selections from the last two months

A. had a show at Art Walk. He got the raw space late Wednesday, and completely transformed it overnight, bringing a few originals and several framed giclee prints, plus some of the new stuff he's been doing. He stenciled the walls and put up signage, and spent six hours fielding questions and compliments, networking, and selling.

Between runs for refreshments and DJ'ing, I mostly stood around, chiming in occasionally to help when he was occupied, and making sure no one took high resolution photos. I love being (now, finally) familiar enough with his work to be able to explain how intricate, complicated, and labor-intensive the process is. I suspect most people have no clue how much time and effort he puts into his pieces. But more than that, I loved when people took the time (and interest) to read the artist's statement he posted.


Father's Day happened, and I almost didn't even realize it. We decided on a whim to go to the beach, since it was so gorgeous downtown. The coast was a bit chillier and rather grey, but it was still nice.

The water was icy, but A. plowed in without flinching, so I followed. He laughed when the waves knocked me over, nearly choking me with spume and spray. With his arms around my waist, he held me above the crashing water so I could catch my breath.

Later, still sandy and disheveled from the beach - and I in a sweatshirt - we went to BOA and dined on jumbo prawns and steak tartar, prepared tableside. I overheard someone nearby say "something something Father's Day" and it hit me like a wall. I looked at A. "Today is Father's Day?" I asked, my head cocked in amazement. I'd completely forgotten. He nodded quietly and put his hand on my leg. A few self-indulgent tears got by me before I felt ridiculous, sucked it up, and enjoyed my raw meat.

Still hungry, we drove up the PCH to a roadside fish shack, where we ate fried clamstrips and clam chowder. It was freezing by this point, and we had a 25 minute wait for food, so A. wrapped himself up in our trusty Bonnaroo whale sheet, to block the wind. He looked like he'd ripped a shower curtain off the rod of a cheap Palm Beach motel.


Some friends from out of town visited, including a BFF I hadn't seen in two years. Colori Kitchen, the Standard, Chateau Marmont, ping pong, and some alarmingly unflattering photos.

A. and I got stupid at the Standard and decided it would be a good idea to go swimming. In our underwear. I was wearing a mesh bra. A nude colored mesh bra. Guess who had too many greyhounds?? But my friends, being the considerate people that they are, made sure to get pics. These are the most SFW:

I was mortified when I saw them, but then A. said, "Look how happy we look," and I kind of melted.

We all went back to A.'s, and a friend took some pics of us that I didn't even know about until a few days later:


I had a birthday, and an unnecessary fuss was made. At dinner with my out-of-town friends, I was surprised with fried green tea ice cream, and sung to. A few days later, A. had the waiter at Izaka-ya (best meal I've had in LA so far), candlefy our desert. Then, at a Memorial Day barbecue at a friend's, I was presented with two different cakes. My "friends" then thought it would be hysterical to then get me high and encourage me to eat half a fucking cake when the munchies inevitably hit.

A. and I feasted on the raspberry-chocolate cake he'd gotten me for days. When we attacked it again one night in the wee hours, he first put a lit candle in it, before bringing it to me in bed.

On my actual birthday, more fuss and more flame at Bottega Louie:

Don't people know it's reckless to give a girl like me so many wishes?


And an afternoon that just made me happy - Vietnamese for lunch, and A. carves his coconut. Cat calls from outside alert us to mayhem on the street: the annual World Naked Bike Ride is going by, just outside the front door of Blossom, downtown.