I’m Losing You (23 page)

In the shadows of my room I became Gelsomina and my father, Zampano, under the circus tent. You know, as a girl, I had a funny gift: when I went on planes, I could hear any song I wanted in full orchestral accompaniment, plain as day just beneath the drone. I could do the same with people—when it was half dark, I could make them look like anyone, anyone in the world. So I saw the Fool on his tightrope and wished with all my heart he would stop being a dysfunctional harlequin with a death wish and that he would rescue me. The thing of it is that when I got older, I came; Zampano made me come. I never forgave myself for that:::::::::Oprah, book me!

Hello, Columbus

[FedEx LETTER] My lawyer's sending galimony as a way of saying thanks for the good times (I'm sure you'll accept). We did have some, didn't we, Stocker? By the way, if you intended to hurt me with your prank, you really screwed the pooch. When I told Calliope you shit in the doctor's bag, she was charitably restrained; I don't think she ever liked you. Said your “compelling infantilism” was a “Polaroid of Self-image”: feces in a pretty package. (A cry for help? But wouldn't Sharkie cry for kelp? Alack, Tupac Sharkee is no more…) Everyone else I tell—and I do tell everyone—says you're just a sick puppy. Really, Stocker, I expected something grander. A barbed word, a faux-Proustian paragraph or maybe a short story lobbed my way. That probably comes later. You might like to know the doctor's bag has been assiduously cleaned and relined. Pargita now uses it as a script-tote; girl takes it everywhere. We're going to Paris for the weekend. I told her I'd get her a new one but she's adamant on keeping yours. Says it's to remind me never to take anyone's shit again. That's what my lover says…

Maps to the Stars

Work at Century City's BAILEY'S TWENTY/20 GENTLEMEN'S CLUB is good, clean fun!! And yes, dearest Diary, I AM keeping it from Mom because it would HURT, needlessly so—NO WAY would she understand this is merely a fuel stop on the road to the proverbial pot o' gold. {Unfortunately, she'd consider the whole event to be a very large, very PROMINENT billboard on that road—a PERMANENT one at that!} Here's the interesting part {to ME, anyway}: I'm a better performer {that way, on stage} than I ever imagined. The first few days I took a mild tranquilizer—“Zanax,” I believe. Who is it that sits around and gives drugs their funny names?—which JABBA gave me because I was MAJORLY nervous and afraid to drink, in case it would show. Now I'm at my ease. You know, there's nothing really SEXY about it, CERTAINLY not the classic image I had of the “live nude” dancer. The appreciative crowd is well heeled and well behaved—it's a “Gentlemen's club” after all. We do lap dancing {a SERIOUS tease} and the
Gentlemen have for the most part been respectful. {If they get frisky, you just have to work around it {{and I DO mean AROUND it!!!}} } Gratuities are good {BIG TIPS abound!! Close your ears, Diary}. On off days, Jabba and I try out routines. This week I danced to ANNIE LENNOX, BJØRK and R.E.M. I try to do something a little DIFFERENT—instead of the girls who use “Proud Mary” or “Purple Rain” {although “When Doves Cry” is a personal fave}.

Ursula's dancing here now {!!!} and we got past our rough spot and have become friends. We DO seem to have lots in common {Donny Ribkin notwithstanding. I think she's still in love with him. Somehow he doesn't come up; a topic I think she'd rather avoid {{I, myself, wonder what “The Donnie” is up to}} }. EXCEPT that my father wasn't a shit Marine bastard. The terrible things people do to their children! {SIGH} Ursula and I talk about how we'd like to write a script together, a REAL one about dancers, something that is true and NOT tawdry like SHOWGIRLS {CIRCA 1995}, for a woman to direct. {We're supposed to go see JANIE WONG {{CIRCA 1995}} tonight, to feel the director out {{a woman}} .} I plan to write a role for myself and LAURA DERN. LAURA's the type of girl I grew up with: excelling in school, with no more ambition than to be a court stenographer. That's why the IDEA of LAURA is so important: because wonderful things can happen {and DO} to ANY of us. There's probably a thousand people out there who knew her back then and now kick themselves, wishing they had her life. SUCH interesting choices: SMOOTH TALK {CIRCA 1985} and those strange LYNCH films {I might have been a little more discerning, but in the career long view, of course, LAURA was wise}; RAMBLING ROSE {CIRCA 1991} and, of course, JURASSIC PARK {CIRCA 1993} which INSTANTLY placed her among a select PANTHEON: that of the BILLION-DOLLAR FILM. {I can't help thinking what a wonderful 1-2 punch it would have been if STEVEN would have let her play a victim in SCHINDLER'S LIST {{CIRCA 1994}} }. LAURA'S a dark horse who has triumphed, her triumph perhaps greater because she doesn't have MICHELLE or JODIE'S proverbial looks. For example, her face becomes gargoyle-like when she cries but that is something that—in the long view—helps, I think, with ACADEMY AWARD NOMINATIONS. She'll never be a “beauty,” yet when one reaches a certain Level, all's forgiven—God
merely amends the Beauty Book, redistributing it to the public so that not only are one's physical flaws glossed over but they are actually made into new “standards” as part of one's reinvention. SANDRA BULLOCK and her interesting body, case in point. One wakes up one day and says to oneself, “Well—but…she was ALWAYS beautiful—why couldn't I SEE??” BECAUSE THEY ARE MOVIE STARS, ALL MOVIE STARS ARE ESTHETICALLY BEAUTIFUL, whether “conventional” or Classic. {I'm HOPING that is true, for my time is soon to come!}. This, I think, has become a rule of thumb. LAURA has further triumphed because of a Mom {DIANE LADD} who I am sure adores her even though she strikes me as a bit of a competitive/crazy—I'd LOVE to be proven wrong. {I myself would opt for the relationship JENNIFER JASON LEIGH has with hers—from out of which came GEORGIA {{CIRCA 1995}} .} Moms are hard enough AS IS, so again, hats off to LAURA D! Dad's {BRUCE DERN} a professional runner, moody, someone probably off doing his own thing a lot when not brooding on career tailspin. {I don't know why, but I'm thinking of the sensuous MADELEINE STOWE, who reminds me of MARLEE. I always wanted to see CLOSET LAND {{CIRCA 1990}—I'll tell Ursula to ask if Blockbuster has it when she picks up EXOTICA {{CIRCA 1995}} {{EXOTICA takes place in a strip club—we're viewing it as part of our Research}}. I saw MADELEINE's hands in close-up in a VOGUE once and they were large and unwieldy—her worst feature.}

Sight Unseen

…they wanted me to postpone but I went to the hospital anyway. “I'm going through with the divorce.” He cried and I felt nothing. (His stroke was mild and the doctors say recovery will be complete.) Holly, what an empty, monstrous feeling that is you can't imagine. He isn't anyone I remember being wooed or loved by, or marrying, or dreaming dreams with. Honoring and obeying…

I wanted to thank you—
we
thank you for the gift of these last weeks in the sanctuary of your home (Samson and I play
Sea Hunt
in the pool every day in front of the angel-grotto. I call him Lloyd Little Britches).
I'm absolutely
delirious
about Vidra's offer; we will make a beautiful book. It was lovely to meet her, though she isn't in the best frame—but I guess you know all about her breakup. Small world, isn't it? And
Teorema
was such a wonderful project…

We're going to stay in town awhile, until affairs are in order—a lump settlement is in the works. I don't want our future pending on the vicissitudes of this man. Until all's quiet on the medical/legal front, Samson & Co. may be cordially reached at the Bel Air Radisson (the people at the desk treat me royally—they think I'm an owner!) Call me! Kisses to you and your Polish Prince.

***
The THIEF of ENERGY

A dream last night: I was going to lie in wait for Jeremy Stein but Darren Star intervened. ‘It has been true all along,' he said, looking like the famed Minotaur of old, ‘that you have been terribly wronged. But my child the time for vengeance has not yet come. Jeremy
was
involved,' he added, ‘tho not at the level you think. You have done well in taking his energy but now must save yourself for the internecine struggle ahead. In time, the pupil will outshine the teacher.' I felt a warmth toward Darren I never imagined conceivable. Spontaneously, we floated above the sidewalk outside Philippe Starck's Hotel Royalton, site of the inaugural party for
Central Park West
. Mariel Hemingway's arm hooked in mine—how beautiful she looked. ‘Gina, let it go!' she informed. We were suddenly high above the city where the lights shone with individual brilliance and myriad lives played out their destinies amid apocryphal opulence and squalor. We strode on wisps of cloud above the Brooklyn Bridge—traversing the stars, a miracle of joy. As we circumnavigated the glowing Xanadu of the Hamptons below, I began to weep large, perfectly formed tears that resembled diamond pendants. ‘It is your father, Gina!' Mariel said. ‘It is
him
who has stolen from you and him you must defeat. We will help you. But the battle is not here, Gina! The battle will be elsewhere.'

Thus will conclude Book One of ***
The THIEF of ENERGY
.

S
IX
M
ONTHS
L
ATER

Kiv Giraux

They are available on certain satellite venues (one called the “Adam and Eve” Channel and another called “Spice”) and are NOT XXX, as private parts are NOT shown. {Camera angles are such that offending areas remain “teasingly” out of view—MUCH more intriguing than your garden-variety porn, of which erotica quotient is somewhat “nil”}. I've done three to date:
Sleepless in the Saddle, Pulp Friction
and
Dirty Squealers
{a “film noir” motif}. By and large, the production people I've met are friendly and supportive—just folks. The thesps are uniformly intelligent and might I add EXTREMELY hygienic, more so than your average blind date!

Due to my “girl-next door” looks {that I'm a fresh face in the field doesn't hurt}, I find myself somewhat in demand. That's a nice feeling in this town. I've also been told I'm a hot commodity, oddly enough, because I'm SANS tattoos. Seems since so many Yuppified-types {do Yuppies still exist? Yes, I'm talking to you, Diary, so stop yer yawning} subscribe, the producers prefer the “Vancouver Virgin” look to the more clichéd, standardized “Biker Chick.” Lucky me.}

I have to say I did much soul-searching when this opportunity arose—as always, in my darkest hours, the LADIES OF THE LIST helped see me through. Actresses have always worked beyond the pale; countless members of the PANTHEON have bared breast AND pubis. Altogether my new venue is not too far a cry or leap. In the meanwhile I am getting FANTASTIC experience with set, crew and camera—I'm quite comfortable around a soundstage, my “in-house” knowledge and professionalism growing leaps and bounds, and that's an INVALUABLE BLESSING. {I CANNOT fail to mention the extraordinary “case” of TRACI LORDS, though my work in this medium will NEVER approach the explicitness of her early “non-pro” limnings. TRACI's certainly on a SUPERB trajectory. Her manager said in an interview that because of her work on MELROSE, she'll soon be presenting on the EMMYS—from there, it isn't too far from handing out an Oscar or two {{meaning STATUETTE!!! I am SO TERRIBLE!!!}}. Just LOOK at the depths from which she's come {{TROY CAPRA, director of
Dirty Squealers
,
showed me a tape TRACI did at age fifteen or thereabouts. It was the MOST SEXUALLY EXPLICIT I have ever SEEN, with TRACI giddily vaulting from one stiffened member to another as if in a Sexual Olympics. WAY SHOCKING!!}}