Mmmmm. I couldn't keep myself from gluttonizing. We had the sunset roll, spicy hamachi roll, spicy scallop roll, hamachi sashimi, Miyagi's samurai cocktail, and fried green tea ice cream. I could hardly stand up afterwards. More guilt.

Walked down Sunset Blvd. to The Standard Hotel for martinis. I had an 11-dollar apple martini. Loved the décor and atmosphere of the place. Hip, trendy, comfortable. If my collection of vocabulary words wasn't so freakn limited, I would write a better review of the place and describe the look and feel in better, greater detail. Sorry.

Every guy down here looks like a bouncer, a hairdresser, or a personal trainer... or something along those lines. And there seems to be an abundance of big cars in these parts. Big, like Escalades and Bentleys... and I don't know my vehicles so can't tell you what else I saw. Just think BIG. Saw a lotta big. Again, sorry.

Headed back to the Dublin's, an Irish pub across the street from Miyagi's, to dance off several hundred calories. Great mix of people (or maybe I've just overdone the Asian-clubbing up here in the Bay Area over the last couple months).

Friday

We rollerbladed along the Santa Monica beach in the early afternoon. I grabbed a burrito for lunch. I can't tell if I like Bay Area Mexican food over Socal Mexican food or not. It's all pretty much the same good stuff, right?

Got a henna tattoo on my lower back. Stooopid tattoo guy made it all crooked, and it doesn't look a bit like the sample I picked out. Looks hella lame. Of the hundreds of henna tattoo vendors along the beachfront, I had to pick the one to screw it up. Oh well, no real big deal.

Laid out on the beach and tanned for a little while. I couldn't tell how much time passed while I was lying out. Maybe 10 mins, maybe 30... I should've undone the back of my bikini top while lying on my stomach. I now have some serious tan lines that I want to get rid of sometime this month.

Met up with a friend, Cindy, in the afternoon and hiked up and around Griffith Park. Cindy took us to dinner at an Italian restaurant, the hole-in-the-wall-but-really-good type. I gorged again (no discipline when it comes to eating while on vacation). We then had a couple martinis at a chill place called Lola's, then went clubbing at the Sunset Room. LA is full of a lotta really good-looking white women and black men. If you've been down there or lived there before, you probably know or have noticed that.

Saw too much. Ate too much. Did too much. Lots to say about today, but too tired to write about it all now...

Saturday

Woke up sick. Too much hot to cold to hot to cold suddenly during the last couple of days... I think that did it. That, or too much junk food, or too many martinis, or too much dancing, or too much sun, or too much pressure... or all of the above.

'Cuz I was sick today, I just strolled out of bed really late and grabbed Jamba Juice for brunch. Dave drove out to Hollywood Blvd, while I rested in the hotel room. I got out for a bit to walk off some calories. Felt terribly guilty for Thursday's and yesterday's binges.

I was alone during most of the day. That aloneness started to get to me. It turned into loneliness. Felt kinda like I did when I was in New York... that neither here nor there feeling. Sure, Dave was around somewhere and would be back in a few, but I was someplace where I don't really know anyone else. I felt quiet. I didn't like how I felt.

I'm so internal now. I hear myself think. That is all I do. I don't talk. I ache. I want to talk, but I don't have anything to talk about. Or maybe I do. But I need someone to draw it out of me. Do I really want to hear my thoughts vocalized? Or do I really want others to? What is it that I really want to do? Why am I so frustrated?

Talking to Cindy last night about the frustrations of finding an ideal life partner got me thinking about similar/related subjects, including my current directionlessness. I feel really miserable thinking about all these things at once. Now, I just want go home and sleep and keep to myself and figure things out slowly and carefully. And I want work off the pounds I'm sure I've gained out here.

I've been changed after coming down here. Distance from the familiar has provided a different perspective. Stuff I was thinking before I came down here seems insignificant now. Even silly. I get up and feel as if I'm lying next to a stranger, or someone who is not my boyfriend. Such a strange feeling that is. Who is this person I spend so much time with? What is he to me? Why doesn't he make me feel better? Why so much pressure? Why does he always wanna "play"? What do I owe him, if anything? Argh... Would I rather be alone? Could I be alone and not go crazy?

I think I should open up my new bottle of 5htp when I get home.

I really miss being around the people back home, but I don't know why so much...

Oh anyhow, we had dinner in Westwood. UCLA area. Pleasant. But I was too sick to enjoy it as much as I would've. We had sushi again, at a place called Tomodachi Sushi, and had the most awesome icecream-cookie-sandwiches for only a buck each at Diddy Riese. I wish they had Diddy Riese here. I'd get fat eating those sandwiches daily, but I wouldn't also go broke simultaneously.

Saw The Bourne Identity at a theatre around the corner from Diddy Riese. I'm pretty sure I could never kill anyone, for good or for evil. But I like to imagine myself living the life of an agent... I wonder if I'd be able to repress my feelings of loneliness and/or lack of attachment/connection with most people. I'd die soon, since my memory sucks and I'm no longer sharp. I can run and I can't seem to break. But I get cold too easily. And I freak out too quickly. I'm squeamish. But I could use some unique adventures. Thrills. Purpose. Greater good stuff.

I'm so sick. My throat so hurts. I'm going to try to go to bed now.

Sunday

I must sing the praises of Nyquil. OMG. I took the gelcaps last nite for the first time. In addition to taking away the nasal congestion and sore throat, the stuff makes me utterly euphoric. For hours. I love the stuff.

Awful drive back to the Bay Area. I gained 4 pounds. Lots to lose. Lots to sort out. But I'm so glad to be home.