LIKE THIS

I know I said I wouldn't write about her anymore, but...

I saw her on Sunday, for the first time since our little blow-out. Peter and I drove over to her apartment, to show her the progress we've made on the animation, to possibly install a copy of Photoshop on her computer so she could begin retouching the documents we've completed thus far.

She opened the door. She looked good, healthy, but not happy. I made eye contact with her for a short minute, and for the rest of my visit I kept my eyes away.

I played it cool as always, but she was playing it ultra-cool. She laid down on her bed as we showed her the new footage, the additional features on the DVD, the things we needed to explain to her before she got to working on our project.

I spied a glance at her computer desk, and saw a copy of the screenplay of the TV pilot she is working on-- so this is what she has been writing.

At one point, I looked down at her as she was lying on the bed, and I couldn't look any further: she was beautiful, sad-faced, restrained. I wondered how I appeared to her-- gaunt-faced, unshaven, disheveled perhaps, as I always appear.

Peter couldn't install the program because Eve's computer is a POS-- a Piece Of Shit. Barely any RAM on it. I told her I would bring the other computer by, the one that I had demanded back almost two months ago. She told me to just bring the hard drive, she would rather use her own mouse and keyboard.

We left. We arrived back at my place, and there were messages from her on my phone. Turns out that Peter accidentally took her copy of Final Draft with him after we tried unsuccessfully to install Photoshop. She was working on a script, and was on a roll when we barged in and took things over for twenty minutes.

I called her back and told her I would return the program CD along with the computer. She said to me that she was sorry if she sounded "snippy" on the phone and in her messages. I told her it was okay, because it was our bad to begin with, and I was going to go over there anyway to drop off the hard drive...

Peter left, and I drove back over to Eve's. Along the way, I thought about how symptomatic this little incident was of our relationship: no matter how much good I intend, I only seem to cause chaos in a life that is already ridden with unpredictability and disorder.

Every time I want to do her a favor, it ends up backfiring somehow. It has taken me 13 years to finally realize my complicity to the crimes committed against her by this world.

Maybe we were never meant to be, as I always thought in my mind. Maybe our fate together is a cursed fate, one that takes its toll upon the both of us. Neither of us have the guts to admit it to ourselves, but despite our attraction and our chemistry, I think we are bad for each other.

I know, it was a simple mistake, and it was Peter's fault to boot. But, Peter wouldn't have gone over there by himself-- I was along for the ride, and I think I play a big role in the stress she has been dealing with, even though I am keeping a low profile and trying not to call her all the time.

I can imagine her initial reaction to not being able to find the Final Draft CD-- she must've been frustrated, as we all get, whether it's misplaced car keys or something we just had in our possession a moment ago. Then, she probably realized that we had it, and I bet you that she sighed and gripped her temples with her hands, and called me three times, angry that I (once again) invaded her life with my personal agendas, making everything else stop so that my ego could be sated, hindering her screenwriting progress simply because I want her to help me work on this cartoon.

And when I returned her call and apologized, she felt the need to apologize back, for getting upset with me, for coming off as "snippy", and of course I understand, I didn't fault her for being upset, I am the same way, I would feel the same things if I were in her place...

I know she still cares, but that's what makes it so much harder. I think that's why I sometimes wish my exes hated me-- I wouldn't pay anything any mind if that were the case. But I know she still cares, because she is still holding onto me in her life, albeit in a subdued form.

She needs to control the pace at which the both of us walk together, and I'm fine with that. But now I'm not so sure if I can be a good influence. I feel like I am an Accidental Destroyer, making a mess of her plans without a thought as to what she is involved in, without a care as to her own passions.

I showed up at her door with the computer and her program. This time, with the both of us alone with each other, I made no eye contact at all. I asked her where she wanted the computer, placed it on the floor, handed her the CD, said, "Sorry," and walked out the door, saying "Goodbye" as I closed the screen door behind me.

What a difference from three months ago, when she and I were inseparable, practically living with each other, making up for a decade of lost time, getting lost in a flurry of fleeting moments, holding each other tightly and drunkenly, hazy and stoned, in denial of the beastly world that raged outside of our windows...

How did it get like this?


*/*


I also saw Sharky again, for the first time this year. I saw him where I always manage to see him nowadays-- at Dr. Dos' lair in North Hollywood.

I stopped by to pay Dos some money that I borrowed from him a while back, and sure as the driven snow is white, there was Sharky, surprised to see me, trying to hold back his emotions. I don't know what to make of Sharky these days-- we play Phone Tag and leave each other messages on voice mails, sometimes sending e-mails here and there. But I don't think he wants to speak to me, because the last time we talked I told him about how Eve and I were talking again, sorting things out.

This probably made him feel like he would run into her again if he was hanging with me a lot. Therefore, he has pretty much dropped off the radar. But I see him every now and then, and I can tell that he is bitter about some things.

It's all so complicated. No matter how much I try to convince him that it wasn't the actual deed so much as the lying that accompanied it, I think he thinks that I'm going to lord it over him, gloat and dangle it above him like something he should be ashamed of, like a cardinal sin.

Actually, I really don't care-- it was Sharky who always cared about things like dating a friend's ex. I distinctly remember when I first met him, and how we all debated the finer points of dating or hooking up with someone's ex. His position was that it was not only wrong but unforgivable; my position was that, as long as it didn't happen when the couple was together, it was all game.

I remember making a mental note to myself, to never give Sharky the impression that I was after any of his girlfriends. Some of them have flirted openly with me over the years, and a few of them also came to me in the hopes that I could get Sharky to talk to them again. But Sharky only got paranoid and thought that I was conspiring to date them.

And then, to find out that he went after my ex, and lied about it when I confronted him over it...

I shake my head and think about all the positions my friends have taken on certain issues. I wonder just how full of shit they really are. I wonder if they were all just fronting, just putting me on, or just acting like they didn't give a fuck. I wonder if they see the inconsistencies, and if they do, I wonder how they justify it, how they live with it.

I don't need any payback against Sharky, because if you ask me, he has already been paid back. When he broke up with Nona and she ended up with Paulie, that was enough to teach him a lesson, I think. Paulie and Sharky were only marginal friends, but the fact that Paulie "stole" Nona from Sharky must've stuck in his craw all these years.

I didn't encourage this affair between Nona and Paulie, but over time I've seen their relationship bloom in positive ways. And that's why I've never had an issue with people dating their friends' exes-- because sometimes it's a good connection.

Hell, that's how my parents hooked up. My dad was dating a woman named Terry, my mom's best friend. One day, my mom was over at Terry's, and my dad showed up. There was electricity in the air. Soon, my dad had my mom knocked up, and they wed shortly before he was sent by the Army to Korea.

Their marriage almost lasted two decades before they split up.

Paulie and Nona never lied about their fling, but then again they never announced it either. They let everyone else make up their minds. Sharky was no longer friends with Paulie, and that's his loss.

Hanging with Sharky at Dos', I got real depressed. I thought the same thing that I felt with Eve earlier in the day:

How did it get like this?

I left Dos' place and drove out to rehearse with the one of the bands I'm in.


*/*


Saturday night, before the events I have just written about, I went out to La Poubelle to celebrate my friend Mauzner's birthday. Mauzner hangs with a young Hollywood crowd, and most of them are insufferable asses.

But Mauzner is still humble, still funny, still friendly with his old buddies. Bro Man and I showed up with The Gypsy, who hates Hollywood and only consented to show up if we came along.

There was some comedy, in the form of Marvin, another friend of Mauzner's from the high school days. Marvin is over six feet tall, African-American, and gay all the way. Very nice guy, but flaming gay-- you'd have to be blind and deaf to not know it once you talked to him.

Bro Man, Marvin and I were smoking cigarettes outside when suddenly a blue-eyed woman asked us for a smoke. Marvin obliged, and the woman complimented him on his shirt. Then, she sniffed his collar and complimented him on his scent.

I started laughing to myself. If she only knew...

She found out soon enough, and Marvin, embarrassed, excused himself. Then, she set her sights on Bro Man. Oh, I get it, I thought to myself, she likes brothers...

She mentioned she was there with her boyfriend, so I left Bro Man and his prey alone. I figured, boyfriend or no boyfriend, this was Bro Man's catch-- a cockblocker I am not.

I hung out with Mauzner for a spell. Out of everyone there, he was the only person who didn't rub me the wrong way. He hasn't changed much, and he stopped partying hard a few years back, because he wanted to get serious about his craft. It has been paying off, to keep his discipline in focus.

Bro Man didn't get that girl's number, but it was just as well. Still, his ego was stoked, and maybe one of these days he'll get his pimp game down and take a honey home on his own.

When Gypsy and Bro Man and I decided to leave, Drake Nimbus tagged along. Drake was unable to drive, due to much alcohol consumption.

Drake is also a friend from the old days, but he's never been a friend of mine. I just don't trust the guy. Never have, never will. He works as an editor for a big cable network, and he was trying to help Paulie and Peter pitch the cartoon. But his true colors surfaced, and now Paulie and Peter are through with him.

I didn't mind his involvement until he started asking for inane edits in the cartoon. I am all for rewriting, but only if the new scenes make sense. Drake's edits made no fucking sense at all, and I was vocal about it.

A little bit of background on Drake Nimbus: I always heard bad stories about him, and not from his enemies-- his own friends were the sources of these tales. Cruelty to animals, misogyny, psychotic episodes... Drake Nimbus is, to many people, The Devil Himself.

He has these crystal-blue eyes and arched eyebrows that make him seem menacing, and when coupled with his compulsive rudeness and volatility, he emits "bad vibes" from the moment you talk to him. I keep thinking of Ray Liotta's character in Something Wild, the sociopathic ex-boyfriend of Melanie Griffith. He's good-looking, charming, and completely calculating.

He and I have never come to any blows, mostly because we aren't done sizing each other up. He can never get a read on me, because I am Mr. Ice, and I won't get near him because I know what a snake he is underneath. The only thing that Drake has ever done that benefited me in any way was when he introduced me to Paulie, all those years ago.

Walking back to Gypsy's truck, Drake drunkenly said out loud, "Man, Paulie shoulda been here tonight. Lots of people here who could finance the cartoon..."

I wondered to myself, Then why didn't you introduce me to any of these people, if you're so concerned? I talked to plenty of people at the party, but they all seemed too phony to hit with a pitch.

I said, "You know Paulie-- he ain't into socializing."

Drake said, "Well, he's gonna have to get over that if he wants to sell the idea. My hands are tied, man, I'm doin' all I can do."

I recognized this tactic-- Divide & Conquer. Drake was upset that Peter and Paulie were excluding him from the action. He figured he could appeal to me and get me to side with him against them. This tells me that the idea is hot, and we need to act fast in order to start promoting it.

Drake went on and on, trying to make me feel like time was of the essence... which it is, in a way, but then again we're not trying to get rich quick, which is what Drake wants the most.

The dude drives a brand new PT Cruiser, owns a house, and works on shows with the guys from Jackass, but he gets no respect because he has no vision. Back in the day, Paulie and I helped Drake with some of his short movies, and they were all deadly dull yet competent-- the production values were sound but there was no substance to his work. The most lively bits were the music that Paulie and I scored for his short features.

Funny that a guy who has it all "going on" for him is afraid of not getting in on this from the bottom up. He ended up spending the rest of the evening telling Bro Man that, since he is "a happy Black man who is White-Friendly", he should start going on auditions.

"I can make money off you, Bro," Drake said, teetering in the night as I got into my car, ready to take Bro Man home. "You've got talent."

As we drove off, Bro Man and I laughed. We knew Drake was only thinking about himself-- he had no concern for Bro Man's career, except if it would benefit him somehow. And he didn't even realize how insulting he was being to Bro Man, by calling him the "happy Black man"... I mean, I see Drake's point, but he could phrase it in a way that doesn't make Bro Man feel like he needs to be a complete sell-out in order to make a name for himself.

Still, Bro Man and Drake go way back, so I didn't get in the middle of that one. I drove Bro Man home and made my way back to Burbank, wondering how it all got to this point in time, how some of these friendships have morphed and how some of them have remained static...

This is an odd time in the collective lives of everyone I know. Each of us is going through some sort of reckoning. It is more profound in others, but I think all of us are on the same wavelength-- we are concerned for not only ourselves but for the way of life we are all accustomed to living. The nightly news gives us no comfort, the word on the street give us no clue, the media culture and what it presents give us no clarity...

Instead of asking how it all got like this, I am now going to shift the weight of the question onto another foot and ask, "How do we make it better?"

How indeed...