I’m Losing You (16 page)

Amazing brillant brainstroke! I was about to call Erica Miller (the NPI referral) but instead rang Doctor Calliope Dolittle Starfucker back and left word with her secretary that I was Katherine Grosseck! Gave my cellular and she called back within the hour. Said she loved
Imitations of Drowning
, can you believe it? Physician, heal thyself! Dolittle Starfuck went on to make it clear she ‘is still Donny's therapist'
and me being the slow wit that I am took a while to catch on that this was possibly a reference to a former relationship. (Donny Ribkin? Could it
really be
? OHMYGOD!) I disguised my voice slightly—suddenly worried she and the ‘real' Katherine had spoken before; a worry soon dispelled—snuffling and saying I had a cold, I was entering the Canyon blah blah yakkety yakkety. It was a ‘natural.' Made appointment for three pm next week! Her office is near an R
_x
on Roxbury with a coffee shop within that I love called ‘Mickey Fine.' I saw Charles Bronson there once, when Jill Ierland was still alive (a handsome man who walked like a panther). I think I could have helped by rake her energy. She was so beautiful and in such pain.

You'll Never Eat Me During Lunch
…

Eric, you're gonna
love
this. Went to a benefit with Cat—oh! he told me this crazy thing about River Phoenix. He said that guy from
The Donna Reed Show
—Paul Petersen, isn't that his name?—I'm serious about this—Paul Petersen started a support group for washed-up child actors. Because so many of them are fucked up? And a few months or weeks or whatever before River died, Paul and his group actually stopped by River's house to do an
intervention
because someone saw him shooting up in the bathroom of a club. I don't even think it was the Viper. Try to imagine some over-the-hill
Brady Bunch
ers at your door like a post-pimple passel of Pentecostals! It's enough to make
anyone
OD.

Now where was I? Oh yeah. So we go to this benefit, me and Cat, which was good because I saw Jodie Foster there and (thanks to Saul) she already knew about Pargita being hired for
Teorema
and had even talked to Katherine. E, remind me to call Saul—Shelby says she talked to Keitel and he's
mightily
interested in working with Holly again, if we can make the schedule fit. I think we only need him for three weeks. So…after the benefit we go back to Cat's house in Sunset Plaza, which is like anal high-tech with token grunge messiness::::::::::the CD system's plugged into his Mac—the album covers actually appear on-screen! He put on Mozart's “Requiem”; can't get away from
Teorema
. All the hot, hep young things dig Pasolini and he lobbied, very sweet and humble I might add, to be the Son. Well, if
he's serious, we're definitely a Go. I sort of smelled this coming in Park City::::::::::I tried to talk to him about Oberon Mall but he buttoned up. I really think he must have loved her but he can't go to the hospital to see her because it's too much like when he had to go sit with his mom. (She died last year, ovarian cancer). Anyway, we get into this long rap about how he misses her (the mom). Poor, sweet kid. He told me that when the agency called with his first million-dollar offer—that Dustin thing that never happened,
Homeless People
—when he got the offer, he took his mother to Dominick's and they got drunk. At the end of the night they made out! Isn't that fantastic? I mean, he's so guileless.

If you talk about this, E, you'll be jailed and castrated (not too much of a leap). But seriously, you cannot discuss this with
anyone
, even if they're terminal—and I know that means most your friends. So he's telling me about his mother and then he starts to cry and within like twenty seconds he's licking my pussy like a tiger cub: his tongue is
serrated
. He begged me to stay but I left around three. Go figure::::::::::Zoloft makes me so sleepy I actually have to cut it into fours. Hard to believe a sliver of whiteness could make a difference (and it doesn't seem to. Not yet, anyway). Calliope says I'm depressed but it's an “agitated depression.” Oh really? If I'm so agitated, how come I feel like Phylliss Epstein-Barr? Shit, there's the phone. Gotta run. Nexus calling—

Maps to the Stars

I read in THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER about a project called TEOREMA, a remake of the film called TEOREMA {CIRCA ?} by an Italian: P. PASOLINI. I'm going to Blockbuster on my break to rent it {I called—they actually have it}. The article implied that CAT BASQUIAT was possibly one of the actors to be slated—I think he is amazingly beautiful and have been in such sympathy for him since the death of his mother, RIALTA LOPEZ. (CAT's stepfather is Mexican.) PEOPLE magazine said they were thisclose. With the tragedy that struck his girlfriend, OBERON MALL—well, it was a terrible year for this multi-talented {and extremely well paid!} manchild. {That was mean of me.} I am going to pursue the TEOREMA audition—I have always wanted to work with a foreign
director, particularly MERCHANT-IVORY Productions. {EMMA THOMPSON is an ideal, she was so wonderful in IMITATIONS OF DROWNING, a role of a lifetime—and now an AWARDWINNING WRITER, too! {{SENSE AND SENSIBILITY {{{CIRCA 1995}}} }}. I haven't included her in the PANTHEON because I am selecting domestic actresses only, to keep the list manageable.
NOTE TO EMMA
: Get Thee Back to Kenneth!!!} There should be no limits to our dreams.

A red-letter day: I have just been offered a position at the popular restaurant Sweets, which is partially owned by the powerful ICM agency! Jabba and I are going to the Monkey Bar to celebrate. We hope to run into Mr. JACK NICHOLSON, who, as owner, is a frequent booth sitter.

We went to visit her mom and I think that depressed her, as it would have anyone. Lavinia is grossly overweight and a “rager,” to boot; I'm surprised she hasn't had a heart attack {or two}. The house is unbearably humid because she is always cold so that the heat is on constantly. It smells of sweat and cake mix {and did I detect urine?}. When Lavinia went to the bathroom, Jabba led me back to a former maid's room where a tiny television was connected to a VCR. A cassette of one of her father's old shows was on the screen! It “is-was” called THE CHET STODDARD SHOW. Evidently they were bitterly divorced some years ago and this is what the poor woman does all day—namely, watches the soap opera of her life, as if suspended in animation. I find this so sad. Yet, at the same time, as an actress it is quite the character fodder. It is something that could only happen in Hollywood. We went to an NA meeting after and I asked Jabba about her dad. She usually sees him around the holidays and said if I didn't go back to Vancouver, maybe we could all have Turkey Day together. I told her I would really like that {which I would}. She said she'd take me to meet her grandfather next, an apparent recluse who lives by the HOLLYWOOD SIGN and once wrote for Mr. BOB HOPE. Another Hollywood story, no doubt. What a melancholy, magical town this town can be.

TEOREMA {CIRCA ?} is a VERY strange movie! It's about this GORGEOUS man {TERENCE STAMP, who I'm not that familiar with but do know had a marvelous comeback in PRISCILLA, QUEEN OF THE DESERT {{CIRCA 1994}} }. He seduces an ENTIRE FAMILY—the maid, the son and daughter, the mom, even the dad! That's the ENTIRE plot and it is VERY VERY sick! Then he goes away and the family, who have each grown dependent on him, sexually and otherwise, goes BONKERS. The young girl has to be hauled away in a straitjacket and the dad takes his clothes off in what looks like a Europe version of GRAND CENTRAL STATION! Even Jabba thought is was SO crazy! The mom picks up this guy on the street and sleeps with him in a motel then drops him back off—he's like a common street HUSTLER!—then right away picks up two more guys and they make love to her in a DITCH! I can't believe they're actually remaking this!!! I am trying, by hook or crook, to get hold of this latest screenplay version, maybe through one of the mailroom kids {ICM, of course} who come in for drinks—these kids are not to be sneezed at, look what happened to Mr. OVITZ and Mr. GEFFEN. According to VARIETY, TEOREMA will feature a WOMAN in the part originally limned by Mr. STAMP—a BRILLIANT frosh outing for ANY ingenue. Not sure which I'd be reading for: the visitor {originally played by Mr. TERENCE STAMP} or the daughter. I'm nervous because the lead role may be too demanding for my current skills, but why not shoot for the moon? Though they may demand a “name.” {Unfortunately, I'm afraid this role is tailor-made for LINDA FIORENTINO, the Comeback Kid! If I went up against Ms. LINDA and lost, I'd still feel proud—the best woman would have won. Now, there is someone who has been through the Hollywood School of Hard Knocks and it shows, in a most provocative way. {{I'm NOT being catty, Diary}}. 1985 was her year: from AFTER HOURS {{CIRCA 1985}} to VISION QUEST {{CIRCA 1985}} to GOTCHA! {{CIRCA 1985}}, she was a rocket poised to be launched. {{Did anyone see SHOUT {{{CIRCA 1991}}}?? I haven't. She is supposed to have co-starred with TRAVOLTA, no less—and look what happened to HIM!!! A lesson for us all}} But that rocket had to wait until 1993's NOIR blockbuster THE LAST SEDUCTION {{CIRCA 1994}}. If I could be given the opportunity for ONE such performance, I would rest my case as an actor
and gladly retire.} {KELLY LYNCH would be good to team with LA FIORENTINO—they would be SO HOT together, making THELMA AND LOUISE {{CIRCA 1991}} look like a DISNEY!!}

Hello, Columbus

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

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

Your Sharkee-ness…

Burning incense in your absence. Long, hot baths, letting the water flow inside. Smiling to myself as I soak—my cunny smiles and when I dry her off, she winks. She declares the day you appeared unannounced at my door to be hereby christened the Day of the Dolphin. (I call it Columbus Day. Oh! Hi! Oh!)

Let me set the scene—again: I'd just gotten a massage and was about to start a fresh crying jag. Thought the sound of your cab was Gina, the masseuse (trailer park material, that one), leaving. Heard the key in the door and my heart along with it: fump-
fump
fump-
bump
fump-
bump
: fell into your arms and you took me, raped me, made me whole again. Fucked me so long and so hard I cried and came and cried for two long days and nights and only now can catch my breath
I love you so fucking much, Vidra
. I am at your mercy, beaucoup—wham bam, merci ‘dam. I will
never
do anything to make you question my love again; I won't be flip about that—about anything else, not that. I love you unconditionally, there is
nothing
you can do to change that, I will be waiting in supplication, until I die. The bruises on my tits look like giant blue flowers, garlands for my vows. I wear the plug you gave me to meetings and lunches—and at home, thanking the messenger when he drops scripts at my door, thanking the world as I walk around with a dumbass smile, a Manchurian candida, shark fin broken off inside. I empty myself in the toilet only when you say…you have me in line, on-line and every which way: you control the horizontal, you control the vertical. Do not attempt to adjust your RoboCunt/zombie anus, your biggest chocolate flan. I am Sharkee's machine—

Sight Unseen

Precious Little Beastie Boy…

Holly Hunter and Hassan DeVore visited today and the two would not let you go; I think some of those squeeze marks will be permanent. (They were in the first play I cast, eight years ago.) Holly and I were in tears—took about a thousand pictures. You should see how you look in Hassan's arms: like the whitest of mushrooms growing on his chest. You are the Fat Sacred Mushroom from the Planet Zelda. Hassan brought a
Blue Matrix
mobile and pinned it to the playroom ceiling. He knew I'd hate it but it did provoke ten minutes of whooping-cough-like hysteria. Holly brought you the softest, fuzziest cub I ever saw from FAO Schwarz (we'll make the pilgrimage soon, I swear I swear). We tried to name it and Holly said if you were a Rod, we could call it Rod Steiger (don't feel bad, I didn't get it either)—as in Rod's Tiger. Ho ho ho. She's funny that way, your g-thing. Instead, we named her Lily.