L.A. Christmas, 2008

In the flurry of holiday parties you get the chance to see dear friends you haven't laid eyes on since last Christmas and catch up on many pressing matters, for example who's still together, who's just gone in or out of rehab and who's gained the most weight.

"Z and L," announced my old acquaintance M, who keeps especially close track.  "They're both immense.  Nearly unrecognizable.  I literally could not get past them in the aisle at Gelson's and they didn't even have a cart. "

I suggested that long term relationships have that effect.  Z and L have been together for more than a year.

"Scant comfort I'm single, you mean," observed M. drily. 

I replied that he'd never looked thinner.  To prove my point when he turned sideways I pretended I couldn't see him.  Where did he go?  It cheered him up.

Because further details on poor Cecil's pending litigation (see below) have not yet begun to disseminate, conversation turned to news on other fronts, both personal as well as professional, but with an increase of layoffs and downsizing by so many of our circle's clients, and since corporate functions have been few and far between this year, the pickings, as they say, are slim.  Nevertheless, one local employer did hold its annual happy hour at a popular watering hole, closing the sidestreet  near the entrance in order to create a winter wonderland with semi-naked actors dressed as Santa's elves frolicking in artificial snow.

"Benito brought the children," M. reported, referring to a mutual acquaintance, a successful personal trainer and father of two.

"Has he lost his mind?" I asked, being of the opinion that a hard-drinking after-work crowd hardly offered an appropriate or safe milieu for anyone under 18, much less under five.

"He heard snow.  The kids have only seen snow in Aspen.  Apparently he thought they needed to see it in an alley in West Hollywood too."

"I hope he kept a close eye on them," I said with a hint of concern, remembering what happened to a short friend of mine during a Foam Party in the same locale several years ago.  Depending on how high they managed to make the drifts, I could see an unhappy ending  to the festivities.

"Worse," M. said, seeming to read my thoughts.  "The little no-neck monsters put handfuls of that fake crap in my drink.  After I'd nearly been killed fighting my way to the bar to get it."

"How awful.  The chemicals they use to create that realistic texture can't be good for you."

"Exactly.  So I complained to Benito when I went back to get in line.  'Your offspring just poisoned my Diet Coke,' I told him.  And do you know, he didn't take it at all well.  In fact he said it was my fault.  He actually acccused me of provoking them.  So I let him know that I didn't know about Brazil but here in his host country we use Methylfenidate to keep our children in line."

"Where was their other daddy?" I asked, wondering why Benito's partner, heir to a family fortune not heavily invested with Bernie Madoff, had not simply bought a load of the artificial stuff for the grounds of the house in Bel Air.  It would have saved them the trouble of going out.

M. leaned in.  "You haven't heard?" he asked.

As he led me off to a quiet corner to fill me in on the latest developments, The Killers' popular song "Human" with its enigmatic and ungrammatical lyrics ("Are we human, or are we dancer?") began to play.  Our host's lovely Silverlake home has an impressive downtown view which looked especially magical in the darkness and with a Christmas tree reflected on top of it all.  I wondered absent-mindedly if "Human" would be this season's theme song.   Reading the life of the composer Lord Berners (the English Satie, as some have called him), has made me more aware than usual of music.  It was in 1904, for instance, that the English Romantic composer Sir Edward Elgar, was knighted.  Elgar is best remembered today for his Pomp and Circumstance March and the Enigma Variations, about which I hope to write at length at some point in the near future.

Meanwhile, I'm afraid I can't tell you anything more about what I've learned during this festive season, as I've been sworn to secrecy.   But check back with me next Christmas.

Happy Holidays.