October 30, 2009
10 Parties in October and November! San Diego-Orange County-Long Beach-West Hollywood
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October 24, 2009
Bedroom view sunset in Mexico
Monday! Yay!
October 23, 2009
Dad
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This is a video tribute I made for my Dad, Claire J. Larsen. He was an amazing man; completely selfless, completely dedicated to his faith and family and a a man who would do ANYTHING for anyone at any time. He was also the smartest man I ever met. We disagreed on most everything regarding politics and religion but we loved each other with all our hearts. He adopted me at three months old and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I miss him terribly but he did not suffer. He died suddenly from a heart attack walking off a cruise ship. He had no fear of death and all his affairs were in perfect order.
My brother wrote a brilliant eulogy that I've included below:
Eulogy of Claire Jay Larsen
9/14/2009
By Jay Larsen
I remember when my dad gave the eulogy for his mother. He had every name and date at hand. He was very organized and made the whole thing seem very precise. My dad liked things to be organized and precise. But personally, I have found that life is not about precision so much as it is about impressions. And my dad made a big impression on all of us who knew him.
I will attempt to eulogize my father’s life and the impressions he left on me. If dates are incorrect or missing, if names get confused or left out, please rest assured that the imprecision is all mine.
We are here today to celebrate the life of Claire Jay Larsen, a man who played many roles in his life: son, brother, husband, elder, teacher, bishop, dean, and of course the role that left the biggest impression on me—father.
Claire was born to Orba and Christian Larsen in Southern Idaho, near Preston, on July 29th, 1935.
He had several older half sisters as well as younger siblings, but he never categorized them as anything other than “family”. His siblings include his sisters Ladeen, May, Beth and Emma, and his brother John.
His early years were spent on a small farm growing beans, beets and such. Dad never lost his hard-working, hands-on, farm boy approach to life. He was never afraid to pitch in and get his hands dirty. And he often spoke of long hours spent mowing hay, bringing in the harvest, and caring for the “HARSES”. His love of the outdoors continued through a life time of camping and rock climbing. Dad never met a rock he didn’t want to climb.
Claire’s father, Christian, was a giant figure in my dad’s life. Christian was a respected member of the Mormon community. He had served a mission in Tonga in the early 19-hundreds, where he built church buildings and taught school, traveling from island to island in dugout canoes. This was back in the day when missions didn’t have a set length. Grandfather served until the Mission President released him almost 3 years later.
I remember helping my dad pour over Christian’s missionary journal, scanning each fading page, transcribing the text (although “translating” might be a better word, because Christian’s hand writing was not the best.) In fact, it is a lot like mine when I am in a hurry, which in some ways made it easier for me to read.
Dad worked hard to put Christian’s Journal together into a book with pictures and historical background info. He distributed copies to all his siblings and his children. Dad was so proud of what his father had done and his service to the Church. And he was proud of his family’s part in the Church’s history.
Dad looked up to his father as a heroic figure. He told me more than once how when he was young, maybe 8 years old, that he got his feet stuck in an icy puddle in a remote section of a dirt road as the temperature was dropping fast. His horse (or HARSE) wandered away and he was stuck, literally frozen into the road. Cold and alone. Scared. Dad was so relieved when his father, noticing the horse had come home alone, got on and road out and found his young son. Christian pulled his boy right out of his frozen boots, wrapped him up and carried him home. Dad was worried about his lost boots, but Christian told him, “Boots can be replaced, family can’t.”
So it was a huge shock to Claire when he lost his father to an accident involving a broken tractor and a train, when he was just 10 or 11. In my opinion, how Claire dealt with the sudden loss of his father really came to define how he approached the rest of his long life. I have spent much of my life slowly realizing just how much that event influenced and shaped his attitudes and actions over the years. I believe Dad was still learning how much that early loss had influenced his life himself.
The accident that took young Claire’s father away from him was not planned. Nobody wanted it to happen. But it did, and it changed everything. And that young boy had no idea how to fill the void left by his father’s absence. All he could do was to try his best to hold things together, to step forward, to try and keep things running and moving and organized. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the best job possible. His dad wasn’t there to show him what to do or to rescue him if he made mistakes. But Claire was determined to make his father proud of him.
Claire helped his mother and sisters run the farm after that. His mother, Orba, was a school teacher, and she impressed on her son (and me, and all her kids and grandkids) how important education was. Dad went to high school and stayed involved in the Church. I asked Dad once if he thought that the reason the Church was so important to him was because the Church had become a kind of surrogate for his missing father. And he said, Yes. That as long as he was serving the Church and doing what the Church asked of him, that he was doing what his father would have wanted him to do.
But it was more than that. My dad also appreciated all the men in the church who helped him and counseled him as he was growing up. The Church was an important source of male leadership for him.
When he was old enough, Dad did a short tour with the Army. Then he went on a mission to Colorado. He worked hard and was proud to have baptized one family into the Church.
After his mission, Dad started his academic career in earnest. He got a Bachelor’s degree from Utah State, while still finding time to be on the State boxing team. He placed 2nd in the state one year. I know, I saw the trophy.
Dad traveled to California to San Jose State to work on his Masters Degree, despite his mother’s warnings that California was not like Utah or Idaho, that things were different out there in Hollywood and that he would meet strange people.
Dad worked a paper route and worked at a fish cannery to pay his way through college in San Jose. But he kept attending church regularly. At one church dance he stole his friend’s date because that girl was more fun than his date. She was so much fun in fact that he married Jeanette Robertson, and was adopted whole heartedly into the Robertson clan.
When Claire finished his Master’s Degree, he took a teaching job in a little town called Willows California. Dad liked teaching math and writing to the 4th graders there, but had trouble with art and music. Probably because dad was colorblind and tone deaf. Afflictions that were apparent whenever he picked paint colors or clothing by himself, or whenever he sang out loud in church. But my mother made up for that by filling their house with music enough for both of them.
Claire and Jeanette had two troubled pregnancies in their first years together. Both ended tragically and neither baby lived more than a few hours. Those deaths too were not planned or wanted, but dad kept moving forward. And eventually Mom made it through another pregnancy and I was born in 1963.
Dad’s work moved his young family to Kern County, where he worked at the high school in Arvin and later he became the first librarian at West High School in Bakersfield.
Mom delivered my sister Kathrine in 1966 after a hard pregnancy, much of it spent in bed. The doctors told her and my dad that Jeanette could not have any more children. To do so would kill her. But my parents were determined to have more children. So even as Dad was taking a position as a research librarian at Bakersfield Community College, they adopted my brother Ronnie in 1969. And later my sister Debbie in 1971.
Much like his father before him, Dad was at his best when his family needed rescuing. We kept him busy taking us to the emergency room for stitches and casts; moving in and out of his house, and in and out of his house, as we tried to make it on our own. He would ride to the rescue with that tuition check, or rent check, or whatever check just at the last minute. And believe me, we gave Dad plenty of opportunities to rescue us, and he always rose to the occasion.
As the grandchildren began arriving, Grandpa Larsen, extended his strong arms and even stronger heart to embrace his growing family. Terra and Natasha, Siona and Chani, Sasha—you may notice a pattern here, we are very good at producing beautiful granddaughters in this family—and Grandpa loved them all and rode to their rescue many times over.
Dad was a strong defender of his family. He worked very hard to make sure we wanted for nothing. Dad had some very clear ideas of how his family should work, and we managed to throw most of his plans into disarray. But even though we kids didn’t always stick to Dad’s plan, he adapted and learned to come to terms with who we were, and to appreciate us as individuals. It is a testament to Dad’s love for us, that he did not let differences of religion, politics or sexuality unbind the bonds of family. It is a credit to his strength of character that he found a way to maintain his strong beliefs and still respect and accept our differences.
Another area of pride in my father’s life was his career as an educator. He spent most of his adult life working and serving Bakersfield Community College. He was probably happiest as a reference librarian. He always said that he loved poking through the catalogs and researching some topic for a professor. Dad just loved all that knowledge in all those books. I remember spending summer breaks helping him reorganize sections of the library. Dad also taught library science classes. At one time, most of the librarians in the area had taken classes from Professor Larsen. And many of the librarians were not shy about reporting back to my dad the titles of books I had been checking out, especially titles they thought were too mature for me. I remember dad’s voice on the other end of phone once, telling the librarian to go ahead a let me check out that book she was so worried about. “If he can read it, let him have it. A little knowledge never hurt anyone.” He said.
Dad eventually got a PHD from BYU. We were all proud, and Mom got her PHT (put hubby through) at last. Soon promotions followed at work, because dad never said no to responsibility. He became the head librarian. He started one of the first computer learning centers in the state. Later he was the Dean of this and that. He was instrumental in getting the satellite learning centers built. And he postponed his retirement to finish his work planning and building the new Grace Van Dyke Bird Library. Doctor Larsen had a reputation for being a hard worker and great defender of the college.
Despite all his success and long hours at BC, dad was most proud of his service within the Church. There is no way for me to recall all the positions dad accepted over the years: he was a missionary, a councilor to bishops, a member of the Stake High Council, a temple worker, a Bishop. And through it all he was always a home teacher. Many were the weekends where when I was done mowing our lawn, Dad would load up the mower and we would go mow the lawn of which ever widow in the ward needed some help around the house. I helped Dad paint houses, put in hot water heaters, move families across town, what ever the members of the ward needed. Brother Larsen was there to serve.
Dad was an avid Church scholar. His personal library is full of all manner of LDS books, all of them read, many more than once. And Dad always had his scriptures at hand and always had a scripture reference appropriate for any topic. So of course he was always ready to speak in church, and he did, many, many times.
Dad loved his church. He was planning on starting a mission at the Los Angeles Temple last week. His faith was very important to him, and he expressed it through service. I’m sure his father would be very proud of him.
No discussion of my father’s life would be complete without mentioning his relationship with his sweetheart and wife, Jeannette. If you knew Dad, then you know that Mom had a long struggle with cancer. And Dad was an amazing nurse. He kept track of all Mom’s appointments and medications. He put his life into a very tight orbit around Mom’s needs. I was constantly amazed at how hard he worked taking care of our mother. And he took equal care of her after her death in 2006.
He missed her dearly, and we were all afraid that dad would waste away without Mom, who was the center of his life. But Dad still had his church and his hobbies to keep him busy, and before too long he was dating some. Eventually he introduced us to Carol, who he married in 2007. Carol and Claire had much in common and yet were very different from each other. But Dad was happy to be adopted into the Walker clan, happy to increase the number of kids and grandkids in his life. Dad and Carol traveled and built a new home together.
Dad spent the last year of his life traveling and visiting all his siblings, children and grand children. I think he visited every one of us. His last week was spent enjoying the natural beauty of Alaska. He had a great time, I could tell by looking at all the pictures he took.
He passed suddenly. Dad probably did not want to be a burden on any of us, so he didn’t linger. And I know he was looking forward to seeing Jeanette and his mother and very much looking forward to seeing his father again after all those years of making him proud.
I know Dad would want me to thank you all for coming today, and he would apologize if his funeral interfered with any of your plans.
Dad made a big impression all of us who knew and loved him. That impression will never die or fade away.
9/14/2009
By Jay Larsen
I remember when my dad gave the eulogy for his mother. He had every name and date at hand. He was very organized and made the whole thing seem very precise. My dad liked things to be organized and precise. But personally, I have found that life is not about precision so much as it is about impressions. And my dad made a big impression on all of us who knew him.
I will attempt to eulogize my father’s life and the impressions he left on me. If dates are incorrect or missing, if names get confused or left out, please rest assured that the imprecision is all mine.
We are here today to celebrate the life of Claire Jay Larsen, a man who played many roles in his life: son, brother, husband, elder, teacher, bishop, dean, and of course the role that left the biggest impression on me—father.
Claire was born to Orba and Christian Larsen in Southern Idaho, near Preston, on July 29th, 1935.
He had several older half sisters as well as younger siblings, but he never categorized them as anything other than “family”. His siblings include his sisters Ladeen, May, Beth and Emma, and his brother John.
His early years were spent on a small farm growing beans, beets and such. Dad never lost his hard-working, hands-on, farm boy approach to life. He was never afraid to pitch in and get his hands dirty. And he often spoke of long hours spent mowing hay, bringing in the harvest, and caring for the “HARSES”. His love of the outdoors continued through a life time of camping and rock climbing. Dad never met a rock he didn’t want to climb.
Claire’s father, Christian, was a giant figure in my dad’s life. Christian was a respected member of the Mormon community. He had served a mission in Tonga in the early 19-hundreds, where he built church buildings and taught school, traveling from island to island in dugout canoes. This was back in the day when missions didn’t have a set length. Grandfather served until the Mission President released him almost 3 years later.
I remember helping my dad pour over Christian’s missionary journal, scanning each fading page, transcribing the text (although “translating” might be a better word, because Christian’s hand writing was not the best.) In fact, it is a lot like mine when I am in a hurry, which in some ways made it easier for me to read.
Dad worked hard to put Christian’s Journal together into a book with pictures and historical background info. He distributed copies to all his siblings and his children. Dad was so proud of what his father had done and his service to the Church. And he was proud of his family’s part in the Church’s history.
Dad looked up to his father as a heroic figure. He told me more than once how when he was young, maybe 8 years old, that he got his feet stuck in an icy puddle in a remote section of a dirt road as the temperature was dropping fast. His horse (or HARSE) wandered away and he was stuck, literally frozen into the road. Cold and alone. Scared. Dad was so relieved when his father, noticing the horse had come home alone, got on and road out and found his young son. Christian pulled his boy right out of his frozen boots, wrapped him up and carried him home. Dad was worried about his lost boots, but Christian told him, “Boots can be replaced, family can’t.”
So it was a huge shock to Claire when he lost his father to an accident involving a broken tractor and a train, when he was just 10 or 11. In my opinion, how Claire dealt with the sudden loss of his father really came to define how he approached the rest of his long life. I have spent much of my life slowly realizing just how much that event influenced and shaped his attitudes and actions over the years. I believe Dad was still learning how much that early loss had influenced his life himself.
The accident that took young Claire’s father away from him was not planned. Nobody wanted it to happen. But it did, and it changed everything. And that young boy had no idea how to fill the void left by his father’s absence. All he could do was to try his best to hold things together, to step forward, to try and keep things running and moving and organized. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the best job possible. His dad wasn’t there to show him what to do or to rescue him if he made mistakes. But Claire was determined to make his father proud of him.
Claire helped his mother and sisters run the farm after that. His mother, Orba, was a school teacher, and she impressed on her son (and me, and all her kids and grandkids) how important education was. Dad went to high school and stayed involved in the Church. I asked Dad once if he thought that the reason the Church was so important to him was because the Church had become a kind of surrogate for his missing father. And he said, Yes. That as long as he was serving the Church and doing what the Church asked of him, that he was doing what his father would have wanted him to do.
But it was more than that. My dad also appreciated all the men in the church who helped him and counseled him as he was growing up. The Church was an important source of male leadership for him.
When he was old enough, Dad did a short tour with the Army. Then he went on a mission to Colorado. He worked hard and was proud to have baptized one family into the Church.
After his mission, Dad started his academic career in earnest. He got a Bachelor’s degree from Utah State, while still finding time to be on the State boxing team. He placed 2nd in the state one year. I know, I saw the trophy.
Dad traveled to California to San Jose State to work on his Masters Degree, despite his mother’s warnings that California was not like Utah or Idaho, that things were different out there in Hollywood and that he would meet strange people.
Dad worked a paper route and worked at a fish cannery to pay his way through college in San Jose. But he kept attending church regularly. At one church dance he stole his friend’s date because that girl was more fun than his date. She was so much fun in fact that he married Jeanette Robertson, and was adopted whole heartedly into the Robertson clan.
When Claire finished his Master’s Degree, he took a teaching job in a little town called Willows California. Dad liked teaching math and writing to the 4th graders there, but had trouble with art and music. Probably because dad was colorblind and tone deaf. Afflictions that were apparent whenever he picked paint colors or clothing by himself, or whenever he sang out loud in church. But my mother made up for that by filling their house with music enough for both of them.
Claire and Jeanette had two troubled pregnancies in their first years together. Both ended tragically and neither baby lived more than a few hours. Those deaths too were not planned or wanted, but dad kept moving forward. And eventually Mom made it through another pregnancy and I was born in 1963.
Dad’s work moved his young family to Kern County, where he worked at the high school in Arvin and later he became the first librarian at West High School in Bakersfield.
Mom delivered my sister Kathrine in 1966 after a hard pregnancy, much of it spent in bed. The doctors told her and my dad that Jeanette could not have any more children. To do so would kill her. But my parents were determined to have more children. So even as Dad was taking a position as a research librarian at Bakersfield Community College, they adopted my brother Ronnie in 1969. And later my sister Debbie in 1971.
Much like his father before him, Dad was at his best when his family needed rescuing. We kept him busy taking us to the emergency room for stitches and casts; moving in and out of his house, and in and out of his house, as we tried to make it on our own. He would ride to the rescue with that tuition check, or rent check, or whatever check just at the last minute. And believe me, we gave Dad plenty of opportunities to rescue us, and he always rose to the occasion.
As the grandchildren began arriving, Grandpa Larsen, extended his strong arms and even stronger heart to embrace his growing family. Terra and Natasha, Siona and Chani, Sasha—you may notice a pattern here, we are very good at producing beautiful granddaughters in this family—and Grandpa loved them all and rode to their rescue many times over.
Dad was a strong defender of his family. He worked very hard to make sure we wanted for nothing. Dad had some very clear ideas of how his family should work, and we managed to throw most of his plans into disarray. But even though we kids didn’t always stick to Dad’s plan, he adapted and learned to come to terms with who we were, and to appreciate us as individuals. It is a testament to Dad’s love for us, that he did not let differences of religion, politics or sexuality unbind the bonds of family. It is a credit to his strength of character that he found a way to maintain his strong beliefs and still respect and accept our differences.
Another area of pride in my father’s life was his career as an educator. He spent most of his adult life working and serving Bakersfield Community College. He was probably happiest as a reference librarian. He always said that he loved poking through the catalogs and researching some topic for a professor. Dad just loved all that knowledge in all those books. I remember spending summer breaks helping him reorganize sections of the library. Dad also taught library science classes. At one time, most of the librarians in the area had taken classes from Professor Larsen. And many of the librarians were not shy about reporting back to my dad the titles of books I had been checking out, especially titles they thought were too mature for me. I remember dad’s voice on the other end of phone once, telling the librarian to go ahead a let me check out that book she was so worried about. “If he can read it, let him have it. A little knowledge never hurt anyone.” He said.
Dad eventually got a PHD from BYU. We were all proud, and Mom got her PHT (put hubby through) at last. Soon promotions followed at work, because dad never said no to responsibility. He became the head librarian. He started one of the first computer learning centers in the state. Later he was the Dean of this and that. He was instrumental in getting the satellite learning centers built. And he postponed his retirement to finish his work planning and building the new Grace Van Dyke Bird Library. Doctor Larsen had a reputation for being a hard worker and great defender of the college.
Despite all his success and long hours at BC, dad was most proud of his service within the Church. There is no way for me to recall all the positions dad accepted over the years: he was a missionary, a councilor to bishops, a member of the Stake High Council, a temple worker, a Bishop. And through it all he was always a home teacher. Many were the weekends where when I was done mowing our lawn, Dad would load up the mower and we would go mow the lawn of which ever widow in the ward needed some help around the house. I helped Dad paint houses, put in hot water heaters, move families across town, what ever the members of the ward needed. Brother Larsen was there to serve.
Dad was an avid Church scholar. His personal library is full of all manner of LDS books, all of them read, many more than once. And Dad always had his scriptures at hand and always had a scripture reference appropriate for any topic. So of course he was always ready to speak in church, and he did, many, many times.
Dad loved his church. He was planning on starting a mission at the Los Angeles Temple last week. His faith was very important to him, and he expressed it through service. I’m sure his father would be very proud of him.
No discussion of my father’s life would be complete without mentioning his relationship with his sweetheart and wife, Jeannette. If you knew Dad, then you know that Mom had a long struggle with cancer. And Dad was an amazing nurse. He kept track of all Mom’s appointments and medications. He put his life into a very tight orbit around Mom’s needs. I was constantly amazed at how hard he worked taking care of our mother. And he took equal care of her after her death in 2006.
He missed her dearly, and we were all afraid that dad would waste away without Mom, who was the center of his life. But Dad still had his church and his hobbies to keep him busy, and before too long he was dating some. Eventually he introduced us to Carol, who he married in 2007. Carol and Claire had much in common and yet were very different from each other. But Dad was happy to be adopted into the Walker clan, happy to increase the number of kids and grandkids in his life. Dad and Carol traveled and built a new home together.
Dad spent the last year of his life traveling and visiting all his siblings, children and grand children. I think he visited every one of us. His last week was spent enjoying the natural beauty of Alaska. He had a great time, I could tell by looking at all the pictures he took.
He passed suddenly. Dad probably did not want to be a burden on any of us, so he didn’t linger. And I know he was looking forward to seeing Jeanette and his mother and very much looking forward to seeing his father again after all those years of making him proud.
I know Dad would want me to thank you all for coming today, and he would apologize if his funeral interfered with any of your plans.
Dad made a big impression all of us who knew and loved him. That impression will never die or fade away.
The GAYEST thing I have seen all day!
YouTube is making SNL irrelevant. The whole world is starting to feel like an SNL parody.
October 19, 2009
October 06, 2009
Had a great fall....
Dear Friends, Family and anyone else remotely interested in my life.
I'm not a big fan of sending personal letters in the form of mass mailings. I find it narcisstic. self-indulgent and ultimately impersonal but hey, if the shoe fits...
So here goes...
I'm coming off what is possibly the worst month of my life. Doors are closing and new ones are opening. Chapters are ending and new adventures are beginning. It's an exciting time but also incredibly depressing, difficult and challenging. It's a cliche to say that without my friends I couldn't have gotten thru the last month but it's 100% true. My friends have taken care of me and helped me in ways that I find humbling and awe-inspiring. I actually feel incredibly undeserving of the love and help I've been showered with. Whenever I worry that I have bad kharma I look at my friends and realize that I must be doing something right.
I lost my Dad a few weeks ago. He died suddenly of a heart attack. He was a man who jogged every morning for 5 miles. He was in perfect health, Had no vices and lived a perfectly clean life in every way. I am nothing like him. His life and home were in perfect order and free of chaos. He was walking off a cruise ship and he had a heart attack and then 24 hours later he was gone. My mother suffered for years with cancer, hers was a long, slow painful goodbye but my Dad just went suddenly. The last conversation we had was about duct tape and ceiling fans.
I'm incredibly sad at his passing but he didn't suffer, he lived a great life and he had no fear of dying. In the last few years we had discussed every aspect of my personal life, EVERY ASPECT, and he literally seemed unfazed. I was worried he might not ever kiss me on the lips again after I told him all the things my lips have done but he was as loving as always. There are no loose ends there. No unresolved issues. But I'm greedy! I want more! I always want more. I assumed he would live to be 90 but...he died at 74. And that's that.
Losing a parent is enough to deal with in one month but a month before he passed i made the very tough decision to give up my life in Oceanside and move to Mexico full-time. I had been living here all summer and I was looking for ways to keep my place in Oceanside but financially it just didn't make sense. I loved Oceanside. Still do. It was an amazing time. The memories in my house would fill 10 novels and for those of you attended the infamous parties you know what I'm talking about. I met Blair and Niki and Cathleen in Oceanside, three of the greatest people I have ever known. Three people that will be in my life forever. Three people who love me unconditionally and who never say no. I'm blessed to have them. i wish i could give them as much as they give me.
But for many reasons, too numerous to discuss here, Mexico made sense. I can run the website from here, still throw parties all over Southern California and have a greatly reduced overhead. My rent in Oceanside was 1,600 and utilities were another 400. My rent AND utilities in Mexico are 950.00. And the Mexico house is stunning. It makes my Oceanside place look like a slum. Your money gets you so much more in Mexico. I was driven here by my eternal frustration with my complicated finances but once I got here I felt a calmness and peace I hadn't felt in a few years.
I'm gonna try to be extremely honest in this letter. I'm assuming if you're still reading, it's because you care. I moved to Oceanside for the sex; Marines, Marines and more Marines. I moved there knowing no one. But I quickly met people and had plenty of sex partners and then the parties...it was all very exciting, but i lost control....people were knocking on my doors at all hours looking for sex and parties. Marines would come to a party on Saturday and not leave til Monday. At times I felt like I was running a non-profit hotel for sex addicts. It wasn't one person that was the problem though there were a few assholes I had to sever ties with. I loved mostly everyone I met in Oceanside but it was a cumulative problem. Constant activity. i could no longer focus. One time a sex partner showed up unannounced and knocked on the door. I stayed in bed. Next thing I know he's knocking on my window, "are you in there?" It just got out of control for me. It's my own fault because boundaries have never been my strong suit but the fact is I lost control in Oceanside. I loved it but I lost control.
Financially, too, I lost control. This is very hard for me to discuss because I've always been bad with money and I hate discussing it. But everything was fine financially til I started the website. I raised 10,000 to make UnitedSexAddicts.com but that money was quickly gone and for the first year i was stuck with an expensive monthly server bill. At the same time a real estate business I was involved started to go bust so I lost income as I was accumulating expenses. Then the landlady raises the rent from 1,400 to 1,600. I assumed once the website went paid my money problems would be over but i was so wrong. Only about 5% of the members pay for the site. Thank God for those members but it's gonna be a much slower build than i anticipated. And the website needs lots of work. So not only is there a monthly server cost but I have technicians in India who do not work free! I see now that I severly mis-managed the website. It was free for way too long and people assumed it would be free forever but why would anyone think I would spend a year creating a free website for sex addicts? It's not a charity it's a hook-up site. So it's been a tough learning experience and I''ve made countless mistakes! But I'm hopeful in the next few years it will be a lucrative venture but it isn't yet. Far from it! But I love it and I'm committed to it so....thats that.
I also make money on the parties but not nearly as much as one might think. There are three types of partygoers. There are partygoers who always insist on paying cause they are incredibly generous and they are grateful that the parties happen. Then there the partygoers who only donate if they are pushed and prodded and then there are partygoers that simply WILL NOT DONATE. I don't know why but they just won't donate. But here's the thing about the parties and donating that i keep trying to explain. After everyone leaves I and i alone, get to pick up shit-covered condoms and clean up after EVERYONE; those who did donate and those who did not! That's why everyone should contribute cause the parties are for everyone. I say this not to whine but to make a point. If everyone who came to a party actually donated things might have been easier for me financially. But I can assure you that 50 people at a party does not equal 1,000 in donations. I've had parties with 60 people and the donation total was 400. We spend 150 on supplies, I give my door person money and so at the end of a party I'm not a rich party promoter. I AM NOT COMPLAINING, I AM EXPLAINING!
This letter is about explaining. Where I am, how I got here and where I'm going.
So economically things were not easy but then the economy collapsed and I woke up one day and said, "this country doesn't make sense anymore from a financial standpoint." A root canal in Mexico costs 80 bucks but in the states it's 1,400. We are being financially gouged and raped at every turn in America and there seems to be no end in sight. So I looked at Mexico and said, let's give it a try. I let visitors use my Oceanside place all summer and spent most of the summer in Mexico and it worked. It's not perfect here but I can park outside my house without fear of getting a 50 dollar street weeping ticket.
So I came to Mexico and I met a guy and golly gee, I fell in love. We've been dating for 5 months, I have no idea where it's going but I like him ALOT and if you know anything about me you know I do not fall in love easily. Almost never, in fact. Sex is easy, love is hard. So that's been another interesting development.
So after lots of hemming and hawing I decide to give up Oceanside.
I plan my moving day for September 15th. Then my Dad dies and the funeral is scheduled for September 15th. No lie. My friend Niki, like a fucking trooper and saint steps in, takes over my move, packs up the moving truck. All while i'm in Bakersfield dealing with my Dad. So I leave to go my Dad's funeral 3 or 4 days before and halfway there in the car i start becoming violently ill. By the time i get there I can barely stand up. I go right to bed at my good friend, Jans house and i lliterally do not get out of bed til the morning of the funeral, 4 days later. The funeral is perfect. Very moving. My friend Donna holds my hand the whole time. My brother gave a eulogy that I'm STILL pondering. He taught me things about my Dad I never understood. It was an awesome, life-changing event. The funeral ends I head to Oceanside, get my moving truck packed with stuff and my friend Cathleen and i drive it into Mexico. My Mexican friends help me unpack. We return the truck to America. i go back to Mexico and I FALL IN TO A VERY DEEP DEPRESSION. I'M PARALYZED. I FEEL LOST. I can not focus. I'm still trying to shake it. Goodbye Dad, Goodbye Oceanside...on the same day...too much to process.
I try to unpack but there's no storage here. Houses in Mexico don't have closets. I shove everything in the garage. And PS I'm out of money cause my checks from the website don't get forwarded for a few weeks cause i had the mail stopped and I had to cancel some parties. So my friends start loaning me money. Meanwhile I disconnect my iphone cause my bill for one month was 900.00 dollars in roaming charges so thats why no one has heard from me via phone. Cathleen gave me her mothers cell phone to use in the mean time til i figure out the phone situation. So i have no phone, I'm feeling very isolated, my e-mails are piling up, my house is in shambles and I'm still sick from Dad's funeral. And my Dad is dead. It's unbelievable but true. They gave me boxes of his stuff and they sat in my trunk for two weeks, I couldn't muster the energy to bring them inside. Oh woe is me.
It gets worse. I've had a tooth I've neglected for many many months. it was broken but didn't really bother me til about 8 weeks ago. Well around the time of all this it starts to go crazy and i have these flare ups. Terrible pain like i've never felt before. I finally go to the dentist last week for a root canal, she tries to inject me but the pain is so intense I start screaming FUCK FUCK FUCK in the dentist chair. She tries again. I can not take the pain. I snapped. I get in my car and start driving to America to my American dentist. I'm tired. i can;t keep my eyes open. I pull over to sleep, it takes me 12 hours to go from the border of Mexico to LA. Did I mention I got a flat at the border. Yes, I got a flat. That's when I really start pondering my kharma and every actor I've ever fired. But look at my friends, i've got great friends. i can't be all that bad.
I get to the dentist in America and he says i can do a root canal for 1400. 1,400??? Are you fucking kidding me? I could buy a house in Mexico for 1,400. I drive back to Mexico. Start taking antibiotics. Last friday it gets really bad! More pain. Horrible pain. Excruciating!!!!!!! I start taking painkillers and I go to bed for three days. My house is still in shambles, unpacked, boxes...and dog hair everywhere, piling up, dog hair....EVERYWHERE....dog hair....I took two dogs that my friend had in LA...she took care of them for 3 years so now it's my turn. She came down for the weekend and swept for three days non stop. My beautiful relaxing Mexico home is now a house of hair.
I'm trying to get back up.... have a sex party tomorrow on Wednesday, then the Dentist on thursday and then I'm hoping and praying things start to calm down.
It's been too much. Truly. It's been too much.
I've left out lots of details. Yes there's more, lots more. But this letter is too long as it is.
Let me just say that I believe that this will be a much better month than the last one. And the next time someone says, "God will never give you more than you can handle", tell them they are full of shit!
It has been too much. How would I have moved without Niki, Blair, Jesse, Hayward, Deb and April? How would i have gotten the truck down here without Cathleen? Who would have swept the dog hair while I was in bed on painkillers if not Caryn Horwitz?
It was too much to handle, but I'm alive. Barely. And trying to get back on my feet slowly but surely. But it was too much for me. I was broken by it all.
So if you haven't heard from me, that's why! If I haven't returned your e-mail or phonecall, that's why. If I haven't had time to suck your dick, that's why!
I'm hoping October is better than September and that November is better than October. I'm hopeful. There so much to look forward to. More parties, more dates, the website continues to grow, my overhead is much, much lower, i may even produce a play with Niki. But right now things are tough. Very tough. But I'm trying to climb out.
i'm still in shock over the death of my father. It's shocking that he's gone so suddenly. No goodbyes...no fanfair...just gone.
Below are a list of "thank you's" to everyone who has propped me up in this terrible time. In no particular order.
Jan - Thanks for the weekend at your house before the funeral.
Donna - Thanks for showing up to the funeral even though i was too sick to get you directions, thanks for comforting me and for letting me be alone with my thoughts at the same time.
Jay - Thank you for asking nothing of me and for giving a great eulogy.
Cathleen - Thank you for the emotional and financial support, for driving the u-hual, for helping me unpack, for feeding me, for holding my hand and for agreeing that i've been dealt too much at one time. empathy is what i was craving.
Caryn - Thank you for sweeping up the dog hair, and for hosting the party and for telling me, "Your Dad died." in a caring voice I shall never forget.
Niki - I wouldn't know where to start to thank you but THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING. Thank you for being there the morning of his heart attack.
Blair - Thank you for being the rock of sanity you always are. Thank you for holding down the fort and thank you for putting Club Sex Addict together again.
Cindy - Thank you for the money and for being the first phonecall after I got the news about my dad. I love you & Kim & Carly & Harry more deeply than you will ever know.
Carolyn - Thank you for contacting me.
Cardoza - Thank you for taking my insanely emotional phonecall at 6 am and talking me thru the morning.
Joseph - Thank you for letting me know you were there for me for whatever I needed.
Deb, Jesse, Hayward, Blair and April - Thank you for moving me!!!!! I will always be grateful. You all own me.
Michael and Sullema - Thank you for taking care of me in Mexico. I'm excited to be your neighbor.
Thom - Thank you for coming and cuddling and buying me food. i needed to get out of the house and eat.
Jose - Thank you for your patience. I know you hate me, lol, but thank you.
My friends on the USA website - thank you for your kind letters of condolences
Janet - Thank you for showing up at the graveside and giving me a BIG hug.
Julian - Thank you for saying you love me (by calling me a fat ass)
Angelina - Thank you for doing a web show and giving us a big traffic day on the site
Vinayak - Thank you for your patience, I'm not a flake, you know that.
Joshua - Thank you for being understanding. You've been a better friend to me than I've been to you.
Tall Paul - Thank you for writing me one of the sweetest letters anyone has ever written me.
Michael and David - For producing my play in Florida. i hope you guys make money.
I have many more people to thank, I'm sure, but if I've forgotten anyone for anything please reread this letter and just know I'm still not 100%. Even a friend came to see me today and she said, "you just seem slow. like things aren't firing for you yet." And she's right. I'm struggling. But I'm hoping within 10-14 days i should be somewhat together again.
So, if you care about me, just give me some time. if you write and I don't respond right away, don't take it personally. If you can't get a hold of me, just know I'm working on my phone situation.
And if you read this whole thing, you get a gold star.
And if you don't know what to do with all your extra money, send it to me and I'll gladly spend it for you.
Have a great Wednesday!
Love,
Ronnie
And Sally sends her love as well.
Below is the one of the first photos as well as the last photo I ever took with my Dad.
And just in case you think I'm super pathetic, which I am, check out the house I'm renting in Mexico for $850.00 a month plus $150.00 for ALL utilities. So, things could be a lot worse, ALOT! Viva la Mexico!
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