Gonna Make A Brand New Start of It.

Oh ye of little faith! Fear not, I have returned after a mini hiatus. Currently I am coming to you from New York on vacation at the Plaza hotel with extreme visions of grandeur.

Things have been hectic to say the least--such is summer. Pride came and went in typical fashion: a blur of booze, lights, girls, and very little sleep. Ruth, C, and I were a chaotic whirl the whole weekend, as expected, however it remained fairly drama-free, ie. no bar brawls, terrible decisions, or hook-ups.

Speaking of which...Fiona has been in my peripheral vision playing a great game of hard to get. But I seem to be too distracted for games. Or rather, I am playing so many games right now it is exhausting (although exhilarating!). It just seems like the same shit. She is a vivacious, gorgeous, intriguing woman, just like the cute little bartender at the Lex, the redhead in the studio apartment below mine, the tattooed vixen I see at coffee every morning, and the girl with the long bronze hair that rides a bike with a basket past Modern Times daily. It is all fun and games until someone gets bored. That someone being moi. Which has led to my most impulsive decision in a long time--one that will especially piss off my ever faithful Ruth and Cecilia. I am breaking up the three musketeers over this. I am moving to a place that I love to hate: I am leaving my beloved San Francisco and moving to Los Angeles.

Here's the breakdown: Paris is too extreme, New York too far and too cold, Miami is too hot and too Florida, and so as Goldilocks wisely said, Los Angeles is just right.

I found a place via Craigslist in West Hollywood; a three bedroom full of lesbians - a couple in one room, Kim and Andi, and a single in another, Leah. I haven't met them, just seen pictures of a clean, modern, LA place that is totally unlike my vintage Mission lair. I already put down the deposit and first month's rent. I quit my lame-ass job. I'm set to rent a UHaul in which to pack my prized possessions including Pinky and a freaked out Wanda (hopefully she won't claw my eyes out). I cancelled my gym membership, redirected my mail, and email alerted my mother (in Seattle) and the twins (at CAL). I've quickly been ticking off the to-do list. I got down to the hardest to-do of all though: telling Ruth and Cecilia.

I had pondered having them over for dinner at my place but I realized that would have freaked them out even more-between whatever monstrosity came out of my kitchen and the announcement-it would be too much. So instead I told them at one of our drinks dates, at the newly reopened Cafe in the Castro.

It was a beautiful evening. One of those perfect, rare San Francisco August nights: a light warm breeze, a clear sky, a slow sunset. I tried on about five different somber black outfits before I ended up in a magenta pocketed mini skirt and Charlotte Ronson top dotted in gold stars and my new Miu Miu croc platforms. As always, I was the first there and my heavy bangles clanked nervously on my wrist as I eagerly sipped a champagne cocktail. I was seated at the bar (witnesses in case of a neck-wringing) and several girls tried to snag the two seats I was saving on either side of me before Ruth and Cecilia finally arrived, thankfully, at the same time.

And....that is a whole other story for another (soon!) time. But I wanted to update a little. From New York City where it seems all things are possible and fabulous and nothing is too big for me. More to come.

Always,

Louise