Wishing you everything your little heart wants for 2018. Happy new year, love.

I watched my brother play tonight at The Viper Room. He was really good. It was loud. I had a water bottle in one hand and my finger plugging my ear with the other. Then it popped into my head; I loved getting you gifts, but I can’t get you anything anymore, except for one thing; the only thing I’m capable of giving to you now; silence. I can try to give you silence to quiet your heart. A moment to help heal the wound. A respite so you can invest your love elsewhere. So my voice and my thoughts fade. With as much hope and will as I could muster to wait for you last year, I will endeavor to give you this gift as well. I fail a lot, but I hope I can be as strong as we both would like me to be. I’ll do my best. You know how to find me if you ever want to. Happy birthday.

35… I met you when you were a wee 27 year old, Still very much a girl, in a unhappy marriage, looking to spread her wings, but hadn’t figured out how yet. Now you’re a confident, beautiful woman, who knows more about herself and her self-worth than ever. You are the rockstar underneath I always knew you were. The depth of you soul is reflected in your eyes, which I can still see in my mind. You’re not perfect, but your flaws are getting smoother with time. How ironic it would be if you moved to the states for your new beau. All that all over again, but maybe the second time’s the charm. You taught me a lot believe it or not; much of which I only understood retrospectively, so I owe you a thank you. You made me a better person. I’m grateful that you are in this world and that we had the chance to love. I could have done without all the hurt and longing that went with it, but I’d never take it back. I hope you’re out toasting some drinks, shaking your ass on the dance floor, and ringing in 35 like you did the night I carried you from a party in the freezing cold on your birthday a few years back. That was a wild night. Good times. I’m long since past all the anguish and hurt and hope you are too. Happy birthday, Erin. I will never not love you.

I see it on my calendar and wonder what I’d get you. What have you wanted? Would that dress I saw look good on you? Of course it would. Do I send a message? The big three five. How are you spending it? Do I want to know (probably not). This was one I would have definitely rocked for you; dinner, party, friends, etc.. a milestone birthday for a milestone year. You still look amazing. I don’t see your insta anymore, but I can’t imagine anything has changed. You should do ads for the benefits of yoga. A vodka and a bottle of saki and I’m fading, so I’ll end this thought here.

I was invited to a charity event the other night by my friends David and Anne Merin.  The event was for a terrible affliction called Scleroderma.  I didn’t know much about the disease, but know more now than I ever thought I would, and was compelled to donate.  It was hosted by Bob Saget, who is surprisingly hysterical.  He’s known for his role on a kids show with the Olsen twins (Full House???), so his dirty comedy was a fun surprise.  I was literally right by the stage, crotch level, in the exact spot you don’t want to be in front of comedians.  They had amazing food, other comedians, and musical guests.  Adam Duritz from Counting Crows did a few songs, which were amazing.  Of course every single song he played was depressing, because that’s what he’s good at; reminding you that you have a heart then making it bleed.  He did a rendition of A Long December, which (admittedly after some booze) reached deeper into me than was comfortable, especially in front of so many people.  The lyrics resonated so profoundly that my eyes began to tear and I kept waving my head around to fan the moisture away.  I hate you and love you.  I hate you for loving you.  I hate me for loving you still.  You have a guy and I have someone I have been seeing.  This blog is our whole fucking relationship now, and it’s just stupid.  It was a voice in the dark, a window into my heart of state of mind (or intoxication), a way to reach-out to you, that soul, that being that my soul is/was connected with .  Now, I just don’t know what this is anymore.  There’s no purpose, other than therapeutic expression, but there’s no therapy in it anymore because it’s only one-sided now.  It’s almost like a heavy bag that we have alternated carrying for all this time now.  I love you to death still, despite myself, but it’s so heavy.  I know you know what I mean.  I would have loved to see your face here in NY, but I understand and respect your reasons.  How the fuck could we have ever made each other happy?  Is that even possible or are we defective toys?  There are definitely candidates, but none I have connected with on the level necessary.  I don’t think it’s because of you anymore.  I just think it’s LA, and finding a soul that mine connects within that dirty ocean isn’t an easy task (obviously).   I have my nest pillowed and feathered, I have a regular job, and I have my dog.  Bring it on Universe…

I think that with a good, smart therapist, we may have worked through our issues, as moot as it sounds now. I do wonder though.

I was upstate this past weekend visiting my friend Vicki. We went to her 40th birthday in NYC about six years ago. We had a great time catching up. I so love it up there; a small town with a university, beautiful mountains, lakes, rivers, waterfalls, very outdoorsy. Probably much like Ontario. It’s a bit like hitting a reset button for me, and getting centered. The hustle and bustle of the city and work really winds me up, so a few days out in the country is the best way to unwind (or Greece 😁). Unfortunately this was only for a couple days, but I got to hike, breath mountain air, and see the beauty of nature for a bit, and that will tide me over for a little bit. My company pulled the plug on this movie, so unfortunately I will be returning to LA a week or two early. Besides the ridiculous fantasy that you at any moment might throw caution and common sense to the wind and jump on a plane to come down here for a night or two, there are a few good friends I won’t be able to see, places I won’t be able to go, Restaurants I won’t be able to taste, and maybe worse… I may not be able to see Springsteen!!! Fuck!

Dad’s birthday today. I’ve been on a tech scout all day, so there have been alternating moments of camaraderie, frustration and melancholy. I miss him. I remember the day vividly… you picked me up from the bar on the corner, being woken up by the call (you cried), his pale empty vessel sitting in his chair, crying like it might never stop, dressing him in his tuxedo, and sending him off with the mortuary people to be cremated. I wish I had known how to share my pain with you. I wish a lot of things, both with you and with life, but I suppose that’s what learning is.

I don’t know how you east coasters do it. It’s cold!! I got off the plane and the air went strait through my Chucks, and all the way up to my taint. After three days I don’t know if I’m getting used to it as much as going numb. I also mis my big, fluffy boy. He’s at doggy sleep-away school. He’s going to be able to come, stay, mix a cocktail, and man the bbq once he’s done. Are you going to have another dog? Dogs have been so much a part of your life. I imagine your answer would be “eventually”. Again, my heart goes out to you for that. It’s strange being here on this film when I’m not the producer. I’m the studio guy, the exec, the suit (in Diesel jeans and Chucks). I don’t know everyone and I don’t serve much of a purpose, other than to keep things from spiraling. I don’t really like it. Perhaps it’s something I will grow to like. Or maybe I never will and I’ll have to go back to producing. For now I like the stability. I finally have the nest all feathered and ready. Eye on the prize, Throne. Anywho… I hope you’re well and warm. X