Demi

I've been away. And now I warmly welcome myself back to my beloved blog. I could never abandon you. This is where I run not to hide, but to reveal myself... to myself. Sometimes I forget who I am. I'm so many things, and yet sometimes I feel like nothing at all. This isn't a sob story either. I actually think to feel "like nothing at all" is liberating, it's relaxing because I try, you try, we all try so hard to be something every day all day. Well most of us do. I see people who don't try at all, but that's another story and they're drunk and sleeping on a sidewalk. We try and try and try until we just say:

Fuck it!! I am who I am! Whoever that is. I'll try to be somebody better tomorrow. I'll try to make more money tomorrow. I'll try to be heard tomorrow! As for now, I'm not doing anything. I'm turning on Netflix. Shut up world! I'm gonna be a couch potato. Or just a potato. Or a strawberry for God's sake! I don't want to feel like anything at all right now!! I just want to be a strawberry. And that's totally cool. Be a strawberry.

But to be nothing - to be no one... and to really believe it, well that's terrible. It reminds me of a story.

But first I have to say, I have readers from all over the world and this is pretty awesome. I've discovered all my blog visitors by use of my weekly statistic report and I really couldn't be more delighted to know that there are so many individuals out there returning to my blog page. People in France. People in Denmark. Florida, Saudi Arabia (true story), London, Brazil, Athens, Greece, Argentina, Italy, Moscow, Mexico, Ohio. The list goes on, and for those of you who are return readers, thank you. Seriously. Thank you! It's because of you that I am drawn back to this world regarding everything - commanded back to my literary sanctuary, a place I didn't think anybody cared about but me. But that was years ago. I've learned people do care. In a world where people don't care, they actually do. I give my regards to you and to everything, because everything is something. And everyone is someone.

Now for my story. Everyone is someone.... Demi Moore said that to me. Well, she said it to mother actually, after my mother introduced herself to Demi Moore as "no one". "Hi, I'm no one", said my mom. Then there was an awkward beat of silence and a handshake. Demi Moore crinkled her forehead and I just looked at my mom the way a mother looks at her child. Role reversal, if you will.

You poor child, I thought. Get some confidence!

This was years ago and to this day I'm still thinking back on it. Still crinkling my forehead the way Demi scrunched hers. I mean, how cool for starters. Demi Moore. Really? How? Where? Why? Does she look great? Yes. Then there was Ashton... Kutcher... who also looked great and stopped everything he was doing to give me a kiss before I left. Wait huh?! No way. Omg why? Lucky! .... Calm down. It was a tasteful corner-of-the-mouth, almost the cheek, but not quite the cheek kind of kiss. Still enough to write home about, and still enough to make me think he and Demi were divorce bound, but not enough to write a whole blog about, and not enough to turn me straight. We chatted about Kabbalah. Kiss, kiss. The end.

That's not the end! What happened?

We crashed a film premier party at the Sunset Tower Hotel in Hollywood on a chili Saturday night back in 2011. It might of been 2010. I can't keep track of time anymore. I used to bartend at this joint, this opulent, made of money joint. Prince, Jennifer Aniston, J Lo, Penelope Cruz. You name it. They were there. And I was always late to get there, so I got fired. Whoo hoo!! This celebrity hideaway became my wine and dine getaway for years to come, and I didn't have to make anyone a drink or ring in an order of garlic aioli french fries ever again, so I liked it a lot more during those years to come. I'd walk in and people thought I was a famous person. I owned it. I loved it. I couldn't help but soak it in. Isn't that what Hollywood is for? Being an obnoxious, egomaniac on a possible fame trip?

Yes. For the most part. Absolutely yes.

So, I've rung that out. I'm like a sponge. I absorb what I need when I need it, then I ring that shit out. I don't care if I'm ever a famous person. Fame does strange things to people. LA has taught me that. I just want to be a happy person. (Cliche I know) (But so true) Writing makes me happy, not being mistaken for Emmy Rossum. That just makes me feel...well, hmmm... not as rich as the real Emmy Rossum I guess.

Anyways. I diverted. Back to my story.

We crashed the party after my mom told the big guy with the ear piece that we were guests. Cool! I thought to myself. We're guests! Go mom. And without looking at his guest list, and without really looking at my mom, so after looking at me (swank and chic, maybe Emmy Rossum) well... he believed her. She must be my mom, were his thoughts. I could tell just by looking at him. And I must be somebody...

Yes. I am somebody. And I don't need security or Demi Moore to tell me that! But I'm glad Demi did, 'cause my mom needed to hear it. And I'll give her credit, she listened. My mother took that wisdom by the throat and then she strangled it after talking about her self published novel for twenty minutes straight. Demi backing off just a little. And there I was, ready to go have a beer with Demi. Demi  just needed another beer. She needed another Corona Light, not another pitch from an aspiring film maker/novelist. Her eyes growing heavy. My mother still talking. Demi's stance, unbalanced. She was drunk! Drunk and overly friendly and very inspirational because my mom was somebody now and she believed it because Demi Moore said it straight to her face. She wasn't nobody, she was somebody, somebody with a great divorce story and hey, Demi, you should be in it!! You can play me. Said my mother. Lol. I was bored, yet lost in Demi's face. Reminded of Indecent Proposal. One of my favorite movies. Demi was polite. Maybe too polite. Thank you Corona Light, you are a miracle worker. She told my mother to contact her agent, but didn't give her agent's info to my mother... but maybe she could Google it? Yeah. Google "John".

Demi to my mother, word for word: "His name is John. Just tell him you met me here."  My mom to Demi: "What is this?" Then Demi to me: "You probably know him." And I'm left to think: "Because I'm famous too? And this is a premiere party, mom." (eye roll)

Bless your heart Demi. You are somebody, and not just because Ghost, but because you gave me a wonderful memory.

And I don't know John, your agent. But thank you for assuming I did... because I'm probably somebody.

I absolutely am somebody! Everybody is somebody and we all have a story to tell. So go tell yours. Now I need Corona Light.

Cheers! Kiss kiss.


"Was that really her?" -My mom.  "Yes." -Me.