California Here I Come

I’m counting down the days. June 6th I take off for California. A day in Atherton, then off to Napa, I’ll sleep in Dixon and check out the prospects at Davis. Ali is making calls so that we can meet up with Andy in San Francisco. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years. I miss my little Castro party whore. Where has he been? I need the Sun King. My life is in shambles.
I don’t know why I’m so excited. My father will probably kick my ass for not having written more toward the Costa Rica book. I’m working on a chapter now but I keep leaving it on the computer in the office. Someone asked me about the book at a party the other night. I told them the basic premise and she thought it would make a good movie. (Kill me now) I wanted say who do you think it should star Ben Affect and Jen Big Ass. Fuck Me! I was drunk and I stayed nice so ya know I get props. I suppose my credibility wasn’t aided by the fact that my car keys were taken away. On the drive home, my almost equally drunk boss was telling something in great confidence. Thank God, I don’t remember a word she said. We’ve exchanged knowing smiles all week. Only I don’t know anything. I wonder what I agreed to or with for that matter. Hell we could have exchanged fetishes for all I know. Maybe I’m the one who should be concerned. It’s a reasonable assumption because for the second time in less than a week a cyber friend has called me a whore. Perhaps I should be more careful with what I mail to people on My Space. Oh, you know what I’m wrong. One called me a hooker cause she’s a nice girl.
Anyway, I’m going to get to sail in California. Mother Ocean I miss you so; maybe you’ll let your girl get some sleep. I told Jacob that I wanted to move back to California. He asked why and I said to change my life, to start over. What I’d really like is to be back in his arms down some fire road. There is no justice in life; it constantly conspires against you. I’m reading Amagansett by Mark Mills. It’s not a great book but I fell in love with this one sentence. We are like servants, laboring under illusions of self –importance, convinced that we’re the true masters of the house. I think that best describes the false sense of control I sometimes feel. I better have another drink and do something self destructive before I become a total bore.