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10-7-01 - 12:24 p.m. I'm not even going to attempt to write about the bombing of Afghanistan right now. Know that I am aware of what is happening so as not to think me completely ignorant of world affairs. Know that I don't wholly believe this to be the right course of action we should be taking, but have no alternative method in mind. Know that even through this I'm proud to be an American and will stand behind my country, for better or for worse. I might say, in a later entry, something against her, but I do love the United States and have complete faith in her. We've been through worse than this. We can get through this. We'll be okay. That's it for me. I came home from a day in Los Angeles and fell asleep after checking my email last night. This morning I woke up thinking it was Monday and time to get ready for work. Then I sat up, but noticing there was a fair amount of resistance pulling on the covers, I looked down, saw Rob half-sleeping next to me, freaked, jumped out of bed and flipped on the lights, waking him up. He sat up then and looked at me. "You and me, I mean, we didn't�?" "Have sex?" "Dammit!" "Nope." "What?" "We didn't." "Didn't what?" "Have sex." "Oh. So you're�" "Fully clothed." "Good. Then why are you here?" "You know I can't drive home." "Right, so why in my bed, with me?" "Justin's on the couch." "Why's he here? What day is it?" "Sunday. Bryan's bed's too small for both of them." "Then you should have slept on the floor." "And get stepped on?" "Yes." After screwing my head on straight and settling down, I helped myself to a healthful breakfast of one slice of chocolate cake, a glass of milk, and a cigarette. The Lion King is an incredible play. TLK's always been among my favorite Disney movies, so I was skeptical about how true to the original the stage production would be (much like I'm dreading the upcoming film adaptation of RENT.) I was thoroughly impressed at how well this worked as a live-action device. The play is much more cultural. The costumes were magnificent, the music was rich and extremely well-performed, the animal and shadow puppetry were unique and fun to watch...it was just great. Go see it. I saw it at the Pantages Theatre in Hollywood, which is a small venue that reminds me of the castle in Sleeping Beauty. Barry Manilow's star on the Walk of Fame is right out front. If I'd had a camera on me at the time, I would have taken a picture of it for my dear Barry-obsessed friend, who I'm sure has already seen it in person. We drove around Hollywood, decided which houses we'd want to live in if we lived in Beverly Hills, poked around in some of the shops on Rodeo Drive, and then went over to see if the La Brea Tar Pits had become interesting yet. Justin had never been to Hollywood. I asked him if he had grown up in a cave. He said no, that his family "just never goes anywhere." It's fun to drive through Hollywood and count the talent studios. They line the streets. But don't go thinking Hollywood is a pretty place. It's not. Parts of it, yes, are glamorous, but the majority is a dump. When parking for the theatre, the shadow of the Capitol Records building loomed over us. Bryan said we should walk in and demand a record deal. Nobody else liked the idea. Driving by Beverly Hills High School was quite the treat, too. It looks like a hotel or a college or some kind of community center. They have a parking structure and (supposedly) offer valet parking as well. That's having too much money right there. And you know none of these kids drive their parents' cars or little cheap used ones. They drive new BMWs and trendy Jags. Rob wanted to check out a Hollywood strip club to see if any wannabe starlets had taken the easy road to success. After announcing the idea in the car, he was met with silence. I said, "Rob, you're the only person in this car interested in seeing naked women." He dropped it after that. I think my sleep depravation caught up with me last night. On the way home we decided to eat at Dave & Buster's (fake IDs are fun) at the Irvine Spectrum Center. In the hour-or-so it took to get from Hollywood to Irvine, I fell asleep and woke with my head in Rob's lap. (We were in the backseat, After eating dinner, we wandered around the Spectrum. Euphoria (excellent house/trans/glass/club/techno/dance/whatever artist) was playing live and a few people were dancing. I hadn't danced in such a long time and the music was so perfect that I absolutely could not resist the urge. When you've danced your entire life, you begin to walk in time, without realizing it, to the beat of whatever music is there. You can't sit still. You have to get up, you have to move. It's a compulsory reaction that you cannot deny. Justin was the only one brave enough to get out there with me, but I ended up practically grinding on this one girl who had to be one of the best freestyle dancers I've ever seen. She was so free and so fluid...and so TALL! I talked to her while we were dancing and we exchanged cell phone numbers. She lives in Anaheim and dances professionally. Her name is Kylie, she's 23, and she lives with her husband right by Disneyland. Good times. I think I probably overdid things last night. I'm still supposed to be going easy on the physical activities and giving my body a longer chance to recover from the appendectomy. Stupid life. Always getting in the way of things.
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