07-06-02 - 9:04 p.m.
it's not enough that richard is out to prove that his unproven parenting skills are better than mine, or that he constantly needs to orchestrate my love life, or feel better about himself by demeaning everyone else in his tyrannical, pompous path; now he wants to direct my diary.
you didn't write about my ralph lauren yellow polo, he whines. you didn't mention enough of our day in l.a. you didn't describe your 4th of july soire.
nothing satisfies this man, because this man is hopelessly dissatisfied, but for the record, richard showed up one evening in a designer polo shirt he found on ebay. it was a shade of yellow that gave new meaning to that old corey hart chestnut 'sunglasses at night'. richard is not a small man. think a giant happy face with an orson welles demeanor. i was blind for days afterward.
in l.a., which included the andy warhol exhibit for my birthday, we cruised 500 old haunts, 499 of which were gay bars, but who's counting? i will admit he indulged me with a stroll through the homogenized hustler superstore on sunset, but his dour opinions of the newly restored, historic carousel on santa monica pier threatened to ruin the entire day. richard hates the ocean. he's terrified of roller coasters. if he wanted to see a carousel, he'd go to the local mall. i've babysat toddlers with more patience. maybe he needed a nap.
the ecclectic gathering at my house on the 4th included a weapon carrying white supremacist in a grass skirt and sea shell bra, an overly pregnant 18 year old whose baby has been dubbed 'cougar', my high strung 22 year old who drove up from santa babs with her dirty laundry, a girl named ashley with enough hair on her navel to rival robin william's back, my psychotic neighbor mimi, a nameless idiot in a fishing hat, berries, and of course, richard. in the course of the festive evening, the sean penn lookalike father of cougar announced that america had gone 'soft'. heasley responded by siding with osama bin laden and the american indians, and in the midst of nicotine withdrawls, decided her little sister berries had become fairuza balk in american history x, packed up her wet laundry and stormed out. fortified by a bottle of reisling, richard loudly decided that berries, whose dubious parental supervision has already been established, will be pregnant within the year.
where do i fit into all this? i had a good time. i delight in people; their basic need for validation, their sweet human frailties. on occasion, i even delight in richard. by the time it was dark, i was snuggled against him, watching early coppola, too content to care about the fireworks exploding over the coast.