Need I remind you of the drill, babies? I post pictures of famous people and then I talk about myself. Shall I tell you why I still identify deeply, so deeply, with this photo by Mark Seliger for Rolling Stone of that particular trio from the X-Files?
I thought you’d never ask.
To a certain extent in Hollywood, you’re always in bed with someone. I can even make a bolder, broader generalization. I can think of no creative process where you go it alone. None. So, in that sense all of us are in bed with each other all the time. If this shocks you, you shouldn’t be reading my blog.
Let’s get personal.
Once upon a time (you can imagine a shimmering dissolve here if you like) just after college I moved into a house in the Hollywood Hills with two other young people, both men. (Keep your minds out of the gutter, please.) One of them, well, reader I married him. Yes, he became the mighty Mister. The other became and remains my best friend.
My best friend lives but a few blocks away now, has won more than one Academy Award (you BET I’m proud of him), and last but by no means least (how dare you imply I like talking about myself, the very IDEA) has designed my book jacket. Do we talk (did we talk) CONSTANTLY about what we experience/experienced on movie sets? Of course. Did some of that end up in my book? Yeppers. In one incarnation or another.
Heavens! I might just crawl back into bed with my… cold.
Behave yourselves, V.