Well, it's been a whirlwind few days and I haven't hardly said a word. For one thing, there was the trip to Sonoma. Perry got his film into the Sonoma Film Fesitival, which meant he came to Sonoma to screen it. So we went up there to see him and to support his film. And it was pretty nice, I have to say. Sonoma I mean. His film was good too. But I was really struck by Sonoma's beauty.

Also that morning,before going up, my Honey picked up an Italian lady who had me drive her around San Francisco, looking at desks. That was pretty fun. Anyway, then we went to Sonoma, which was full of rich people drinking wine and making small talk. The festival was sponsored by Porche, so there were a lot of Porches there. They gave about 12 of them to the festival, the new Cayenne SUV, with drivers. So we drove around a little in them. Which was nice, though not 100,000 dollars nice, which is what they cost. And then, at the end of the screenings, we went to the awards part, which was like a wedding at a country club spa. Sonoma Spa and Resort, to be exact. Only no one was getting married. But we danced on the dance floor and there was a carving station and everyone was in black tie and the valets and waiters all bowed and scraped.

And they had a stage set up with a cheesy MC and a celebrity host who was some turd who is the local ABC anchor who got up and made bad topical jokes about Iraq and sexist humor circa Bob Hope about big breasts and small penises and said things like "I've fallen and I can't get up" which wasn't funny twenty years ago when it was an infomercial and people would refer to it.

On the bright side, there was a high school student who was preternaturally articulate. He was there because the funding that provided his highschool with arts education and a film program had just been cut because of state budget cuts, so there was an auction to raise the money to reinstate it, plus everyone was giving a minimum of 500 dollars to drive around in Humvees and pretend they were in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. People were all very rich and nice to me, in a stiff white person sor tof way. There was a kind of famous actress who looked like Sarah Jessica Parker who talked to me for a while, though I can't really remember who she is or what movies she was in. But she was nice. And some producer who made the Talented Mr. Ripley talked to me for a while as well telling me about Italy, where he lived for seven years and somehow never learned Italian. Oh and some 44 year old lady who was kind of tough and from New York told me she just got engaged to some younger guy, then she did that whistle with her fingers in her mouth that's really loud that kind of made me deaf in my right ear for about ten minutes. Anyway, the festival was very nice. then we drove back from Sonoma.

The next morning I flew to LA. On the flight, just before I took my seat, I managed to bang my head really hard on a metal rail. So hard that I think I knocked myself out. Either that or I fell asleep involuntarily, which is the same thing really. All I know is, I smashed my head, sat down, and next thing I knew they were taking away the peanut packets and empty cups from everyone else and I never got any because I was out cold. Also the guy in the seat ahead of me was the actor from Barney Miller, Deitrich, who also did the Jos. A Bank commercials, whose name is Stephen something, only I didn't want to bother him and say I was a fan, even though I am. But he was a big influence on me, as Deitrich.

 

So I flew into Burbank and drove to Sam's house in Laurel Canyon, which is a fairly opulent spread. He gave me green tea, two of them, which had my heart racing like a frightened hamster. In his living room, he has a Helmut Newton book of nudes on a special chrome stand. The book is like three feet high and four feet wide and full of urbane photos of naked famous ladies. So I looked at that. Then we went to his restaurant which was quite good and duplicates the menu of Nobu. Also I got to see his new car, which is quite an impressive rig to behold. Same price range as the Cayenne but much nicer. Then I went to my hotel, which was not as nice as I'd hoped, even though it was in Beverly Hills. In the morning, I had breakfast and went looking around Beverly Hills, which was really depressing. Plus it was raining, as it always is when I am in LA, despite the fact that everyone says it doesn't rain there. I've been there like five times, and it rained four and snowed one. People were having car accidents all over the place. Then I met Greg Graf for burritos in Farmer's Market, which is a mall with a miniature fountain, like Bilaggio on a very small scale. We sat at some outdoor table that is sort of like a third world mercado, and there was even a meat selling stall with chop meat shaped into a pig head with an apple in the mouth.

Then I was off at the recording session, which is why I had to go to LA. Mark Mothersbaugh is a genius and Jack Jones did a very passable impression of Tony Bennet, who is, he told me, his close personal friend. Then I got on my flight home, where a fat lady peed in her pants and went nuts and had to be taken off the flight by four cops and that fracas delayed our take off. Something about her dog being charged money to be on the flight. I didn't really follow it, but she appeared to have peed in her pants and was crying and eating Rolos, so I guess she was just crazy.

I guess I must be identifiying with living here more, because I had the sensation that it was good to be back in San Francisco, which is also raining, but relative to being in LA, it's much less sad. LA somehow feels like a sad older actress who never made it, probably because everywhere you go you see people who are like that. And there are giant billboards for strip clubs all around. And a lot of people, like valets or whatever, seem to wish they were someone else more famous, and it all gives me a bad feeling.