Another Day In Hell

Mad World

The smog from Los Angeles sometimes drifts high enough in the Hills to blanket the area in a sick fog that you can't see and it's worse because you can feel it and the dirt gets under your skin and you think, for a moment, that this grime is what I may become if I get tossed deeper and deeper into the grime of the city. Monday and Tuesday were spent in self imposed quarantine because I'll be travelling from company to company next week pitching a new horror movie that I doubt will get picked up but my Agent thinks it may be good enough to get some type of deal out, or at least pique some more interest around town. I polish and re polish the treatment and miring myself in this horror landscape that I've produced through my broken dreams and other people's nightmares slowly drives me mad and by Wednesday I have to leave my home. I go to Melrose with 'George' and smoke cigarettes and watch punk rocker wannabe's walk by and more people look like their picking up the 80s New Wave look and the white trash rocker look (thanks Ashton, for fucking that up) is slowly making its way out. So much so that Tears for Fears is playing over and over in my head and I swear the girl next to us in the small plaid skirt is lip-synching 'Shout' as she sketches us, thinking we don't notice. We leave and go to 'Darryl's house where 'George' picks up a gram and we sit around and do lines and I start opening up and talk about 'Beth' and for some reason 'Darryl' and 'George' keep giving each other looks and I ask them 'what' and they say 'nothing' and its slightly unnerving, or that may just be the drugs. Time passes quickly and soon its night and I'm not hungry but we go to Dolce and order plates of food we don't eat and drink more alchohol and leave with boxes of food that 'Darryl' gives to a homeless guy outside and I'm surprised that my drug dealer is so philanthropic. Someone 'George' knows runs into us and almost knocks me over and he looks burnt out and he tells 'George' that someone named 'Erickson' is dead, but maybe he's talking about his cell phone. Either way 'George' doesn't look too distressed and says 'not cool, dude' and we jump into Darryl's Infinity FX and chase the winding streets of Beverly Crest and come to an enormous house overlooking the other mountains to the west and we are high enough that you can even see the ocean. The entire interior is pink and white and girls are dressed in white and pink and the guys are wearing seer sucker suits and I'm in a t-shirt and jeans and feel awkward but when the host finds out we're with 'Darryl' we're welcome and I get a call from 'Beth' but I don't want her to know what I'm doing. . .not yet, at least, and 'George' asks me if 'Erin' called me yet and I don't know why she would. I go outside and smoke a cigarette and drink a Jack and Coke and i have no interest in talking to the girls here and that is probably good because I feel like babbling about 'Beth' but I'm afraid to around 'George' and 'Darryl' because I'm paranoid. And the night sky looks beautiful and it's clear over here. I take a cab back at 4am after dancing almost too long to Huey Lewis and the News and when I get home my door is open. I slink around back, and find 'Erin' drinking a Cosmo on my balcony and she is playing Tears for Fears 'Mad World' and I climb through my bedroom window and sit by my desk and send 'Beth' an email saying that I want to do dinner Thursday night and take her out with some friends and now I have to walk outside and listen to Tears for Fears and talk to 'Erin' and I'm confused...I can't tell if she actually cares about me all of a sudden or if she's crazy. My vote is crazy, and I remind myself to get my house keys back from her before she leaves. 'Erin' looks beautiful and she hugs me when she sees me and says, over and over, 'sorry' and she is as gorgeous as everyone imagines and she tells me she's tired from staying up all night waiting for me and pulls me into the bedroom and I want to protest but the way she kisses me is something you would understand if you've ever been kissed by someone who, for no reason you can explain, can completely control you, sexually. We fall in bed and have sex and I regret it after and she's asleep and I lie awake for hours and eventually close my eyes as I feel her arm cross my chest and now its morning and 'Beth' sends me an excited email about tonight and 'Erin' is still lying in my bed and her eyes open and she smiles at me and I'm going nuts trying to figure out why it melts me inside when she does and it's almost noon. . .

Caught Up in You

Looking into her eyes I knew I had made the right decision to take her out to dinner. I had thought a movie would have been good, but that leaves no room for conversation. Plus, we work in the movie business. . .I think it would have been cliche and nerdish. So I take her. . .from now on she'll be referred to as 'Beth'. . .to dinner at a nice Sushi restaurant called Chaya in Venice. We dined on Rainbow Rolls and soft shell crab and drank almost too much sake and took down at least three oyster shooters each and we knew we were drunk but were both trying to hide it. She has crystal blue eyes, soft features, enormous and beautiful breasts which she must hide underneath heavy sweaters on set, a great pair of legs in a short skirt that are usually covered in loose jeans or cargo pants. I mention that she looks incredible and she blushes and says that she usually doesn't dress like this and that the clothes were her roommates and I ask her how she could possibly keep such beauty covered up and she tells me she has a self-esteem problem and I tell her she shouldn't and we talk about travel and the government and our childhoods and high-school and college and this city but none of our conversation goes to movies and I like that. We finish dinner and I follow her out and I can tell she is slightly tipsy because she has an extremely sexy sway to her walk as we step out that she didn't have when she arrived and she looks back at me over her shoulder and smiles and I feel like I'm in a movie right now. We get my car and she suggests we go back to her place because she has some wine and I suggest my place because I'm sure its much nicer and the view is awesome but she looks wary so I relent and we go to her small apartment in Brentwood. There are pictures of her all over the place and I see that she is very photogenic and her friends look attractive and fun and her roommate isn't home so I won't be meeting her tonight, which is all the better. She instantly captures my heart by putting on a .38 Special Album and we rock out laughing and drinking wine and eventually she starts asking me about my work and tells me she wants to be a writer to and I offer to Mentor her, or introduce her to my Mentor, because. . .I tell her. . .I couldn't be her Mentor while wanting to kiss her so much. She looks down, blushing and I lean in and her lips connect with mine and we spend almost twenty minutes kissing and holding our wine glasses and I haven't done this in a long time. Suddenly the door opens and her roommate stumbles in with some other guy who I'm sure I know and he looks at me, sizing me up, trying to make the same connection I'm trying to make but we don't know so we shake hands like we don't know each other and they fall into her bedroom and I didn't get a good look at the Roommate. 'Beth' says she's tired and needs to call it a night because she is working on a different shoot at 6am on Saturday and we kiss for twenty more minutes and I can't stop my hands from running over her body and she moans lightly as I kiss her neck. She laughs and says that I've got to stop and I don't want to seem like a horny animal around her so I oblige and leave and drive around Bel Air for what seems like an hour thinking about 'Beth' and I call her when I get home and we talk for another hour until she tells me she HAS to go to bed and this is one of the few nights I fall asleep with a smile on my face. I don't hear from her on Saturday, and spend Saturday night at the Rainbow Lounge drinking with Motorhead and Nikki Sixx and my rocknroll buddy 'Will' and go to some afterparty at a house where the roof of the living room slides open and a hot tub comes out of the ground and girls are getting naked and I'm not into the drugs and alcohol. I leave and spend Sunday at Qs watching football and then 'Beth' does the most amazing thing. . .she meets me at the bar. She wears a Houston Texans jersey that is too big for her and a short short skirt which makes her long tan legs look amazing and all the drunk Football guys can't stop staring at her and we sit in a corner at the bar upstairs kissing and laughing and I watch my New Orleans Saints win in overtime and she bounces up and down watching her Texans beat Kansas City and she calls me her 'lucky charm' and we leave and go to her place. We're both tired and fall into her bed and kiss for hours and my hands run over her tight stomach and she moans lightly but holds me close and tells me she wants to take it slow and we fall asleep in each others arms. I wake up at 9pm and she does too and we make pasta for dinner and tell jokes and I'm having such a good time that I don't want her to leave but she says she's got to get up early again and I leave. . .taking it slow. . .and come home and put on a .38 Special Greatest Hits CD I made a long time ago and drink Jack Daniels with 'George' who comes over later and he tells me he's seen 'Erin' and she's been asking about me and I don't know why and all I think of is 'Beth' sleeping in bed and wishing I was there with her.

Looks That Kill

Los Angeles doesn't change from one day to the next, and one's appreciation for the season's manifests inside you when you go somewhere else. Arriving back from New Orleans I'm quick to criticize the concrete jungles around LAX, but soon find myself in the Hollywood Hills and back at home and as I stand by my pool and enjoy a Bloody Mary, shoddily made by 'George', my welcome wagon, I'm forced to fall in love with the city. From this view any amount of shit could look lovely. I spend Monday, Tuesday, and most of Wednesday cooped up in my house cleaning the mess that 'George' managed to make while he house sat. Coke residue on glass tables, dirty sheets, dirty dishes, stains on my couch that won't go away that 'George' is going to have to pay for. Also, I've been dancing back and forth with my Agent on notes and he's got a new Assistant who sounds cute on the phone but I was told, a long time ago by someone who mentored me in my early days, that sleeping with an Agent's Assistant, ANY Agent's Assistant, while being talent was never a good idea and could always bite you back in the end. Last night, however, I managed to make it out into the city and went to a random party where everyone was dressed as their 'Dream Job'. Needless to say, I doubted the honesty behind some of the costumes because I expected girls as doctors/lawyers/CEO's and instead saw Naugty Nurses, Strippers, Hookers, and a lot of girls claiming to be President but wearing Skirts much to short for a Commander in Chief and tops busting out so much that it's doubtful Congress's old white men would get much done. I dressed up as a Stock Broker because I always thought that I'd be good at that, if I didn't pull myself away from the Math during College. 'George' dressed up as an 'Actor', very original, and our buddy 'Thomas' came as an ESPN analyst. We all looked like stock brokers. Most of the guys looked like other people I knew and I kept getting names mixed up and eventually I met a cute Nurse who disappeared after a lot of dancing and I drank one too many Jack and Cokes and ended up getting my crotch grabbed on the back patio in Beverly Hills by 'Erin'. She was dressed as a teacher and something about a girl who can look good with glasses drives me nuts. She was drunk and I was drunk and I couldn't help it and I took her back to my place and we had sex in my hot tub and 'George' came in with some guys and some more girls while we were having sex and we had to stop and we started doing drugs and 'Erin' all of a sudden got really cold and I got very angry and had 'George' take everyone to his place and 'Erin' left with them and I was alone again. It was 5am and I drank more Jack Daniels straight from the bottle and called the Script Girl and left her a message and I don't know what I said but I woke up dressed as an overworked, out all night, uncontrollable Stock Broker on a chair in my backyard and Motley Crue's 'Hooligan's Holiday' is playing on repeat for some reason and the sun is baking me and I wonder what happened to Fall or if Winter is even coming to Los Angeles this year. I write ten pages of crap and my Agent doesn't return my calls. My internet is down so I have to take my laptop to the Grove to use the WiFi and I get an email from the Script Girl that says 'have fun last night?' and I feel like an ass. I call her back and she laughs at me and then asks me to take her out one night because she never does anything fun and I think I like her but the world I was in last night isn't the same world I want to inhabit with her and I ask her if she'll let me take her to dinner sometime this weekend to make up for the drunk call and she giggles and says 'of course' and I tell her I'll call her on Friday and I can't believe the luck I have sometime. I haven't been to the gym in two weeks...I've got to go before I see the Script Girl...because...

Dancing on Strawberry Hill

The first time I got drunk it was on wine coolers. I wanted something that tasted good. Strawberry wine coolers at the age of 13 on a small side street named 7th on the corner of St. Charles while the Krewe of Hermes rode by and High-School seniors who I looked up to sold alcohol from small ice chests they stood on to catch beads. I wanted to drink beer but couldn't stomach it and decided that it wasn't so bad, that I'd chug beer someday, and this small glass bottle of red 'juice' would be my real gateway drug. I spent about thirty dollars and bought six for myself, thinking it was a steal, and shared one with a girl I liked and we drank and our lips were red and when we kissed my friends cheered as they were equally girl-drink drunk and I remember the lights from the parade blurring and Mardi Gras music emanating from a marching band and everyone smiling and getting hit in the head by a large stack of plastic pearls and loving every minute of it. I remember thinking that I had missed out on so much and danced in the empty streets when the parade was over and the cops just looked at us and laughed and we were paranoid about being caught. We went to a house party that some girl from Sacred Heart was throwing since her parents fled the city because they didn't want to deal with Mardi Gras and we drank all night and this was before cell phones so I had to steal myself away to her parent's room to call my parents and make it sound like nothing was going on and that was also the first time I lied to my parents and actually felt that I was doing it in order to do something bad, whilst all the other times they were simply white lies. The girl, 'Missy', who's house this was, came in and laughed and told me she was wasted and she was sixteen and she grabbed me and asked me who I was and I lied and told her I was 'Alex' and she said she heard about me and kissed me. My eyes were wide open and she noticed and asked why I had kept them open so I immediately closed them and we kissed again and right when our tongues touched I felt her fall on the bed and she passed out. I left her there, after putting her head on a pillow and her feet on the bed and couldn't find anyone that cared and someone had broken into her father's liquor cabinet and, yes, things had gotten out of hand and my world was spinning. I found my friend, 'Nathan', and he had puked on his starched polo shirt and his dockers and since it was a deep shade of red he thought he puked up blood and freaked out and some high-school kids had to convince him it was wine cooler and we left. I took a street car home and my parents knew I was drunk but didn't say anything and I know now it was because they knew I'd be able to take care of myself. But sometimes I wish they had said something, not because of who I've become, but because maybe it would have made me feel they cared more about me more back then. Or maybe because the guilt of my lie had followed me home. I know I wasn't getting drunk to get my parent's attention, as a therapist would later try to make me believe. I was getting drunk because it was cool, and maybe that was the same thing, in relation to my peers, but it was a lot more fun than anything else people do to get attention. I don't see therapists anymore...I think I know about me more than they do.

Follow Through

The day after the hurricane was one of the most beautiful days in New Orleans. Fortune had smiled upon us and the storm only clipped us at night, sending little debris around and causing no damage near me. But the streets were still empty that morning and I walk the empty street car tracks and no one was around and I felt all alone but a cool breeze blew through a cloudless sky and I felt a moment of inspiration pass. The next few days I laid low with my my parents and enjoyed their company as my Dad touted the features of his new Tivo and my Mom napalmed me with old photo albums of us in Europe, in Disneyland, in India, in Morrocco, in Venezuela and I try to make the pictures come alive as I stare at them and its not hard because the memories are seem so clear. Over the weekend I book a flight to return to L.A. and go out with 'Anthony'. We go see 'Nathan's' band play and he looks almost strung out and mascara runs down his cheeks and eyeliner is smudged and we don't know what he's saying as he sings and 'Jana' looks a wreak and eventually the band stops playing when the guitarist takes off his clothes and backstage we watch 'Nathan' shoot up with 'Jana' and someone thinks 'Jana' is ODing and they take off her shirt to pump her heart we see that a pentagram has been carved on her chest around her small breasts and 'Nathan' looks at us, fear in his eyes, and then 'Jana' starts to laugh and we breath a sigh of relief and I want to leave. I don't want my last nights in New Orleans spent watching a Grunge/Metal band pump the stomachs of their groupies and this isn't really my scene anyway and 'Anthony' is sweating so we leave. We go to Pat O'Brien's and sit at the piano bar and drink Hurricane's and four girls from Alabama are there because they fled Mobile and we drink and sing old Billy Joel songs with them and we go back to their Hotel room at Loews in the Warehouse District and I have sex with one of them while Anthony goes to the pool with the other three and she is pretty and has very long legs but she doesn't make a noise and it feels uncomfortable so I stop and get up and she looks at me like I'm crazy for not finishing and I leave. 'Anthony' doesn't want to go so I leave him and go to the 'Kingpin' where I meet a Tulane Law girl who hates New Orleans politics and spends an hour explaining to me how some crook woman who won a civil court judgship was completely unqualified compared to another candidate and how she's positive the election was fixed and I didn't even now New Orleans was holding elections still, after the Hurricane. The political talk leaves me weary and at 5am I come home and sleep. The next morning I go to Church again and the priest doesn't make any sense in his homily and I can barely hear him but I'm positive that a statue of Saint Anthony is staring at me. I spend the day with my parents and they tell me how proud they are and we eat dinner at home and they go to sleep and 'Allison' calls. I go to her place and we have another night of incredible sex and she wants to visit me and I ask her about her fiance and she doesn't answer but takes off her clothes again and lets me rub her soft taut skin and kiss her body and I forget my question and we have sex outside on her front porch at 4am and I think we've now done it in every area of her house. The next morning I slip out while she is asleep but she looks gorgeous in bed and I have to kiss her one more time and lose myself in her and I eventually get home while my parents are making breakfast. I take a shower and my parents go to work, hugging me a long time before they leave and my dad pats my shoulder and it seems like he wants to say something but all that comes out is 'well...' and the cab comes and I leave my home, watching the River pass under me as the plane pulls away...

New Blog

For those of you who have gone cold turkey, welcome to the drug. Sorry about the mix up, but blog.com doesn't have anyway to increase my bandwith, apparently, and sucks. So, here I am...posts will be up soon. Sorry again. I'll be transferring all my old posts here too...and I'll let you know when blog.com is cool again.

And The Sky Turned To Ash

I wake up early today to go on a run in the park that I used to play, that I learned to ride my bike in, that I won a 5k in at 16, that I had sex in with my first girlfriend, that I first broke someone else's nose in, and I noticed it empty. Over half this city has fled or moved to the hotels downtown and my run is calm and serene and there is an ominous quiet and I lose myself in the peace. I feel like this is my Vanilla Sky as memories pop in and out of my head and I wish, at one point, that I could be six all over again and start over but I love my life and I get too afraid that I may not follow the same path and end up somewhere else. I return home and 'Anthony' is still in town and we walk near Tulane campus where a fraternity house he used to be in is having a party. The streets are empty and the wind picks up and we see the clouds lazily crawl in wide arcs across our heads and the sun begins to dip in the west and the sky turns to an odd shade of pink and red and someone brings out a huge speaker and the twenty five of us in the entire neighborhood drink from a keg of Natural Ice and listen to the Doors "The End" over and over and over. 'Allison' calls me and wants me to come over but I tell her that I don't want to and she curses me out but I'm so into this weather and the largess of the moment that it doesn't affect me one bit. We talk about the history of a city like New Orleans, relating stories of Mardi Gras and drunken nights and debutante balls as kids and wonder how it will feel if tomorrow this is all washed away and our memories will only exist in our heads. I return home for a late dinner and my parents are watching a movie and generally unshaken and my Mom tells me that's because I'm here and I go to our second story patio and smoke a cigarette and watch the sky turn from pink to blood red to black. There is no light except for the few porch lamps and the wind blows heavy and trees quake and there is still no rain. A tree branch breaks off the tree across the street and bounces down the empty avenue to St. Charles. Something inside me wants to run the empty boulevards and scream against the wind and every fifteen minutes it seems like the clouds are coming closer and closer to the earth and not even one millimeter of the night sky can break through this spiraling blanket and my house doesn't creak but the trees bend with the wind as it dances through their branches and pushes at their trunks that pull on the earth under the concrete with their roots. I come inside and I've received an email from my Agent saying 'COME HOME' and an email from the Vegas girl saying 'hope all is well' and maybe she doesn't know I'm looking at what may appear to be the End of Days to some in what we've been conditioned to expect from Hollywood. And slowly the raindrops start to fall lightly, and the Doors "the End" hasn't stopped playing in my head.

Calm Before The Storm

Sunday morning I was greeted by the sing songy voice of an angel, or so I thought. As my eyes blurred open, I saw it was my smiling mother, who had lost weight as she was seduced by 'the South Beach Diet' and she kept whispering : time to go to Church. If she only knew. . .and I'd prefer she never did. I could say no but something was pulling me so I slid myself out of bed and, just so I had a private joke for myself, I kept what I wore out Friday night and slept in Saturday night on and walked downstairs after a cologne bath and tooth swabbing. My father was sitting in front of the television and he smiled at me, which he didn't start doing until I started doing well in Hollywood, and we talked about my life and I lied a lot, painting it more innocent. We went to church and almost as if God intended, the Gospel was the story of the prodigal son. The priest, however, was not overly exciting to watch and I managed to close my eyes, like my dad, during the homily and never got his interpretation. My living one, however, seemed to suffice. Back home we talked about my sisters and how I was doing and how they were doing and my Mom was so happy to see me she wouldn't stop telling me so and I felt good that I had made them happy by doing so little. We spent the day watching television and reading the newspaper and they fell asleep early and I borrowed by dad's mercedes and went out. I met my friend 'Anthony', who was one of my best friends. In High School he would stand on his hands, upside down, and puke downwards and one time, in the French Quarter, he did this and a midget came out of a bar and cleaned it up and we were so stunned and so high that we had to leave. This night we sat around and drank Bud Lights and watched football highlights and he kept saying 'you should really see 'Nathan'' over and over again so we left. 'Nathan' was in a band that covered Rage Against the Machine songs but since they broke up he had fallen apart. His house looked like a mess from the outside and inside everything was draped in velvet and black and red candles that were burnt to the end. 'Nathan' was on the couch, wide eyed, pale, and rocking back and forth with some girl name 'Jana' who wore too much eye liner and they smiled at me and said that something was not right. Dishes, they said, 'were floating around the house' and they could 'sense evil'. 'Anthony' pointed out a thick leather book in front of them and I saw what it was : The Necronomicon. Devil worship, black magic, scary shit, as far as I knew. As I was asking him why the hell he was doing this I swear I saw a stack of tarot coins on the table stand up on their tip. They stared at it like nothing was happening and I almost pissed my pants as it fell off the table on its own. 'Anthony' said he needed a cigarette and left, tugging my sleeves. I tried to talk to 'Nathan' but he said nothing, pointing at a flyer, telling me to take one. His new band was playing this week and I told him I'd go and 'Jana' said she thought she could see through me and I left. It wasn't too late but the experience left me and 'Anthony' shaken and we went home. I tried to sleep but kept tossing and turning and felt, at one point, that 'Nathan' was in my room watching me sleep and I had to put a DVD on my laptop and fell asleep to it eventually. The next morning news of Hurrican Ivan was all over the place and I decided to ride the storm out at home instead of fllying back to Los Angeles. I figured it might be fun, and I knew it would make my parents happy. I worked on the script all day and sent pages to my Agent who pleaded for me to come home because if communications got cut off I could be screwed and I felt like my Agent was trapped in the '40s. That night I went to some college bars and everything was crazy as students knew that school was going to be cancelled. I went to Fat Harry's and Pat O'Brien's and it was at F&Ms that I ran into something unexpected. 'Allison'. I had dated 'Allison' in High School and she was one of those ugly ducklings that turned from an average chick into a big breasted bombshell by her Junior year. She still looked amazing, if not better, and when I told her I worked in Hollywood she smiled and said, 'that's what I heard' while rubbing my forearm. I bought her drink after drink and she got closer and closer and when some guy came up she kissed him and said goodbye and he looked at me but I walked away, looking for other old friends. Later, however, around four am 'Allison' grabbed me and we left and went back to her mother's place and went to the old Den bedroom we used to hook up in and we kissed and had an incredible round of sex. Her body was tanner than I remember and her muscles more taught and she told me she worked out and we had sex again and I had no problem getting it up. We had a cigarette and she told me her mother was out of town, left early because of the impending storm, and not to worry. I asked her who the guy was at the bar and she said, 'my fiance'. We go upstairs this time and have sex in the living room, the dining room, her parents room, the kitchen, and soon the sun is up and I'm finally getting tired and she asks me to spend the night. I do and we fall asleep for an hour and wake up because I have to get my Dad's car home before he has to go to work and we have sex one more time and I leave and get home right when my Dad wakes up. He makes me a cup of coffee and acts like nothing is wrong and we talk about the storm and he goes to work. I sleep most of the day today and when I wake up it is almost evening and me and my father, who's home from work, put plywood on the windows and bring all the potted plants and garden furniture into the garage and my mom comes home and we make dinner and go to a pre hurricane party one of the neighbor's is having. I get drunk and I swear one of the divorced mom's named 'Anne' is hitting on me. She won't stop telling me I'm so cute and it gets to the point of slightly embarrasing and so I leave the party early. My Dad is performing magic tricks for the kids and my Mom is relaxing with the other Moms and it feels like nothing has changed...and I like it that way. I walk home and 'Allison' calls and we talk and she tells me she doesn't want to get married and is crying and then tells me that 'I had nothing to do with it' and even though she thinks I feel bad I really don't. The sex was great and the fact that she did it makes me think that she's right : she isn't ready to get married. If anything she should be thanking me but I don't want to sound like a complete asshole so I don't say anything and she asks if we can get dinner and I say 'after the hurricane'. We laugh a bit and she feels better and I feel great because I'm getting stoned in my back yard and I come inside and check my email. Nothing but junk and I don't mind. No rain yet...but even though people are fleeing the city, I'm happy to go down with the ship with Mom and Dad.

Home Cooked Meal

Last Friday night is spent on a final binge before going to my parents. 'George' picks me up and we go to our friend, 'Chris's' house where we take too many shots and play with prop swords that 'Chris' uses because he is a production designer and we break one as they slam into each other and feel bad but 'Chris' doesn't care and we all go to another bar on Melrose to meet a friend of 'Chris's'. It is a girl's birthday and the room the party is in is filled with the sweat of almost 100 men. That's because, since it's a girl's birthday, there are almost eight guys to every girl. I leave this room and go to the main bar and have a few drinks and watch replays of college football and 'Erin's' friend, 'Ashley', calls me and tells me it is her birthday tonight, too, and she wants me to come to Bar Marmont for dinner and drinks. We lag but eventually get there because there are more girls and we've missed dinner but Dexter the doorman lets us walk through easily and we run into the girls who are all very pretty there and 'Ashley' keeps holding my hand and dragging me around to meet all her friends and 'Erin' isn't around and she tells me 'Erin' is on a shoot in Hawaii and then she kisses my cheek and 'George' looks jealous. As the night comes to a close we all leave and go to the Argyle on Sunset where the girl's have a huge room and we tear open the locks on the mini bar and dive in and someone orders three large bottles of champagne and me and 'Ashley' disappear to the bathroom. On the counter is a small pile of cocaine and before we do a line she starts to kiss me, locks the door, and says 'It's my birthday, we won't tell 'Erin', and we fall into the empty bathtub and she takes off her clothes and we have sex and it's spontaneous and good and part of me knows that I can probably never go back to 'Erin' again and it makes me slightly sad as I climax. We stay at the hotel till 5am and then I have to leave and 'George' is wired and won't stop talking and I have no idea what happened to 'Chris' but I do know my flight leaves in an hour and a half. I take a cab home, toss the contents of my closet into a bag and jump back into the cab which has been waiting for me. On the way to the airport the Cab Driver tells me how his two kids are going to high school and how he's proud of them and wants them to have a better life, which is why he works so hard and I'm genuinely interested because I'm so awake and I tip him VERY well and he gives me his card so I'll never want for a cab again in L.A.. Security goes quick at six in the morning on a Saturday and the flight to Saint Louis is freezing, an ice box. I can't sleep, even if I wanted to, and I end up writing on my laptop as an overweight Asian man snores directly in my ear and they only have four blankets and a million packets of peanuts on the flight and it drives me nuts. The lay over is three hours in St. Louis and I wish I had actually looked at the flight plan before I purchased my tickets and I watch 'Secret Window' while I wait and feel that maybe I have a dual personality that's eating at me. I drink gin and tonics on the flight home and take a cab to my family's house when I finally arrive. My parents aren't home from a dinner event so I go to my room and drop my bags and stare for a long time. Pictures of me as a child, high-school friends, news clippings from sports championships, etc... all still on the walls. The ancient computer I used to use is still sitting on my old desk and it doesn't start when I hit the power button. I walk around my house, looking through old photo albums, drinking water, happy that it always smells the same and I look for the house cat but he's nowhere to be found. The air is humid, and I haven't slept yet, so I lay down in my bed, still wearing what I'm wearing, and close my eyes on Saturday Night...

Long Way Home

I wake up with a slight hangover after spending last night driving around the entire city of Los Angeles looking for a party that me and 'George' just couldn't find. First it was to Santa Monica where a pre-party involved watching six USC grads do beer bongs till they couldn't stand, then to Brentwood where we watched a young UCLA girls puke on herself in the bathroom as none of her girls would help her, and then on to a house party in Silverlake where we arrived half an hour too late, and finally to a weird apartment on top of an old ice cream parlor in Hollywood. Most of the night was spent in a car listening to 'George' describe to me, in detail, the sexual positions he's managed to hit with some friend of 'Erin's' and I ask him to stop but he doesn't seem to want to. The streets of Los Angeles were unusually quite and I watched maids wait for busses to go to East Los Angeles apartments and their faces made me sad and I wondered why I was so lucky and I ask 'George' and he can't comprehend what I'm talking about. This morning is spent writing all I can so I my Agent doesn't forget I exist and stops returning my calls. While sitting outside, by my pool, the reds of a sunset remind me of home again and I make a last second decision. I buy a ticket back home. I call my Mom and she sounds tired at first, but I can almost feel her warmth as she recognizes my voice and my Dad is still at work and for fifteen minutes I'm twelve again. I swim a few laps and try to call old friends again but no one picks up and I wonder who I'll run into back home. 'George' calls and tells me that 'Chris' knows of a girl who's partying at Chateau Marmont so we decide to go there tonight and I need a haircut but I have a really cool Hilfiger beenie so I'll wait and I start to drink a Corona and watch the sun dip into the horizon. The Vegas girl emails me and tells me she wants to see me soon and I remind myself I'll see her in a few weeks and I forgot to call the Script Girl but I'll call her while I'm in New Orleans and for some reason I think of the Texas girl and remember how fun she was. She had an unforgettable smile, is what I remember. I took that night for granted, is what I think. I should have gotten her number, is what I wish. As I get off the internet I get a call from 'Erin'. I stare at her name on my cell phone as it blinks and then fades. 'one new message'. I turn my phone off and stare out into the horizon out my window and wonder why I'm up here and someone is waiting for a bus home somewhere after doing someone else's chores. I want to be home right now. . .my life seems out of balance.