On a date last night with a girl (who shall be nameless) and I was showing her one of my favorite films, "Citizen Kane" and we hadn't even got into it when I realized she was out cold. Sure, she coulda been tired. Sure, she coulda been exhausted from work. Sure, she coulda put the Rohypnol in the wrong drink.

You know what? I think I'm boring.

I don't get it. I'm exciting. I've always got a lot going on even if I'm homeless and living in my car. I just did a major TV commercial. I just had an interview with Fox about hosting a talkshow. I talked with a woman that's very interested in editing my new book. People I meet seem to think I'm something. Even though I'm broke and broken.

Guess I'm just not used to a chick passing out on me before I have sex with her.

Messaged a friend while she was unconscious and he said, "Jerry, face it... You're getting older so some of the people you bang are getting older too. Most of these Golden Girls just can't keep up with you."

I didn't like where his head was at, because while I know I have unbelievable staying power, it saddens me to think if I'm to ever find my female equal, she's going to have to be much much younger. Even though it seems I'm constantly approached by girls in their late teens and early 20's I rarely take them up on their offers because I just can't have sex with a girl that doesn't share the same interests as me. Sorry. I like to talk after sex. Discuss things while cuddling.

People I talk with on this kinda thing just don't get what I'm talking about. There was a Doctor I was seeing back in LA and he told me, "Jerry, if a young girl is engaged in sexual intercourse with you, either as a replacement for a daddy figure, a lack of positive males, or simply because she likes you, is it really important that she knows and understands pop-culture from your formative era? Can't you enjoy it just because she's a hot piece of ass that wants you to be the one slipping her the stones?"

Orson Welles, 25 years old and buried in the makeup and padded clothes of the old Kane tears apart Susan Alexander Kane's bedroom on the screen as I think I too am a young man in an old man's body. Thinking this for some time I roll over, sleep and dream I'm directing my own movie of a young woman at a vanity painting her nails as a pistol sits in an open drawer waiting to be used by her. Suddenly a young woman stands before me in tall black boots, black panties and a leather bustier waiting for my direction and when I hesitate for too long, she begins to improvise all on her own.