Once Larry had picked me up, we headed over to Sony Music to
meet for lunch with Kathleen, one of Larry's best friends. We got to
Sony Music, passed a couple of security checkpoints, but then found
Kathleen's secretary to find out that Kathleen was mobile. Larry gave
her a call and we agreed to meet at a vegetarian restaurant called
Real Food Daily.
On coincidence, we arrived within 30 seconds of each other,
hugged, and went inside. After going to the upstairs dining area, we
began to talk. It was a really koool conversation. Kathleen's a tell-ya-
like-it-is kinda gal. I could really see why Larry called her a best
friend. They both have no-nonsense, get-things-done, but life-is-fun
personalities. I wouldn't mind being like either one of them when I
get a little older.
As far as the meal was concerned itself, it was horrible:
Microbiotic, tasteless mush. They didn't even have salt or Pepsi. I
don't think McDonald's will have much to worry about.
After the "meal" was over, we headed back to Sony Music where
Kathleen played a tape of one of her new acts and gave us the tour.
When we got to the "media" room, Kathleen asked me if I'd like any
C.D.'s. I said, "Sure" and she opened various cabinet drawers to show
me what they had: I picked out a handful.
After the tour was over and Kathleen was on the phone, Larry
asked her secretary if we could tour the studios. She, in turn, called
the guy who was in the "media" room who then said the studios were
in session but we could see the mixing room.
As I walked back through the many doors and areas, I kept
thinking that it was koool that I was in "a restricted area", that if
Larry wasn't in the music industry and didn't know Kathleen, there
was no way that I'd be there.
I grabbed some matches on a coffee table that said, "Sony Music
Studios" and we headed back to Kathleen's office. She paused from
her phone conversation to say good-bye and we left.
Later Monday, we met up with Larry's friend Bob for dinner at
an expensive restaurant called DC3.
After sitting down at the table, Larry and Bob began to talk
about cars. Eventually, it became obvious to me that I must
have become invisible. The two of them were engaged in their
conversation and didn't even look in my direction. I looked at my
watch to see just how long they could go without looking at me... 2...
5... 7... 10... 11... The waiter arrived and he didn't get a glance either...
12 minutes and finally they looked in my direction and Larry
apologized for ignoring me.
Soon, my feelings about being ignored subsided and the three of
us began talking. The conversation was okay. Bob, too, is a tell-ya-
like-it-is kinda guy, but he's also an -argue-with-you-for-the-sake-
of-arguing kinda guy as well. It seemed like he knew everything
about everything except for the things that I should know. I mean, if
he didn't know it, it was because I should know it myself, and if I
didn't know it, I should think harder. One noticible remark he made
was about how I addressed the fact that many people who are in my
life also read my diary. He said that in his newsletter, he's doing
similar stuff, but usually the people he writes about don't read it. I
wonder how he'll take this less-than-wonderful review.
Anyway, the meal was over and we continued to talk. He made
some valid points, and I do have some things I need to think about. I
realized that I, too, wasn't glancing at Larry while Bob talked, and so
A little after 11PM, we drove Bob home and Larry and I