(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?)

(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.

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?

(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.

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.

Woke up in a cocoon of silk and silence. Walls decorated with sunlight and distorted shadows. I made my way to the kitchen where I found a note.
"My Coco Pops are NOT common land"
Me and Aloysius searched the house for whoever wrote it, but as usual saw no one. Not even Black (she was out on one of her morning "power walks" that, I hate 2 say, are starting 2 upset the neighborhood). I tried to feed Aloysius the last cereals, but he refused to swallow. At least I have one new vital clue: the mysterious guest eats not only red velvet cake. He also eats teddy bear food.

*

Two hours later. Me and Black drink tall coffees in the shadow of the palm trees @ Bel Air Blvd. Black is a hallucination in blue lipstick. Caught in our euphoria she sprinkles our happiness onto strangers.
"Love your style darling, very Freud…ish!" she sings to a guy with a huge hat. "What's that supposed to symbolize?"
I just sit with a cigarette between my unpainted lips and smile.

*

Tonight we'll try something we haven't 4 a long time.

*

Btw: please comment! I see you in my statistics, but our world is built by words, not numbers.

I wake up early with “sleeping like a baby” next to me. We eat breakfast on the roof and then decide 2 explore our strange lush Bel Air backstreets. Sun high and bright, it's a weird feeling to walk in granny’s footsteps.  (When I was a kid and walked the same streets with my hand in hers, everyone from the Billion $ Producers to the Mexican gardeners used to wave happily @ us.) Today no one waves, but one man grabs Black's wrist and whispers that she “looks very chic”.
"Did you hear him?" Black smiles @ me. "He said I look cheap!"

*

As to the MYSTERIOUS guest there's no sign. But he MUST have been here again, since the weird pile of objects in the living room has increased dramatically.

Tonight we'll meet up with a new friend that runs Dolce & Gabbana in Rodeo drive. Later!

*

PS. Following me HERE ON GOOGLE gives you good luck for a week (I'm full of white magic)

Seems everyone in the hills got a key to my door. They blow through the house like fallen leaves in autumn wind and help me to empty granny's vast stock of Chardonay. Yesterday it was the gardener and the attorney (that btw only needed a signature on some paper, peew) and this morning I discovered that someone must be living in the guestroom in the wing.

As far as I've discovered from my little Miss Marple tour of the mansion, the man is at least 6'7'', owns a Persian cat and only eats velvet cake.

And now, as night falls like an apple on Newton's head, someone just opened the door downstairs. Exciting!

(Btw, I must thank the beautiful www.thetrashedfashion.com for the love. White kisses!)