. . . this is part of a much longer message I received from my Russian spirit-sister yesterday at two in the morning. It would be sacrilegious to share the rest, such was the specificity of the love contained within. The enormous length of this text, which is a hallmark of its author, was so overwhelmingly kind that I had to look away and read the rest of it when I woke up this afternoon. I was deeply moved by it. Thank you for thinking so highly of me. I really love being your friend too.

(P.S. The concept of being Everybody’s Boyfriend is this: 95% of my friends are women. Often I gladly perform the function of being a platonic boyfriend stand-in for them when they do not have a boyfriend. What I mean is that I am the one who goes with them to help pick out an outfit for a wedding (where all my suggestions are immediately shot down (lol)), I am the one they call when they’re sad during their periods, I am the one they ask to stay over when they’re home alone and scared, I am the one who accompanies them to stressful doctor’s appointments, and so on. This is never a burden to me. I like helping and being useful. It gives my life meaning. And of course I love these women more than life itself~)

FOR THOSE WHO CAME IN LATE

I have some UPDATES . . . whatever . . .

DUDES DONE WRONG RETURNS THIS SUNDAY

If you are, for whatever reason, in the Miami metropolitan area this Sunday, go visit my soul sister Katie’s movie night, THE KINOPLEX, which is located at the back of Churchill’s Pub. Katie tells me this place is a Miami institution.

This week she will be screening STONE (1974), an Ozploitation film in which, you guessed it, some Dudes are Done Wrong. This is proto MAD MAX . . . without STONE, there is no MAD MAX. In fact, the Nightrider and the Toecutter from the first MAD MAX are gross-ass biker dudes here. It is no masterpiece, but it rules . . . completely unique, deeply influential, and largely forgotten. It was also Sandy Harbutt’s only film. I love it.

Once a month, I will be remotely hosting Kinoplex under the DUDES DONE WRONG banner. I will select a film in which a Dude is unequivocally Done Wrong. Now with nothing to live for other than settling the score, this Dude pulls him- or herself out of the smoldering ruins of their own would-be annihilation and Does Something about it, which often, though not always, involves a firearm.

Sister Katie has asked me to film a one- or two-minute introduction for each DDW pick to be played just before the feature. I’m filming the first one this week with Elina and Julia. I’ll post it here on Saturday when it’s done . . .

NEXT . . .

I FINALLY UPDATED MY SKINCARE ROUTINE PAGE

I had not updated my SKINCARE ROUTINE PAGE in over three years . . . until today! In the intervening years, I have greatly streamlined it. Now it’s four or five things instead of a bunch of bullshit you really don’t need. It just comes down to washing your face, moisturizing, and wearing SPF 50 . . . and retinol, if you’re into that sort of thing. Everything else is just Fun. If you feel like spending $300 on some serum, go for it. But I wouldn’t recommend it!

AND . . .

MY (FORMER? CURRENT?) FIANCÉE IS NUKING MY HAIR

I have been threatening to bleach my hair for years. I know it will look absolutely terrible . . . but I felt I had to try it at least once because I wanted to Know. And perhaps it would look so godawful that it would come to eclipse itself and almost look good.

But my fellow dark-headed friends who routinely nuke their hair have warned me: it’s going to feel like hay afterward. This is not so much a problem for me since it would grow out in a month or two and then I can just sheer it off and go back to black. My hair grows insanely fast, don’t you know.

However: at least for now, I have decided that I will bleach a small streak of my hair on the left side of my head ROAD WARRIOR style. Why not? Who cares? Blonde-haired Bex has agreed to do it when I’m in London in a few weeks. Apparently she had the same idea for her own hair, yet inverted . . . she wants a dark streak. She wants a little raccoon tail in the midst of her beautiful blonde hair. This process will be significantly easier for her because she’s going light to dark. Meanwhile, we’re going to have to absolutely blast my dark hair several times to get the blonde streak to show up. Such is my tale . . .

FINALLY . . .

THE ITALIAN GROUP CHAT PERSEVERES

I know everyone was losing sleep over this, but fear not: the Italian Angels group chat is alive and well. Unfortunately for the three other souls who participate in its existence, I filled it with stuff like this today. Why these people tolerate me, I know not. But I never take their seemingly infinite patience for granted.

I suppose soon our group chat will mutate into the Romanian Angels on account of that’s where our next trip will take place . . . we’re all flying to Bucharest and visiting a spa there, and then renting a car and driving to the Carpathian Mountains because of course have to do that. Hopefully we will not be attacked by brown bears and lynxes and wolves, and whatever supernatural presences occupy that ancient part of the world, if such things exist. I reckon there is only one way to find out . . .

My soul is prepared. How’s yours?

☆彡

Elina and Julia are always telling strangers, unprompted:

“Ryan is a reclusive insomniac who lives in the perpetual vampiric twilight of his gloomy apartment. He never goes outside.”

They’re wrong.

. . . I’m out here!!

i have never seen my phone camera glitch like this before . . . i guess left-handed bex has the gift

in fact, i know she does . . .

IT WENT LIKE THIS . . .

Polish Nicole was in Italy at the exact same time as me, but we didn’t end up crossing paths this time around. Perhaps the Father had not willed it so . . . but I’m not worried. I’ll see her again soon . . . in Poland!

Yesterday we were talking about our respective Italian Experiences. We discussed how the Italians seem to orient their entire lives around food and eating. She said:

. . . to which I said:

A little while later, I was talking to Italian Nicole. I told her about Polish Nicole’s trip. I mentioned the whole “Italians eat late and Polish moms hate it!” thing. She said:

I told her what I had told Polish Nicole: that I’m even worse than the Spaniards about that shit . . . I’m completely insane and I eat dinner at midnight, like an insane person. She was rightfully aghast.

Not long after, right on schedule, an honest-to-God Spaniard hit me up . . . it was none other than my good friend Tombo. We were supposed to have a long phone call about the movie we’re filming together in October:

The son of a bitch was eating dinner at 10:16 p.m. in England! Just like a true Spaniard. I showed him what Both Nicoles had said to TIE IT ALL TOGETHER:

Sorry Italian Nicole and Polish Moms: It DOES just feel right! It is a beautiful feeling . . .

So there you have it: the eating habits of the Poles, the Italians, the Spaniards, and whatever species of FREAK I am. Hah!

I’ll be at Bex’s show in London next month if you’re around and want to hang out with me . . . and won’t feel too jealous that I, a celebrity, will be on the guest list and you won’t . . .

I just discovered this drafted post, which contained nothing other than these six photos. Apparently I took them on July 29th while walking around Berlin during the full moon . . . I was out there soaking it up because that’s what a MIDNIGHT FREAK like me was designed to do. Or didn’t you know?

Speaking of drafts . . . I have five Big Ones I need to finish:

• STATE OF THE STARSAILOR
• SHADOW OF THE PROTECTOR
• “EVERYONE’S BOYFRIEND”
• I COME TO TALLINN
• THE ANGELS OF ITALY

Those are not what the actual final titles are going to be . . . but that’s how I have them tagged in here in order to Remember. In this business, Remembering is everything.

The first essay is nearly done, as is the Tallinn post. The rest are, as usual, already finished in my mind. The essay about my visiting Italy with three of God’s favorite little angels is the one I’m going to wake up tomorrow and work on until it is finished, even if it takes me all day. That one will be easy to write because I’m very excited to write it.

Last month I had told Nicole the Polish Girl quite melodramatically:

. . . and I think it may have worked. Behold: I am saved. Or anyway, I am for now. Who’s to say how I’ll feel next week, or even tomorrow afternoon. I’ll deal with that later . . .

Though yeah: the writing will come easily on account of my gladness at being saved by the journey itself. What is going to consume a lot of my time is the fact that we, the Angels of Italy, have a shared album containing nearly 800 pictures taken during that glorious holiday weekend:

Being famous is a full-time job. It involves being photographed a lot. Now imagine four famous people traveling together through Italy and Switzerland over the course of four days. There’s no getting around it: you’re going to end up with 800 pictures of the thing.

I need to narrow down that number to something like 30 or 40 to fit inside my little essay. The problem is that nearly all of them are good enough to hang on the wall. And it’s not just that: I am positive I will be intoxicated by their memory, such is its potency. I’m going to sit there and think, “Look at us. We’re so beautiful and sweet, and perfect.” This could take hours. I can’t wait . . .

For now I will leave you with this:

Wow! We’re so cute. You Jamal fans may be wondering: “Where is Jamal?” Jamal was out to lunch, man. That’s what he does. I’ll explain more in the essay itself. So help me GOD, I will post that essay about Italy by the end of the day tomorrow. I have to. Why? Because it’s my job to do such things . . . and, if I’m being honest, in some abstract way, my life depends on it. It is my life. After all: if a Starsailor Tale does not appear on starsailor dot co, told in a way only I am capable of telling it (for good or ill), can it really be said to have even happened . . . ?

Sweet dreams!! ☆彡