Ocean Point - Part 2

With her dark glasses firmly in place, she opened the door to the Mayfield Inn. She was prepared for Mrs. Mayfield’s questioning eye, but it was a non-issue. Mrs. Mayfield was not working behind the desk. It seems after 20 years the owner had decided to take some much deserved time off. She had hired someone Bethany had never seen. That worked in Bethany’s favor. There was nothing to hide. Bethany had made the reservation using a fake name and paid in cash when she registered.

Bethany didn’t anticipate being in Somerston very long. When she got to her room she opened her solitary suitcase. Along with the clothes she had a photo album. It had been an impulse to bring it. She wasn’t even sure why she still owned it. Once she looked at it in the suitcase, the feelings that she had had upon seeing Christopher made more sense. She did still feel love for him.

The album was of her wedding day - memorabilia that should have been destroyed years ago. As she opened it, the first page was her wedding invitation. She remembered the day that she and her mother finally came to an agreement on what it should look like.



Bethany smiled when she thought of her mom, particularly at that moment. They both gave a little. But compromise is what it about. She got to have everything in lowercase and her mother got the design she thought both elegant and modern.

As Bethany turned the page, the photos were nothing new. She had seen them all before - professional shots, as well as, candids from that glorious day. There was no rain, only sunshine and beauty. The September air was perfect. Dusk with a breeze, candlelight and every white flower available. The gardens at Ocean Point had never been more beautiful. There was no expense spared. Her parents gave her the wedding of her dreams. Maybe even of theirs. Christopher was her love and life. Her white knight. And as cliché as it might sound, he was ever the charming prince. Loving, caring, handsome, with a beautiful smile, and arms made for holding her. She found herself smiling, lost in the moment. She had to focus on her reason for being there. She stopped smiling, closed the album and her eyes, and then took a deep breath.

She placed the album back in the suitcase making sure to place it under her clothes so as to keep the sentiment in her heart from longing to see it again. To regain her focus, she opened a small case and took out the vile of clear liquid. As she looked at it, her lips formed another smile. This time she thought the smile was appropriate.

She didn’t want to waste another second. It seemed like as good a time as any to put her plan into motion. There was no need for her driver. She was perfectly capable of driving to Ocean Point. Besides, this was her quest, her journey. She needed to take it by herself. She got behind the wheel and gripped it. She found that her nerves were much less prevalent than when she first arrived in Somerston. There was a sense of calm and peace about her. She started the car and pulled out of the parking lot of the inn and drove toward the water and her destination.

Bethany knew exactly where to park so the car would go unnoticed. She had been keeping up with the news in Somerston for years. The annual Peony Ball was being held that night. The hosts lived next door to Christopher and Ivy. It would be easy to slip into the line of party guests waiting to have the valet park their cars.

When she arrived at the valet stand, she was asked to present her invitation. Undeterred, she began to search through her bag for it. She knew it didn’t exist, but they didn’t. She could hear the orchestra playing inside, a beautiful song she couldn’t quite place, but knew she had heard before. Just then, a gentleman gave her a claim ticket and jumped into her car and drove it away. No one seemed to be paying much attention to her or the fact that she hadn’t produced an invitation. Bethany wondered silently if the staff had been informed that the rich don’t like to be kept waiting. She walked away while a melancholy horn from the orchestra played As Time Goes By in the background. She finally recognized the tune. She thought to herself that time had gone by, but tonight was now.

The first part of her plan had gone almost exactly as she’d pictured it. She hoped that Christopher and Ivy had already arrived at the party. She knew they would be invited. It was inevitable. The scandal of their marriage had long died away and their money had ingratiated them right back into the society that once shunned them.

Some things never changed. Christopher only left the lights of the gate on when he was not home. Everyone in Somerston knew that. He wasn’t the cleverest of men. She smirked a little at his ridiculous ability to be so predictable. She slipped through the side door of the gate and made her way up the driveway toward the side of the house. He felt secure enough behind his large gates that his grounds went unpatrolled. If she knew Christopher, and she already knew that she did, the door off of the side garden would be unlocked. It had always been unlocked. Knowing him so well was going to make this easier than she thought.

She eased open the door. The room was black and empty of people. As she stepped inside and closed the door she found herself engulfed in the blackness - blackness as dark as she presumed her revenge-filled soul to be. The layout wasn’t exactly as she remembered it, which made sense to her. It had been 10 years after all. She bumped into a table and nearly toppled the lamp. She stifled the need to scream, but couldn’t stifle the curse word that passed her lips. As she was readjusting the lamp, a light came on under the door across the room. They weren’t gone yet. She froze for a moment, unable to breathe. She heard the door opening and saw more light filling the room as the opening got larger. The outline of the person opening the door was Christopher. She was sure of it. She wished there was a penny to see and pick up from the floor because right now she needed luck to find a way out of this situation or everything she had planned would be over before it started…

Part 1

©2010 Michael Rohrer

Ocean Point - Part 1

When the Rolls Royce came to a stop, the dream she had been dreaming vanished like fog after sunrise. She was finally here. Back in Somerston, Rhode Island, parked in front of Ocean Point, the place where it happened. Her nerves were showing themselves, but her excitement was more present than her fear.

As the haze of sleep disappeared she looked out the window of the car. There he was, Christopher, unloading suitcases from the trunk of his Mercedes. She couldn’t help but wonder where he’d been. Where they’d been. She wasn’t prepared for the rush of feelings that washed over her when she saw him. She thought it would be nothing but anger, but after 10 years she was surprised to find remnants of love mixed in with the anger. It was anger that made her upper lip curl in disgust, that knotted in the pit of her stomach; but was it love that made her heart beat a little faster? Maybe it wasn’t love. Maybe it was just adrenaline. Whatever it was, Bethany was not prepared for any other feeling but anger. She had a plan and she had to stick to it. There could be no thinking with her heart, only with her head.

She had seen enough. She asked her driver to take her to the inn once Christopher was inside the house and couldn’t see the car drive away. She didn’t need to see him anymore and she certainly didn’t need to see Ivy. Seeing Ivy might make her retch in the back seat of the car. Ivy Ashfield was the woman that Christopher has married after her “death.” Ivy, it could be said, was the person Christopher had “killed” her for.

“Beautiful socialite Ivy Claire Ashfield weds Christopher David Wakehurst in a garden ceremony on the grounds of the Wakehurst Estate, Ocean Point.” It was hard for Bethany to remember a time when that headline wasn’t burned into her brain.

The headline and all the pain connected with it suddenly became less important when she arrived at the inn. She had been missing and presumed dead for the last 10 years. She made her reservation under an assumed name. In keeping with the anonymity and secrecy, she wore a large hat and sunglasses. None of that changed the fact that she was back in the town where she’d grown up and “died.” She knew most everyone and they knew her. Keeping her time there a secret was going to be difficult and she knew it.

Ten years isn’t really that long when you think about it. Things hadn’t changed that much. She recognized the voice of the owner of the inn when she made the reservation. Mrs. Mayfield had owned the Mayfield Inn for at least 20 years. Returning to her hometown was painful enough. Without her parents to turn to, the Mayfield Inn was the closest thing to a home she could think of.

She wasn’t sure how anyone in Somerston would feel to see her again. She wasn’t sure that anyone would even recognize her. She hoped they wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter though. She didn’t need their love, respect, or approval. What she wanted was revenge…


©2010 Michael Rohrer

Hypersexual Sunday Nights (Bon Temps Style)

Fresh blueberries, green grapes, Bartlett Pears, carrots with hummus and a German beer concoction is a great start to a beautiful Sunday evening.

I got off work yesterday at 4pm. It seemed like the perfect excuse to hang out with my friend Tynan. She too was getting off work at 4pm. Around 5pm, she was heading home to Astoria, so I headed to Astoria myself. I landed at her apartment about 30 minutes later. I found a very tired Tynan. Not surprising when she told me about the night she had had previously. Nothing crazy, just late. She wanted a low-key evening at home and I'm usually always pretty down with that. There are times when I need to blow off some steam and turn it out, but most of the time I'm a sit-on-the-sofa-and-have-a-glass-of-wine-with-some-good-tv-or-conversation kind of guy.

When Tynan headed to the shower, I headed to the Trade Fair to pick up some supplies. On a hot summer evening, the first thought I had was fruit. Juicy, fresh fruit. There's nothing more beautiful that a colorful plate of fresh fruit sitting there waiting to be enjoyed. Anticipating the burst of the juice in your mouth from the first blueberry. I wanted a plate full of more color than green and purple, but upon examination of what was available at Trade Fair, blueberries, pears and grapes were my best option. I wanted the peaches and the plums, but I just wasn't sure they were ripe enough yet. I kept coming back to the peaches. I make a fantastic fruit salad with peaches, mango, blueberries, grapes and pears in the summer. Yum! Alas, last night was not the night for that particular salad.

The next thing I wanted was beer and Sprite. I know it may sound strange, but it is utterly refreshing. We usually drink what we call "white trash sangria" on Sunday evenings. You know, equal parts wine and ginger ale. It's usually red wine in the winter and white in the summer. I've taken to adding fresh oranges and limes or lemons to the mix. Anyway, last night, beer felt more refreshing. About a year ago I was with my German friend, Katrin, at the Beer Garden in Astoria, and we had this beer/Sprite concoction. I needed to revisit that refreshing beverage last night. So with Miller Lite, Sprite and the fruit purchased, I headed back to Tynan's to prepare it all.

After I washed and plated the fruit, Tynan added baby carrots and hummus to the mix, as well as, a Spanish cheese, the name of which escapes me. She added small slices of the cheese to the fruit plate, on top of the pear slices. It was a little bit of heaven right here in Astoria. Anticipation was building for that first bite. We moved everything to the living room, where the low lights and sound of the air conditioner whirring, lulled us to the sofa with a "come and relax on me for a while" ambiance.


Faced with what to watch while passing the time waiting for True Blood to start Tynan started searching HBO on demand. We stumbled upon a series that neither of us had heard of called Masterclass. Some discoveries are good and some bad. This was good. Like Columbus discovering America! Well, maybe not exactly like that, but for a couple of artists, it was pretty damn good. Masterclass is a series where professional artists give a master class to young artists. The first one we watched was Placido Domingo. Perfect for Tynan as she is an opera singer. For me, it was just amazing to sit back and watch those kids react and learn from their hero. The next one we watched was with Jacques d'Ambroise. He was a dancer and is now a respected choreographer. I reverted right back to my early days in college when I was just discovering dance and the joy that I felt back then. It was hard, but I wanted to be good at it so bad that I practiced it. I don't practice any more. Anything. It's sad, really. There was a time when I studied and practiced to learn and get better at something. Now, if I can't do it right away, I kind of give up on it. There are episodes with Liv Ullmann and Bill T. Jones, as well as other names I didn't recognize. I can't wait to watch and discover their magic.

During the first episode of Masterclass, we decided it was time to order dinner. I know, with all that fruit you're thinking how could we possible be hungry for more. Well, we were. We ordered sushi. Another tasty idea for a hot day. Hot and raw don't really go together where food is concerned, but sushi is kept cold and prepared fresh so that made it perfect for the hot summer evening. Salmon, California, mango/avocado and peanut/avocado rolls were ordered and Masterclass was resumed.

Instead of having the food delivered, we decided to walk the block and pick it up ourselves. Not typical New Yorker, but the evening was beautiful and the walk was a joy.

With our appetites satisfied, it was time to satiate our minds with the sexual world of True Blood. That is never hard to do. The world created by Charlaine Harris in her Sookie Stackhouse novels, and translated to the small screen by the mind of Alan Ball, is always sexual. It's full of comedy, intrigue, mystery, thrills and sex. What would you expect from vampires, but sex? It seems to be the nature of the beast. Hypersexual is a good word to describe the vampires of True Blood and the series itself. Let's just say, it's good to have HBO on Sunday nights when the summer starts.

Food, friends, good television. Is there a better way to spend an evening? Well, maybe at a beach or a New England bed & breakfast with a lover, but having no option for that last night, my choices were the perfect ones for me.

SATC2 - the follow-up

Ripped from the headlines in Entertainment Weekly. This is a paragraph written by Owen Gleiberman, reviewer for Entertainment Weekly. He writes with very much the same sentiment as I about Sex and the City 2.

IN DEFENSE OF SEX AND THE CITY 2. SERIOUSLY.

If you believed the reviews, then the whole Sex and the City kingdom, in a word, was over. The movie was Abu Dhabi doo-doo! I, however, will go on record and say: I am not tired of these ladies. I thought the scenes with Carrie and Big had a convincing and subtle domestic flow, and that the Abu Dhabi sequence, although 20 minutes too long, was funnier, more resonant, and more sustained than the Mexico sequence in the first film. I enjoyed Sex and the City 2 because I still relished the chance to bask in their quickness and silliness, their valor and confusion, their passion, their presence. I want to see what happens to them next...if there is a next.

My sentiments exactly. Thank you Owen for voicing your publicly.

Bring on their next chapter. There are designer labels and bags just waiting to be purchased for opening weekend.

White Elephants

On Monday, a dream that I've had for more than a year was finally realized. I went to Newport, Rhode Island. My desire in going had always been to see the mansions. The beauty of the day and friendship that came with it was bonus.

With the car picked up by 7am, Michael, Tynan, and I were on the road by 7:15am trying to acquire the GPS signal that would provide us with the directions to take us to one of America's most famed cities. During the Gilded Age (1865-1901) many of America's wealthiest families built summer "cottages" in Newport. The word cottage is almost laughable. I think of a cottage as a little house with maybe two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living area, and a bathroom. They thought of a summer cottage as a grand excuse for marble, gold leaf, chandeliers, and finery. Each trying to outdo the other in excess and size. The idea is simple, the wealthy Vanderbilts, Astors, among others, would come to Newport for the summer and entertain other families of their wealth and position. Each wanted to provide the most lavish setting for the entertaining.

The Breakers, built by Cornelius Vanderbilt II, was/is the grandest of them all. Knowing anything about the Vanderbilts, it's easy to imagine the family not wanting to be outdone by anyone. Wanting the best and biggest. And why not. If you have the money and can afford it...go for it!!

Let me get back to my trip to the wealthy little piece of land with my two friends. Roughly 30 minutes outside of the City, we hit Greenwich CT. It seemed the perfect time to stop for breakfast. When traveling, it is okay to forget one's good eating habits and just have a good time. That said, we stopped at McDonald's. Actually the one in Greenwich was the newly-minted, high-end cousin of McDonald's called McCafe. Whatever, still the same egg mcmuffin and bacon, egg, & cheese. Throw in the hash browns and you've got our breakfast. Champions we were. No judgement allowed.

Back on the road, we were looking for a place to stop and purchase an adapter for my ipod. We asked Lolly, our rental agent, if the car had an ipod port. We had chosen to upgrade to a Lincoln and that being said, she assumed it did for, as she put it, the car was "luxury, luxury." It took us the better part of an hour to actually find that port hidden in the second, deeper compartment of the console. There was no adapter though. So we kept our eyes peeled for a Walmart, Target, or Radio Shack. Eventually, we found a Target and even though it was merely 9am, it was open. A few minutes later with $14.99 less in my pocket, we headed out of the store and back to the car. Tynan, who was looking for a hat, left without the hot pink floppy she would've rocked all day. But I digress. The adapter worked, and the play list I had prepared was no longer stuck on my ipod, but a thumping, dancing, jamming reality. We resumed our drive to Newport. Michael was tired, having not slept well the night before and asked if one of us would drive. Tynan look the wheel while Michael took to the backseat to take a nap. I sat shotgun and gaged the volume of the ipod and sang along. I do enjoy a road trip on occasion. It truly depends on the people I'm with. These two were the right choice.

As we got closer to our destination, we were told by our GPS, Minny, to turn off the interstate. We found ourselves on two lane roads that can lead to anywhere. Lucky for us, ours led to the Claiborne Pell Bridge, the longest suspension bridge in New England. We rolled the windows down and turned the music up. It was amazing. So high above the water looking down at the boats as they lazily sailed or sped by to our right and left. My excitement was thumping in my chest. I couldn't wait to just be there, breathing the air and existing.

Minny led us right into the heart of the downtown area. Of course this is where all the tourist were, but I guess we had to acknowledge the we, ourselves, were tourist for the day. It didn't take much giving in. We found a place to park the car and got out and began to walk. It had been about three hours since that breakfast stop in Greenwich, so we were hungry. There were many choices from the sidewalk on which we found ourselves. Restaurants between art shops, and clothing stores, and the not surprising, but out-of-place Starbucks. We chose the Gas Lamp Grille. We were the first customers. Michael actually asked if they were open before we proceeded inside. With our pick of tables, we were seated in an open door opened onto the sidewalk. We were able to feel the breeze and watch the people all the while enjoying our meal.

With hunger assuaged, we headed to the Museum of Newport History. We didn't actually walk through the museum, we went into the gift shop looking for a map. Even though our GPS could get to the mansions, we wanted to walk and a map would help us identify where we were in connection to what we wanted to see. It's just like an amusement park. Map in hand, we headed back to our car. We walked up an alley called Brick Alley. It was at that point that my old soul nostalgia came out. I was giddy with the thought of the people who once walked on those bricks. An Astor or a Vanderbilt. Someone who summered there during the Gilded Age when Newport was a grand, social destination.

Back in the Lincoln with Minny hooked into the lighter, she took us closer to our destination: 44 Ochre Point Avenue, Newport RI 02840 - The Breakers. We didn't actually drive to The Breakers, we chose instead to park the car on Narragansett Avenue and walk to Cliff Walk which was located at the dead end in front of us. That was the best choice we could have made. Cliff Walk is a 3.5 mile walkway that borders the shore line. It runs behind many of the mansions so even if you're not paying to tour them, you can see their magnificence. Imagine waking up in the morning and the view out your window being the vast ocean at the bottom of the cliff at the end of your backyard. Breathtaking! There was a stairway called The 40 Steps which led down to the rocks and water. We went down those steps and climbed down onto the rocks. It was amazing. The water flowing in between the rocks, pounding the rocks. The breeze coming off the water. I couldn't stop smiling. And why should I? I was loving every second of it. I'm sure the water was freezing, but that didn't stop a group of people from swimming in it.


Back up The 40 Steps, we started our Cliff Walk journey. With bushes at the top of the cliff to our left and the water below on the same side and wild roses growing in places on the right, it was a beautiful walk. It was all about the ocean at that point of my journey. I would say our journey, but I'm not sure what Michael and Tynan were feeling at that moment. I was anticipating The Breakers and soaking up the sound of the water below.

A mansion came into view. I'm, again, giddy. I'm thinking it's The Breakers. I pull out my Blackberry and start taking pictures. I've got an image of the mansion in my head, but I think the image was a little cloudy. Maybe it was sepia toned and the sepia was beginning to fade. I'm not sure. It took walking up to the mansion and looking inside to realize that there was no way this could be The Breakers. I felt like such a fool for being so positive it was when it wasn't. I hate making a fool of myself. We found out later that this particular mansion was called Ochre Court and is now used by Salve Regina University. Turns out the university converted several of the mansions into academic building back in the 30's when the owners could no longer afford the taxes. So, slightly embarrassed, we headed back to Cliff Walk, and in search of The Breakers.


And without warning, there it was. Just beyond the wild roses growing along the fence - The Breakers. Grand and glorious. It was right there in front of me. The physical manifestation of the pictures I had stared out for so long. The large backyard to my right and the water to my left. The house looming just out-of-reach. Of course the out-of-reach part didn't last very long. We made our way onto that yard. Can you imagine the lawn parties held on the gorgeous lawn? I can. We made our way to the front of the mansion, paid the $19 admission, went inside, received our headsets and started our self-guided audio tour.

Our tour began in an area where guests were received. A large, ostentatious room with a red carpeted grand staircase. There was a fountain at the base in the back of the staircase. There was marble everywhere. Marble walls and columns. Gleaming crystal chandeliers. Gold leaf. The music room contained a Steinway piano and platinum leafing on the wall. Everything was ornate. Looking down at the receiving room from the second level I could almost hear the violins playing for the party guests. The bedrooms were decorated more simply compared to the rest of the house. The bathrooms were large. Mr. Vanderbilt's bathtub was made of marble and had to be filled with hot water and drained multiple times before the marble was warm enough for use. His tub also had four knobs. Living on the ocean, two of the knobs ran with hot and cold salt water. It was the utmost in luxury. Lolly would probably say "luxury,luxury." What a place to spend the summer. Those of you who read this blog know that I've posted a couple of entries concerning characters I've created from a piece called "Glass Houses." Well, one of the reasons I wanted to see The Breakers so badly was because it was exactly the image I had in my mind for the mansion of one of my families in that piece. As soon as I stumbled upon a photo of it on the internet, I had the image in front of me of what I had only been imagining. It was complete joy to actually see it in person.


Moving on, we left The Breakers and went back to Narragansett Avenue to rest our tired legs and drive to 548 Bellevue Avenue, Newport RI 02840 - Rosecliff. Rosecliff was built by a Nevada silver heiress named Theresa Fair Oelrichs. I was not nearly as impressed with Rosecliff as I was with The Breakers. Honestly, there is no comparison, but I was hoping in its own way it would be outstanding. What I adored was the ballroom. This mansion had the largest ballroom in Newport. It was stunning with two gorgeous chandeliers, a gold grand piano, and fabulous ornate moldings. It was truly a beautiful room. Both sides had french doors that ran the length of the ballroom. The front side opened into the garden while the back side open onto the terrace with a view of the ocean. While in that room we were told the story of Mrs. Oelrichs' most famous ball. It was called Bal Blanc. She wanted everything to be white and silver. She asked that the ladies even wear powdered wigs. The flowers were white. White swans were in the fountain. As the date of the party neared, lore has it that her butler asked if she was happy with how things were proceeding. To that question she replied that she needed white boats to be moored in the ocean so that when people looked toward the water they would be visible and continue the theme of her party. The butler was said to have commented that it was impossible to which she replied that she had commissioned them and they would be ready in time for the party. And Newport history shows that on the occassion of the party, white boats with twinkle lights were moored in the ocean. There are details and then there are details. She had a vision and had the money to see it realized.

Another beautiful element to Rosecliff was the heart-shaped opening on the landing of the staircase. Red carpeted stairs led up through the opening, then split into two sets of stairs which took you up to the second level.

Out the back of the ballroom, across the terrace and down the stairs that led to the backyard was a fountain. This fountain was prominently featured in "The Great Gatsby" starring Robert Redford and Mia Farrow. Another reason I wanted to see Rosecliff.

The final reason I wanted to see Rosecliff is because there was a display of gowns from the Gilded Age. Actual gowns from the era. Along with the gowns was information about haute couture and how the women would go to Paris and order from the couturiers. That was right up my alley. I loved it.

As for the mansion as a whole, I think my disappoint lied in the fact that none of the furniture or paintings were original to the house. The descendants of the original owner, having little interest in the mansion, sold everything at auction. It just didn't have the rich history in front of my eyes like The Breakers.

With the two mansions we wanted to see nothing but swirling images and memories in our heads, we headed back to the car. We just wanted to drive around and look at the other mansions. We drove down Bellevue Avenue. It must have, at one time, been the wealthiest street in Newport, if not America. As we drove down the street we found no where to park the car so that we could walk by the mansions we weren't paying to tour and at least take a photo from the sidewalk. While looking for a place to turn around, we saw the roof and chimneys of what looked to be a very large home just above the trees. We decided to drive down that road and see what it was. The road dead ended at another area where one could walk onto the large rocks at the ocean's edge. I found myself fearless as I jumped and climbed from rock to rock. I made my way to a large rock a small distance from Michael and Tynan. I stood facing the breeze as it blew against me. Hearing the waves break on the rocks and feeling the breeze, all I could do was lift my arms into the air with my face toward the sky. I felt as though my soul was being cleansed. That's the only way I can describe it. The energy of the water is so different that the energy of the City. I just let it all wash over me.

We drove back through Newport proper in search of a restaurant for a nice meal that would complete our perfect day. We went to The Spiced Pear at The Chanler at Cliff Walk. According to the hostess, The Chanler was the first mansion built on what is now called Cliff Walk. We had no reservation, but they were able to seat us at a table with a beautiful view of the ocean. We were indulgent. I ordered lobster poached in butter. Michael ordered steak and I believe it was sea bass for Tynan. I had a glass of Pinot Noir, Michael a Malbec and Tynan a Cabernet Savignon. It was lovely. Reminicing about the day and enjoying each other with good wine and food. It only got better when our cinnamon souffle's with amaretto and apple compote arrived. Indulgent to the max and worth every penny.

In 1907, author Henry James described the mansions in Newport, Rhode Island as being "white elephants" and "witless dreams" because they were summer homes for the wealthy and were unoccupied for most of the year. Well, Mr. James, there is something to be loved even in a white elephant. I was reminded of a lyric from the song "All This Beauty" by The Weepies.

All this beauty;
You might have to close your eyes
And slowly open wide
All this beauty;
We traveled all night
We drank the ocean dry
And watched the sun rise...

I can't help but wonder how pleased the Vanderbilts would be knowing that the home they built for summer entertaining in the late 1800's is still drawing crowds that marvel at its grandiosity over 100 years later.

There's also a little thing about dreams. If you can dream it you can do it. One day Paris and California, but for now, at least there was Newport.

Newport photo album

SATC2

Haters will always hate I guess. In this case, the haters are the reviewers of "Sex and the City 2". I'm not sure what they were expecting, but I had a fantastic time. Michael Patrick King knows the ladies and knows how to write for them. So what if they still whine and complain about their lives? So what if their lives are pretty damn cushy? We all complain. Living in a fabulous apartment in Astoria, I still find something to complain about. None of us want boring, hum-drum lives. We all want excitement. Living in New York City, there is so much energy and sometimes you just need to live in it and soak it up, and that means getting off the sofa. But sometimes the sofa is exactly what you want.

I'm talking to myself here. I need to get off the sofa more.

I was taken by complete surprise by some of the reviews that I read for SATC2. How can anyone say the ladies and their problems are tired? How can we have outgrown them? They are basically the same as when we fell in love with them on HBO. Just a little older and wiser. Confronting life's problems or situations with the same personality they always had. I was just excited to visit with them for another 2.5 hours. Yes, 2.5 hours, and I never looked at my watch once. Why would I? I was soaking it up.

Movies are escapism. I escaped my life for a brief moment and went on a journey with four fabulous gals from Manhattan. So what if the depiction of the life they lead is unrealistic! A guy can dream can't he!

Watching SATC always inspires me to take advantage of what my city has to offer. It makes me want to live a fuller life. I want to visit different areas, go to new restaurants, go antiquing, find a new wine bar. I don't always follow through, but the ladies inspire me. Isn't that what they should do? Help me escape while inspiring me to live?

I was there on opening night, Ziegfeld Theater on West 54th Street, with three of my friends. We sat in a full movie theater and laughed out loud so often that we missed the lines following the joke. There was no regret and never a dull moment. We were there, relishing the chance to hang out with Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha once again.

Post movie, we went back to Michael's house where I made Cosmo's and we consumed fruits, cheeses, hummus, and chocolate. There was lots of laughter there too. We sat around the living room wearing Tynan's shoes and enjoying our friendship as much as we were enjoying our drinks.

Inspired by them: yes. Tired of them: NO!

Testing 1,2,3...

Testing 1,2,3...is this thing on? Of course it is. I'm the one who's been off.

Depression has taken front and center in my life as of late. Two weeks ago I randomly met a guy. Nice smile, good dresser, into me. I'm not really used to that. I can't believe I still find it amazing that someone would actually want to be with me. Talk about low self esteem. So, he gave me his number and wanted me to contact him the next day. I did. We met up for dinner and them had drinks with some friends of mine after. I had to work the next morning, so when I called it a night, he and his friend decided to leave also. I walked them back to their hotel. Forgot to mention he was visiting NYC didn't I? Well, he lives in DC. Leave it to me to find someone who will show me interest and not live here at the same time. Anyway, he said he would walk me to my subway stop. The gate was already down, and the entrance across the street was boarded up. I walked up to Columbus Circle to get a train bound for home there. Turns out I wasn't thinking about what trains run through Columbus Circle because none of them would take me home. I decided my only real option was to take a cab. The guy asked if he could come home with me. We stood and kissed on the street. I had no fear of the people passing by. He said that he'd been wanting to do that all evening. Again, I was shocked. My value hadn't plummeted like the Dow, it was as tanked as Lehman Brothers.

We went back to his hotel so that he could get his last insulin shot for the evening and then hailed a cab and headed to Astoria. He took my hand as soon as the cab started moving. The apprehensive person inside of me just let the connection happen. I'm so guarded, but allowed myself to feel the human contact that I so often avoid.

I don't need to go into detail about anything that happened at my apartment. I just need to say that I woke up with a warm body in my bed. That is something that hasn't happened in years. I won't allow it. I've told myself I don't need it.

Wrong!! I do need it. I want it and I need it. This person I've become, with my heart all walled up behind a protection tower, really does need human contact. Here's where the depression came into play. I realized all the years I've wasted full of fear of rejection behind my wall.

When am I ever going to stop being that little boy afraid of God's punishment? When am I going to be comfortable enough with myself to be vulnerable enough to allow myself to be loved without fear of consequences?

When is my happiness going to do a Chinese fire drill and trade places with my fear? When am I going to face this? It's not going to face me. It's content where it is - in control!

I am what I am and
I am what I am afraid of
Oh what am I afraid of?
I need a fearless love
Don't need to fear the end
If you can't hold me now
You will never hold me again
I want to live my life
Pursuing all my happiness
I want a fearless love
I won't settle for anything less

The above is from the song "Fearless Love" by Melissa Etheridge. I need to find a way to live my life. I've been trying to find a way to live since I started this blog almost a year ago. I'm still a work in progress. Knowing what the problem is and admitting is the first step. I need to take the next step.