I think the plan is for everyone to get a Ph.D. and invent something, then with the extra money we now have, we’ll hire solemn workers willing to get a small business and the blood of a permanent leak pumping, whatever… Who cares, anyway I love going down this dimly lit alley to the store around the corner from me for cigarettes late at night. Nice breeze, feeling kind of numb and observing the guy getting his 12 pack after work and a lady getting overpriced stale bread for her lunch to take to work. I wonder if we’re all going back to our hiding spots for the rest of the night and thinking about the different lives we have to manage and bullshit we have to say but don’t really mean. Like rehearsing for a part in a B movie, we will probably never get. It’s better than trying to achieve some kind of math/science superiority to compete with other countries or some shit like that. The race to the bottom is the refusal to “race to the top,” top of what? A fantasy where “hey, I didn’t get stuck in your depression, I’m going places!” is a reality and “things are good again” for those who “really tried.” This is not a rant of depression but one of relief in that starring in your own “B movie” is the greatest fucking thing ever. You write the script, pick the cast, and get to perform 24/7 without the pressures of a film crew. That’s what I always wanted for myself, I carefully studied movies like “Hardcore”, “Foxes”, “Valley Girl”, “Repo Man”, and most recently 1986’s “Echo Park” starring the exquisite Susan Dey, pictured above.
Susan has to rent out her beach house, 1 bedroom apartment to her pizza delivery guy who needs a place to live, she needs money. Nice location, the sound of breaking waves and sounds of the city beating in an apartment built with thin walls. Graffiti outside the front, barred windows, and a cool pattern of bright, dim, and broken street and sensor lights create the perfect balance of the wild world of living on the fringes on the industry in Los Angeles. Not too far I’m in Long Beach realizing my home and neighborhood resemble all of the great trappings of aspiration, failure, don’t give a fuckness, and wild beauty of this place. If a seedy city with its colorful characters were a woman, it would be Susan Dey.
Susan wants to be an actress and places ads weekly for someone to hire her. She gets the call after one year and it turns out to be a gig as a singing costumed birthday-stripper. She loses her mojo after the 1st couple of jobs, then learns from her sleazy manager how to put your heart and soul into an academy award winning strip. Don’t embarrass yourself, embarrass the sorry guys drooling over you. Pizza guy says “you’re not an actress, you stripped tonight, you deliver pizzas just like me, I’m sick of this town and its aspiring actresses, models, musicians, and screenwriters…we’re all delivering pizzas.” Good point, but…
The fact is, how awesome is it that the waiter is writing a movie, the cashier has a band, the unemployed dude is recording songs about being unemployed. That is fucking cool, and yeah, you might realize only a part of your dream, but at least you’re living it and able to cop a feel. That’s 1000 times better than having never tried or living a life of fear that imprisons you in high school for eternity…. As Susan said DREAM ON, RIGHT
Then playfully laughs. YEAH, she’s
right, dream on man, plus you get to live with Susan crashing out in the dining
room with your inflatable mattress ( almost as good as sleeping on a beanbag, serious, not cold like a bed). Now
that’s a vision that can come to life and I wouldn’t take a mortgage over
it. The Perfect B-Movie has been the
perfect vehicle in my life for finding a practical dragon to chase. Nevertheless, this one you actually catch once
in a while and realize I JUST WANT TO BE AT THE TOP OF THE BOTTOM. Let me take a hit of that.
---update: F&L LB MAGAZINE__JULY ISSUE IN 2 Weeks