prayer

I am down on my knees Jesus! Speaking in tongues for you My Father. Spinning around my 1987 inspired hotel room slash apartment. Have mercy on me!

Lord have mercy! Praise Jesus. In the holy name of the father. My back is hurting, Jesus! From packing my clothes and my DVDs, heavenly father, my back is hurting!

Had to get the car washed Jesus. Had to drive up in the Hollywood Hills and down the Hollywood Hills for no reason to a car wash because I took the guidance of a GPS machine and not you Jesus Christ!

In your Heavenly Name! In your Heavenly Name! Please let me out of this City of Sin alive Heavenly Father! Son of God! Son of God! Lamb of God have mercy on this poor sodomite who travels alone in the City of Angels in a Black Kia Optima!

Praise Jesus! I put my trust in you on the last day of my schooling! My script for 30 Rock is not up to par Heavenly Father!! I am turning it in anyway Jesus Christ, my savior!

Please guide me and protect me. Please let me wake up on time, Jesus! Mary Mother of God, please give me divine strength to help me get through another day of this city!!! Thirty lashes with a wet noodle, Heavenly Father! I shall not use your name in vain.

I have been put through the mill again and I know, Jesus, that this is all for a reason! A divine reason!

Please Lord, guide me safely on my Southwest flight to Midway Airport and to my Studiopad. To the arms of my boy! You frown upon me lying with another man, but I am warning you now, Heavenly Baby Jesus, I will be doing a lot of lying with another man.

Please Jesus! Please, Oh Heavenly Father, make some cigarettes that do not cause cancer.

Heavenly Jesus! I praise you and love you. Let's watch some Madonna together Jesus Christ my savior!

roETRY

un hommage à Madam O'Donnell

today
emotionally exhausting
wanted to walk
run
away

terrified of
driving
writing
speaking
disappointing
losing

such
wonderful
friends
hes and shes
lift me
up and put
humpty
back
to
ge
th
er
again

fallen off
the wall so
many damn times

"cant get a leg up!"
she makes me smile wide
serotonin begins to
bubble again

laughing about
valerie cherish
"we're gonna have a BIG problem!"

here to finish
what
I
began in a tiny
room at 2324
next to the
pizza hut
that never failed
to make me sick

one goal
one goal
almost done

i am not here
to be a star
not here to be
famous

never
ever
said i was

so lets keep it
at that

and go to
see
disney
princesses
with e
because
hes
so
fine
he
blows
my
mind

maxi-post

At the urging of friends and relatives I left the apartment today. I'm really doing okay and enjoying the weather in Los Angeles a lot, but don't feel like doing anything much. So maybe I'm not doing okay. I've been worse-- let's put it that way.
So, I decided to take in a movie at the Egyptian theater-- Drew Barrymore suggested it on Ellen. They play old movies. I bought the ticket but never made it there. Has anyone ever noticed how driving in LA is crazy? Has anyone commented on that before? Well let me be the first to tell you. It's pretty crazy. I got stuck on some side street for like forty five minutes for no apparent reason. By the time I parked at the Hollywood and Highland complex I was ready to go back to my apartment.

I had to park 5 stories underground. As I drove, around and around deeper and deeper into the earth, i was positive there would be an earthquake. I was driving into my grave in a Hertz rental car. I emerged from the elevator in the Kodak theatre where hundreds of cheerleaders were applying their blue eyeshadows. Went out onto Hollywood Blvd -- a mix of tourists and costumed people handing out maps to the stars homes. Darth Vader, Cinderella, a creepy dragon man with wings and fangs, gold contacts. I walked around Graumann's Chinese theater and stared unmoved at the footprints in cement trying to feel something. "These are Bette Davis' footprints, These are Bette Davis' footprints-- this should mean something to you."

I went to McDonalds. Again with the waiting forever in Hollywood. I waited 20 minutes for my NEW Angus Bacon and Cheese Hamburger with no pickles. There was a tiny old lady with a velvet hat attached to her hair with bobby pins, waiting for one hamburger. I imagined that she was once a B-List actress who had lived in the same apartment since the forties.

"I guess that's what happens when you live in this town too long," came from a lesbian trapped in the body of a married suburban woman. I didn't catch what she was referring to.

You never feel like you're the tourist. In LA and New York, in tourist heavy areas I have felt so superior. Somehow, I am above it all. I have the edge, the inside scoop, I see how it all works. I feel like this at parties too.

My days in LA start at a crisp 6:30. The alarm waking me-- which is very unusual. I think because I have been sleeping a lot. This creative, tortured brain needs A LOT of rest. The pot of coffee prepared the night before, cleverly. No I do not shower in the morning, this goes for LA and Chicago. I prefer a slightly ripe and oiled coat. A cup of coffee, a generous intake of nicotine and the days blog headlines- Yahoo! news, Fleshbot, WOW report, etc.

I'm off after that in my black KIA Optima, scooting down Barham Blvd. Headed to the studio, I struggle with internal conflicts: relationships concerns (familial, friendly and romantic), finances, career, spirituality, sex, food. I stop at the McDonald's for a bacon, egg and cheese McGriddle that I have no interest in eating and never enjoy. The small diet coke is delicious. "Do you want the value meal?" and a "No senor, I do not." I can barely choke down the McGriddle, how do you think I'm gonna handle that hash brown.

A right turn into the studio, "Good Morning" to the lady who makes the gate go up by pressing my ID to the sensor. Up four flights of parking-- again certain that an earthquake will cause this parking structure to collapse. An elevator down to ground level.

On Friday, a carpenter taking the elevator with me. "I'm only in the elevator and I already want to go home." Over enthusiastic laugh from me.

I walk down "Gunsmoke Blvd" past writers bungalows and into my classroom that is (I can't stress how chilling this is for me) feet away from the Big Brother house. Bette Davis' shoeprints again.

So, wherever you go there you are. YOU being the operative word. Wherever I go there I AM AGAIN! With all my crap-- my smoking and my anxiety and my blue eyes and sense of humor. Here I go again on my own. But, I am not a drifter, and as much as I think I was born to walk alone-- I was not.