Just because I haven’t been writing a lot on my blog doesn’t mean I haven’t been online. Ever since Sophia and I filed for divorce, I’ve been receiving advice from online friends near and far about how to proceed with my life. Some of this advice has been as wise as that of Buddha, while other tidbits have been pure idiocy.
I should take up yoga.
I should keep my distance from Sophia.
I should have rebound sex with women born no later than the Clinton Administration.
I should take up French cooking.
I should write a book.
I should travel.
I should date nice girls.
I should not date at all.
I should run in a half marathon.
I should go to “Burning Man.”
I should get a tattoo.
I should start a blog for divorcing men.
I should start binge drinking (another serious suggestion, proof that I have some really bad friends).
To complicate matters, I have my own internal voices putting THEIR two cents into the hat, and as usual — my head, my heart, and my dick are not on the same page.
This morning I had breakfast with Danny from Jew Eat Yet. He has been a great blogging friend since 2005, a super-intelligent guy, with a broad range of knowledge. I knew any advice that HE would give me would be something worth listening to in earnest, unlike some of my OTHER readers.
As we ate what is considered “The Best Pancakes in LA” (at Du-Pars), I talked about my hopes and fear, and some of the issues still remaining with Sophia. Danny rubbed his chin, like a clever rabbi, and told me how divorce is like a death. He explained that I would need to go through a transition period of grief, namely the Five Emotional Stages of Divorce: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance.
I found myself unable to relate to what he was saying.
“You must still be in the denial stage,” he noted. “It’ll come to you. Give it time and you will understand.”
Our conversation has been so weighty, and the pancakes so heavy in our stomachs, that we decided to take a little walk. As we strolled over to the Grove shopping center next to the Farmer’s Market, we discussed the new fall TV season. It was a relief to talk about nonsense.
We noticed a crowd gathering in the center square adjacent to the Barnes and Noble bookstore. We went over to take a look. It was TV personality Mario Lopez doing a remote for the show EXTRA, interviewing a few special guests, including the infamous Snooki from Jersey Shore.
Danny and I stood there for twenty minutes, watching the crew — the high strung producer, the bored sound man, the unionized grips eating donuts. Mario Lopez seemed to be a seasoned professional. The director would give him one quick rehearsal for each segment, and then he would jump right in.
As I admired Mario Lopez’s TV skills, I thought about my faltering Instagram photography. In New York, I was taking fun photos of NYC life, but in Los Angeles, my photos have been stale. There are few opportunities for a spontaneous photo in a city where you are always driving in your car.
But here was an opportunity to redeem myself. What could be more LA than a photo of Mario Lopez, with his perfect hair, teeth, and body?
I took dozens of Mario Lopez photos from different angles, searching for the ideal Mario Lopez instagram shot. And as I melted there under the hot LA sun, I had a revelation. It was as if God himself was sending me a message through the expressive facial gesturing of TV personality Mario Lopez. When I looked at Mario Lopez speaking into his microphone, I was understanding what Danny had said earlier about divorce. It was his face… Mario Lopez’s Hollywood chiseled face. His facial expressions were like elements in a Powerpoint Presentation on The Five Emotional Stages of Divorce: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance.
I understand. And now I must move on to the next stage. Thank you Mario Lopez.