I’m Losing You (18 page)

How can I bear telling him his father doesn't want to hold him? Dr. Mitch says I should let it go, that Jeremy will “work through it,” and I hope he's right. But how do you “work through” abandoning your ball of butterscotch, your firstborn, your Life? And how do I “work through” his cold contempt, bordering on the sadistic? How does Samson “work through” all the crap Jeremy's sending his way through the ether? He can't help but pick up on it, as a sentient being—that he's blind, Hol, makes him even more so. He'll “work through it”…through the door and out of our lives. And I'll slam it shut behind him. Why, Holly, does he hold sightlessness against him, against
us
? We don't even sleep in the same room anymore. When I brought Sam to the
Palos Verdes
production office, Jeremy hid away in a meeting. I know now he is
embarrassed
, insane as that sounds! Oh, Holly, I
hate
him for this! You saw Samson! Is he something to be ashamed of, or stigmatized by? To discard with a wince and a shrug? The horror of it colors my life. But I will not let it. I cannot.

Sorry to dump on you—see, that's what you get. A funny thing happened on the way to best-sellerdom: Holly got slimed!

P.S. I'm a free woman! I gave Warners my walking papers and Shelby said I'm
in
. Adios to the Vorbalidian System—up, up and away, warp speed! Isn't it wonderful to be working together? Can't wait for rehearsals to begin. Harvey Keitel's back from Copenhagen, mid-week. Anxious to start working soon.

P.P.S. What do you think of the title
Sight Unseen
? Overused? And
please
don't tell Vidra what I said about her writing; I really
think she is an amazing talent. Too exquisite for lowly me to apprehend, that's all. XXX OOO

Maps to the Stars

Kiv Giraux here. I've become embroiled in a minor soap opera at work. I share my shift with a girl named Ursula from San Diego. I think Ursula's trying to be an actress but she never quite comes out and says it. She's pretty but a little gaunt, reminding one of Sondra Locke. She has a daughter named Tiffany. I get the feeling Ursula is of a spiritual bent because of her frequent talks about camping trips and outings taken in the past with families that don't seem to quite be Christian but have a New Age leaning. She's encouraged me to go on a “study” weekend based on the teachings of a book of URANTIA that she brings to work and keeps in her purse. {She hides it from Rodrigo because he hates that, he's probably the most UNSPIRITUAL being on the planet. Not that Ursula would get on a soapbox or anything, she's not that way. She's really very smart.} URANTIA, she said, is actually about the planets themselves and our relationship to them. There may be some UFO stuff in there and that makes me leery. It's all very California—and very Hollywood too, by default!

Anyhow, all the mucky-mucks from ICM come in and that would include a red-haired gentleman named Donny Ribkin, who is, I believe, a veep there. {In Hollywood, VEEPS are as plentiful as actors and screenwriters {{sounds like something on a UFO: VEEP! VEEP! TAKE ME TO YOUR AGENT!!}}.} Donny is MUCHO flirtatious, which certainly isn't unusual—ALL agents and lawyers are, with some more aggressive than others. Donny got a hold of my home phone (Rodrigo the manager gave it to him) and started calling at very late hours, I might add. He's a very seductive man who has been through the ringer; his mother recently passed on and that really tore a hole in him. We talk for hours and sometimes don't even say anything—or much, anyway—just like high school {don't be jealous, Diary! I will ALWAYS luv only U}. He will be the first man I have dated in L.A. {if it comes to that and I still don't know if it will though it's pointing in that direction}. Trying hard to play my cards right and hope that doesn't sound too contrived—don't want
to appear “available” and let me tell you, that's a struggle! Donny is an extremely powerful man, accustomed to getting what he wants. “WHATEVER DONNY WANTS, DONNY GETS…AND LITTLE GIRL, LITTLE DONNY…WANTS YOU!!” When he said he could easily secure an audition for TEOREMA, I could hardly contain myself. {He's old friends with its producer, Phylliss Wolfe.} And now, I must move my story along: I was having a drink with him at Dan Tana's {no, we still haven't done anything yet, not even really kissed} and suddenly, from out of the blue appears Ursula Sedgwick! And she is LIVID. It seems they {SHE and DONNY!!!} have or HAD something GOING and Ursula FOLLOWED Donny to Dan Tana's from the agency—a bit weird. I didn't like being put in that position at ALL, because I would NEVER have agreed to see someone who was still seeing someone—“as IF,” as ALICIA would say. According to Donny, it was a fling that ended months ago and I tend to believe him. It's not like they were married or anything. The next day at work, Ursula wasn't there and Rodrigo said she was sick. He didn't smirk, so I'm pretty sure he doesn't know what happened, unless Ursula the Sometime Drama Queen told him, which is more than possible. She can be quite the loose cannon. Ursula hasn't been back all this week and I think she's pretty much moved on to greener pastures. I hope she finds something even better, jobwise, for the sake of Tiffany—the child's the part I feel bad about. I have no other reason to feel guilty, not that I even do over that because there is no just cause. Though the incident HAS left me feeling a notch on the scarlet side {AS ALWAYS!}. It shook me a bit but if that's as choppy as the Hollywood waters have got so far then I have to count myself lucky.

Footnote: ACTING SCHOOL RULZ!!!!! MUST go to Samuel French and pick up Tenn. Williams play,
Small Craft Warning
{?}

GIRAUX'S LIST—PANTHEON OF THE ELITE

I wanted to write about SANDRA BULLOCK but I think I may be too tired. I am asking you, dearest Diary, to forgive my brevity. SANDRA is on a Cinderella trajectory and does not need my help, of that I can assure. She is a dream story for all of us who struggle. We must not forget that before the brilliant blockbusters SPEED {CIRCA 1994} and WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING {CIRCA
1995} there was WHO SHOT PAT? {CIRCA 1990}, THE VANISHING {CIRCA 1993}, THE THING CALLED LOVE {1993} and LOVE POTION #9 {CIRCA 1992}. Sandra reminds me of MARISA TOMEI, in that both have such changeable looks—like well-tanned chameleons, they go from blue-collar “broadiness” to Audrey Hepburn delicacy without a hitch. Sandra's nose and mouth sometimes remind me of LAURA SAN GIACOMO {SEX, LIES AND VIDEOTAPE {{CIRCA 1989}}. Sandra is legendarily loved by film crews {frequently dating members thereof but not promiscuously}; a notorious junk-food junkie {that's because her mother, a German opera singer, was a health nut. Sandra has been known to slurp Fresca through licorice straws}; and, I believe, is receiving twelve million $$$ for her next outing. I hope one day she gets over Tate {Donovan} and finds her Prince Charming. {Probably someone on the camera crew! That's what Holly Hunter did!} {TWO IF BY SEA {{CIRCA 1995}} will do her no harm.}

You'll Never Eat Me During Lunch
…

Taping this on the plane back from Illinois. Wish I hadn't gone to the funeral. Good to see Mom, though. Calliope talked me through a lot of it, long-distance. I am
such
an asshole. Better watch out or she'll fucking fire me. Even therapists have their limits::::::::::Airline food
never
gets better. There's a Billy Crystal movie on. God, how I hate him. What
is
he?::::::::::Think we're over Kansas—a mid-air collision with Dorothy's house would be a beautiful thing. That'd be a busman's holiday; the house already fell down on me. Father died the day I arrived. Three years since I'd last seen him—cancer made him all gray skin and sharp bones. I kept a distance from the bed.
Carrie
kept going through my mind, the part at the end when Amy's at the grave and the hand reaches out to grab her—just looked under my seat with a shiver, then remembered the sonofabitch wouldn't be caught dead in First Class::::::::::Donny Ribkin's on the plane, coming back from the John Hughes thing. We talked about Obie. (She was supposed to leave the hospital but now she has pneumonia.) He wanted to know what was happening with
Teorema
and I said Nexus wasn't involved anymore, that the Gisela Group was financing. Hopefully. Then he gets this creepy agent look on his face and says
he heard one of the major Gisela partners was
murdered
in Milan—someone just told him that on the Airfone! E, my life is
insane
! I remain cool, awaiting a vacant phone. Of course my credit card won't work so I borrow Donny's, oy vay. I call Saul who isn't there but his assistant says it's all over CNN::::::::::Vidra's gonna be pissed. She's a mercenary cunt—likes the personal shit to offset ShowbizWorld and thought the funeral would be great for some poignantly savage musings on the Bad Father (has anybody actually had a
good
one?). Maybe I need to get home and, uh, process::::::::::To the Spirit Awards, with Cat-boy. Our very own Katherine won for
Imitations
! We—Katherine, Pargita, Becky Johnston, Holly and husband, Buck and Gus and like fourteen others including this Hungarian animator Gabor (as in Zsa Zsa) and his girlfriend (a
total
match for Polanski and Sharon T—she's Jeanne Crain's granddaughter. Never mind, you're too young) limo'd to the Sunset Plaza digs where we talked cybersex (yawn) and Luddites (yawn yawn), drank Stoly and scarfed cups of microwaved cioppino while I called my shrink from the media room and wept. Upped my Zoloft to three-quarters a tab.

You'll
love
this: after I'm off the phone, Katherine tells me she got this call from the police because some psycho
impersonated
her (why hasn't anyone impersonated
me
, E? That hurts). This crazy girl went and saw Calliope, pretending she was Katherine—and assaulted her, physically! The motherfucker assaults my shrink!
Definitely
a new wrinkle in the stalking game. I instantly phone Calliope back to commiserate and she said she was fine, just bruised. I don't know why she didn't tell me—guess it's too pervy a thing to start talking about, therapist-to-patient especially. Plus, Calliope never talks about her life. It made me feel so shitty and weak, this stoic brilliant woman in her
sixties
actually getting fucking
attacked
and there I am calling from planes, trains and automobiles,
whining
. I literally puked when we hung up, hard knees on those hip cold green Spanish tiles. Thought of my father the whole time. Nice, huh?

Cat came in, very sweet, to hold my clammy brow—I'm not even sure if his friends know we're doing it. We're not demonstrative, we're furtive. Hotter that way. Here's a little bonus for you, E, ‘cause you've been such a
good
dog: he likes it when I lick his butt. It tastes like Equal!::::::::::Katherine was loaded and flirting heavily with Pargita—seems they're about to have a scene (if they haven't already).
I think K's actually pissed Vidra never phoned congrats for the Spirit Award, though K denies. Unfortunately, her award won't help a rat's ass if the Gisela pyramid goes all-fall-down. First Gucci, now Gisela…is the Vatican behind it or what?

Hello, Columbus

T
O:
SHARKEE
@
CLS.OHIO-STATE.EDU
(S
TOCKER
V
IDRA
)

F
ROM:
DOLPH
@
AOL.COM
(K
ATHERINE
G
ROSSECK
)

Tupac Sharkee…

Never got the flowers—did you send them to the Studio or the house? We were
very
drunk, me and Buck and Becky and Parg, trolling Cat's garden in the moonlight, and Phylliss wasn't in the best shape, either—I couldn't
believe
she called and woke you up like that. Worse, that she didn't come find me posthaste. Oh, did I tell you? When I walked to the podium at the Spirits, the plug gave a tiny tug and I thought it was you, calling long-distance. I'll show you the tape and you'll see the funny smile on my face.

A week of deaths. First, Phylliss's father—as you know, there was no love lost. The piece of shit molested her until she was nineteen; I'm sure it'll be in the book. She told me how he took her to see
La Strada
when she was twelve—I thought that was pretty intense. How she related (natch) to the Giulietta Masina character, Gelsomina. Right when Anthony Quinn's killing the acrobat (I always thought it was so weird it was Richard Basehart), Phylliss's dad is feeling her up! She told me this after I got her drunk at Club Bayonet. The irony being,
La Strada
is the reason she wanted to make movies (her production company is Gelsomina Films). Did you know she hung with Fellini during
Don Juan
? That's how she met Sutherland—Donald's been in three of her movies. Then one of the Gisela “principals” was murdered, in Rome; we're not yet sure if this is a problem vis-à-vis
Teorema
. (Aren't I compassionate?) Still think Penumbra is something we could step into, worst case scenario. Phyll will find a way. Lastly, Pargita's dog got run over by a unicyclist on the Boardwalk. Cindy Sherman gave it to her and Parg sobbed for three days, inconsolable. Finally dragged her to Jones, where Rosanna
Arquette soothed, her own mutt having been eaten several years before by coyotes the night she broke up with Peter Gabriel.

Doing production rewrite for a Jodie movie (she's acting only); it's fast and will put major loaves on the table. If
Teorema
gets pushed back, I'm looking through the trunk to see if there's something I can do for cable. Maybe direct. It's shoot or be shot.

I wasn't comparing you and Proust, Vidra. I thought you'd love the quote. It honestly did remind me of the way you metaphorize. Thought we were moving out from underneath our “moon of misunderstanding” but there still seems to be a sliver hanging over our heads, by just a thread. Be gone, foul silvery strand—can't wait till morning comes. In the meantime, may God praise little girls and Molière, and dolphins with big ol' toothaches…