I just don’t what else I can do. Today Luci and I walked for hours through the streets of Beverly Hills, stopping for beer on Rodeo Drive before carrying on, and not once, NOT EVEN ONCE, did a producer or director stop and ask me if I wanted to be in a romantic movie involving some nudity with Charlize Theron.
Yesterday was a breakthrough in a big way. Luci grew up quite poor in Azerbaiijan and Russia, and has always felt there are certain levels of society in which one either fits in or doesn’t. She’s never felt she belongs in some of these high-end restaurants and such, but yesterday I finally got her to come with me into the garden patio at the Chateau Marmont on Sunset, where the filthy rich and often famous hang out.
I’m proud to say that she felt completely comfortable, we were treated the same as any other there, and on top of everything, she was the most beautiful woman in the place. Now she doesn’t mind at all about my new idea of going tomorrow to the famous Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and I expect she’ll be the most beautiful in there too.
Who cares if we barely have a pot to piss in.
Last night we went to The Roxy and saw five local LA bands, which was great fun. The girl at the ticket booth looked at how old we are and warned us they’ll be playing rock and roll on this night. I think she thought we might be expecting Lawrence Welk or something. We also asked if there was a place to sit inside, as many of these clubs are mostly for standing, and they placed us in where band members’ parents had reserved seats. They just felt sorry for us, I suppose, because Lawrence wouldn’t be playing on this night. But I knew he wouldn’t. He’s been dead for twenty years.