Actually, who knows what normal is anymore? What did make it seem normal was going out last Thursday and Friday nights for dinner with friends. But now that I think about it, is that really normal for me? Before the pandemic, I was living in San Pedro in what was isolation not unlike how I lived through the pandemic. I guess when I was living in Los Feliz I was a lot more social, but I was also in my late 20s and early 30s.

Thursday I went to DAMA in the Fashion District with Yuko where we had Mexican-style tapas and hung out for three hours. It was nice catching up with her, gabbing about what we did during the pandemic, what we’re planning on doing, our neuroses, chemical imbalances and intakes. And the food was quite remarkable between the empanadas, the pork shank and the deep fried fluffernutter.

Then Friday it was off to El Cholo in Pasadena to see Angie who was visiting from North Carolina, Ben and Catherine. It was another few hours of gabbing and catching up, drinking margaritas and putting each other down.

Missing out on being able to do this certainly made this particular heart grow fonder — now that we are able to go out to dinner and hang out, I certainly want to do these things. I guess during the pandemic a lot of us learned that we can’t take each day for granted. I know: deeeeeeeeep.

Well since this is Memorial Day weekend, let’s see what shenanigans I get up to. Follow this space.

Although I insist 41 and 42 shouldn’t count because of the quarantine, alas, here it is. Of course 42 is the answer to all of life’s questions according to Douglas Adams, so does that mean I finally know everything?

I’m starting 42 feeling happy, hopeful and thankful. It sounds so fucking sappy but there it is.

I am feeling happy because I’m living in the closest thing I can ever think of as a dream apartment. It’s pretty big, bright and in a historical building in Downtown Los Angeles. Also perhaps it’s thanks to some chemical aid thanks to escitalopram (20 mg every day,) but life isn’t a complete crushing unbearable act.

I’m hopeful because I’m halfway vaccinated, halfway to being able to start getting life to be a little more normal, to start seeing the people I’ve missed in my life over the last year and to start having penises go inside me. Yes, the penises. Mmmm. Penis.

And I’m thankful because I have a decent job that pays me well so that I don’t have to worry about being poor, that I’m healthy enough and that people tend to leave me the hell alone.

It’s just so weird to say that for the first time in my life things are pretty nice. How weird.

Good riddance! What a dreadful four years in our country. We endured the following:

• Muslim travel ban
• Attempted revocation of the Affordable Care Act without an alternative healthcare plan
• The rise of white supremacist groups with Charlottesville and the Insurrection at the Capitol as their lowlights
• Collusion with Russia and attempted collusion with Ukraine for his own personal campaigns
• Child separation policy
• The attack on truth
• Lying about COVID and absolving all Federal responsibility allowing over 400,000 people to die unnecessarily
• Tax cuts for the rich
• An economic crash not seen since 1929.
• And a lot more.

I guess on paper I probably should have voted for Trump because personally I am doing better than I did four years ago. And I guess I should like tax breaks because it means I can spend more money on me me me (even though as well off as I am, I’m still not rich enough to be in tax bracket that gets all the breaks.) But seriously, if other people can’t survive what’s the point? What good is it for me to do well when the rest of society is in the tank?

So for the first time since the 1993 Clinton inauguration when I was first becoming politically aware, I watched today’s ceremonies. It felt like a much needed moment of therapy. And can we talk about native Angeleno Amanda Gorman who stole the show?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no fan of Biden. He’s far too right wing for me, but anything is better than what we had. It will be refreshing to hear the truth every now and again.

So after about one year of living in my apartment in Downtown LA, I’m moving. After staying in one place for about 10 years in San Pedro, I’m now going to be packing up my things and moving to a brand new place. I’ll be moving…

Down the hall and around the corner.

Yes, I’m not even moving floors. I’m just getting a bigger place with more closet space. So I’ll be going from 824 square feet to 1057 square feet, and instead of a courtyard view I’ll be facing the street. You know what that means: I’ll be flashing a lot more people.

As for leaving Los Angeles, I don’t think so. If you search on YouTube, you can see a whole list of whiny-ass bitches talk about leaving the city. For the most part, they were mere transplants to begin with, so goodbye! You were only clogging up our freeways and being the sort of person you bitch about in your videos: opportunistic social-ladder climbers with fake personalities and even faker bodies.

Being born here and having lived here since I was eight-years old (with a four-year escape to Santa Barbara,) what these people see in LA is not what I see in LA. LA is a tough place, sure. All big cities are tough. All big cities are expensive and overpriced. Where the fuck are you going to go? New York? Boston? Chicago? And don’t tell me Austin because it’s not even in the top 20 metropolitan areas in populations in the United States.

Most of these people need to admit it: they couldn’t handle living in a big city. They couldn’t make it in what they were hoping to make it in when they originally moved out here and decided it would be easier to live while working as a restaurant server in Nebraska than in Los Angeles.

Whatever. Watch me in a year move to Montana. HAHA!

I got home Saturday night, and there was a strange feeling I had: I was so happy to be home.

When I lived in San Pedro, I did not love the place. It was cheap as all hell which is why I stayed there for as long as I did, but I did not love it even though it was the same apartment I grew up in. But as I stepped out the elevator, walked down the hall and through my door, I smiled and thought: I really love where I live.

Not to say this was a bad vacation. It was very peaceful and picturesque just as I expected. Perhaps the biggest disappointment was that the weather was too nice — I wanted to experience some bad Montana weather that would make my fingers fall off from frostbite. The highs got up to 40F, the lows dipped barely below freezing and there was maybe a little dusting of snow during the middle of one night.

I mean we did have a sloppy-ass coup attempt that occurred during my vacation which did bring things down a little. I don’t know.

Well now that the work week has gone on, life has returned as normal. Well, at least we have a three-day weekend.