Justin's Life... March 14-26, 1996

Justin's Life... March 14-26, 1996

March 14, 1996


When I talked to Larry on Monday night, he said that he didn't know if he was going to be able to personally make it to the airport to pick me up, but that he would send someone, probably Warren, his pseudo-adoptive dad. So when I got off the plane, I had no idea who to look for. Physically, I knew Warren was an older guy and that was about it.

So as I walked down the rampway from the gate, I smiled largely, hoping that Warren would realize that I was the lost looking, smiling idiot and say something. He did.

We picked up my luggage, called Larry and headed to the car, then on to the coffee factory to meet up with Larry. When I got inside the building, I had an even dopier huge smile on my face. Larry was sitting next to the roaster, smiling back at me, so I went up and hugged him. --Seems hard to imagine. When Larry and I met about six months ago, I never hugged anyone, but now, if I really care about someone, a hug is no big deal... I even instigate it.

So anyway, I hugged Larry and we hung out for a while before making it home to the house. Once we were there, we headed back out for dinner with Warren and his wife Selma. Having eaten little, I ordered a 15 oz. prime rib and Larry took it on himself to order me a Chi-Chi (some sort of pina colada-ish drink). Tastewise, it didn't come near a virgin Pina Colada, but it wasn't too bad, so I drank about three-fourths of it. By the middle of the meal, I was buzzed.

During the meal, I got to better know Warren and Selma and afterwards, Larry and I had a chance to catch up and just hang out. We watched some really bad movie on HBO for a couple of hours then I tried to decide whether to sleep with Larry in the waterbed or on the couch. Three farting and snoring dogs in Larry's bed made that a pretty easy decision. I went to the couch and feel asleep at around 2AM California time. (Warren and his wife Selma are sleeping in the guest bedroom until Monday when they leave.)

March 15, 1996


Wednesday morning, I woke and rode with Larry towards the office. Once he'd parked the car in his reserved space, we got out and walked towards the entrance. On the way, I started staring at the guys coming from the gym next door. Larry harassed me about them being out of work, desparate actor wannabe's and I said I didn't care; they were still nice to look at.

So anyway, we went inside and I said hello to everyone. Before long, Larry was asked to provide his input on a new digital audio system, and he disappeared into one of the sound rooms. After sitting around for a bit, the office manager got a call and told me to come with her. I followed her into the sound room where Larry was sitting with several men and a couple of computers.

Larry did the sound test a couple of times then one of the men told me that Larry had wanted me there to see the computer part of the system. A few hours later, I'd seen the computer, got a general feel for what was going on, and talked to the guys while the rest of the office dealt with other business.

The guys left later in the afternoon and after Larry finished a little more business, we went to the coffee factory. There, I watched him roast several batches before we met up with Warren and Selma for Muppet Treasure Island.

Yesterday, I stayed home until around 11AM when Larry picked me up to go to the factory. I walked around, visited McDonald's, wrote in the diary, answered a little e-mail; basically caught up with my life.

Last night, Larry and I ate at Wolfgang Puck's and saw The Birdcage at Universal City. (Warren and Selma had other plans.) We had a couple heart to heart conversaions, like "You're my best friend." "I love you." and mush like that. It was really koool just spending some time alone with him.


Larry's being a real bitch today. He's treating me like one of his staff, telling me "I don't care" and "That's not cool in the office." I'm doing stuff for him, like trying to fix the sound on his laptop, and he's giving me crap because I'm not doing it the way he wants. I don't work well that way.


Larry's not just being a bitch to me. I mean, I know he's rich, extremely busy, and everything, but today he's acting like the whole world should revolve around him. Currently, he's yelling at the secretary and he just finished fussing on the phone about how the accountant had to get a pager.


Well, Larry nicened and I told him he was a bitch earlier. He said that he knew as much and that everything that could go wrong today, has. Anyway, all's back to normal.


Apparently Larry was just in remission because we just had a fight. I mean, I don't let anyone speak to me in the tone in which we spoke.


Just as I was writing that, Larry came into the office and tried to play harass me. I told him that I'm mad, and his response, "Who cares?"

March 16, 1996


After I wrote that last entry, I left the office without telling anyone where I was going. I knew Larry'd come looking for me eventually, and when he couldn't find me, he'd know exactly how upset I was.

I walked around for the while, visited Sears, and came back about twenty minutes later. As soon as I walked in the door, the factory office manger said that everyone had been looking for me.

So I found Larry next to the roaster, talking to one of his staff members. As I got to the top of the stairs, Larry told him that he'd been an asshole and both of them laughed. I smiled myself.

After I'd fussed a little more to let Larry know exactly how he made me feel, he sincerely apologized and said that he loved me. I told him I knew that.

A while later, we went home, then headed to The Water Grille. It was quite a change for McDonald's, but a nice one. Larry paid the $84 bill and we drove home in the BMW. Come to think of it, I wonder just how much my liking of LA is influenced by Larry's money. I mean, I'm sure I'd like Boston better if I was riding around in a nice car and eating at fancy restaurants. Of course, even without the money I'd have fun just having someone koool to hang around, but right now I'm typing on Larry's 120mhz Pentium, 40 megs RAM notebook as we're driving down to La Jolla. How could that ever compare to life back east?

March 17, 1996


Last night Larry and I arrived in La Jolla to meet Danny, a friend of Larry's from high school. He had a certain rugged handsomeness with a large face and hair that hinted of red in the sun, but he was a little too old and a little too soft spoken for me to be attracted. --He talked like Data with a lower volume and a higher vocabulary; contractions were rare and the word choices were too educated for my tastes.

So anyway, Warren and Selma arrived a little later, and all of us watched The Brady Bunch Movie. The two of them sat in chairs and the three of us layed on the bed.

A while after the movie was over and after Warren & Selma had gone to bed, I put To Wong Foo... in the VCR. Larry was fixing pasta, so I went to the kitchen to ask how much longer. When I returned, I noticed Danny's shirt was up as to just show an inch above his waistline. He had just a tad of fur: It was cute, so I stared a bit without getting caught.

By the middle of the movie, I'd fallen asleep. Once it was over, I got undressed and under the covers.

March 19, 1996


Well, it's been a week since I arrived in LA and I still haven't done anything "Hollywood". Last time, I only got to take one tour and most of it concerned dead stars that I'd only heard of. Sure, the weather's a lot nicer than Boston, but I want to do some touristy stuff, like visiting Universal Studios... and darn it, I want to see a movie star.


Shortly after I wrote that, I asked Larry if I could do something touristy tomorrow and he said yes, that I could take the car where ever I wanted. I told him that Curt suggested Venice Beach and that I thought about doing a studio tour. He said okay, that he'd give me directions to where I wanted to go in the morning.

A little later, as we were driving to the office, Larry suggested that I take his car to visit the coffee store in West Hollywood today. The thought of driving made me a little nervous (since I hadn't driven in 3 months and never in LA), but Larry thought I could handle it.

So anyway, I drove down Santa Monica Boulevard until I found the store and parked. I went inside and reminded the employee that I was Larry's friend Justin. (I'd met him on my last trip West.) He seemed to remember me and asked if I'd like anything. I said no, that I didn't like coffee, but Larry had suggested I try a Vanilla Mocca something-or-other. He fixed me one and gave it to me without mentioning payment: I got a kick out of being treated like a V.I.P.. After about ten minutes of talking, I told him that I wanted to see what all the fuss was about West Hollywood and left.

As I walked down the street, I passed gay guy after gay guy after gay guy. I'd never seen such a wide area with so many gay guys. Instead of being one in ten, it was more like 19 out of 20... and almost all of them were cute. I took in the sights, up and down the street, then drove back to the office.

12:25AM Technically March 20, 1996

When Larry and I left the office this afternoon, he asked if I'd like to take the convertible on the coast to Malibu for dinner. That sounded koool to me, so at around 7PM, Larry called to make reservations and shortly thereafter we left.

After giving the car to the valet, we went inside to be seated at a table outlooking to the ocean... but I hardly noticed the ocean. As soon as we sat down, I saw what appeared to be a red headed waiter. ... and then the waiter came to our table.

We ordered drinks and when the waiter returned, Larry asked "Are you red headed?" I turned bright red as I listened to him answer that he was. For the next hour or so, I was a nervous wreck, (I had no idea just what Larry would say.) but the meal continued without Larry saying anything. In the meantime, though, I kept staring at the waiter, trying to let him know that I was interested, and a couple of times he looked in my direction. He smiled back, but I couldn't tell if he was smiling to say that he knew what I was thinking or if he was smiling just to be friendly.

Time came for the check to be paid and nothing definitive had happened. By that point, I was so nervous that I was nearly shaking and felt like throwing up, but I decided I'd leave one of my business cards with the tip. I got one out of my wallet and took a pen in my hand, trying to think what to write. Larry had signed the charge authorization and I thought the waiter, whose name I still didn't know, would return for the final time before I was ready: I asked Larry for his suggestions. He took the card and began writing, "If you're an internet person, please check out..." but as I was reading it from across the table, he covered it with his hand. I told him to tell me what he'd written, but he wouldn't. He simply said for me to meet him at the front door.

I walked towards the entrance and saw that Larry was walking back to the kitchen. A few minutes later, we walked outside and I begged him to tell me what had happened. He was vague, but before we got home, I found out that Larry'd given the card to the waiter, that he had anxiously read the backside, and that he wasn't online but Larry'd given him a way to contact me.

I haven't heard from the waiter yet, but he was working and it's only been a few hours. Heck, I think he was gay, but I don't know for sure... At the very least, I got to have an adrenaline filled dinner.

March 20, 1996


Recently, it has come into question about what stays in this diary and what gets edited out. The answer is that my rules for modifying are that no entries can be modified (except for HTML and spelling errors) within the diary. I visualize it as a chain: If I remove a middle link, the chain comes apart. If I remove the tail end, the chain is still intact and new links are added on the end. That's always been how I write the diary. In other words, if I want to remove something, the only way I'll do it is to remove everything back to that point and start from there.

Why would I remove something after I wrote it? Perhaps I didn't completely convey the situation. Perhaps to keep a friend. I understand this diary could be viewed as a major intrusion into someone's life. -- Notice that I didn't mention the restaurant or waiter number of the guy last night. I intentionally left it out as to not run him off if he did decided to call. Did that detract from the diary? I don't think so. I still told everything I was feeling and all that occured. -- If someone's agreeable for me to write what I feel most of the time, I have to take into consideration the one or two times they ask for me to delete something. I understand your point, but I have to keep a balance between my life and my diary.

March 21, 1996


Yesterday afternoon, I decided I needed some koool postcards. I'd already sent about all the aerial shots of LA that I could handle, so I asked the office staff for assistance. After a little conferring, they pretty much concluded that I should walk Melrose and visit the quirky shops there. Soon after, I headed down the Hollywood expressway and onto Melrose Ave.

Once I'd parked the car and paid the meter, I walked down the street to find store after store filled with retro clothing no one would wear... well, no one apparently except for the people walking down Melrose. I didn't see any shops with interesting postcards and none of the ones the staff had mentioned like Wacky! and Drake.

When I got to the Fairfax High School, I'd decided the strip had ended and turned around. Half way back, I noticed a storefront, looked at it's sign to read "Drake's" and went inside. It was an adult shop.

I looked around to find several magnets, videos, leather items, and magazines. After I'd given it the once over, I went back to the magazines and started flipping through the display copies. --I'd received e-mail saying that a red head was in one of them, but I couldn't remember the name. I mean, I figured it was a pseudo-red head, an alburn or such, so I didn't bother storing the name in memory or hunting the magazine before.

So anyway, I was flipping through the magazines when I saw him. There, within the April issue of Freshmen, in all his glory, was a true red head, covered in freckles. I looked at the pictures for a few seconds, then decided to pick out some postcards before I forgot what I was doing. I found 14 that I liked, varying from a rainbow flag to black & white nudes to one that said "California Beach Bums" below a picture of three guy's butts. I went back to the magazines, picked up a copy of Freshmen, paid for everything, and left.

Being paranoid that an employee would ask to look in my bag, I took it back to the car before visiting any other stores. I walked back to Wacky!, bought a postcard that said "Coffee Kills" for Larry, and got back in the car.

March 24, 1996


Thursday night, Larry and I had a 7PM dinner reservation at DC3 with Don, Larry's employee/close friend that I met last October; Vish, Don's girlfriend; and Dan, a real Hollywood player who wrote me a while back to ask if I had an agent and who'd since met Larry to discuss my life's direction.

So anyway, as we walked in the door at 7:15PM, Dan shook my hand and said "Hello Mr. Clouse." I smiled back and told him to call me Justin, which I'd done before in our phone conversations.

We walked on into the restaurant where we found Vish at the bar. Don had yet to arrive, so the four of us talked, Larry with Vish and Dan with me. He talked about everything from USC --He's an alum and wrote me a recommendation.-- to gay movies to what did I want from life. (Incidentally, my response was "A red head")

After we'd discussed the merits of To Wong Foo..., Priscilla, and Threesome, Don arrived and the host sat us at the table. Don and Larry sat on the end near the window, Vish and Dan sat next to them, respectively, and I sat at the head. Most of the times Don, Vish, Larry and I have gotten together, Don & Larry talk shop while I talk to Vish about something random or to explain Don & Larry's conversation. This time was no different except that I was also explaining things to Dan.

During dinner, Dan and I got to better know the other, and near the end of the meal, he said I could go to a taping of his company's highest rated T.V. program -- and one of the most popular shows in the world -- but that they were on a two month hiatus. He did, however, say that he could get me into a taping of a lesbian radio talk show if I wanted. (We'd discussed talk shows in previous e-mails and during the night.)

Just as we were getting ready to leave, Dan told me that my diary was "being read all around Hollywood." I said, "Huh?" or some dumbfounded version of "What?", and he said that if I was in town long enough, he'd introduce me to some of the readers. I mean, from his first letter to me on, I knew he was interested in changing the medium of the diary, i.e. into a movie, TV show, book, etc., but he'd only mentioned that he was going to show it to a friend of his. I still don't know exactly what he meant, but I'll probably find out shortly.

March 25, 1996


Friday after work, Larry talked about going to his ranch house or to La Jolla, but I told him I'd rather stay in LA. It seemed pointless to me for us to drive two hours just to spend time in a different house. I mean, Larry's barely here at his LA house.

So anyway, we decided to stay here and to rent some laserdiscs. On our way out, a tall guy with close cut dark hair and the body of a quarterback (wide, yet not huge) parked in front of the car and got out. Larry introduced him as Frank. The more he and Larry talked, the cuter he got. Larry kept joking, "Why don't the two of you go run downstairs and roll around in the bed." and I felt myself wishing that it would happen. For several minutes, they talked and soon Frank made the connection that I was "Justin that wrote the diary." I desperately hoped that he would hang around, but when Larry invited him to stay, he said he had to head home to go to sleep. As he walked back towards his car, Larry told him to call if he was going out on Saturday and wanted to take me along.

Saturday morning, I put on "going-out" clothes in hopes that Frank would call. I'd overheard in their conversation that Frank was someone who'd appear one day and not reappear again until month's later, but I hoped nevertheless.

So anyway, as Saturday continued, I told Larry I needed to buy a hat since he'd left mine at DC3 and my hair kept getting in my eyes. After some whining, we went to the Glendale Galleria and ate lunch. But before I could find a hat, Larry called to make an appointment to have my hair cut. I'd let it grow for months in hopes that one day I'd find the perfect long hair style, but with each new day, that seemed less likely. My hair just kept getting longer and although it was cut underneath, it was starting to look ratty.

The earliest time I could get in was 2:30PM, almost two hours from then, so we looked around the mall and I picked up a Grumpy hat from The Disney Store. -- It had taken me a long time to grow my hair almost shoulder length and I figured I might still chicken out.

At a little after 2PM, we arrived at the salon and I flipped through the men's styles book. Eventually I decided on a cut with about two inches on top of my head, a sort of spiked with gel/still sticking up without it look. And then the stylist cut it all off. As I was sitting in the chair and seeing stands of five inch long hair falling on the cape, I was pretty nervous, but by the time she was finished, I was really happy with it. I think it looks a lot better and so does everyone else.

March 26, 1996


Saturday night, Larry and I had dinner with Don, Vish, & some of their friends at the Frank & Musso Grille. When Larry and I got home, he found a message from Frank saying that he'd gone to a dinner party but that if he decided to go out, he'd call. A while later, I told Larry that I needed some junk food and went to the grocery, but while I was there, I could barely think. I felt as though my eyes were going to pop out of my head. I didn't have a headache, but it was like my mind had shut itself off. I fleetingly thought it had something to do with neither the red headed waiter nor Frank calling back to go out with me, but I hadn't been dwelling on the fact.

I got back to the house and told Larry that I needed to sleep. I went downstairs and got in the bed, figuring my "spell" would be cleared by the morning. It was only 10PM, though, so Larry came down to see what was wrong. After a while of silent thinking, I started crying and told him that I was lonely. I told him that I'm the type of guy who needs someone to revolve my world around. I need someone close. He told me that I needed to be self-sufficient, that I needed to be happy without anyone else. I don't want to be happy without anyone else. I'm happy when I make someone else happy. I mean, it's not like I sit around moping all the time, but there is a part of me that almost constantly longs for someone to spend my days and nights with.

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© 1996 Justin Clouse