So, finally needing a little break from the solitary confinment psychosis of rewrite fever that sets in here in Hollywood, I took up my friend Inger’s invitation to the Art Opening.
I was standing out front of the gallery smoking and talking with my good friend Billy, the owner, when these two overdressed, over-thirty broads who looked like expired strippers attempting to relive their long lost teenage years — desperate divorcees out on the prowl most likely — walked up to Billy and rudely interrupted our talk, brashly positioning themselves right between us with their chubby backs right in my face like a defensive line of football players.
“Billy! It’s old home week!” one of them squealed obnoxiously, working that L.A. Minny Mouse squeek-box for all it’s worth. Poor Billy gets a lot of that. As a gallery owner in a town where everybody fancies them self an artiste, Billy has juice.
“Looks more like old HO week,” I mumbled to myself as I wandered off to the parking lot for a piss.
Another Saturday night in La La Land. Makes you wanna never leave the fucking house. Call me disgruntled.
But It’s definitely a good place to be an artist. Fuck all else to do here…
Copyright Jonathan Shaw 2009.
awww c’mon johnny…..shitbags like that fuel people like us to write! this is the best town in the world for it!
Old Ho week is my favorite week!