Luci and I have our feet planted firmly on the ground. On the Sunset Strip in West Hollywood.
There was a movie named after it – Sunset Boulevard (1950), starring Gloria Swanson and William Holden. Humphrey Bogart had the shit beat out of him on the sidewalk outside a club here, by his drunken ex-wife. At the Chateau Marmont, which we were in last night, John Bleushi overdosed and died. And when I was sixteen I came here and was thrown in jail for a week after breaking curfew, which was set after hippies and cops tangled in the streets. Buffalo Springfield recorded a song about the Sunset riots called “For What It’s Worth.”
The Strip, which runs for several miles from Hollywood into Beverly Hills, oozes music and movie star history. From Marilyn Monroe to Sinatra, to the Doors, Janis Joplin, and all the young actors and musicans who frequent it today, bar-hopping and trading husbands and wives and all the other mayhem they find themselves in, it’s simply a happening place.
We’re staying at the Sunset Plaza Best Western, next door to The House of Blues, across the street from The Comedy Store, and absolutely in the heart of all the action. I mention where we’re staying in case Steven Spielberg or Martin Scorsese feel they want to get ahold of me about an action flick, or maybe a romantic comedy, with some nudity, starring me and Charlize Theron.
Last night I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and when I turned around, there was a man right in front of me, which I bumped into as my heart stopped. He was attacking me, until I realized it was my reflection in a full-length mirror.
At The House of Blues last night, one of the emplyees showed us around and told us, after I’d asked, where the maniac and genius record producer Phil Spector met one of the servers, took her home, blew her brains out, and is now serving a life sentence at some maximum penitentiary in northern California. I have a bit of a morbid fascination with this sort of thing. A few years ago we went to the neighbourhood where Charles Manson’s followers parked their car, jumped the fence, and wiped out Sharon Tate and her friends at Tate’s house, which is just above the Strip.
Some people love to go a cabin on a lake and fish and swat mosquitos. My idea of a good time is being here. And to everyone who congratulated me on the five-year mark, I say a heartfelt cheers!!!!!
