☆ STARSAILOR ☆

Cera and I awoke at the exact same time this morning, her from her bed where she’s currently experiencing a catastrophically bad period (I seem to always be here when she’s on her period), and me twenty feet away on her couch where I was wrapped up in a big red blanket . . . I’d had vivid dreams about someone all night, waking up occasionally in the darkness to the sound of a heated cat fight going on somewhere outside, only to return to that person again once my leaden eyelids grew heavier . . .

And yet I did not want to move, so there I remained snug on the couch dreaming for several more hours while Cera was out at the gym and running errands. Finally at noon I rose and cleaned the kitchen and living room and took a Long Hot Shower. I shaved and put on a fresh black T-shirt and sat down on the couch to do whatever it is I do to make money. Outside the sidewalk boiled . . . it was another cloudless 85-degree day in Los Angeles and there was no way I was going out into it just then. I stared at the wall and felt a little sadness for reasons I ought not say. Eventually the world outside cooled a bit and I was glad for it.

When Cera returned, I tried to give her some more Dude Advice (it isn’t looking good) and suited up to get out of the house and give her some Alone Time. God knows we all need some of that . . .

I walked through her neighborhood in a sort of haze, wallowing in ambiguity. In my badly malfunctioning brain I felt completely miserable just then. Just in time to save me from myself, I happened upon some Secret Stairs which cut through a thicket of trees at the end of a dead-end street, one of my favorite things to discover in hilly California . . .

. . . and so of course I happily descended them. As I made my way down the tree-canopied stairs toward the unknown, I felt a lightness break through the storm clouds of my sullen mood. Secret places have this soothing effect upon me. This feeling did not last, but I was grateful for the reprieve just the same. Once I got to the bottom, I realized I was on Sunset Boulevard for perhaps the thousandth time in my life. I thought: “Ah . . .” and turned right and kept walking until I found an unpretentious coffeeshop. Now I am seated in the backyard of Muddy Paws Coffee in Silverlake. According to the signage inside, they donate some of their proceeds to local animal shelters and rescues, and the whole place is stocked with CBD cat and dog treats . . . hey, why not! I love it. The barista gave me a free cinnamon roll but did not explain why. I assume it’s because I’m beloved world-famous celebrity Hollywood Ryan Starsailor . . .

Amissa has told me she’s going to come pick me up soon. What happens after that is entirely up to Sister Amissa.

Tonight at 11:30 I am taking a bus from UCLA campus to downtown San Francisco. It’s gonna be seven and a half hours of cutting through the darkness of Southern California into Central California into Northern California via I-5, a drive I have done at least a hundred times in my life, mostly alone, but never before in a bus. I’m sure it will be nothing to write home about, that’s for sure. The bus is going to unceremoniously dump me on some random street in San Francisco, my least-favorite city, at 6:30 am . . . I will try to get a few hours of sleep on someone’s couch (Hannah? Molly? Odessa? Laura? Melody?), and then get on with whatever it is my life is. Lord. I have a lot of filming to do and at least two dozen people to see in the Bay before I head back to New York in two weeks.

AND THEN. . . .