Many people know me, but it still gets kinda lonely. Not the stars that shoot my name or the camera flashes that authenticate the lines on my forehead. Or that perfect area where I rest my hand as we slow dance with my co-starlet at the ball to a film premiere ever gave me a seldom feeling of belonging. Sometimes, I’d wander into a room and just like that – I’m the life of a party. The cheers, the laughter, the powder and the selfies. Valley girls doing body shots and popping mollies; oh it got pretty crazy. Over the smog and the mirage of North Irvine hills it got me all hazy.
A few hours later… I’m back to that seclusion. Echoing the sin-darkened night away listening to the cries of the homeless and engine revs from illegal street races. The corrupt lie has left me, as it always does. And, if I may pay homage to Eliot; the people are (nothing but) – “a repetition of shades, contrasts, on a wet, iron dough.”
“Yeah! Fuck Hollywood, bro! Haha!” wise words by fake Jesus on Venice Beach. He’s a popular Los Angeles tourist attraction.
It unusually started to rain that night outside of Ventura boulevard, when a lonesome man lost and beaten by life’s usual dismay approached and asked for a cigarette. I offered him a Camel, traded his dead-cold hands slightly touching mine for the smokes. As I lit it up for him we exchanged a quick stare into one another’s soul… around the decadence and spiraling loss I saw life, in this man’s eye! Beyond the frailing white on this man’s eyes, the burst vein, hopeless grey pupil; I saw life, at last!
He then smiled across the dried car smoke and brake dust on his face. It was cheek to cheek, and ear to ear. Beyond the millions that chant my name, thousands that reach my hand and top directors who race for my picture in their films… I found a piece of me
in the corner of this man’s mind… it was a long lost second or two of inspiration – a pure sense of joy; an opening to a portal of rediscovery! Then some fucking paparazzi showed up…