Tuesday, May 10, 2011

the little boy who got to cry fire

to be a movie-star is not enough, you have to head up a rock band and tour the country. Kevin Bacon passed through town with his brother last weekend and played the el rey theater. the forty dollar admission too much. still, i thought about waylaying him in the alley and saying, "hey, kevin, i'm the fire lookout you visited 23 years ago."

yes, that my most intense experience of hollywood. the crew repainted my lookout, covered the buildings next door so they'd looked older. everybody ate a hot lunch a la fellini, gazing down upon crystal lake, while they bitched about the cheap producer only spending 80,000 dollars a day! i remember how kevin during a conversation got the call for his one minute of work. suddenly, his focus shifted, narrowed, totally on the scene to come.

of course, i had to write him a play. unfortunately, it about a gay social worker with his own band. this obviously not the flavor he wanted to project at that stage in his career (before fame and going to the moon). i can understand his boredom with movie-making. the director the sole person on the set working all the time. otherwise it's like war, wait, wait, wait, BANG!

and as a rock star you don't have to share the limelight with anyone. this for performers who didn't get listened to as kids. and i too wrote songs for awhile, took voice lessons, sang once in a coffee-house. in the end it's nerve-wracking. yesterday, passing roadies unloading tons of equipment at the senator theater, i thought, 'all this road time. what a bore.'

instead, i meditate on a mountain, and every once in awhile i leap to my feet and call on the radio with false calmness, 'SMOKE REPORT.' 500 people go into motion, trucks, airplanes, helicopters. all hell breaks loose. the adrenalin flows. ah, my fix for the day is over. i go back to daydreaming.

rose, roses, and more roses: http://www.pbase.com/wwp/ordeal