If you missed last week's entry read it here first.

UPDATED November 5: Well, the girl from American Rag on Van Ness did call me on Sunday. But I had gone down to L.A. for a party and I also went to the American Rag there on La Brea. I got a sweater and two pairs of camper shoes. The black ones I had been looking at and some blue ones with tan.

I hate Los Angeles.

I don't know. Maybe it's a chemical reaction I have. Something to do with the climate. But I look around and get very depressed very quickly. I grew up there as a kid, but moved away when I was like 9. Maybe some really horrible things happened to me (my childhood was, of course, already, unhappy) that I have blocked out.

Anyway, I don't think I can go back. I have yet to have a good trip. I moved away from there 3 years ago after bottoming out completely. If I ever talk about going down there again for any reason, remind me not to. I will not go south of Monterey/Carmel.

First, I took a cab to the airport. Then I flew down. Then I took a cab to Tony's. Tony was out of the area and let me stay in his great apartment and use his classic 1970 white convertible Mercedes.

Then I drove over to my sister's. She got upset at me right away. I made some disparaging remarks about her dog. I also was doing psychological profiles on people that we know, but she didn't want to hear it. Talking about anything that upsets or depresses her always upsets and depresses her, so she doesn't talk about it.

We went to dinner at a place called Fred 62 I think. It's a diner. Good. I'd been there before. Jo was doing me a big favor by going with me.

Then we met up with Jo's roommate Deana and her friend Jennifer. I know Deana pretty well. I had not met Jennifer, but she seemed cool. In fact, that is my final assessment of Jennifer: I like her.

People in LA, and everywhere else too actually, seem to think that it's fun and in and hip to hang out in dive bars. That's what we did. Well, if you don't drink, that sucks. Some more people came and then I left around midnight ("I'm really tired.") and went back to Tony's and read some more of The Laughing Policeman, which I had started on the plane.

I read till four and got up around noon or 1pm. I had a bowl of raisin bran (I bought a few groceries before returning home). Listened to some CDs.

Then to American Rag where I bought those shoes. The only real thing to do in LA is eat or shop. My old refuges (Tower, Book Soup, Virgin -- all on Sunset) didn't hold much interest for me, with the availability at Amazon and all. I'd spent all I could, so it was time to go. GO. GizzO. But I still had my party to go to.

Then I went over to Jo's. Deana was asleep on the couch and the dog was barking maniacally. I like to push it away with my foot. Or if it's following me, I like to put things in it's way. Pull out a chair. Whatever. Jo and I went to Costco. But Costco doesn't take Visa or Mastercard (!?!) so we had to go back to get a check. Also Costco sucks. There were about 5000 people in there and I disliked everyone on sight. Everyone was fat. Everyone had kids and the kids were fat and the parents were buying cases of Snickers bars. So awful.

For some reason, pretty much anything I say or do around my sister really upsets her. But then by way of explanation she says, "but it's only with you, I'm not like this with other people." So, I'm like Jo, can we talk about this, I don't understand why I make you so mad all the time. But she didn't want to talk about it.

Then we went to Trader Joe's and a supermarket. I bought some Marlboro Lights which I found out are the cigarets that make me dizzy and feel faint when I smoke the first one. The sensation lasts for about 5 minutes. It's the most fun I have these days.

Then my dear friends Estahl and Ken came down from SF to come to this party for me. I really appreciate that. I need to express that, and I need to express that even though the weekend was pretty horrible, I definitely appreciate that you guys came.

Estahl and Ken and Estahl's brother and his wife and I went out to dinner at Red on Beverly. It was pretty good, was the general consensus.

Then we went over to the party and my dear friend Duffy was there and he got me a gift of a first edition of one of my favorite books by one of my favorite writers. And Mogol was there and he got me an apparently cool CD, which I left at Jo's. She has to send me both of those. And darling Hot Anne came over and got me a Virgin certificate for a CD. I told her I would buy a really great CD with it and then keep it forever and always think of her when I played it.

Then people started coming and talking and drinking and having fun. Not me really, but everyone else. Then this girl/woman I wanted to come came.

This is a long and drawn out, dumb, somewhat pathetic tale of a girl I met three years ago and haven't really been able to get over. She was with some "dude" off and on for all the time I've known her. I won't go into that.

I mean she's beautiful (and she looked r e a l l y good Saturday night). She's flirty and playful -- and I know what that is, and I know that it shouldn't affect me, but I am drawn to it.

For so long she was with this dude -- and we all know that I am usually drawn to women who are already involved with someone. Something in my subconscious where, I think, I try to sabotage myself, for whatever reason -- probably that I am scared, afraid of failure or miscommunication or something.

I think she might get a certain satisfaction out of stealing men's hearts, ripping them out and then pouncing on them with stiletto heels. But maybe not. A lot of our "relationship" pretty much only goes on in my head. Did I spell stiletto right?

For a long time I'd really been trying to figure out what it is about this girl/woman. Whenever I was around her and she was with people -- friends --, I always felt like none of them saw this thing about her. As though there is some sort of sense of sadness, or emptiness, or something buried deep inside her. Like it's there but she doesn't openly deal with -- for whatever reason. She doesn't tell people about this part of her, or whatever it is, and most people can't see through to it. But I can see it.

Caviat: I could be sooo wrong. I could be so wrong about her. Maybe I am making up stuff where there is no stuff.

And I really don't mean to suggest that I'm better than all of you, and more perceptive and thoughtful. I really don't, but, sometimes people just have this thing, this chemical thing or some sort of wavelength of communication. The problem here is that it's only been going in one direction.

Now, to be fair, maybe I'm objectifying, maybe I'm making something out of nothing that's really there. Granted. I'm aware of this possibility. Strong possibility. We've never had a real real conversation. We've had bits of conversations. Bits of real conversation, but not so that there was a real connection made. I mean I was really drunk, or she was.

Anyway, she knows all about how I feel and pretty soon after she got there I started to realize that nothing was going to happen. First, I don't think she had any intention of letting anything happen. She was sort of, aloof, maybe? And second, I have no "moves" or whatever. The whole thing was extremely annoying because I couldn't read her at all. And as usual, around her, I get nervous and only manage to say stupid things and my mind pretty much goes blank. Aren't I too old for this to happen?

As I write this right now it's 11-05-70 and I'm 15 minutes away from being 30. Anything I wanted to do before I was thirty that I didn't do, well it's pretty much too late.

Anyway, back to the party. I talked a little bit to people. I went outside and stood in the dark a couple of times for a little while. Thinking about life and... all those things (Plus the fact that I'm waiting to hear about how a job interview I did last week went over). And I'm almost thirty -- 9 minutes. It was hot inside. Jo had bought a case of Duraflames and was putting them to good use, baby.

Oh, and I don't mean to sound hard on, or unappreciative of, Joanna. She went to more than a little bit of trouble to have this party and I do honestly appreciate it. Jo got me a birthday cake. And I do like birthday cake. But I didn't really feel like eating any right then.

Anyway, at 2 I left ("I'm really tired."). Uggghhhh.

I went back to Tony's and read some more of The Laughing Policeman. In the morning (noon) I got up, showered and called a cab to take me to the airport. A small, elderly Asian man with large, young-looking hands showed up 15 minutes later. It smelled as though he'd had a couple of garlic sandwiches and a glass of garlic juice for lunch. At the airport I saw my flight was delayed for 4 hours. Luckily I was so early that I was able to get on an earlier flight that had been delayed. So, I actually got out of LA a few minutes before I even hoped to.

And I read some more of the Laughing Policeman on the plane.

If anyone who was at the party is reading this and is annoyed that I am so negative about it, I apologize. I really do appreciate that all the people who came came. And all that. Jo lit a bunch of candles and they were nice. The dog knocked some of them over. He knocked over some beers too, but luckily he lapped it all up. The dog licked my hands several times and I jumped each time. I hadn't seen him under the table or wherever. Actually, now that I think about it, the dog is a she.

Anyway, about the girl. I am now going to get over her. Absolutely. All I really need is to meet someone up here. In the Golden city of San Francisco. I mean there's plenty of girls in this city to have unrequited feelings for. After all, every girl I meet up here is married or has a boyfriend.

I am now 30, and I am now going to go finish The Laughing Policeman. And when I wake up I will be 30. And then for 10 years I will be in my thirties. It will be like someone on thirtysomething. Except not in a relationship. And I won't have to hang around with Timothy Busfield.

Mid-November Tales, "Shoes III", is here.

Trip to Los Angeles Story, "Birthday: Shoes Pt II", is here.

American Rag San Francisco story, "Shoes", is here.