poured a cocktail, went exploring backwards tonight and came across this post, which re-reading triggered the following heretofore-forgotten memory:the celebrity wife is walking me around the garret with its dormer windows overlooking the beach, airily explaining how she wants to turn it into a playroom for her kids; all the while i'm nodding, smiling and taking notes, my insides are screaming "please god get me the fuck outta here."it was only later that i learned that this claustrophobic little space which had so given me the cold, clammy heebie-jeebies was the self-same attic where william peter blatty spent several months polishing his final draft of the exorcist.
coincidence? you think so, go spend an hour there and then get back to me.
sober update: oh, wait, you can't--i forgot; we tore it all out and changed it all up. whatever; i still wouldn't let my kids play up there for all the fuckin' tea in china.
3 comments:
I like the Exorcist because I always like movies with happy endings.
Unfortunately, you do not tie it up in a nice bow. Where's the happy ending to this story? Did you ever ditch the psycho couple from Malibu?
I wonder what would have become of you had you kept up the track you had set for yourself and settled in San Diego. Any ideas?
I am sure you would have gotten tired of the endless, meaningless sex with young sailors and marines...so young and strong and firm.
noblesavage: perhaps the vibe in that evil little house did its work--shortly after spending an ungodly amount of money on said remodel, the celebrity couple publicly and spectacularly disintegrated into bits, leaving damaged kids in the custody of the father (because, volatile and insane as he was, he was by far the more stable choice).
as for me? much as i'd sometimes like to imagine that going with the san diego option might've solved all my problems, deep down i know better--i'd not only have found a way to fuck it all up just as badly down there, i'd have never had the benefit of meeting either my guy v or you.
Well, you probably would have messed up wherever you ended up...and for selfish reasons, I am glad you found your way to LA.
But, the gay guys I met in San Diego, well, they are a little more laid back and it's a generally quieter and more forgiving scene. LA can be a harsh place to be an older (>40) gay man. Ahem.
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