Monday, February 28, 2005
Armani vs. Versace
I'm awake now. I drank too much gin. Georgio Armani is such a bore. But I put him on anyways. I showed up and looked for M***** but she was nowhere to be seen. She’s off the map, off the deep end, but you would still expect her to be seen consoling JD for another year down the tubes. I told him last week that it’s all a construct manipulated by the academy’s warping of Edward Scissorhands. They think the monster is alive and well in his acting, and no matter how Scottish and kind-hearted he looked in Finding Neverland, he was still that cry-eyed lost boy with razors for fingers ballooned up by Tim Burton’s insane machinations. Big deal—JD looked good last night and we toasted each other for personal reasons, but then you have to do that, you have to never give up and salud to the family. God, Armani is so stiff, why did I put that on when Versace was hanging in my closet just waiting to wrap silk arms around me for a trip down the red carpet. I walked it, but I wasn't thinking about Oscars.
Here is the last post from June 14th, 2004:11:24 pm
The Sunset Strip Phone Call
I called her. She was on Sunset. Sometimes I think that’s the only sunset I’m scripted to have, to ever know. I knew she was there. I know exactly which room. And I know who she was with. People just know. She had only a moment to talk. “I’m a philosopher,” she said. “I think I will be one for the next month at least. I believe the world has intended to unearth itself. And tonight it’s my turn. I’m inside-out and I will drink until I flip back around. I’ll see you at the movies tomorrow. Gotta go.” To hell with her mysteries. These women all talk in mysteries. They drink. They do drugs. Not all of them, But a lot. And they’re all meta-physical about life, where they’ve been and where they’re going. So they talk in circles because they learned to breathe from watching the Actor’s Studio on TV. This was long before they got their precious degrees that landed them on soap operas that only housewives and people on factory lunch breaks watch. I just want to know if I’m going to have a chance to get laid tomorrow with someone who intrigues me. Imagine that. People in Hollywood think the way I do. ¶ 3:23 PM
Here is the last post from June 14th, 2004:11:24 pm
The Sunset Strip Phone Call
I called her. She was on Sunset. Sometimes I think that’s the only sunset I’m scripted to have, to ever know. I knew she was there. I know exactly which room. And I know who she was with. People just know. She had only a moment to talk. “I’m a philosopher,” she said. “I think I will be one for the next month at least. I believe the world has intended to unearth itself. And tonight it’s my turn. I’m inside-out and I will drink until I flip back around. I’ll see you at the movies tomorrow. Gotta go.” To hell with her mysteries. These women all talk in mysteries. They drink. They do drugs. Not all of them, But a lot. And they’re all meta-physical about life, where they’ve been and where they’re going. So they talk in circles because they learned to breathe from watching the Actor’s Studio on TV. This was long before they got their precious degrees that landed them on soap operas that only housewives and people on factory lunch breaks watch. I just want to know if I’m going to have a chance to get laid tomorrow with someone who intrigues me. Imagine that. People in Hollywood think the way I do. ¶ 3:23 PM
