Perous Secret Diary - Keep Out: April 02, 2010

remember member: you're a womble

had breakfast at 'norms' on la cienega.
shortly afterwards, frances managed to puke up her omelet which she blames on it's greasy consistency and the old lady sat opposite her while she was eating, who was dribbling grease down her chin and dropping food out of her mouth.

i managed to hold onto my steak and eggs.
i had resisted the temptation to get the 10oz filet mignon and garlic mushrooms for breakfast and stuck with the 8oz sirloin and scramble: mmmm.

had a meeting at an immigration lawyer's to discuss a new visa.
i have formerly been tripping in the states on an E2 visa through my photo agency.

next i will be rolling on an O1.
if i want to spend $3000 and 4 months sorting it out.
i'm eligible for a green card if i want to spend a LOT more and  6 months of messing about.

the lawyer's office was in century city.
the corridors were 'very beige' coloured and they smelt beige too.
most disconcerting: reminded me of 'being john malkovich'

considered catching a movie with frances and bill but bill had already seen 'clash of the titans' earlier (and said it was UTTER DRIBBLE) and there was nothing else worth watching.

thought i'd relocate us to the new 'soho house LA' for afternoon tea and a gander.
but
i'd stupidly disregarded two things.

1. marilyn manson's manager had told me earlier than it was only open to founding members.

and

2. mine and frances' joint (taurean) horrorscope in the LA xpress had read "...celebrities don't find you attractive because you are pond scum in comparison..."

on the door, i was pleased to show my 'everywhere' member's card.

only it seems, it's a member's 'everywhere but LA (yet)' card.

and after checking if i was VIP enough, or not, the door-girl sent us away, first carefully inserting a flea in my ear.
the smiled 'thankyou for being so understanding' was most unpleasant.

back to the proletariat.
bitches

sulked off to beverly hills for wonderful italian ice-cream, taking the whole rejection thing VERY badly.

talking of 'LA xpress', i've suggested to frances that she might like to be their next cover girl.
great newspaper: i aspire to shoot for them.

no time for the innocent

the text on this picture looks like i added it in photoshop, but it was there.
very neat: very helvetica.
font fascist che would like it (more than my new favourite: designer's worst nightmare 'cleat')

frances was very happy to find 'keanu reeves' at our dinner venue.
we couldn't keep our eyes off him.
probably for different reasons.

for me, it was kind of like seeing 'terry wogan' out and about in public.
like a fictitious character come to life.
i've met enough actors and famous.
but i'm normally up close and talking to them.
when they're in a room but talking to someone else, they're there but not there: voyeuristic separation, like 3d tv.

this is probably not making the greatest sense.
i've only had 4hours sleep.

back to black

after dinner, returned to marilyn manson's lair for round two of what was started last night.

tonight was a more sober affair.
set against a loopping sound/picture-track of werner herzog's 'bad lieutenant'

MUCH more productive: extremely experimental (mental) lighting.
but longer haul.
arrived at 10pm left at 3am, when i could see no more.

did get to hear a couple of KILLER tracks being put together.
dirty HEAVY music.
GREAT

back at the hotel at 4am, stoopid bitches were screaming and laughing through the walls of my hotel room.
had to call down to reception and politely ask if they could get the 'stupid, noisy bitches in room 125 to stop screaming and laughing: some of us are trying to get to sleep'.

grumpy perou.

i wonder if keanu's been to soho house yet?