Femail Trouble

Finaly responded to Ex's engagement announcement. Following veek's comment, I used the previous journal entry as a basis, but I also made it more personal. Further, I didn't really want to give her the link to this journal just yet. Maybe some other time.

In other news, I did hear back from J., albeit briefly. She wanted to thank me for my understanding regarding her wish not to speak to me for a while. (Wow, that's a lot more confusing written out.) It was a nice thing to do, especially since I wasn't expecting any response at all. This adds a bit more hope that there'll be a reunion (of some sort) somewhere along the line.

Still trying with internet personals. I've been using eHarmony in additon to Match.com. eHarmony has a strange approach to opening communication, but the matches seem to be much more suitable, certainly better than Match.com's just-short-of-random associations. Don't get me wrong, I still like Match--it's got a nice variety of people--but a wide variety means a lot more work to find a J. On the other hand, Miss Alkies was a match provided by eHarmony. Drawbacks on both sides.

In fact, I need to send out another Match attempt now. Later.

(no subject)

Ex sends back a response rather quickly, strong undercurrents of relief from her writing. All is good on that front.

Abuelita's Karaoke Dance Party

As the sky lightened, I got restless. I'm cutting short my weekend and picking up a shift for my fellow grave yarder. Normally, I'm perfectly happy to vegetate from Sunday night to Monday morning, but not today. I grabbed some warm clothes, grabbed some money and headed out to Malibu.

I haven't been going to the beach lately as often as I have in the past. My nocturnal life is a major part of that. Beaches aren't great places to hang around, alone, at 3:30 in the morning. But in the morning, it's great, if cold.

A quick drive through the Topanga Canyon, not much traffic yet either way, and soon I'm on Route 1 North. I listen to a strange acoustic version of "I'm All Shook Up" sung by a girl with an acoustic guitar. I roll the window down slightly to let in the salt, but it's still cold, so it goes back up rather quickly.

I drive by Pepperdine. This is a pretty, pretty campus. I've never been to Princeton, but for some reason, I imagine that Princeton looks a lot like Pepperdine, but with less sun and a shoreline far dingier.

Past Pepperdine, and I reach Point Dume. I've been visiting Point Dume at least since I was 12. It's my favorite beach in the whole of the world. You've probably seen it; it's a pretty popular filming location. The climax of Planet of the Apes was filmed there, as was the opening of Escape From Planet of the Apes. I've been there when an episode of China Beach was shooting, and some friends showed up during a late shoot of Psycho Beach Party.

As I drive toward parking, I remember the time I brought Ex to this beach. She's been at the forefront of my thoughts the last few days since receiving her email. I wonder if this was such a good idea after all. Just at that moment, a man walking his dog along the beach makes eye contact with me, still in my car, and smiles. I smile back. This is my place.

It rained last night, and the sand is still packed. As I walk the path up to the promontory I can see that only one other person has been here this morning. On my way to the summit, I am greeted with curiosity by several very qute bunnies, light brown with ridiculously cute white cottontails. Three bunnies in total stop in to twitch whiskers at me.

I hike around for about a half hour until the wind starts to chill my ears. Of course, it is only now that I realize I was wearing a hooded sweatshirt and could have stayed out longer; but I do have to work tonight, and I promised my friends I'd see Ice Age the evening, so I don't have too much time to spend. And my way back to PCH I notice a small cafe that opens at 8am. It's still 7:30. Next time.

The drive back is less pleasant. More people awake, more cars on the road, less freedom. When I return to the Valley, I'm famished. I break a promise to veek to eat something non-artery-clogging for dinner and instead order a tuna salad Monte Cristo at Jerry's Famous Deli. (For the gentle readers who don't know what a Monte Cristo is, imagine making French toast with a double-decker sandwich.) A cute waitress, a scarfed meal, a hop home, and the evening is done.

If I hadn't promised to make the movie, I'd have stayed out longer--maybe I'd have visited Borders to see if my favorite clerk is there--but I have a schedule to keep.

Good night, Good night. And may the Malibu in your heart always have fair-to-good surf.

Why no sleep, silly fun man?

Tying up some loose ends with the personals sites. Starting "open communication" with a girl on eHarmony, which means that we are finally allowed to type whatever we want to each other, rather than using forms. Unfortunately for blog purposes, she is another J. I seem to be attracting them (attracted to them) a disproportionate amount. If more happens, I'll have to invent a suitably cute alias for her. But for now, I'm enjoying her newly sent photos.

In an odd note, the matches I get from eHarmony tend to be rather short. NewJ is 5'2". Since I'm 5'15", that's quite a drop. Others have been 5'1" and even 4'9". Thankfully, there is one prospect, I., who is 5'7", but there are still a few eHarm hoops to leap through before we get to talk.