I feel as if I've barely stopped moving these last two or three weeks. First I had Chris to stay for a few days, and then I headed to New York for ten days. I had a bare two days to myself the weekend after I came back from New York before the arrival of consecutive house guests on Monday and Tuesday. The last guest left noon on Wednesday, only two hours before I drove to the airport for my long weekend in Los Angeles. Throughout this time there have been not only the complex demands of work, but I've also been trying to get stuff done like buying my car, and paying my taxes. Not to mention trying to squeeze in friends and the two guys I'm dating.

My two house guests were both visitors from LGHEI, a gay hospitality organization I'm a member of. Steve, the first guy, was from Denver, an intense, nurturing bodyworker/therapist. When he mentioned his occupation, my ears pricked up at the opportunity to get a free massage. Part of the deal with LGHEI is that your guests are expected to take you out for dinner, in exchange for free accomodation. While we were out for dinner I proposed to him that we'd split the cost of dinner if he'd give me a massage. Well, I ended up being given both the dinner AND the massage, which sent me to bed sated and relaxed.

The next day's guest was Tom, a middle aged man from Palm Springs, whose cheery smile was a surprise in contrast to the curtness of his email messages. I guess I must have felt comfortable around him, because I realized I was wandering about my apartment, while he was in the living room reading, with my fly undone. I have a terribly lazy habit which comes from having lived alone for so long of not bothering to do up my fly after a visit to the bathroom. I figure, oh, I'll get that later, but never do.

I worked at home most of the week before coming down here to LA, and spent most of the work day in a bad temper. Things have changed on the project, and I'm now a technical lead, which means I'm directing the technical work of about eight people, most of whom are brand new to the project. In addition, I'm still the lead developer for part of the project, which means I have a dishful of technical tasks of my own to complete. But I seem to spend all day long babysitting the new folk. Everytime the phone rings, I glare at it, because it's interrupting my flow of thought. And I almost can't help but answer the phone with a weary, frustrated "Yes?" I don't want to become an ogre, like I used to be at work a long way back when I was a programmer. I had a terrible reputation back then of being unapproachable; of biting people's heads off who interrupted me.

I was happy to get away, finally, Thursday afternoon. It had been another crazy day; working from 6.30 in the morning until around 10.30, then seeing off my house guest before zipping over to Hayes Street for a haircut. Terry, my usual haircutter, was fully booked (I wanted my hair to be all pretty for LA), so I thought I'd try this salon I've passed several times in Hayes Valley where the haircutters all seemed to be young men in tanktops. I did get a pretty good haircut from a young, skinny man in a tanktop, wishing all the while that it was the hunky man in the tight tank-top at the other station.

I rushed back home, packed quickly, and sped off to the airport. Soon, my worries were falling behind me at 500 miles per hour. This was to be an economy/luxury trip to LA. My flight, and my 4-star hotel were both paid for by frequent traveler points, and my car was a steal through Priceline. It was mild when I arrived in LA im the late afternoon - barely warmer than it had been in San Francisco. I drove the congested freeways into downtown LA, where I was to stay at the Westin Bonaventure (the hotel used in "True Lies").

The view from my huge hotel window was spectacular in the red light just before sunset; office towers crowded together.

The hotel was equally spectacular. It consists of four cylinders, each holding guest rooms coiled around an elevator shaft. The lobby contains the most public space I've ever seen in a hotel; it's full of ornamental pools, odd places to sit, balconies, and several floors of shops and restaurants all of which were consistently devoid of customers. It's well situated, close to Disney Hall, the newly finished home of the LA Symphony, which I plan to visit tomorrow; several Starbucks, and best of all a huge, recently built Golds Gym, where I can work out for free thanks to my San Francisco membership. And work out is pretty much all I did Thursday night.

Today was the "nice" part of my Los Angeles weekend. The "nasty" part will come tomorrow night, when I have a hot date, with whom I'll go out to a big club. Anyway, today. I worked all morning, and half of the afternoon. I spent much of the workday sitting outside a Starbucks across the street. I used their wireless network for the first time, and because I have VPN software that lets me into our customer's network, I was able to sit there outside a cafe in Los Angeles, running programs on a server in New York. I love technology. When it works.

Working at Starbucks

Mid afternoon, I drove out to Elysian Park to go for a run. It's set on a hill overlooking downtown on one side, and on the other, a rather sad looking suburbia (the Valley perhaps? - my geography is hazy).

I'd come to LA to see three friends. As it happens, they were all either busy or out of town tonight, so I worked out again, and retired to my hotel to what I thought would be a relaxing evening. But the folks in New York were still at work (even though it was ten p.m. their time), and were running into problems. So I ended up having to help them out for a couple of hours. When I'd figured out the solution, I sent it by email, logged off, switched off my cell phone, and unplugged the hotel phones. I wanted some Keith time, finally. They can work all night if they want, but not me.