My friend Jim sent this to me and it made me laugh. There ain't no such thing as gay without YMCA and the hand motions to go along with it. Thank you Jim for helping me bring in the new year with a smile.
I bought a bottle of Italian Amarone earlier today and some wonderful Italian black truffle cheese to have with it. I also snagged a loaf of Italian bread and some French pork pate` along with a half a pound of Prosciutto di Parma, all of which is sitting handsomely here on a plate next to me on the floor. The Amarone is such a deep ruby red that you can't see through it holding it up to the light. I've had it open for almost 45 minutes now and it's starting to show off its stuff. Wow. I've had Amarone before but it's nice to be reminded of how amazing these more precious Italian wines are. Show offs, just like Italian men.
And speaking of Italian men I went to see a little gay movie called Ciao this evening in which the lead character was a handsome Italian guy from Genova who came to America to meet somebody, met somebody else and kind of fell in love. Way too slowly paced, which is problematic because I usually get and enjoy slower paced movies. But whatever, it was gay and the leads were hunks I guess that should be enough, right? It's a good thing the wine is good - that's all I have to say about that.
Got my hair cut earlier today and took care of business stuff before that and have been enjoying my time here in Hollywood immensely. It's always good to be home. I know where I'm going, I know how long it takes to get there and I know when it's best to take Fountain across town and when it's best to avoid it. Everyone is beautiful in Hollywood and the men are all gay and the cars are all washed and everyone is as fucked up as I am. It's nice to come home and feel like I'm the sanest person around. I'm not of course but it's nice pretending. Tomorrow I'm going to the beach, probably Laguna, and I'm going to bury my toes in the sand and let the earth and the ocean do that thing they do to me.
I've had a good if not challenging year and '09 holds promise of even more wonder and contentment. I have tired feet and am looking to give them a rest. I'm healthier and happier than I've been in years so life is good and I'm thrilled to still be a part of it all.
I wish you lots and lots of whatever it is that makes you happiest.
ciao e buon anno,
Tom
Sundays in Laguna
For seven years I lived and worked in a quiet little neighborhood in the Backbay area of Newport Beach called Santa Ana Heights. Though I call the area a quiet little neighborhood it lies directly under the flight path of the Orange County Airport. Not a problem for me though since every time a jet took off I imagined myself in it and on my way to Italy, my childhood home. It was a beautiful way to turn the noise of a jet engine into a promising fantasy that more than a few times became my reality. Perhaps one of the best parts of living in Santa Ana Heights was the fact that it took me 13 minutes to get to Laguna Beach, the legendary beach town that to this day remains one of my favorite places on earth. I have loved Laguna since I first discovered it in early 1983 and Jed and I are currently in the planning phase of making it our permanent home.
All of that is to introduce you to a series of letters that I wrote to friends about my adventures in Laguna on Sunday mornings. I never intended it to be a thing but on its own it became one. I created the domain SundaysInLaguna.com and began to gather the essays and stories into one place. As we contemplate our new life there I’m certain that these essays will likely begin again with an updated perspective on a Southern California beach town that has seen a fascinating and unstoppable evolution over the past many decades. In that light I would like to begin where my original essays left off and share with you my thoughts on what it means to be a part of that evolution. This was written on Super Bowl Sunday 2016
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