For those of us who live in this part of Hollywood the Security around the highly anticipated Oscar Award Ceremony can be a big pain in the ass, at least for the one day of the ceremony.
I live exactly two minutes walk from the Kodak Theatre in the very heart of Hollywood. Franklin Avenue, where I live, has been completely closed and all the cars that were inadvertently left after the 6am deadline have been towed. More money for the city of Los Angeles.
Swarms of security guards patrol the streets, armed police with vicious dogs hang out in ominous gaggles, guards check under cars with mirrors on sticks, concrete road blocks hamper normal journeys in and out of our neighborhood and for one day only we get to feel what they must feel in Baghdad every day.
I had a huge dream last night. Kay S, Amanda E, three other unknown women and I were descending a steep mountainside. Lil dog had transformed into a waist high dog/goat, his soft ears all leathery like a goat, his soft coat transformed into wiry fur. I knew that we were facing something treacherous at the bottom of the mountain and as with all of my bad dreams the light was eerie like during an eclipse. I woke up exhausted.
When I last saw my therapist she asked if I thought I might be depressed. I could tell immediately that I might get all sorts of expensive medical attention if I said yes. I gleefully imagined a warm hospital bed somewhere. My favorite.
I remembered the terrible car accident that my family were involved in when I was a small boy, remembering the moment that I was thrown off of my mother’s lap, out of the warm car and through the front passenger window and into the cold rain and the wet grass. I remember my aunts bleeding legs, I remember the ambulance, the hospital where I would stay for a very long time as my head repaired. I still have a huge scar that when I have very short hair everyone comments on.
When I write the word family I wonder whom I could possibly mean? Does that word apply to me?
I am sitting outside the supermarket Fresh and Easy waiting for the store to open. It is 8am, an endless stream of determined Academy Award production crew pass by me, their scripts in their back pockets. They are all dressed in black so they can vanish amongst the stars. They are the night.
I feel like I have been fast asleep. I wonder if it is worth waking up?