I went to Guy’s house the other night. There was an outdoor concert in his backyard, which was sponsored by a group which puts on intimate concert events around the world. The music was painful to listen to. I had been to one prior, which was good, but this one was like a couple 60’s experimental bands. Embarrassing stuff. Anyway, there were about 30-40 people, lots of couples on dates. It’s a cool thing to do in LA, when the music doesn’t suck. And I was watching some of the guys holding their girls, and the girls rubbing their guys’ arms or necks…  I became a little overwhelmed with wanted that intimacy at that moment, and knowing that until you’re with me, or heaven forbid aren’t, I can’t have that. I miss it. I miss holding hands. I miss caressing. I miss feeling someone else.  

P. S. 50 days. 

I cooked a big pasta dinner and retired to the sofa to watch a film. I put on Beasts Of The Southern Wild. I watched and marveled at its magic.  I remember when I first saw it in the theater and gazed starry-eyed at the miracle on screen. How does someone conceptualize such a thing?  I watched it again tonight, equally incredulant, wonder on my face and tears on my cheeks.  It may be the most beautiful piece of filmmaking I have ever seen (twice).