A Solitary Summer Solstice

I took most of this week away from high speed cable, cams, chems, chats, cell phones, and chilled out. Chilling is easy when you live in Los Angeles and you have hills to your back, a pass on either side and the breeze from the Pacific Ocean filling in the rest on overcast mornings and foggy nights.

It seems like more than a week has passed since my last post, and once again we return, reflect, re-hash and regurgitate my own Milwaukee Melodrama. The facts are as follows:

Woodsy is very deeply attached to Nicely Nice Guy. I can't ignore that. Based on recent events, one could conclude that Nicely is very devoted to Woodsy. The concept that Nicely isn't so Nice but Nefarious, Neurotic and Needs to Be Locked Up and the Key Thrown into One of Minnesota's 1000 Lakes Just for Good Measure is clearly a sour grapes sore loser jealous rant of Devious, Deceitful, Dramatically Delusional Me.
How Woodsy escapes culpability in such crimes of the heart baffles me. The louse.

Despite my reputation of thriving on these creating scenes and emotional moments  and using ludicrous methods to thwart a couple's happiness by, oh I don't know......say, laying it all out in a blog post....would be an outlandish act by me and completely unbelievable.
But when the odds are against you, and a mental case is part of the peach pie, it's best to walk away quickly, knowing that you are not fooled, and if one hair on Woodsy's hirsute hide is harmed, or his heart is broken like I've managed to break my own, about four times in two years over that SOB.... 

...and because once in awhile even I know life cannot imitate art, I declined Woodsy's offer to come visit he and the future former Nicely Nice Guy. It was a Design for Living that had trouble written all over it. I've never been good at sharing.
I cried after I ended my call with Woodsy. And borrowing deviously from Casablanca, and trying to put something "We'll always have Ten Chimneys... Menard's"  which stocks both SweeTarts and Skittles.

And doing some research, I found this: My love of cutesy by turns complicated, over the top storylines is perhaps inherent in the fabric of that Great Place by a Great Lake. The creators of The Young and the Restless had a vacation home in Lake Geneva,Wisconsin and borrowed nearby Genoa City's for a their soap. Deirdre Hall, whose on screen character of Dr. Marlena Evans was possessed for more than a few Days of Our Lives, is from Milwaukee. (her real-twin, Andrea, played Marlena's twin Samantha, victim of the Salem Strangler).
The cutesy part comes via Happy Days, which began as a segment on Love, American Style but would flourish and bring us Laverne and Shirley, Mork and Mindy, Joanie Loves Chachi  and TV Land several years of programming. The Cunningham's house is about 10 minutes from me on Cahuenga Blvd...'Cahuenga' is the name of a former Native American settlement. Just like 'Milwaukee' is an Algonquin word for 'the Good Land'.
Now that you've suffered through all that, I don't sound quite so devious, do I?

I've never had a state turn up just about everywhere I go, and I'm flattered that Wisconsin and I are connected. It was my 3rd grade teacher who read to our class Little House in the Big Woods, and that's where I got the idea of being a writer someday.

And, as it turns out, a new character, rather handsome, wholesome, polite and intelligent approached me from cyberspace and guess where he calls home? You guessed it.

And the next day was the Summer Solstice.
I spent it alone, reflecting on many things.

Blog-o-thon #2 Eat Pray Love Sleep

If I didn't replenish my Homo Milk and Sweet Iced Tea tonight, I'd be one grumpy bastard tomorrow, so back out I went. Anytime I can pry myself away from the computer and go walking or biking I do, because recently, the notion of joining the world hasn't been an easy sell. Naturally this has to be Saturday night. The healthy cafeteria-like place had a line. The Country Italian place had a strange smell. I refuse to eat supper at a place named after a breakfast item. I had sushi on Wednesday. Pasta, salads and soups I can do at home.
I was about ready to commit to Mexican when I remembered there was a new Indian place I had not tried. I was a bit concerned Fajitas were featured but they had plenty of the regular dishes and Hayward's 5000 beer. It was suggested that vegetarian dishes can serve as good recovery meals, so I dove in.
The place had a good vibe so I didn't bitch about the contemporary minimalist decor. Back in Dallas in the 80's I was forever dragging friends to the Hare Krishna restaurant which was as ultra-exotic with its wax figure on an altar yet plain folks enough to get repeat business.
I'd exchanged emails earlier with a gent who very much wants me in San Francisco in two weeks. My problem is he's married: to a man. That's my hangup. He's keen for sex: the component I care least about.
But bigger issues weigh on me: issues I continue to ponder, but won't lose sleep over tonight. The food did the trick. I'm off to bed. My home is two blocks north and I'm fried. Namaste'.