January 1, 2017 (Tosh's Diary)

January 1, 2017

My heart is not really a heart.  It’s a drone looking for a subject.  Today is the first day of the new year.  I have a lot to look forward to.  I have been thinking about our upcoming President, and as I was drinking at the wine bar in Gelson’s market (on Hyperion) late last night. I had thoughts that I was becoming too negative.  Perhaps I should be more supportive of our soon-to-be President.  I’m thinking of starting up a committee to raise funds to build a nice statue of our incoming President.   

This, of course, will be a non-profit or no profit project, which must be a strange thing to do in the Trump world.  But I think to honor him even before he enters the White House, or even say, his Trump Tower as the President would be a very nice gesture.  The fact is I voted against him, and clearly, I lost, or we lost, and we just have to get up from the bar’s floor and make a new day.  

I thought of approaching the Trump foundation to see if they could grant us funds to build the statue, but alas, I think it’s best that the funding should come from citizens than say from the Government.   I’m not clear if the Trump Foundation is now part of the Government or just a side-business type of thing - but alas, that is not really a concern of mine.  I think what I need to do this morning is think of an artist who can do the job, and it is a job. It would be great to find an artist to donate his services and vision to make this statue, but I think that is asking way too much. 

The location I’m thinking of at the moment is Silver Lake Meadow, where the reservoir is located.  There is a large amount of grass area that would be the perfect spot to build or place the Trump statue.   I can see in the future, where families can gather around the statue to have picnics and of course, enjoy the California sunshine.   Also, I think it will be a great civic thing to do for Los Angeles.  In Tokyo, there is the dog statue that is placed right outside the Shibuya station.  It is a very well known meeting place, and right now, Los Angeles doesn’t have an official meeting place.  I can see future generations or visitors to our city saying ‘oh let’s meet up at the Trump statue.  It will be such an obvious place. I’m sure it will be known around the world.   When it comes to Silver Lake I’m very civic-minded.   Must make plans now!

December 31, 2014

December 31, 2014

Oddly enough it was exactly a year ago, when I was at a new year’s party at Tricia and Mike’s house, where I sat by myself, and thought, "I need to have a new life for the upcoming new year."  I have always had a fantasy of being a criminal - not one that would kill or harm people or even property, but the identity where people would look at me and say “he’s a criminal.” Or at the very least I would hear people slightly talking behind my back saying “Tosh, I hear he’s up to no good, if you get my drift.” The “drift” will be common knowledge based on false-hood.   Nevertheless if I just keep my mouth shut, people will be able to tell tales about me, and therefore a narrative or two will come out of the woodwork.   There are only a few people who know me.   If I was going to make myself into a visual pie, 50% know of me due to my father the artist, 30% due that I’m a publisher, and 15% know me as a writer.   Then there will be 5% who know me as an actor.   Not often, but every few years, I get approached by people due to the fact that I played the role of “Boy” to Taylor Mead’s Tarzan in Andy Warhol’s “Tarzan and Jane Regained… Sort of.” Since then, I have acted off and on, mostly in the film works of Relah Eckstein, but without a doubt my most famous role is “Boy.”

Over-all my reputation is quite solid.  The only crack in the image was when I was discovered in someone’s house, eating their toast in their kitchen. I didn’t know these people, or never been to their home, but I had the urge to go to a stranger’s kitchen and make myself some toast.   The thing is that they only had whole wheat bread, and I always prefer Wonder bread.   I snuck out of the house, purchased a loaf of bread, and once again broke into their home, to make myself the perfect toast.  At that point, I was noisy in the kitchen, because I was trying to find the butter knife, and obviously I was going through a lot of drawers in the kitchen.   The owner of the house (I think he was or is the owner of that structure) came into the kitchen and asked who I was, and why I was there.   It was a good question (or two), and my first reaction was to tell him that I was a writer - and to be perfectly honest, I haven’t the slightest idea why I was in their kitchen.   I told him, that I act by my impulses, and I never really think about it.  I offered him a piece of bread, and asked him if he wanted toast.  He said yes, but he preferred the whole wheat bread.  I said “of course.” I took a slice and put it in his toaster and I sat down at the kitchen table.  He sat down with me, and we didn’t say a word to each other.   He had his toast, I had mine, and after we finished eating, I told him I had to go.  I said goodbye and left his home.

Since he’s a neighbor and only lived maybe a block or two away from me, I ran into him this past twelve months.  Mostly here and there, but commonly in the Ralphs Market on Glendale Bouvelard.  One time I saw him, I was in the bread aisle, and our eyes connected to each other.  I just pointed to the bread and shrugged my shoulders.   He then walked away like that moment didn’t exist, and perhaps it was best to forget the entire incident.  I will never do that again.

On the other hand, I have become very attracted to paintings by Henri Matisse, but only his still life portraits of food on a table.   It didn’t exactly make me hungry, but when I look at these paintings or the artwork in various books I have in my collection, I felt vacant.  I very much wanted to become part of the painting, but I just couldn't. The distance between the image of the food on the table, and where I stand, seemed like a long highway.  Perhaps an endless highway, where I will never reach that table.

Now it’s December 31, 2014, and I feel that my life in the next twelve months will be one of radical changes.  I do not have proof of this, there are no letters stating my existence for the next year, but I just feel in my bones that the year 2015 will hold some promise, and some failures as well.  I’m feeling very hesitant to leave the house, because I fear I won’t be able to get back in.  Maybe that is why I went to a stranger’s house, in hopes of expanding my territory - but alas, I now know that was a mistake.   Nevertheless one learns from their mistakes, and as I write, I look at the front door of my living room, that leads to the outside world.  After I complete this sentence, I will get up, and go, and leave my home.