I’m Losing You (20 page)

Made love with Donny last night…O Diary, I don't know whether it was a mistake—SIGH. I didn't want him to think sleeping together was the “prize” for getting me the audition—that would be SOOOO Hollywood. He told me how JACK NICHOLSON once told him the difference between him {JACK} and WARREN BEATTY was that JACK would fuck warm mud and WARREN would fuck cold. I wasn't sure why this bit of wisdom
was relayed at that moment in time. I wanted him to stay the night but he couldn't because he had to be on a plane for PARIS in the morning. I wish he would have asked me to go with him, as HARRISON FORD did SABRINA {CIRCA 1995}.

Saw CAMERON DIAZ today, on the Promenade.

***
The THIEF of ENERGY

Congratulated Katherine on her Independent Spirit Award. While setting up, I asked if she might eventually, at her own discretion and convenience, peruse some pages of ***
The THIEF of ENERGY
(she, slightly loaded, as usual). KG was sweet about it. I think the fact I softened her by being obeisant, and that I am a so obvious ‘nothing'—and that she is gay and I am to her a possibly gay woman or at least interested in the permutations—made it easier to be cordial. I didn't want her to feel tied, so effortlessly changed the subject and saw her sparkler-like energy gratefully expand and release. I caught it and grew stronger. I will
not
give her pages that discuss taboo things: stealing from clients, ect. Only violent/quasi-poetic passages pertaining to Childhood Lost: i.e., the drowning of Wanda and my being held prisoner by the hardly recognizable man who once called himself our Father. Too, I would like her to read passages pertaining to my career as an autodidact.) When I drew close to her pubis, Katherine said the lights were bright and I lowered. MTV was on, without sound, Mariah Carey. I concentrated on ass muscles and she started to subtly gyrate against the table. I kept molding the muscles and she expelled air (from her mouth!) and moaned, continuing the circular pelvic movement. I took liberties to spread the cheeks apart to reveal the tiny craterstink of asshole—obvious, I think, to her, what I was doing—then wider, as if to display medically to George Clooney but I think she would have preferred Julianna Margulies)—she moaned more. Though I never touched genitalia or asshole, Katherine climaxed; I was careful to absorb the cushion of energy like a shockwave through the air. When I was through, we fooled around approx. fifteen-twenty minutes, kissing and kneading and her ejaculating into my mouth, I milking her energy, and soon she was like a snake that had no more
venom to give. She gave me much and I know I will see her again she is in my webb.

You'll Never Eat Me During Lunch
…

Teorema
is dying. There, I said it. Plus five other Gisela Group projects that appear to be moribund as a result of Mr. Chief Partner's untoward, karmically ominous demise. Penumbra may step in—so says the sage and dyspeptic Saul—and Nexus too. I'm not really holding my breath. It's starting to feel like a circle jerk (don't get excited, E). Where's Dawn Steel when you really need her? Probably at the Post Ranch Inn, thinking up bad book titles. Me, I'm gonna suck on Zoloft and go
Agape
till the storm passes::::::::::Saw Donny Ribkin (Angel of Death) at Bar Marmont and he said he ran into the ex, who it seems is doing a hush-hush rewrite on the Jodie picture. It gets better: evidently, Jodie's having second creative thoughts about her director, and Katherine has introduced her to…yup,
Pargita Snow
. If this is true, I think it's rather weird Katherine didn't tell me. I know people have to eat but there's such a thing as candor. I mean, does everyone out there know something I don't? As far as Katherine—as far as
any
of them know—we could be shooting
Teorema
in four months! What right does she have pulling Pargita into a seductive fucking situation that could potentially jam her for a year and a fucking half? Those
dykes
. Everyone talks about how fucked up
men
are but women'll slit your throat every time. I'll fix 'em::::::::::Forgot to mention I'm pregnant. You
heard
me, E.
Yeeeeee-Haaaahhhh
!

***
The THIEF of ENERGY

Late for rub with Katherine Grosseck. (Amusingly titillating that I was her simulacrum in the office of Dr Calliope Starfucks, she not even
aware
until the last moment. A reportage was not forthcoming in the papers, not even the
Beverly Hills Courier
. I am certain, though, police were contacted. I have zippo to fear—I touched nothing to leave a print, save magazines and paperweight, which were taken along.) I rang Katherine's door but she did not answer. It
was a tad open; I entered the cool darkness. Chrissie Hynde on low somewhere. My pulse sped automatically, remembering how it felt to break and enter: electric dizzy beautiful feeling you can do no wrong, you are energetically impervious to all and do not waver. I thought of taking things and knew I would not. Tho I must say it is continuously fascinating to note my
primal desire
upon entering rooms emptied of people…to
rob
! Then I heard them, and walked back and saw: Katherine and (female) friend on floor of room where she takes her rub, naked and wildly going at it—
so much energy
I became still and closed my eyes to bank on it like a hawk on currents/eddies of furnace-like wind, she saw me and whispered, ‘We'll be through in a minute,' unexpected and clinically disarming. Her friend laughed, I thought it a laugh then it became more gurgle then giggle, a smear on the other's face the color of eggplant, I knew it was blood and sensed they did not want my (overt) involvement, only (covert) witness which I am sure was planned, at least by K. Grosseck. I was fine with that. My rub then proceeded approx. twenty-five minutes later (non-sexual, I may add, KG being spent, with the other busying herself in the kitchen quasi-domestically, then disappearing altogether). I was able to gather much energy from the room and post-orgasmic body(s).

Hello, Columbus

WESTERN UNION FSI

DALLAS TX
75238

TDDA SANTA MONICA CA
52 05-06 0428
P EST

9515709990473101-1

JODIE REWRITE KILLING ME. REQUEST PERMISSION TO COME ON DECK. SQUAWK SQUAWK, POLLY WANTS A CRACK PIPE. POLLY WANTS TO PICK UP PHONE, HEAR VOICE OF VEEDRA. PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE, WITH STOCKER ON TOP? IT'S JUST THAT I WRITE ALL DAY AT THE STUDIO AND WANT TO HEAR YOUR VOICE TO BE ABLE TO PICK UP THE PHONE. REQUEST ONE-TIME WAIVER. COME OUT, COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU ARE. EVER THINE, CHARLENE THE TUNA-FORK
(
CATCH OF THE DAY
)

MGMCOMP 23:35 EST

Maps to the Stars

Two weeks of utter Hell but I know the LADIES OF THE LIST had their share of setbacks between triumphs.

I was fired from Sweets and am tempted to file suit. I was just beginning to feel comfortable there—not cocky—and that was my mistake. ALWAYS the mistake of the ingenue, but I'm not by nature a guarded person. Donny cannot be of help; we've been playing phone tag and now he is in South Africa with famous BISHOP TUTU. Not that he would have lifted a finger. He's been remote since we “did” it and I know now that I erred. Live {love} and learn. {SIGH.} I have {innocently} dated some Sweets regulars and while that may have been a misjudgment, it certainly wasn't a terrible or unusual one {because NOTHING HAPPENED and anyway, this was NOT the reason of my “dismissal”}. I went out with HARRY DEAN TWICE {he invited me to one of his shows at the VIPER; he has a nice voice and the effect, particularly for someone of his age, is quite impressive. DAVID CROSBY came in the middle of the show, looking much like he did before the transplant—fat and Cheshire-smily. {{His wife and baby were there and the baby had tiny earplugs.}} } I also dated {ONE TIME} a guy who works for MADONNA'S production company {so he said} and {ONE TIME ONLY and NEVER AGAIN} a television producer/writer who called out of the blue to say we'd met at the Children with AIDS event on the Fox lot. {I'm sure Rodrigo gave him my number. More to come}. According to this VERY RUDE gentleman {how was I to know?}, I am the spitting image of DOROTHY STRAT-TEN, the STAR 80 {CIRCA 1983} girl. Not the first time I've heard that and it's always very flattering. If only I could find my PETER BOGDANOVICH. {SIGH.}

Jeremy Stein—that is the ONLY and LAST time, Diary, I will EVER write his name—took me to a party at CARRIE FISHER'S. {He is the one who said we met at the Fox lot event but I did not remember. Now, I know why.} I could not BELIEVE who was there. I kept running to the bathroom to write down names so I wouldn't forget {they must have thought I was doing drugs, just like my “date”!}: RICHARD DREYFUSS, CANDICE BERGEN, BETTE MIDLER, STEVEN SPIELBERG, ROSEANNE, NICOLE KIDMAN {TO DIE FOR {{CIRCA 1995}} }. She was
SANS Tom because of his MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE {CIRCA 1996} publicity chores. {Did you know, dearest Diary, that this lucky twosome will be soon be working with MR. STANLEY KUBRICK in what VARIETY calls a “tale of obsessive love and sexual jealousy”? Can't wait!!!} Nicole is a very gorgeous, funny lady and TALL TALL TALL—I think TOM is the one she must mean when she says “THROW ANOTHER SHRIMP ON THE BARBIE!!!” Interesting to note MIMI ROGERS is no slouch in the height department either. {I have seen pictures of TOM's mother—she and MIMI look like twins!! how VERY Freud-like.} HARRISON FORD and TOM HANKS were there and BARBRA STREISAND {!!!}, SEAN CONNERY, JENNIFER ANISTON, SALLY FIELD, MERYL STREEP and WARREN {his name is MUD in my book!!} with ANNETTE {I was thinking of adding her to the PANTHEON but her power, sadly, has been usurped by marriage. Gosh and golly though, is she classy—the epitome of
Town and Country
, of whose cover she recently graced}, MIKE NICHOLS, SEAN PENN and BOB DYLAN—all in one house at the same time, and THOSE were the ones I RECOGNIZED!!

The PERSON WHOSE NAME I WILL NOT AGAIN MENTION was kissing me in front of everyone and pawing my chest and I kind of pushed him because it was so embarrassing and CARRIE {a brilliant elf, in ARMANI black} made a joke about testosterone levels at his expense, I don't remember exactly what, but it was a rebuke, as should have been under the circumstances. The TO-BE NAMELESS PERSON laughed, as did the others, and from then on ignored me. Around half an hour later he grabbed my arm while I cordially chatted with the talented and underused RITA WILSON (NEE HANKS), forced me to a corner and said, “you fucking {C-WORD}”—so hideous. SALLY FIELD and RITA saw all, and MIRA SORVINO and KATE CAPSHAW too. I was SO SICK I went to the bathroom and cried but could only retch. I could see through the window to the front of the house—the valets were bringing THE NAMELESS PERSON's car. He left!!! His action greeted with a mixture of shame and relief. I walked down the hill crying and there was ED BEGLEY JR. and ROBERT DOWNEY JR. and newlywed DON HENLEY of EAGLES fame. I sensed ROBERT wanted to say something kind {I waited on him once at Sweets; I don't think he remembered} but was such a mess I just
kept walking, afraid as I drew nearer the gate wouldn't open and I'd be stuck there, ogled at as the party-crashing whore of all time. {At this point, I was crashing in reverse.} Luck would have it that a car came in off the street and it was ALBERT BROOKS {who I LOVE—he caught me in his headlamps and looked at me funny} and I kept walking, trying not to burst into tears. I went down Coldwater all the way to the “pink palace,” and continued down RODEO DRIVE until I reached the Japanese-owned Regency Beverly Wilshire {site of PRETTY WOMAN {{CIRCA 1990}} }. I saw limos up the street—PLANET HOLLYWOOD. I went to see Jabba but they said she wasn't working there anymore. I took a cab home and had the best bubble bath then cried myself to sleep.