Kiddo Blog in L.A. 18
I have frightened the Leonardo tonight. Well, what do you expect? He showed up uninvited again at the same time that I arrived from work. Stayed long enough for me to get very drunk. So in the end he got to see some other side of me. The pessimistic and ugly side of me.
I had to tell him how I did not believe in ever meeting his great friends, and the desire to meet them had nothing to do with us working on that film script. Only him interests me, basically at this time, and what we can create together. Any other option should have been worrying to him anyway, it would mean that I am only interested in him because of his possible contacts, and that I did not care about him in the first place. Not sure if I was able to communicate that to him tonight, I guess not, I was quite off the wall. Too many beers I’m afraid.
The thing is, he is so engrossed in the one project that we are working on at the moment, he thinks there was nothing before it, and that there will be nothing after. For me it is just one project, and we should not forget everything else in parallel, and other projects we should work on. Because that one project we are working on might not go anywhere, and we need something else to fall back on, to believe in, to work on.
Maybe I am the realistic one of the two, when surely he should be the one who knows best in these matters. He has been in more than one hundred films, I don’t care if he only was a figurant or in supporting roles, that’s more than I will ever be able to conceptualize in my life or learn from.
What I tried to make him understand, is that despite the great success of his friends, things are different for us. It will not fall from the sky, hard work is required, and we need to be on the dot everyday and work hard at making anything happen.
Others had it easy, and from the day of their big break, everything just came naturally. Which is far from being our case. In our case, hard work is required, and even then, it might never happen, no matter how intelligent and wonderful it is.
He’s living in another world, where everything happens easily to everyone. While nothing happened to him so easily. Easy to forget when you are surrounded by success, the success of others, even when they are your best friends.
But then again, I am worried for no reason. The guy has it, he is brilliant. He will get us there, no two ways about it. Why he has not achieved that on his own before my arrival is a mystery, because it is obvious that he has it, more than I. He obviously needed a catalyst, and I am it. So it is going to happen now, only because I came into his life, and that is why he fell head over heels over me. Sad when you meet people with so much talent, but need something to trigger it, me.
God only knows where this will end and what will come out of it. I’m listening to Morrissey right now, and he sings about Battersea Park, a song about a fatty. And I have met a guy a long time ago who was adamant that this song was about him. I have so much history myself about Battersea Park, including a love story with the most beautiful and wonderful young man with whom I worked with in Victoria in conferences, that I don’t need Morrissey to dream about that.
And yet, it convinces me that London is for me, and that I will die there. I don’t care about how many years I have to waste in Los Angeles, but one day I’ll be back in London, I’ll live in Battersea Park, and that road that follows the Thames from Earl’s Court to Parliament Square. I can’t live without it, I understand that now. It is just a question of time. And my baby in London is my only connection to it all. I bet he won’t come to L.A. And that I will join him back in time. Might be a year, I’m sure he can wait. As I can.
My baby in London, god, how I love him. He is everything to me, I don’t think I could love anyone else like I love him. I miss him so much, even if it is nice to have some freedom in Los Angeles now. Ultimately I’m going back to him, faithful completely, like it has been for many years before.
Oh dear, I love him so much, I’m crying again. And it is not just him that I love, it is London. And it can only come with him, it is a package. And I see that more clearly now that I have got out of it for a while.
If it is all that Los Angeles is, to meet the right people, then the day you have met them, you can leave right away. This connection will still exist, and then you can go back to Old England, the only livable place there is in this world. And still rip the profit from your eclectic and short stay in Los Angeles.
Los Angeles is growing on me, but I doubt it will ever be what London and the rest of England has been able to impress on me. It is too late. I had the time to visit every single town in that country, and this love affair is just beginning. I’m still crying for my huge lost. Nothing could replace it, not even Los Angeles. I’m going back, there is no question about it now, though I’m quite drunk and I may think differently tomorrow. But I would not hope so. Los Angeles pales in comparison to England, there is no question about it.
Everyone I have met here so far, are just not real. They are a caricature of life, and could be described as clowns, totally disconnected from the real life I have come to understand in time. None of them are real, how could they, they are so disconnected, it is amazing. We’re not living in the same world, that much is certain.
And that is talking without even having met the celebrities, the ones supposed to be completely off their head, with nothing in common with anyone of us. I’m just talking about normal people, they don’t appear normal to me, they are something I cannot deal with and that I have no wish to connect with. These are people who don’t really live, they have gone through a lot, and yet, it is meaningless, as they are so disconnected. I can’t explain it.
They do suffer, but it is more like a Hollywood film than real life. That’s the only way I can describe it. As if they suffered, but not really, as long as they have a story that could become a film or something, as if their suffering was not that real anyway to begin with. I don’t know.
They seem plastic to me, I cannot believe any of them, they don’t seem real to me. There is always that idea at the back of my mind that it could do a great movie, and therefore, they cannot live normal lives, and it shows. None of them touches the ground anymore, not sure if they ever did. I don’t like it, this is fake, a fake world.
And I have been so fake myself all my life, you would have thought I would fit perfectly into their world. But I don’t. I don’t care to succeed or die. Better continue my simple life in England then, I do miss it. With my baby, who is very real to me. No pretense, no bullocks, just real life.
I had to tell him how I did not believe in ever meeting his great friends, and the desire to meet them had nothing to do with us working on that film script. Only him interests me, basically at this time, and what we can create together. Any other option should have been worrying to him anyway, it would mean that I am only interested in him because of his possible contacts, and that I did not care about him in the first place. Not sure if I was able to communicate that to him tonight, I guess not, I was quite off the wall. Too many beers I’m afraid.
The thing is, he is so engrossed in the one project that we are working on at the moment, he thinks there was nothing before it, and that there will be nothing after. For me it is just one project, and we should not forget everything else in parallel, and other projects we should work on. Because that one project we are working on might not go anywhere, and we need something else to fall back on, to believe in, to work on.
Maybe I am the realistic one of the two, when surely he should be the one who knows best in these matters. He has been in more than one hundred films, I don’t care if he only was a figurant or in supporting roles, that’s more than I will ever be able to conceptualize in my life or learn from.
What I tried to make him understand, is that despite the great success of his friends, things are different for us. It will not fall from the sky, hard work is required, and we need to be on the dot everyday and work hard at making anything happen.
Others had it easy, and from the day of their big break, everything just came naturally. Which is far from being our case. In our case, hard work is required, and even then, it might never happen, no matter how intelligent and wonderful it is.
He’s living in another world, where everything happens easily to everyone. While nothing happened to him so easily. Easy to forget when you are surrounded by success, the success of others, even when they are your best friends.
But then again, I am worried for no reason. The guy has it, he is brilliant. He will get us there, no two ways about it. Why he has not achieved that on his own before my arrival is a mystery, because it is obvious that he has it, more than I. He obviously needed a catalyst, and I am it. So it is going to happen now, only because I came into his life, and that is why he fell head over heels over me. Sad when you meet people with so much talent, but need something to trigger it, me.
God only knows where this will end and what will come out of it. I’m listening to Morrissey right now, and he sings about Battersea Park, a song about a fatty. And I have met a guy a long time ago who was adamant that this song was about him. I have so much history myself about Battersea Park, including a love story with the most beautiful and wonderful young man with whom I worked with in Victoria in conferences, that I don’t need Morrissey to dream about that.
And yet, it convinces me that London is for me, and that I will die there. I don’t care about how many years I have to waste in Los Angeles, but one day I’ll be back in London, I’ll live in Battersea Park, and that road that follows the Thames from Earl’s Court to Parliament Square. I can’t live without it, I understand that now. It is just a question of time. And my baby in London is my only connection to it all. I bet he won’t come to L.A. And that I will join him back in time. Might be a year, I’m sure he can wait. As I can.
My baby in London, god, how I love him. He is everything to me, I don’t think I could love anyone else like I love him. I miss him so much, even if it is nice to have some freedom in Los Angeles now. Ultimately I’m going back to him, faithful completely, like it has been for many years before.
Oh dear, I love him so much, I’m crying again. And it is not just him that I love, it is London. And it can only come with him, it is a package. And I see that more clearly now that I have got out of it for a while.
If it is all that Los Angeles is, to meet the right people, then the day you have met them, you can leave right away. This connection will still exist, and then you can go back to Old England, the only livable place there is in this world. And still rip the profit from your eclectic and short stay in Los Angeles.
Los Angeles is growing on me, but I doubt it will ever be what London and the rest of England has been able to impress on me. It is too late. I had the time to visit every single town in that country, and this love affair is just beginning. I’m still crying for my huge lost. Nothing could replace it, not even Los Angeles. I’m going back, there is no question about it now, though I’m quite drunk and I may think differently tomorrow. But I would not hope so. Los Angeles pales in comparison to England, there is no question about it.
Everyone I have met here so far, are just not real. They are a caricature of life, and could be described as clowns, totally disconnected from the real life I have come to understand in time. None of them are real, how could they, they are so disconnected, it is amazing. We’re not living in the same world, that much is certain.
And that is talking without even having met the celebrities, the ones supposed to be completely off their head, with nothing in common with anyone of us. I’m just talking about normal people, they don’t appear normal to me, they are something I cannot deal with and that I have no wish to connect with. These are people who don’t really live, they have gone through a lot, and yet, it is meaningless, as they are so disconnected. I can’t explain it.
They do suffer, but it is more like a Hollywood film than real life. That’s the only way I can describe it. As if they suffered, but not really, as long as they have a story that could become a film or something, as if their suffering was not that real anyway to begin with. I don’t know.
They seem plastic to me, I cannot believe any of them, they don’t seem real to me. There is always that idea at the back of my mind that it could do a great movie, and therefore, they cannot live normal lives, and it shows. None of them touches the ground anymore, not sure if they ever did. I don’t like it, this is fake, a fake world.
And I have been so fake myself all my life, you would have thought I would fit perfectly into their world. But I don’t. I don’t care to succeed or die. Better continue my simple life in England then, I do miss it. With my baby, who is very real to me. No pretense, no bullocks, just real life.
posted by Mycroft Holmes @ 7:09 PM
0 comments
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home