My sleep pattern is so fucked up right now. I fell asleep a few hours ago, and now I’m awake. Like WIDE AWAKE. So I decided to watch USoT (United States of Tara) and see what the fuss was about. Um. They had me at different personalities. This show is … amazing! And Toni Colette (?) is hot. Seriously hot. AND she gets to play housewife, and Buck – and a 15 year old. I wonder what other personalities she has. Oh – and John Colbert (?) is in it, too. Which, um… BONUS squared!

I gotta try to get some rest or I’ll be sleeping through the super bowl. No. I won’t be watching. I’ll be painting my nails and talking to those of you who don’t like football. In other words, I’ll be painting my nails and watching USoT.

LeighAnn has a book on Sea Glass. Everywhere in this beach house are little containers, glass containers mostly,brilliantly colored by the pieces of glass held inside. There are turquoise pieces, clear, brown, and even the rarest of finds–gray.

Trish and I went on a 2 hour walk today along the beach. I wore leggings I could easily pull up right under my knee
(key for walking along the beach and being surprised by the occasional angry wave), an oversized sweater, and flip flops. I thought I could carry them when I walked along the sand and quickly put them back on when walking across the larger pebbles and stone little wall peninsulas. Trish opted for tennis shoes and jeans. The ocean saw this as a challenge, and I could almost hear it laughing as it sent huge waves after her, determined to make her feet and ankles wet.

I didn’t undersand why sea glass was so appealing. I looked at the large stones rubbed smooth by the ocean. In Minnesota they would be called skipping stones. Here in California they might be painted with zen like words on them, then carefully placed in someone’s garden, or a long a path. There are also plenty of quartz stones, and red stones filled with little tiny holes. And shells. Man are there shells. The shells are big, pried open by the water and lie nestled between seaweed and feathers. What the ocean washes up on the shore has always amazed me. But I never stopped to think about sea glass.

The first few pieces sent a tiny little thrill through me. And then I started to find more. Your eye sifts through the sand. The sun makes everything glisten, but then, something catches. And there it is. A piece of sea glass. I found a few blue pieces today. A lot of clear pieces. Plenty of brown pieces. I didn’t find red. Red is seriously rare. I would love to find a piece of red sea glass one day. Sea glass is so much more valuable when you find it. But I picked up a few pieces of glass for Leigh Ann. As a thank you for inviting me.

Several times the ocean took my treasures before I could put them in my pocket. I tried placing my foot over the glass, tried to anchor it down from the wave that wanted to abduct it, but when the water would go down, and my foot was removed, the piece of glass was gone. A few times my flip flop got stuck, and I’d pull up, trying to get my foot out of the sand. The ocean is a bully. But it’s so pretty, it’s hard to stay mad at it. During one of these tug of wars, I lost my shoe, and as the tide went back out, so did my shoe. I tried to lift my other foot, so that I could run after my now floating away flip flop, but my foot wouldn’t budge. So I (I know, I know) removed my foot from my shoe and pretty much ran after my other shoe now several feet away from me, floating on top of the water, pleading for me to save it. By the time I had reached my shoe, my other had been uprooted from it’s sandy nest. I stared out at the waves, expecting to find my other shoe floating. Somewhere. But no shoe. The ocean took my shoe. It didn’t even seem sorry about it. One Old Navy Flip Flop for 10 or so pieces of glass. I suppose it’s worth it.

It’s nearing 3:30 and we’re planning on leaving around 5:30PM. I’ve stayed much later than I thought, but that’s only because once you get here, it’s pretty fucking impossible to leave. I wish I could stay longer. I’d go for another walk along the beach, this time with Tennis shoes. I’d watch the sun set under the waves, and let the wind and salt rub all the stress and rough patches smooth.

I said that I’d log on tonight around 8:00PM, but my family wants to go out to dinner when I get home later. So I’ll log in probably closer to 10PM PST. I’m going to have to listen to the “wave” soundtrack on my iphone radio station thingee in order to sleep tonight. It hardly sounds like the real thing, but we make do with what we have.

I really wish you could have been here. You would have found it just as wonderful as I did. Let me not even talk about the great bed I got to sleep in last night. O. M. G. squared. Stay beautifully rare (like sea glass) until we speak…

I haven’t gone to bed yet, so I’m still counting this as the same day. Deal with it. As you can see by my title, I am at the beach. Ventura Beach to be exact, and if I could somehow attach a soundtrack to this blog, you would hear the waves crashing against the shore. It is absolutely beautiful. But let me back up for a minute…

I’ve started to write a lot lately, and 2 of my newest bestest friends, LeAnn & Trish are my partners in crime. Soon a boy will be joining us. His name is Sam. Our trio will be disrupted, but I think we will survive it. So anyway, our current threesome writes together every Tuesday and Thursday. This Thursday, LeAnn invited us to her parent’s beach house to hang out, listen to the waves, and drink cheap wine. Oh, and to write. I guess this will be something we will start doing once a month. I was going to log on, but I’m sure you’ll all understand why I couldn’t. Not this time. Maybe next time. Who knows, maybe LeAnn & Trish will pop on and say a quick hello. I’m not promising anything, though. I’ve told them a little bit about some of you and they are intrigued but rightfully cautious.

Tonight the waves are incredibly fierce. And they are loud. At first one might mistake the roar for traffic, but then you remind yourself…that’s the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, over and over again. I’m sitting at the main dining room table right now, looking out onto the Pacific Ocean, and the moon sometimes shines in just the right way, and I can see the white crest of the waves rolling in. Earlier I caught the sunset. I walked to one of the five balconies and leaned against the railing. I could feel the spray from the ocean, taste the salt in the air. Seriously, I’m so close I could throw a frisbee and hit the water. I could spit and hit…never mind. That’s a long shot. And good girls don’t spit.

I’m pretty sure I’ve died and gone to heaven.

Tomorrow we’ll take a walk on the beach, eat some breakfast, and then sit down and do a little bit of writing before driving back into the city. I hope I find some sea glass on the beach. It will be a great reminder of what has to be, an absolutely perfect day.

I’ll talk with you Tomorrow Evening around 8:00PM PST.

So the other day I watched the Documentary Inside Deep Throat. It was in my Netflix Documentary section, and it looked… riveting.

To answer a few questions: Yes, I have watched the movie before. It’s available on any free porn site on the internet. Look it up. That Linda Lovelace was pretty fuckin talented. Yes, I realize that it’s old-school porn and they don’t make them like that anymore. Yes, I’m aware that Linda Lovelace later stated that she was raped during her sex scenes, and that by watching the movie I’m basically watching her get raped over and over again. And yes. I now realize that the term “Deep Throat” didn’t exist until this movie, so thank you Deep Throat writers. I’ve used your methods many times in my calls, and my customers appreciate all you’ve taught me.

So- what about the Documentary? I highly recommend it. No, you shouldn’t watch it for porn. They show a lot of stuff, however, and I was pretty happy I didn’t watch this Documentary in front of my parents or anything (whew!) But you don’t watch it for the multiple (ok, hundreds) of shots of blow jobs, or the occasional sight of cock, tits, or ass. Especially cock, tits and ass from the 70′s. I’m just sayin… Just watch the documentary for some great history of the industry of porn, and just what happens when people start taking porn seriously. Or, what happens when we allow the government to govern our bedrooms…

The beginning of the movie was all “I got a brand new pair of rollerskates” 70′s music, colors, drugs, and attitudes. People wanted the freedom to make decisions about their own actions — I don’t know – I got it. It was more than the whole free love free sex stuff, it was more about men and women’s roles, and just the awakening of a whole new sexuality. A medical doctor testified during the obscenity trial and actually stated that women should only have vaginal orgasms; that clitoral orgasms were dangerous! The documentary focused on the writers and directors not wanting to make money, but wanting to do something different in film. They really felt that this new genre would be competing with the Hollywood movers and shakers. Which is funny, yet pretty tragic. At least back then they had stories in the movies. Badly written, improbably stories, but stories none-the-less. I was amazed by how many directors and film makers started in porn. yeah. I know! And I was even more surprised by how little these women and men were paid in the movie. Linda Lovelace made something like 1200 bucks, and the Dr. guy who discovered Linda’s clit in her throat (haha!) got a little under 200 bucks, I think. So – porn wasn’t about getting rich. It was about getting laid. And yet – there was something non sleazy about that admission, ya know? Maybe that’s why people in these old movies actually look like they are enjoying themselves. (?!).

At first the ending seemed a little bit too preachy preachy for me. Like someone feared the documentary was making porn too fun so they had to bring in politics, the mob, and greed. But I think that that was the point. Porn was too much fun. Everyone was going to see Deep Throat, and no one was making apologies for it. Everyone – stars, comediennes, old people, young people — there was a natural curiousity about the movie that, to me, mirrors what people’s attitudes towards sexuality. People shouldn’t put a label on it one way or another. It is what it is. Take it or leave it… but leave the judgements at the door.

So my final thoughts about the documentary? I think everyone should see it. I think it’s so important to realize what porn was about, and what porn is like now. I think it’s important to remember to not take things so seriously, but to use porn as a way to explore or find out about yourself. I think porn, in it’s best light, celebrates human sexuality. In it’s worse light it smothers (figuratively, not literally – haha!). I learned a lot. It was a great documentary. Great cast, great writing and funny, thought provoking points of view.

And watching Linda Lovelace deep throat definitely didn’t hurt.

I’m way too tired to write out this whole long post that I can feel myself beginning to write. So … let me just let you know that I WILL be writing a post tomorrow on the Documentary I watched on Deep Throat, and all the valuable lessons I learned in the process. Seriously. That documentary was deep. And it gave me a lot to swallow – er – think about. And I want to be able to give it the credit it so obviously deserves. So just think of this as a heads up as to what will be coming soon.

Hehe.