I got WiFi -- actually Verizon FiOS and it rocks. I also have phone-age so I can do the fax thing if need be. I can listen to KCRW.com or Pandora on my laptop as I work my desktop and I feel so very nearly up to date. No iPhone for internet contact, yet...but I think I'm avoiding that next step away from humanity for now. Of course, what made the whole experience more pleasurable was my installation guy -- cable guy? -- was a doll, and once he figured I was going to stay out of his way (and was not going to make a pass at him) got comfortably chatty. The full installation took a good 6 hours of running cables and mounting boxes of relay info and moving the stove and the fridge to lay out connections...but for once everything worked just right the first time. Very cool.
I mention he was a bit nervous around me because my fridge magnets advertise I'm gay. But I couldn't even consider trying anything with him because he looked so much like how I picture Bobby Carapisi (except for his hair being a lighter shade of brown), it would have been a debasement of the character. Which is weird, no question, me protecting the image of a fictional person...but that's how it was. In fact, him being so hard at work got me to writing on BC-3 (added 6 pages), figuring out what I have, exactly, and what I need to make the story work and see if I can determine which direction it's going. For some reason, Eric's love of ice hockey's coming back into play and may wind up being his way back to completion, but I haven't figured out the why or how of its symbolism as regards Allen. Oh, I know the story's doing this because it knows the answers and intends to dole them out to me in its usual piecemeal fashion; I just wish I could figure them out before diving in.
But for now -- now I'm back to the way I was. Feel so goooood.
Quick PS -- I just realized the actor who played the old funeral specialist in "Departures", Tsutomu Yamazaki, played the kidnapper in one of my favorite Kurosawa films, "High and Low" -- 47 years ago! That's a LONG career for an actor.
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Welcome! Now if only I could get my apartment out of the 20th century. I don't have cable. I don't have internet. My computer is 6 years old. I don't have a microwave. I'm sure at some point I'll probably find a rotary phone plugged into the wall instead of my cellphone.
Dude, you're scaring me. Or maybe you're like John Hurt's character in "Love and Death on Long Island." Do you have a doddering old woman running your life (and yes, cats do count)?
Back in my days in Topanga, running around bare ass with a joint in one hand and wine in the other, I had a telephone installed in the bedroom. Where I lived in Topanga there was no television without cable and cable was new, all you got were the same channels you did with an antenna only you paid for it. So getting a telephone in the bedroom was really big.
He was a cute guy, and I forgot he was to show up. There was an orgy of sorts the night before and when I showed him the bedroom, I forgot about a dildo under the bed. He has to lay the wire from outside and go under the bed. Here he is spread flat on the ground next to the bed reaching for the wire he fed from the other side and pulls out Kong, the Magnificent. You had thought it was a rattler. The look on his face and me standing over his spread legs. I don't know what terrorized him more. Him holding the dildo or the smile on my face.
The phone never worked right though. I think it was the Crisco left on the dildo that caused his hands to slip when attaching the wires to the phone.
Been to Topanga, lately? It's still very Mother Earth Ship, but in a different galaxy from yours. I have friends who chose to live there because it's a great place to raise their daughter, and whenever I'd go I'd see nothing but parents and their brats scurrying all over the place.
Topanga was a place for bohemians at one time. It had been a refuge for many artists and free thinkers. It had, at one time, a large gay population. The first bar in Los Angeles that allowed gays to dance together originated in Topanga and was owned by a Los Angeles retired cop. The road to get there twisted and turned. The cop had connections, if there was to be a raid, by the time vice came, the gays were dancing with lesbians and of course a pay-off kept it safe.
But in the eighties, things began to change. Money moved in and pushed much of the artistic crowd out. Now you have to have money to live there. I rented a three story house for three hundred a month and others that lived there thought I was paying a huge sum at the time.
I've been working on a book about my days in Topanga. I knew rock stars, prostitutes, bank robbers and witches that all lived happily in Topanga.
Sad too, but the last time I was on Fernwood Drive, at the house I lived in for twenty years, a rainbow flag flew. I don't know if it's still there.
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