The Light
The things that you can see in real life are more gratifying, more beautiful, and more impressive than what you can imagine or conceive of. Such was the case when a skyscape, complete with breaking clouds and the setting sun, led my way home today. It was so beautiful that I narrowly missed a deadly accident westbound on the 10 freeway.
By the time I got to National Boulevard, the scene that might have depicted the coming of the Lord instead looked like a polluted, overcast sky. I thought that I would go to Barnes & Noble for more inspiration. Specifically, I hoped to find an article in a gay magazine in which Brandon Flowers addressed the rumors of his sexuality. I had read the teaser online last night, and thought about it through the night and through the workday. (It's interesting, having a mandatory settlement conference on half the mind, and a hot rock upstart on the other.) An unfortunate detour to a Cinnabon led to a foolish decision to buy a Mochalatta Chill. The thing was so sickeningly sweet that, 2 hours later, I still have not gotten over it.
That dessert drink ruined my dinner, and threatened a stomachache that would push the memory of a beautiful sky out of my mind. But I remain happily obsessed with the idea of Brandon Flowers in a too-tight suit and cigarette pants, the dapper bad-ass who sat on the steps, covering his face as the white spotlight beat down on his irrepressible talent.
(Anybody know a good therapist?)
All These Things That I've Done (This Weekend) 
Saturdays are for magazines. I flip through the photos in US Weekly, I read the articles in Los Angeles Magazine, and I study the pages of Martha Stewart Living. If I were to oversimplify my personality (which, I imagine, is no real challenge), those three periodicals would pretty much take care of it.
Sundays are for brunch, cleaning, and surprises. It was Cafe on 3rd again, and getting all my jeans tumble-dried to fit tightly, and the surprise was an unexpected trip to the Wiltern to see the Killers. I'm in love with Brandon Flowers. Googling him reveals that he's 22 and "could be" gay. So I can't just share him with girls, I have to share him with boys, and also teenagers and college kids. Shit.
It was a bit like watching James Bond rocking in Vegas. I'm sure a music writer somewhere would scoff at that interpretation. I pretend to be nothing, I only know what I like.
Hmm, and what else? Il Soleil for some duck; funfetti cupcakes with mascarpone frosting; Three of Clubs and cabernet and meeting
more "screenwriters" into the morning; another little jaunt into Polkadots and Moonbeams. And laying eyes on a 22-year-old rock wunderkind.
And thus another
excellent weekend ends!
The Longer Days 
A little more light means a little more adventure everyday. Longer days are meant to be spent with old friends, brunching by the beach, finding vintage t-shirts or antique letter openers to purchase. It means catching up over artisan breads and fruit spreads, or having bergamot scented tea in the late afternoon.
We also ended up at the home of my friend's aunt, who happens to be a celebrity chef. It was a little awe-inspiring to be in her kitchen, of which all the counter space is also a wood cutting board and everything was labeled KitchenAid and Kohler. Her aunt was preparing for an upcoming episode of Iron Chef America, and she talked about what recipes she was playing around with. I chatted excitedly at times about the chefs I followed, but would easily fall silent when she began cooking, because it was basically Food Network in person. The clatter of the pans hitting the range; the brisk, firm movements as the scent of lemon and shallots filled the air; and the clean, modern table setting under soft studio lighting, all made for a lovely and relaxed dinner on a warm night.
Today was a real treat, from start to finish. Sundays should always be this nice.
Spring is in the Air 
Everything about it was perfect. Only fatigue curbed what would have assuredly been a rushing tide of emotions. I remember running around our parents' houses in hoop skirts. And the day that we realized we had waists. And amid the sea of silver and blue, I watched Stella enter another charmed chapter of her blessed life.
There were two points in the day that really touched me, and both of those involved watching expressions on faces. It made me realize that there is a very rare type of person who is so pure, so genuine, that you can read goodness by simply seeing their face. To be simple, is to be divine.
The last couple of months have been satisfyingly purposeful, if hectic and difficult. Many times, reflections ran through my head that I considered blogging, but then when the moment presented itself, that accursed San Diego server put out the spark. Computers, man. When it's all said and done, all I can really do with a computer is play Sims 2. (Incidentally, there was one week in the past couple of months where I logged 40 hours playing the Sims, the equivalent of a full work week.) In between Simsing were the weddings and finally, finally filing my first appellate brief.
The past 48 hours have been hellish, some of the worst I've ever had. I will make some attempt of describing how filing the brief went down without treading too much into incriminating territory. It was Murphy's Law, and the sweltering sun, and a trunk with two dozen briefs as well as my car keys, and waiting for Triple A, and then Tracy, and... I've said too much. But shortly before 5:00 pm I was sprinting across the Court of Appeals in flip-flops on, as the bemused cleaning staff looked on. Worth mentioning that the Court of Appeals is an impressive building, with a large fountain and statues of California wildlife, including our famous bear.
Tomorrow is a day off. I'll have a little bit of time to wash my whites, stain a TV stand, catch up on sleep often sacrificed. And over my morning cup of coffee, I will try to reflect on all that has been great in the last months. The refreshing, reliable easiness with my best friends, across two weddings and many meals; those that have helped and guided me when I was at my lowest ebb; beers over beech wood; what it meant to be hugged just one second longer; breakfasting in new spots with old company; just feeling oh, so content.
