I know you're all dying 2 hear what Aloysius told me two nights ago.

I've told you about his mood swings, outbursts and most lately - various diseases. I've been alternating between irritation and worry. But enough is ENOUGH, so when he broke all rules by running away, ordering 200$ worth of tequila and then throwing up on my McQueen dress, I made it clear that if he didn't tell me what was wrong I would put him in the shower. Then, in the dusky light of the Roosevelt Hotel, with shaky voice and breath reeking of tequila, he told me...

The reason for his behavior is called LOVE, and the object of his affection is BLACK.
Ha ha ha. Oh my stupid, stupid bear.

"Is this why you refuse to eat?" I asked him. "Is this why you've started to dress like Oscar Wilde's lover?"
He looked at me, insulted. 
"No" he said "the reason I don't eat is that I think eating is bourgeois. And regarding my new look, lets just say that I'm not a child anymore."
"Ok" I forced myself not to laugh @ his pompous voice "but why didn't you TELL me?"
"I didn't want to make you jealous!"
"But darling Aloysius." I said. "Why would I be jealous? You are like a brother to me."
"Sisters and brothers" he said and looked me in the eyes "can lust for each other, even fornicate. It's in the bible."
I pretended I didn't hear the last remark and told him I'm happy for him and that he should let Black know. But THAT he of course wouldn't do. Instead he spent the entire DAY yesterday in front of the mirror, brushing his fur and adjusting the ridiculous bow tie she gave him.
"You've had that thing on 4 two weeks now, don't you think it starts to look sorta worn out?" I asked him this morning.
"This thing" he responded with an arrogant voice "makes this little bear look like a true grizzly."
I looked at the stained piece of cloth.
"Really?" I said. "Who told you?" But I already knew the answer. 

Oh christ. I don't know what is worse - him being sick or him being in love.

(Skirt: céline.)

TODAYS OUTFIT: head among the clouds.

What a night:

8 PM. Me and Black are in need of a break from the madness in my backyard (I'll tell you more about that… And Mr Mysterious/Sombrero guy and granny's will later), so we go for a few drinks @ the Roosevelt.
When the alcohol from four Bloody Marys runs through Black's veins she asks:
"Where's Aloysius?"
I stare @ his empty chair. Filled with panic I get up, find a security guard and press a 100 dollar bill in his hand, and as if by a stroke of magic EVERYONE is looking 4 my bear. Finally, when I'm already in tears, a bartender comes over with Aloysius in his arms.
"Is this yours?" he says.
I nod.
"Then I guess you owe me 180 dollars."
The insolent bear had managed to down four tequila. And he hadn't been satisfied with straight tequia. Oh NO. He had ordered 20 year Sauza Bianco @ 10$ per centiliter.
I'm so upset I don't even know if I'm angry or what.
"YOU STUPID BEAR" I scream while shaking him "Don't EVER do that again."
But he doesn't respond.
"Jesus, just tell me what's WRONG? Why are you doing all this?"
He gazes @ me and then @ Black, and then it looks like he's thinking.
"Ok" he says looking straight @ me "I'll tell u, but only 2 you, and I have to whisper."
"Sure" I say and he leans close to my ear.…
Ha ha ha. Its just to crazy.
You want 2 know what he said?

(Updated, really yesterdays post, but things happened. Tell u l8tr)
*

Wake up in a haze to a purple sky. KEY still clutching in my hand.
I walk over to the window, like in trance, only to find myself staring directly @ HIM. The guy from yesterday.

Still wearing the sombrero and still out there violating my yard and... pushing a lawn mover!?
I put on my Surface 2 Air pants and a t-shirt, walk down the stairs and out in the garden.
"Hey" I shout "what do you think you're doing?"
He points to the lawn mover and then 2 his ears as if he can't hear me. I walk over and turn off the machine.
"I said, what do you think you are doing?"
He looks at me, like he saw me 4 the first time.
"I" he says "am cutting the grass."
I bite my teeth.
"I can see that, but why on earth do you think gives you the right to break in and cut other peoples grass?"
He looks @ me like I'm a stupid kid.
"Hard work is good for u" he says. Then once again he let his eyes sweep across my body "you should try it sometime."
"That's not the point I…who the hell ARE you?"
"Well" he says "that's what they used to ask Stalin, and I can just repeat his words; a person can never be defined in so easy terms."

But I'm not listening. Suddenly it's like all dots in my head are aligned and I see the pattern.
It's night now
The golden key
The sombrero and...
Mr Mysterious

*

Look I'm a country now! http://www.sharenator.com/w/pneumoniawhite.blogspot.com

*

Next step, I guess, is to find out more about him. I'll ask Black to help me. The only thing I'm sure of is: I have seen Mr Mysterious before. But where?)

Photos from a project I'm doing right now. Do you recognize the bloggers? 10 golden blessings for the first one who does.

Light blue sky, like an ocean grave or the eyes of Madame du Barry. Granny's back yard is ominously quiet. I'm sipping my Madeira in a slow pace but my heart beats like a hunted bird's.
What a weird and dreamlike day so far, and it's only noon! When I have regained my mind I'll share the details with you, but until then:

*

I've been invited 2 a strange party in NY by Alexander McQueen in New York. They say I'm a star, and that the party is "Only 4 the perverted". Hmm...

*

Some gallerist liked the photos of my favorite bloggers (above) and wanted them to be featured @ an exhibition for Shane Wests birthday party @ Bardot.
"Shane West birthday"Black shouted from the bathroom. "That's so exciting I'm even gonna postpone my suicide plans!"

*

And oh - Aloysius is NOT getting better. After the episode on the lawn with Mr Mystery (I will tell you more soon) I went straight up to my Bear, woke him up and asked if he knew who was outside moving our lawn, but he just looked @ me with this haughty stare.
"The question of who is moving your owners lawn" he said in that stupid british accent he always uses when he wants to hurt me "is somewhat secondary when u are dying."

*

Oh well. So many things happening right now.

Me and Black by the pool.
It's late now and Bel Air is sleeping. Aloysius is inside tucked up in bed, still ill. Grinding his tiny teeth. Dreaming about whatever sick bears dream about.

We listen to the soft sounds of the night, crickets and cars far away on Cahuenga. I wear my gray McQueen and Black's dressed in…I don't know…some weird thing she found @ the vintage store downtown. Can't explain it…looks like the remnants of McQueen perhaps.

On the table between us, Chesterfields Reds and half bottle of Madeira.
Black takes a cigarette, lights it, inhales and blows the gray smoke towards the black sky.
"So" She holds the golden key into the light. "where do YOU think it fits?"
But forgive me. I'm tired and a little drunk and getting ahead of things. Let me tell u from the beginning.

*

It all started when me and Black got home an hour ago.
I parked the Camaro on the street, got out and then I suddenly saw this tiny golden key lying on the street. I picked it up. The metal cool against my skin. Drunkenly, in sort of a haze, I studied it like it was some kind of sign, and I am about 2 say something when Black points to a shadow just inside the gates and we open them and the auto floodlights is turned on, revealing a skinny guy in jeans, a tank top and a huge yellow Zapata sombrero sitting on the ground in the middle of the small gravel pathway leading up 2 the house.
In his left hand he holds an empty bottle of Jack. In his right, a small green Maracas.
"Excuse me" I say. He doesn't move.
"EXCUSE ME!" I say it a little louder and kick his left foot with my right one.
He looks up @ me. Stares @ me sort of absent minded 4 a moment. Then tips his hat.
"Ma'am, You're excused" he sez.
Then tilts his head down so the face disapears behind the hat. For a moment it's quiet again.
"I don't mean 2 b rude" I tell him "but this is MY house. You are sitting on MY property."
No answer.
"You can't SIT here" I say a little louder "It - is - MY - house."
No answer.
"I'll call the Pol..."
He slowly looks up again, straight @ me, his drunken eyes full of contempt.
"Has anyone ever told u" he says while staggering 2 his feet "that YOU are a LOUSY conversationalist."
He takes a few steps towards me and Black, then raises his right arm.
"All I ever wanted" he says "is to have some goddam PEACE and SILENCE and then they gimme THIS."
He shakes the green maracas in front of our faces a couple of times, then turns away and starts to walk TOWARDS the house.
I look @ Black with a face like: What is HAPPENING but she just shrugs. And then, as I watch the shadowy figure disappear around the corner I get this weird feeling of having seen that person before somewhere.

Then Black takes my hand, hiding the key between our palms. Her eyes beams with excitement.
"So where do YOU think it fits?"
But, no, that's NOT when it all started.

*

It actually started even earlier. This night. Me and Black, dressed like movie stars in Dolce Gabbana and Gaïa, @ the Chateau. We sip blood red sangria in a crowd of Khaki colored Valleypeople. Black laughs as I tell her…

…as I tell her how Daddy once knew one of the staff @ the Chateau, an old black guy with a tiny gray moustache, and how the guy always lend us the keys 2 the secret garden behind the lower part of the hotel where tiny but magical creatures like elves hid from Hollywood. How WE used 2 hide there as well. Just me and dad and Viktor, far away from mom's rage, until she had that forth martini she needed to survive "a world populated to 99% by idiots and the last percent by criminal idiots".

(I actually read about that garden the other week in a magazine. The article says: it belongs to the Chinese garden suites and was famous in the sixties as the place where an aging Sinatra used to fuck the wives of Burbank producers two @ the time. Which I guess is sort of what daddy told me, but in a nicer way than the tabloid.)

I tell Black that the last time me and dad went there I hid the key behind a stone in the wall, so that someday I could return. Her face shines with excitement.
"We must find the key" she says.
And then. In the dusky dawn we sneak between the attorneys, over the lush grass and into the shade by the wall which 2 my disappointment consists of approximately 1 billion bricks. I sigh, but Black's face still glows.
"Oh my god" she says "just look @ this, the key must b behind one of the stones!"
And without hesitation she starts to pull bricks out of the wall 2 find it.

*

Now we're back in the garden, staring @ the corner where Sombrero just disappeared. Blacks face is shining again, as she was looking @ the key.
"That's the thing with symbols" she's laughing now "I mean. When god wants 2 tell you something, he speaks in CAPITAL LETTERS"
I look @ the key.
"What do you mean?" I say.
"The key was not hidden behind a brick in the wall" she says, in a voice as if speaking to a very young child "There was NO need to push over that poor waiter or to be banned from the chateau. The key was here all along just in front of your doorstep."
"But where" I say "does it fit?"
"That is" she answers "the question."

We're in the small ward of Hope for Kids hospital. The sky outside the windows is watercolor blue but inside everything is white. The doctor gives me a serious look and tells me that there's nothing 2 be done, and my heart stops.
"N…n…nothing?"
"No" he says solemnly almost with a hint of anger "because this is a REAL hospital, and we don't treat teddybears."
I look around in the small room until I understand it must be Aloysius he's talking about. I show him the pad of 100$ bills Black convinced me to bring. He nods, still solemly.
"The advantages of America's system with private hostpitals" he says "is we can always make exceptions 4 the truly needy."

*

Now me and Black are in the car. Roof down. Aloysius is next to me, under two blankets, wearing a huge bandage. If he's feeling better though is hard to say.

*

No word from the attorney. The date for the funeral is still the 32:nd of august and he is still in Hawaii.

(Tonights outfit: star constellations. Dress from Dolce & Gabbana.)

Sitting in granny's old rattan chair by the pool under the stars. Aloysius rests under a blanket in my arms, half dreaming, half sleeping. His little body hot and sweaty. Heart ticking like a humming birds.
(As a soporific drug I gave him a tiny shot of Madeira. Now I'm having the rest of my bottle 4 myself)
I watch constellations of the night sky. Chained Princess, Little Bear.

*

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I have an appointment for Aloysius @ Hope for Kids tomorrow. I hope they'll find out what's wrong with him.

(Dress: Marc Jacobs, White powder, Shoes: Vintage Vuitton)

Aloysius sickness is getting worse. I really don't know what 2 do. I thought he was getting better, but yesterday, when I was spying through the window to get a glimpse of Mr Mysterious he suddenly woke up in the middle of a nightmare. He sat up in the bed, made this horrible hissing sound. I tried to calm him but he pushed me away. He was all sweaty and spoke incoherently about how love and friendship always ended up hurting the animals good @ heart (and some rather NASTY things about women in general that I'll forgive him for, only because he was half asleep and it was his subconscious speaking and you don't have any responsibility over your subconscious).
The world is evil, he repeated.

I asked him to b more precise but instead he went back 2 sleep. This morning he had a terrible fever. I told him that he must drink (water!) but he refused. Said he had "nothing more 2 live 4".

WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE WORLD?

L8tr today, me and Black are taking him to the children's hospital. Oh STUPID STUPID bear. I love him so much.

*

Also: Granny got ANOTHER invitation 2 Chanel. She must have been a good customer. Me and Black r thinking about it.

*

Oh, and please remember to like this on facebook below! Aloysius says only the posts with Black gets liked, and that I needn't post anymore about him, since bears have no use for "pity"

Sometimes it feels like my sentences echo empty in a huge vault. Like I am alone here, but I’m not, right? I can see you in my statistics, a tidal wave of numbers. But why are you so quiet?

When you write to me, I get all dazed. I wake up in the morning, my mouth taste like tar, and then I think about the fact that I at least have you. But now I don’t know. Are you even here?

(UPDATED: THANK u everyone that has written here, mailed or witten about me: You are the dreams. And without dreams, the dreamer is just sleeping. Now, I Can't help but to post some of the beautiful things you write about me!

http://textbook.tumblr.com/post/8083910943/pneumonia-white-worth-the-read
http://www.stylepage.com/p/pneumonia-white
http://aboutafantasy.blogspot.com/2011/07/pneumonia-white.html
http://www.pretaprotester.com/pretaprotester/2011/07/street-stalker-24-pneumonia-black-white-edt.html
http://accoudrements.blogspot.com/2011/07/theres-something-wild-about-you-child.html
http://thejazzemporium.wordpress.com/2011/07/21/all-sixes-210711/
http://thefashionworshiper.blogspot.com/2011/07/blog-crush-pneumonia-white.html
http://mypreciousconfessions.blogspot.com/2011/07/acid-dreams.html

Love and blessings 2 all of you!)

(Dresses: Granny's nightgowns)

Darkness and a tar gray sky. Smell of orangeflowers and newly cut grass and...and something is happening in the backyard guesthouse! The little vine covered white house that's locked, but where I suspect Mr. Mysterious lives. First, when I was just about 2 fall asleep, strange silouettes danced on the ceiling, then I thought I heard a scream.

Half awake, half dreaming I went over 2 the window, pulled aside the white curtains. The yard was still in the moonlight. I was just about 2 go back to bed, then I heard it.

A loud thumping sound, then silence, then a weird giggling, like from a little girl. Then a muffled voice sounding like it spoke in german, then giggles, then silence. I'm sure it came from the house.

I tried waking Black, but it was just not possible. Then I GAVE IN and asked Aloysius 2 come with me. But he just looked @ me with that insolent stare he's been giving me the last couple of days and turned over and went back 2 sleep.

And I don't want 2 go out there alone. Jesus, what if it's a murderer, a burglar, or even worse, one of the neighbors.

(Dress: Alaïa + Mask from 99 cent store + Grannys necklace)

I sit in the shade by the pool and stare @ the note. The 32nd of august is not a good date to set for anything (except maybe dying or have your heart torn apart). I have no clue why the Attorney picked that day. Perhaps he's just a man with no sense of time or direction.
There are signs of this. 4 example I've tried to reach him without success. The voice message on his phone says: "I'm on Hawaii on holiday and will be back July 28th. Aloha!"

Nice 2 hear 4 all the clients of a lawyer specializing in "funeral law".
Sometimes it feels like I live in another dimension. Where time moves in a different way, contrasts don't exist and everybody around me speaks in riddles.

*

Seems the only thing stable in this madness is Aloysius sulking.
I'm getting SO f****g tired of that bear. This morning I told him that if he didn't eat his Cocoa Pops I'd forcefeed him but he just gave me an insolent stare and said that he was "my toy bear and I could treat him to my own pleasure".

*

Also, I asked Black if she remember Evan or know anything about him, but she said no. There's too many things taking up space in my head right now.

Me and Black @ Rodeo Dr, hand in hand, with hats on our heads and sun at our backs. Lately I've been possessed by a vague feeling of delusion, but shopping takes it away for a moment. However, Black had one too many glasses of Dom Pérignon @ Dolce&Gabbana and tried to "ascend" the chandelier.
Later we walked the battleground of dreadful shoes @ Guess. Black bought every pair and asked the confused salesclerk to throw them away, "so no poor drunkie happens to buy them."
Thank god she didn't enter Chanel.

(Dress: Vintage Valentino + Alex&Chloe necklace)

1983. The year 25 members of the Red Brigades were imprisoned for live. The year the first woman entered space.

1983. The year Amy Winehouse was born.

Amy once said she'd already been to hell. Now she's in heaven. Black is the color of grief, but for Amy we dress in white.

I want to do something to honor her. Do you want to join me? Take a picture of yourself dressed in white, let your heart sing and share the lyrics. Publish the post, name it "Back to White for Amy Winehouse" and comment here with your link. I’ll choose 5 ppl to be featured on my blog.

*

”I don't ever want to do anything mediocre. I hear the music in the charts and I don't mean to be rude, but those people have no soul. Learning from music is like eating a meal.. you have to pace yourself. You can't take everything from it all at once. I want to be different, definitely. I'm not a one trick pony. I'm at least a five-trick pony.”

It is quiet. Outside the windows the sky above the canyons is dark, filled with zinc-gray clouds. Black is already asleep beside me. Aloysious by her side, grunting far away in his bear dreams. No sign of Mr. Mysteriuos and two more phonecalls from granny's attorney. My life is turning into a weird dream that I can't control, but tonight I don't care. I've been sittin' here reading mail and letters from YOU.

It's so weird to know that people from all over the world read my words and even LIKE them. I've now dedicated a special section to YOU.

I've also gotten a LOT of mails from companies claiming I'm "hype" wanting to promote me. But actually, that just scares me.

Instead I want to ask all YOU readers that hasn't already started dreaming my dream. Join my monsters. Help tell the world about this. Link to me, tell friends about me, tweet about me or like my posts on Facebook.

I couldn't have guessed how good it feels to have people understanding. But it does, and now you are my drug. I need more.

Love
/Anya

Good news!
You know I've been telling you about the mysterious lodger in granny’s guestroom in the left wing. I've gathered some clues, but far from anything crucial. Like, he eats bear food and owns a Persian cat. I've suspected our gardener, and even Black, but this morning, something happened!

It started by me finding a note on the kitchen table.
"Dear idiot!
If you must insist on proving to the world that you are an intellectual wannabe with father issues, I beg u do it with something causing less collateral damage than playing Sjostakovitj #5. Actually I beg u 2 move out and never 2 come back."

The note itself wasn't that much of a clue BUT it was held to the table by an empty bottle of Madeira wine, and THAT is the wine that I drink. And the reason that I drink it is that my family drinks it. In fact, my family is the only people left in this world who still drinks Madeira!

Ergo: Mr. Mysterious MUST be a relative!

***

Btw: New to this. What bloggers should I follow?

Yesterday @ a dark cafe in Los Feliz: a prehistoric scent of dust and tobacco. Attorney wears the same checked suit that reeks of sweat as he always does. I wear my white Charles Anastase "Virgin Dress". With sleeves dipped in red wine I feel like a hurt fairy.
"Did you bring the guest list?" I ask him, like I'm talking about some fancy event and not the funeral of my granny. He hands me a soiled paper and I eye through it; me, Black, the gardener, a bunch of granny’s old friends, some distant relatives and HIS name. It hits me like a shot of absinthe. I just stare at a square of the attorney’s ugly suit.
“Are you okay, Miss?” The attorney asks me. I manage to nod.
“I'm… Great! Then I guess you have it all, I’ll call you if something comes up!”
He cheers and starts to wail towards his unexpectedly fancy car.
“Oh, I almost forgot. You're going to hold a speech” he says, turns around, hands me a paper and then walks away.
"Wait!" I shout. "This is just a blank paper." Attorney stops. But he doesn't look at me.
"All good speeches start that way." He says in a weird tone.

*

(But THAT name on the list. E Hunter. He was the love of my life. I’m confused. WHY would granny want HIM on her funeral? Is this how it is when people laughs from heaven?
I'll tell you more tomorrow. Hope you can HELP me sorting this out.)

(Dress - Kain. Glasses - Cutler and Gross)

TODAYS OUTFIT: swan lake #2

The Chanel party. Just as luxurious as the invitation suggested. Hidden in the garden behind the store. Lush greenery. Scents of flowers and perfume. String Quartet playing Bach in front of grannys old friends. More war diamonds than in the Sierra Leone town hall.

Four VERY smily women welcomes us. Me in my Dior and Black in some weird army suit.
"So happy you could join us!" They smile and try not to look @ Blacks outfit.
"Just give us the champagne" black snorts.

After about eight glasses more, the well-combed staff looks sort of reluctant to come Blacks way. Black waves, but gets no attention. She turns towards the SMILING guy in front holding some speech about what a CREATIVE woman Coco was. How her sense of style dragged her from her misery. I see how Blacks eyes get darker.
"You could say a lot of Coco" Black shouts "but she wouldn't have let her party guests go thirsty!"
The audience turns towards us. 200 disgusted eyes.
I want to disappear, vanish, but the guy don't lose a beat.
"So you like our champagne" he begins, with a sardonic voice, but he has missed on Blacks mood.

"Yeah we like champagne" black interrupts him. "But yours? Well I guess you are right about Cocos CREATIVITY. I mean how she used the Nazi occupation of Paris to fuck half the occupation government and @ the same time get control of some lucrative perfume business by having the owners sent of to Auschwitz and their shares given to the "aryan" Coco. I mean, it's THEIR perfume money that still pays for this party, so just GIMME some fucking CHAMPAGNE will you?"

While the smiling ladies (not smiling anymore) are leading us out, Black seems in a festive mood.
"Thank you ladies" she says "I'm sure Coco would appreciate your sense of tradition, I mean the fact that you all still are FASCISTS here!!"

(And readers: how do you like this? I'm hesitating to write everything black does, it's like she does more outrageous things just because she knows I'll write about it. Like she's starting to act like a character in a book or something? What do you think?)

Back home I just stare at her in confusion and suddenly I notice. It's something with her eyes, an hazy sharpness that I can’t remember from when we were young.
"Please Black,” I say "if something happened when I was away you must tell me."
"Something happened?" she mocks me "Happened like sex? Oh I know what you wanna hear… so it was @ Bardot. Me and Perez Hilton had just..."
I shrug trying not to laugh.
"Seriously" I say "if there is something..."
"Ok YOU tell me" she snaps "tell me about Viktor. Tell me about how he used to read night time stories for you while you crossed seas in a bird of steel. Tell me about his smile, about his…"

But I don't hear her anymore. I'm out of the room.

*

Why is she like this? It's like the only thing we can do is to party. As soon as something even vaguely serious comes up she runs away.

*

Well. If that's the way it's going to be, fine! Tomorrow we're going to Chanel’s Party @ Rodeo Drive. I've gotten a hand written invitation. Well, ok, it's for granny, but I'm the heir, right?

(Dress + jacket - Dolce & Gabbana SS11)

Black has gone to meet her family and left me all alone. My head is sore but my mind is enlightened from yesterday at Paul & André. In the middle of the night I got this strange call, I can’t tell you yet what it was about, but it has to do with granny. Made me wake up in a sad mood. Now I’m on my way downtown to shop for funeral clothes.

TODAYS OUTFIT: swan lake

(Vanessa Bruno dress + J.W. Anderson necklace)

Black enters the door. Light fabric in bloom flowing behind her. A vague scent of cigarette smoke and Opium. She wears nothing but grannys rabbit slippers and an open morning gown.
"Attorney guy told me to give you this." She hands me a note.
I read it. The date of the funeral has been moved. To 32th of august. I look @ her and then @ the note.
"But this is crazy! Did you tell him I wanted 2 speak 2 him?" I say. She nods.
"I did!" She says. "But he seemed, like, stressed or something."
"Mhmm." I look @ her tits. "And you wore only that?"
"No." She smiles. "I didn't actually have time 2 put ANYTHING on. This I picked up on my way back."

So I had 2 call the attorney 2 make an appointment. It's tomorrow @ two. I'm going to ask him if he knows anything about Mr Mysterious.

Yesterday @ the Marmont: met beautiful ppl. Black traded (someone else's) olives for cigarettes and drank maybe ten vodka tonics.

*

Everything should be all shimmery, but I’ve had a strange feeling with Black lately. When I ask her something that has to do with reality she just changes the subject. What happened when I was away?

Since the day she threw grain on my window this weird dream has been haunting me: Me and Black, in some sort of video game world, dressed as samurais. Neon purple buildings, roofs shaped as Kremlin in Moscow. But I know that we're in Prague. From nowhere the bicycle ppl from the Wizard of Oz appear and start hunting us down. We're climbing the streetlight cables, balancing on tiny strings. It's night, the rain falls and all of a sudden, Black slips...

Last night I woke up and found myself sitting wedged in the corner of my room. Aloysius noticed. Sat with me the rest of the night and held my hand. Dried my tears.

*

Now I'm seeing HER through the window, dressed in granny's old Kenzo kimono. An odd expression on her face, looking as beautiful as ever.

(Me: Theyskens' Theory jacket. Black: Salvation Army)

Now we gonna get dressed for Marmont!

Drove to the 99cent store and filled the truck with everything from root beer to water pistols, placed a few tables on the lawn and painted a sign. ”Seven11 - Black & White edition” in glitter colors. Dressed in couture Versace and a Darth Vader mask, Black knocked on every door in the neighborhood and handed out discount cards.
”A new store just opened around the corner! It has everything you will ever need AND more!” She shouted in their faces.

But it went all to blazes. We didn’t sell a thing. Probably because no one knew the secret password for entrance.

"Idiots." Black whispered to me. "Barbosa - how can ppl NOT get that? It's so easy."

When the heat of the Darth Vader disguise got unbearable we decided to declare bankruptcy. Gave all the stuff to the gardener. He threw them in the bin.

*

Tonight double sided Pneumonia hits Chateau Marmont. Will I see you there?

@ the master balcony, we drink our absolute tonics like two old ladies while sun burns our pale faces. Talk about granny, how she used to take us to Malibu Lagoon and let us eat as many Milky Ways as we wanted.

“What have you been doing Black, since I left?” I ask her. She sits quiet for a moment, then gulps her drink down and bursts out:
“Can't we do something FUN? Fashion alcoholism feels SO yesterday” looks me straight in the eyes and continues like she just discovered the cure for cancer. “Let's open a 7-Eleven!”

(Investigation of the giraffe turned out to pay off - now we have our secret ingredient to make this business a success.)

Last night me and Black followed grannys suspicious MEXICAN GARDENER. Silent under stars like shadow cats along the dark streets of old Bel Air, cross the glittering Sunset Boulevard and into the smelly backalleys until he entered a shady Dive bar north of Cahuenga. And there we sat. For 4 hours, watched him silently downing one Corona after another while watching some dog-racing on the bars old TV.

After another hour of no mafia, fist fights or shoot-outs Aloysius fell asleep on the sidewalk and Black was so drunk that I decided it was time to head back home.

While my bear and bff continued the night with rapping along to 99 problems I went inside to get some ice and there- in the middle of the living room a new object had appeared: a gigantic wooden giraffe that wore some sorta weed perfume.

Ok. Obviously, Mr mysterious cannot be the gardener. So who is he?

*

Thank you Supernova for your kind words.

Home sweet home. Black and I have wine and sweets for dinner. She's everywhere; balancing her glass on her finger tips, quoting Kierkegaard. Next moment braiding my hair.
I decide to mention the mysterious guest, which results in her dropping everything in her hands. Wine-stained Vivienne Westwood and wine-stained porch. Looks like fresh blood.
"It's the gardener who lives a double life! Let's investigate!" She whispers in the loudest of voices, all excited.
Disguised in cat masks and black armor we start to follow him through shady back streets and sunny boulevards.

*

I'll update you as soon as I have more info. Love.

Yesterday. When darkness sneaked up on us we drove downtown where they filmed a new season of Jersey Shore. Cute dogs with unpretentious haircuts, an army of polite homeless ppl and free jello shots @ The Standard. "To try out real life" as Black put it (but sometimes she just speaks in a foreign language). She was on the move. A translucent water gun loaded with Vodka in one hand, Aloysius in the other.

Now. Rooftop afternoon. Aloysius confuses water with poison. Glances @ me with eyes of desperation and sadness. I give him an encouraging smile.
"You must let the fear swallow you." Black whispers dramatically.

And suddenly a hazy memory hits me. It had been two weeks since we left Venice (not the beach but the Italian city built on water and hubris) for LA. I laid on granny's driveway in an attempt to melt away, when a thin figure leaned over me. Switched off the sun.
"Come on lazy." She said and handed me a worn edition of Crime and Punishment. "I'm gonna learn you how to fly."