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01 june 2000
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Gold sun rolls around Such is the opening verse to "Easter Theatre," from XTC's "Apple Venus Volume One." Volume Two has just come, I'm told, but I haven't heard it yet, but I thought the above was appropo in light of my recent ode to the female breast.... Brutus called me this morning, told me he wanted to have dinner with me in Malibu. 7pm, sure, I could make it. Just two friends getting together, no problem. Afternoon, he called back. "Meet me at Granita, my treat." How did it go from "dutch" to his treat, I briefly wondered. Too briefly. I played hooky from work this afternoon, in the company of a new friend (yes, I believe can call her a friend now, and that's a good thing) at lunch, and later in the park across the street from the office. The vibe was sensual and relaxing, and I didn't want to leave, and it made me late for my dinner with Brutus, but not _too_ late ... Entering Granita, I knew something was up: Brutus wasn't alone. Also there was my new roommate. A huge surprise, and I'm not being sarcastic here. Two Vice Presidents, taking me out to dinner at the Company's expense. Something was up. Thank heavens they weren't discreet about their motives. Had I known that I was being this actively recruited for a new job, I would have dressed a bit better, maybe shaved this morning, worn slacks instead of jeans. They made me a soft offer tonight that was a full $20K over my current salary and told me to stew on it for a week. And stewing is what I'm doing. Beyond the incredible increase in salary, I'd be working in Malibu, a mere five miles from here. Private office, private balcony, that was promised as well. An environment and a group of people that I'm familiar with, a job description that I feel I could grasp. It's no wonder they call the company Freedom (click on 'magazines'). But I'm still gonna think about it. I'm gonna think about it hard. I'm gonna talk to my parents, my friends. I'd talk to my lover if I had one. Speaking of which, I promised myself I'd write about "regular sex" tonight. Something I've been lacking for most of my life. Something that makes me turn beet red at the mere mention of a penis or vagina or the intersection thereof. It's why I still consider myself a virgin in most senses of the word. Frankly, I have no desire to write about sex tonight. It'll just get me uncomfortably horny and then I'll have to let my right hand be my right hand and with my concentration level at the point that its at, I'll be up all night in a profound state of restlessness, staring at myself in the closet door mirrors addressing my reflection: "Charles: Why don't you get a fucking life?" And I really don't want that, do I? Frankly, I could really do to get laid. If only I could survive the guilt. I really hate understanding myself this well, for understanding so rarely means "acceptance." And I'm still a long way off from accepting myself. ~~~ Another Roxy pic above, self explanatory. "Burnt Umber" was a great suggestion for June, but was too similar to May's orange. I hastily settled on a cool blue, strangely, the same color I chose for June 1998. ~~~ (upload note, june 2 -- the notify list got a rough version of this entry last night ... before I wound up doing a wee bit of (mostly grammatical/spelling) editing on it this morning) 01 june 1999: didn't write : 01 june 1998: next to nothing : .. like cruising down to the Jersey shore for a weekend when I was in high school. Same state, different vibe. California is home, no matter where I am.
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