ESSAYS
Romance, Bromance, and Déjà VuLOS ANGELES 12 July 2009 |
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My best friend in my early L.A. days was a German guy I’ll call Christoph. I lived on the porch of a house in Silver Lake, which I shared with a gay musician, a film student from Austria, yet another film student from France, and the birdlike former frontwoman of the noted band A Certain Ratio; and Christoph was a constant guest who’d often stop by at night and drink with me till dawn. Like me, he’d lived in New York, where he worked as freelance photographer, and when I met him, through my Austrian housemate, he was launching his cinematography career. He later progressed to shooting blockbusters, and when he returned from far-flung locations, he was always full of gossip. I heard much that I won’t repeat, though I’ll share this much: If Christoph is to be believed—and, whatever his faults, I can vouch for his credibility—Julia Roberts is a major bitch.
At the beginning, we were as close as brothers. Some even said we looked alike, which, though it wasn’t true, pleased me considerably, since Christoph was adored by women. But that soon led to a problem. He became involved with the French film student, whom I liked also, and when the news broke, I was estranged from Christoph for months.
Then he became involved with another French girl, who was related to the first. I was crazy about that girl. I’d marked her for myself. But one night a mutual friend showed up after seeing her with Christoph, and I threw a fit and alerted her cousin—Christoph’s ex—who more or less had her deported. Christoph flew to Europe, where they married, and I didn’t speak to either of them for over two years.
During that time I struggled to finish a novel, later abandoned, and spent a few weeks in Livingston, Montana for research purposes. I was a fixture at a bar famously patronized by Sam Peckinpah, and one night I shot pool with a guy who reminded me of Christoph. He had a similar smile and the charm it suggested, though he seemed genuinely warm, unlike Christoph, whose smile belied a mosquito-sized heart. I mention the guy in Livingston because he surely influenced the dream of Christoph I had that night. In the dream Christoph was friendly and contrite, and I woke in a state of forgiveness. Interestingly, since breaking contact with him, I’d never run into Christoph, despite our social overlap, but almost as soon as I got back to L.A., I met him at a party and we patched things up. He’d divorced the French girl for visa reasons, though she still regarded herself as his wife, and I saw them routinely with growing frustration.
One night, when Christoph was out of town, I had drinks with his wife at a dive not far from her house. Every guy who laid eyes on this girl was instantly smitten, and after she left, I was asked about her. As I spoke, recounting our history, I drunkenly teared up; and I drove straight to her house and fell to my knees when she opened the door and, clutching her with my head pressed against her belly, told her I loved her. I said it again, shaking her, as if that would help to drive the words deeper.
“I love you,” I said.
I could feel her gasp, and, thinking I’d scared her, I stood and apologized.
“Don’t be sorry,” she said.
She told me she loved me too. She acknowledged a strange feeling that we destined to end up together, which of course was my feeling exactly. It was all very dramatic. She said she was going to faint, and I guided her to a nearby divan, where I sat opposite. We stared at each other in shock. What now? Was she going to leave Christoph?
She wasn’t, she announced the next day, after spending the night in reflection. She loved me, she reconfirmed, but she was committed to Christoph, or she was for the time being, since she’d caused such a scandal in her family by eloping with him. I told her I’d wait, and we later fooled around, and I wrote her love letters—beautiful in memory—that she never answered. To my horror, she embarked on an affair with someone else—an actor who’s apparently now on Lost—and I cut her out of my life. Yet, astonishingly, I continued to see Christoph, who was aware that I had feelings for her, though, not realizing how far I’d taken them, he dismissed me as a serious rival. The actor, on the other hand, troubled him greatly, as he also obviously troubled me, and Christoph and I would meet and commiserate when his wife went missing.
“She’s probably fucking him right now,” one of us would say.
“She probably is. That whore.”
“I hate her, except I also love her.”
“I know just what you mean.”
She and Christoph went their separate ways, and she instantly took up with another guy, having been spurned by the actor.
After all that and everything that had come before, it seemed my friendship with Christoph was permanent. But that wasn’t the case, and the coup de grace wasn’t a woman but, in the not-so-great Hollywood tradition, a screenplay. Christoph was talking about making a movie, and I proposed an idea for one, which, while I was working on Banned for Life in Belgrade, he fleshed out in a screenplay with a collaborator, denying me credit. I didn’t care about the credit. It was the theft of the idea that bothered me, but Christoph wanted to make things even by paying me a nominal sum for a rewrite. I took the money, badly needing it, and improved the script, though Christoph continued to deny me credit. It all came to a head at a barbecue at his house, where he repeatedly irked me by referring to his screenplay. Finally I said, “Well, you know, Christoph, it’s really our screenplay. It was my idea, and I did a rewrite.”
Christoph loved power games, and one of his favorites was airing secrets at the worst possible moment, smirking as his victim squirmed. Now I played the same game, foolishly thinking he’d appreciate my cheek. He didn’t. A few minutes later I walked into the kitchen, where he was lying in wait. How dare I embarrass him in front of his guests. And so what if it was my idea. It wasn’t that great an idea to start; it was only because of his input that the script was worth a damn. His face was literally purple. We could easily have come to blows if I’d argued back. But I didn’t. I was done with the guy, or I was unless he apologized. He never did, and we haven’t spoken or seen each other since.
I don’t miss Christoph, who was a poor excuse for a friend, but I’ve been thinking of him lately, because I’m now estranged from another friend, who, though it took me a while to recognize it, is very like him. He has a similar charm and winning smile, and he’s detached and cocky in ways that bring Christoph to mind. For a period, as with Christoph, we were like brothers, hanging out every day and sometimes drinking till dawn. As with Christoph, he’s adored by women, and again as with Christoph, that’s led to tension. I once ran into a girl I’d always liked and, learning that she was now single, concocted fantasies of romance, only to hear a day later that my friend was seeing her.
But that isn’t the reason for our estrangement. It’s a complicated situation, long in building, and difficult to resolve due to power games. Neither of us will phone to set things right, though he’s occasionally texted invitations to parties, or had someone else call to invite me to over. Either way, he knows there’s slim chance of a proper conversation with others around, and there always are, now that he and his new girl are, from I’m told, John-and-Yoko inseparable. Besides, I expect a more personal touch from friends, and so don’t respond, except—tit for tat—to decline the party invitations with cordial, impersonal texts.
This is not how I typically operate. I’m usually direct to a fault. But that hasn’t worked in the past with my friend, so I suppose I’ll suffer through this remake of a buddy movie I’ve seen before and hope for a different ending.
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Original comment thread:
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-07-12 21:46:03
Ah…toxic friends. I have had some of those. I once had a childhood friend who had a drunken one night stand with my boyfriend and fell pregnant to him. I stood by her, but she abandoned me for God.
It’s a good feeling when you realise that you’re better off without them in your life.
And what kind of name is Christoph anyway??
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-12 21:51:31
Well, that’s the name I gave him. I’m hoping this blog will go undiscovered by those who know him.
I like that you say “fell pregnant.” I’ve heard it before, but it’s been a while.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-07-12 22:19:44
Oh I forgot to say that I liked your tag - ’stupid actor who’s on Lost.’ Funny. Made me laugh.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-12 22:25:21
Thanks. I didn’t think anybody would notice. That guy drove me up the wall. I met once, before I realized what what was going on.
Comment by Zara
2009-07-13 12:18:44
Sorry, I just re-read “i’ll call him Christoph’.. I thought it was his real name!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 13:05:21
Oh, that’s fine. I make that kind of mistake all the time. I’ll read someone’s post and make a comment, and they’ll come back and say, “Well, actually…” It’s hard to read on a screen–even here at TNB, where I love to do it.
Comment by Lenore
2009-07-12 21:59:53
that’s sad. it’s shocking to me how often i hear stories about people stealing ideas from friends in creative works. i can’t understand it. how could someone do that and feel proud of anything that came from the theft? it’s just such a scummy thing to do.
i’ve never come to end a friendship with a woman over a man. luckily, all of my girlfriends seem to never be interested in the men i am interested in, and vice versa. and most of my girlfriends are happily coupled now, anyway. i think the ended friendship over romantic shit happens more with men.
i hope you don’t have to deal with this ever again. you’re too good a guy.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-12 22:13:11
Based on what?
I jest. Thanks.
The funny thing is that I somehow managed to stay friends with the guy I’m calling Christoph not only after he ran off with a girl he knew I liked but after he later learned what I’d done with her behind his back. And, you know, I never felt any guilt about it. Ever. Because he never displayed any guilt about what he’d done to me, or in any other way. Coldness begets coldness.
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-07-12 22:52:29
Aw, man… that romance/bromance intertwining stuff gets so messy, so fast, and frankly, I like you too much to want to hear that you were ever involved in such a situation.
As for the girl running off with the actor… man, that’s even worse, because that’s the blow you don’t see coming until you’re cold-cocked and sprawling on the pavement, groping for a way to pick yourself back up.
I hope that this all works out well, somehow. If not… well, fuck ‘em. You’ve got us.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-12 23:04:30
Well, I like you too, damnit.
You hear that, world? I like Simon Smithson! He’s a hell of a guy!
This places me in the majority, as you well know.
It’s funny; I don’t think of you as the sort to get into some weird romance/bromance situation. I don’t know why. I suppose you seem too sophisticated. And the girl and the actor–oh my God, man, you have no idea how much that hurt. I remember when she told me. I felt like I’d been stabbed in the heart. Which is a cliche, of course, in romantic situations, but it was the literally the truth.
Now: let’s start a really fun thread, okay? Full of faux insults and the like. I’m actually fine right now, but there were a couple of recent days in which I was really down about all the tension I’m having with The Friend Who Shall Not Be Named, and some fun here would improve my mood.
I’ll start: Simon Smithson is — hmmm. Fill in the blank.
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-07-12 23:19:39
Ha! The house just shook because I was laughing so damn hard.
Usually, the more complicated the situation, the more I’m drawn in. It’s a compulsion I really have to learn to curb - although I always do my best to avoid crossing a friend.
I also would have accepted ‘too debonair’.
Yeah. I feel you on the heart-stabbing. Man, that’s rough.
Oh! Great! I’ve got a writing session with my friend Rich later and they’re usually 85% insulting each other, so this will get me in the headspace. My favourite recent effort was telling him that his writing makes me ashamed of being able to read.
Simon Smithson is - the literary equivalent of stubbing your little toe on the DVD of Slam Dunk Ernest.
Duke Haney is -
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-12 23:38:19
Oh, don’t slight yourself that way. Surely it’s at least a big toe.
As for me, I’m going to call myself jowly. Because I glimpsed myself in a mirror today–I usually avoid mirrors, except for the one on my medicine cabinet, which tells me sweet lies–and I decided that I am sprouting jowls. If one can sprout jowls. You know what I mean.
This is, alas, not as inventive as your self-description, but jowly people are known to be extremely uninventive, or so I decree.
Meanwhile, since you’re accepting it, I will give you “too debonair.” I hope the house shakes.
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-07-12 23:40:15
Simon: 2
House: 0
You univentively jowly SOB.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-12 23:51:39
Hey! Just because I call myself that doesn’t mean you can!
I take back what I said about Simon Smithson, world!
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-07-13 00:01:34
Pay no attention, world! Haney doesn’t mean that! It’s the Zambian Bronze talking!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 00:09:17
So, in addition to debonair, you are psychic. My other Melbourne friend, Daniel, is apparently psychic. I fear your strange country. I would be arrested for my thoughts immediately.
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-07-13 00:19:41
Please be honest. I can take it.
Is Daniel psychic-er than me?
We were actually giving people thermal image readings at the airport recently to test for swine flu. If you’re going to visit, make it soon, because as soon as the brainscans come into operation, you’ll never make it through quarantine.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 00:29:06
Honest with regard to my arrest-worthy thoughts? Oh, I’d say they’re pretty typical thoughts, if you happen to be a psycho.
In fact, more all the time I wish I could hit Australia. I have a feeling I’d like it, though I lack the funds to make the trip. And as soon as I get swine flu, well, that’s going to seal the deal on no.
Oh, and I haven’t had a chance to test your psychic abilities versus those of Daniel, but he does give good advice. In fact, he advised me about the above situation, and he was pretty on target about The Friend Who Shall Not Be Named, with only a little knowledge to guide him. I think, in the future, I will only turn to Australians for advice.
But of course there won’t be any future once I contract swine flu. Thanks, swine! They don’t call you swine for nothing!
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-07-13 00:34:49
Australia has many things to recommend it. Then again, the grass is always greener, you know? Frankly, I dream of living in the States again, but permanently.
Olivia Newton-John, I’ve heard, also gives wonderful, sage counsel.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 00:39:52
Are we going to start swapping ON-J lines again?
I think first I’d hear from that guy she was dating who faked his own death and stuff. I’d like to know if did all that to get away from her. ‘Cause if he did, I don’t think I’d want any advice from ON-J.
On the other hand, maybe she could tell me something about getting rid of jowls.
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-07-13 00:44:19
Ah, the old fake-death manouevre.
Some day… (please imagine a note of wistfulness in my voice as I say this).
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 00:53:32
Duly imagined.
I’ll assist you in the fake death, if it can in any way help to get you to SF. ‘Cause, you know, SF isn’t that far from LA, and we could, like, hang out and stuff.
Oh, and speaking of SF, and since you’re Australian, could I please ask you for advice in the following conundrum?
My youngest brother is getting married on October 17th. (He’s too fucking young to be getting married, but that’s another story. Kid is only twenty-four.) I knew the wedding was in October, but I didn’t know the date.
Well, I’m booked for a literary event in SF in October, and I went to check the date and–you guessed it–it’s on the goddamned 17th. I was very lucky to be included in this event, which will also feature my friend, the great Jonathan Evison, among others.
My dad basically ordered me to attend the wedding the other day, though he knows nothing of this lit event. What do I do, Australian? Or, more to the point, what would you do?
Answer with your usual brilliance, and I will don a WWSSD? wristband.
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-07-13 03:46:30
Or we could just get me straight to LA - I’ve seen Entourage, I assume all of life in LA is like that?
God, that’s a tricky one. I have to say, I would go to the wedding. I would be sulking all the time, and probably attempting to maintain a presence at the literary event via Twitter, but… yeah, if it was my brother? I think I’d have to be there.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 12:51:48
Oh yes, Simon. L.A. is very like Entourage. Of course.
It used to be that there was a West Side L.A. and an East Side L.A., which were very different, but now I see more merging. For example, the star of Entourage turned up one night at an indie music venue in Silver Lake. I never saw celebrities at shows a few years ago.
He was completely ignored, by the way.
Meanwhile, you think the wedding, yes? I was going to try to work out a compromise; to maybe head home for a while before the wedding and spend time with my brother and his intended and give them a present and hope that they would make up for my absence at the wedding itself. Because this even in SF–I was, again, lucky to be included, and I was so excited about going, and I think I’m always going to regret it if I don’t go.
Life and its difficult choices, huh?
Oh, and I’m really mad at my book for taking so long to get to you.
Thanks, O Oracle, for allowing me to consult you.
Comment by Zoe
2009-07-12 23:02:36
I’ve found that its not worth the fight if the other person isn’t even bothering to fight–in love and in friendship. I say fuck him. You don’t deserve to be treated that way.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-12 23:14:09
It’s a very complicated situation, and I think he feels like he hasn’t done anything wrong, which is true, in a way. He’s just being himself, like the old story about the scorpion stinging the frog on whose back he’s being carried across a creek. He knows he’s now going to drown, but he’s a scorpion, and scorpions sting. And with my friend, I’ve kind of taken a position about certain acts–or non-acts–and behaviors, and while I don’t expect any change, I would like my day in court, so to speak. And he refuses to provide it. Which is completely in his nature, just as I’m acting out of mine. As I wrote, I’m very direct, and it’s hard for to remain silent. I can do it for a while, but I’m finally going to say something.
Comment by Zoe
2009-07-12 23:25:32
I love a complicated situation. I’m a problem solver with a big mouth and a very up-front approach, so it never really goes over well. But I always try to curb it with my friends. Though I have a ‘friend’ who treated me in a similar fashion.
I think you should take your day in court, as you put it, and see how it goes. I would hope he feels some remorse about what happened, no matter what face he shows the world.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-12 23:48:34
I’m not asking for remorse. I’d just kind of like to air a lot of shit that’s built up and feel like I’ve been heard. Or how about these magic words? “I understand.” Honestly, that’s all it would take, and it strikes me as small and inexpensive.
It’s a clash of temperaments and the philosophies that arise from temperaments, that’s really what it is. Any hurtful actions are the result of a thought process that doesn’t recognize them as hurtful. I would like to state for the record that they are.
Comment by Irwin
2009-07-12 23:21:36
I hate people who steal ideas and its really the one thing I’m most afraid of, because good ideas are pretty scarce. I would have written a novel alot earlier if I’d had one, but alas I’ve had to wait until the last few months to have one.
If somebody had found it, taken it and claimed it as their own I’d engage in some sort of heavy duty body building montage before beating the last grain of shit out of the theif.
On another note, friendship is more hassle than its worth. Casual acquaintances are the way to go. Strangers are more fun to talk to.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 00:07:31
To be perfectly honest, the idea was not that great, or it wouldn’t have been for anyone other than my friend. There were certain elements he needed–particular locations and so on–and I said, “Well, let me think about it,” and a few minutes later I had an idea I knew he would love, because I knew him so well: his tastes and peculiarities and so on. I don’t think any other writer could have provided him with an idea like that one, though it was very sketchy. He loved it immediately, as I knew he would, and we only discussed it for maybe fifteen minutes. Then I went to Belgrade, and while I was there, he flew to a film festival in Poland, and I went up and met him and he said, “Oh, by the way…”
But, you know, I honestly wasn’t that angry about it. I would’ve given him permission to do what he did, but he never asked me. That was the thing that annoyed me, but that was all it was: an annoyance. It wasn’t like anyone else was going to take that idea and do something with it. But it’s obvious that there was already a lot of bad blood between us, and a tipping point was inevitable, to mix my metaphors. The blowout over that script was inevitable, though it could just as easily have been over something else.
As for what you say about friends, I’ve had the same thought–that it’s overrated–but I go back and forth about it. On the one hand, friendship really is a hassle, as all human relationships are. On the other, I’ve had great, great times with friends that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I had great times with “Christoph,” though they’re now tainted by what I came to know of him. And I had even better times with The Friend Who Shall Not Be Named. That’s the heartbreaking thing in the latter case–that the good times are over. And it really is heartbreaking, or it has been. I’m not afraid to say so.
Comment by Zoe
2009-07-12 23:46:17
oh and uh, if I happened to email you last night, I’m going to just apologize now. sorry.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-12 23:50:02
Well, I received a message about a message on Facebook, which I haven’t had time to click. Are saying that I now shouldn’t?
Comment by Zoe
2009-07-12 23:51:31
I’m saying I don’t actually know what’s in the message. So I’m apologizing. Read it at your own risk.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-12 23:53:12
It was link–I believe to something written on a stormy night? Which sounds kind of provocative, to be honest.
Comment by Zoe
2009-07-12 23:54:28
like I said…at your own risk.
it’s probably horrible anyway. I had sooo much alcohol last night.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 00:11:16
Welcome to my world. Which badly needs rain, by the way. And clouds. And, well, so many other things, other than alcohol.
Comment by Zoe
2009-07-13 00:13:01
mine needs quite a few other things too….tequila is not one of them. and neither is rain…come to Florida, Duke, you’ll get all the rain you can stand!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 00:17:47
Well, hey, if you’re going to get drunk, I’d say tequila is the way to go. But only the good stuff. Bad tequila really takes a toll.
Unfortunately, I can’t afford top-shelf tequila (or top-shelf anything). I once went to a bar here in L.A. that only serves tequila, and I couldn’t believe the prices. Fortunately, someone sprang to buy me a twenty-dollar shot, and though it wasn’t my money, I have to say it was worth it. Unbelievable!
Comment by Zoe
2009-07-13 00:20:54
Well, you’re right. Drunk is what I was….and concussed, and lost. but that’s a whole other story entirely.
The prices are kind of atrocious, aren’t they? I don’t think I would spring for a 20 dollar shot, someone else’s money or not. My bottle was kicking around from my last trip to mexico. It’s good stuff….but you have to know when to stop.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 00:32:15
This particular drink was bought without my knowledge and presented to me afterwards. I didn’t know the price before somebody told me, otherwise I would’ve declined it. Fortunately, I had already downed the shot by then.
Really? Concussed?
Comment by Zoe
2009-07-13 00:35:47
concussed. which is kinda why I’m still up at 5 am. Some of the people I was with helped me piece together what happened last night…and it wasn’t pretty. At all. It started as a bad night that ended WAY worse than I could have imagined.
I’ll have to tell you about it sometime, when it’s not so embarrassing….
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 00:42:34
Oh, you’ve already got my sympathy. My second piece at TNB was about a blackout in the course of a really bad drunk.
Don’t feel embarrassed. It happens to the best of us. Besides, it was probably raining. Blame the rain.
Fuck you, rain!
Comment by Colleen McGrath
2009-07-13 02:48:51
Yeah, I just think there are too many people in the world to date your friends love interests. There have got to be other choices, right? That stuff needed to end in high school. All just topped off with stealing your idea. That’s the WORST!
Listen, if you want me to mess him up for you, I’ve got these great judo moves now. I can be in and out quick, no one the wiser. Let me know.
You’re a peach. I hope you have better friends these days.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 13:09:46
Well, L.A. is high school with money, or so they say.
Actually, my L.A. is high school with no money.
If you want to mess up “Christoph,” please have at it. Simon Smithson and I are in fact going to be joining forces to mess up a few people, as per our exchange on Zara’s piece, and we may want to consult you on judo moves.
You’re a peach yourself. And I do have a few good friends, thanks. I trust all is well with you in Berlin.
Comment by Colleen McGrath
2009-07-13 21:21:45
Your L.A. sounds like my Berlin.
I’m available for Judo consults any time and I think you and Simon will be a great vigilante justice team. Go get ‘em!
All is well enough. Hope the same is true for you on the sunny side of the world. When will your book be here?
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-14 00:36:51
There are conspiracies of which I am vaguely aware to import Simon to the U.S. We could use him here, don’t you agree? Only then will the streets be safe from evildoers.
Well, not the streets so much. If so, we’ll have to bring Irene into the picture, as I understand she’s packing heat.
As for the book–and I thank you for sweetly asking–I did receive some information about the store I mentioned earlier, but it’s not right in front of me. Meantime, the book hasn’t been stocked there so far. But there are conspiracies to have it be done.
The sun. Oh yes, the sun. What I wouldn’t give for a few overcast days. Enjoy them where you are.
Comment by Colleen McGrath
2009-07-15 09:10:31
I do agree, indeed. You, Simon, Irene’s gun, my Alias training, we’re a crime fighting team to be feared! What kind of costumes should we have?
Good on the book. Please do keep me posted.
And you are welcome to my overcast days any time but it has to be an even trade. None of this clouds for free bull! Send me a tan when you get the time.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-15 18:49:29
It’s expensive to send a tan! And the costumes? Nothing ornate. Something simple; something black. Even though we’re the good guys.
And now to read your 1000-word thing.
Comment by Irene Zion
2009-07-13 03:34:22
Duke,
I’ve met my share of women who are wolves in sheep’s clothing. It’s not just men. When you realize their true nature you just have to cut your loses and try to think of it as learning a lesson.
Simon’s pretty smart here. You’ve got us. Stop hanging around with people who could turn on you in a flash. A POX on them!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 12:58:16
I guess I haven’t completely cut my losses or learned my lesson, because I still occasionally speak to the woman in question, and I still find myself being drawn in every time. Fortunately, I’ve been hurt so often that I’m all but immune to it.
I love that you wish a pox on people. I once got in a screaming match with a guy who was towing my car from a parking lot where it had every right to be, and I said, “I put a curse on your fucking head!” I don’t know where those words came from. I guess I wanted him to feel like there were going to be serious, long-range consequences, as opposed to the momentary anger that he must encountered routinely.
Comment by Irene Zion
2009-07-13 05:49:10
losses!
Why can’t I learn to proof-read?
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 12:19:34
I understood you at once. And, hey, I’m the king of typos.
Comment by Greg Olear
2009-07-13 09:09:17
>>Julia Roberts is a major bitch<<
And that’s why I like her.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 12:02:41
Seriously?
Comment by Greg Olear
2009-07-13 16:49:54
I don’t think she can act much, or at least she has limited range…she always plays herself. But she’s one of those people who surprise me, in that I think I’ll hate them and I end up liking them…she’s really funny in “Ocean’s 12.”
And I do tend to get along swimmingly with that kind of gal.
I know, I know. Guilty pleasure, what can I say?
Colin Farrell has the same effect, incidentally…I roll my eyes when I see his name in the credits, and then I wind up liking him. (”In Bruges”? He’s genius).
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 17:43:20
I liked her at the beginning. I was never crazy about her, though I did find her very pretty and charming.
Then I began to detect an iciness–even an anger–that was coming through, beneath the smiling mask. I can forgive much, but I really have a problem with disengenuousness. My observations were later borne out by others–not just “Christoph”–who worked with her. She can be friendly when it suits her, but she’s otherwise a nasty piece of work. On the movie that “Christoph” shot, it was arranged to wrap her early, she was such a drag on morale.
As for Colin Farrell, I have to admit to liking him. I don’t think much of him as an actor, but he seems like he’d be good fun in person, though I imagine he’d drive you up the wall at a certain point, since his whole life seems to revolve around sex. You’d be hanging out, having a great time, and it would be like: “Sorry, got to go fuck a supermodel now.”
“Oh. Sure. Okay. Well…have fun.”
I mean, not that I blame the guy. Nice work if you can get it.
Comment by Greg Olear
2009-07-13 09:15:51
I am often drawn to artsy, witty, narcissistic types. They are completely self-absorbed — if you’re not in their immediate orbit, they forget all about you — and they turn on their friends on a dime, but I’m willing to accept the warts because they’re also funny and entertaining and all that.
With people like this, I think, “I know they dick everybody over, but they surely won’t do it to me! I’m special!” But then they do. Inevitably.
My sense is that you’re like that, too, no?
The older I get, the less patience I have for that crap. There are plenty of witty, smart, fun, funny people who are not hopelessly self-involved — this site is cyber-proof of that. The me-first-ers can all rot. And Dante has a special place for plagiarists.
Also: I’ve never seen Lost, and I won’t, because everybody, even the big fans, say, “The first season was so good but the second season was awful.” Why would I want to watch that?
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 12:30:44
I’ve never seen Lost either, which is why I wrote that the actor in question is “apparently” on it. I’m fairly certain he is, though I suppose I could’ve Googled to check.
I’m drawn to kind and funny people, as are most of us, but I also like to admire my friends. I’m a sucker for talent, and both of the friends in this piece were indeed talented — or they still are, I guess, though “Christoph” went Hollywood at a certain point, and his work suffered for it. I’m always looking to be inspired.
As I re-read your comment–especially: “if you’re not in their immediate orbit, they forget all about you”–I can’t get over well you’ve described the friend from whom I’m currently estranged. That’s a big part of the problem, right there.
Thanks for weighing in, Greg. I’m going to be pondering what you say on my daily walk.
Comment by Greg Olear
2009-07-13 16:58:48
Just occurred to me that “Lost” would have been a good title for your piece.
One of my first best friends was like that…when he decided to favor you with attention, it was wonderful, but he would lose interest quickly and be off with someone else, and you’d be out of play. That made me wary of such people early on — although it never made me not befriend them.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 17:24:00
Yes, “Lost” would have been a good title. I always have a problem with titles.
Your old best friend sounds exactly like my friend. It’s really fucked with my head, to be dismissed or suddenly dropped for no reason I can name. I don’t think he has any consciousness of his effect on people. Nor do I think he cares. When your stock drops, it drops.
The funny thing is, my stock has recently risen with him, going by the comments he’s made to mutual friends, but he’s too proud, or too self-protecting, to call and say it to me. He drops these hints to others so that I’ll call him. It’s so fucking grade-school.
Comment by Greg Olear
2009-07-14 07:08:05
I have another friend of similar disposition, a vaguely successful writer (but not a novelist), who had stopped contacting me for a few years, after I left the city and had the kids.
But when the book deal happened, suddenly he’s my pal again. He said this, when last I saw him: “I have to say, Greg, I’m kind of jealous…but I’d be much more so if it were a hardcover book.”
The thing to do is realize this is their issue, not yours, and react accordingly. Even if it means stepping back. You can stop being friends with someone and still see them, if that makes sense…these things are quite subtle.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-14 12:08:42
Well, that will probably happen in this case when I’ve gotten over the injury.
That remark from your friend is mind-blowing. It reminds me, in spirit, of something said by my ex, a writer now dead, after reading a piece I’d written: “It’s pretty good…for its genre.”
Comment by Rich Ferguson
2009-07-13 10:52:08
Direct to a fault. I like that quality, D.R. Too bad it hasn’t worked with your friend.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 12:18:30
Always good to hear from you and your hat, Rich. You strike me as pretty direct yourself.
Are we Bakersfield bound?
Comment by Robin Slick
2009-07-13 11:31:58
Ha! Awesome dialogue:
“She’s probably fucking him right now,” one of us would say.
“She probably is. That whore.”
“I hate her, except I also love her.”
“I know just what you mean.”
So I can see that you and I are going to have to strike a private deal over this alias stuff, D.R. So here it is. I will tell you “mine” if you will tell me “yours”.
xo
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 12:15:31
Okay. But, as you say, it will have to be done privately. I’m amazed that I’m not as indiscreet here as I am in life, though I suppose I’ve already been really indiscreet simply by writing this.
Thanks for the dialogue comment, by the way. Frankly, that exchange cracks me up. The amazing thing to me is that, during the time when the wife was off bonking the actor, her husband and I laughed quite a bit about it. We were both in pain, but we could also appreciate the ridiculousness of the situation, and I suppose of life in general.
By the way, are you one of the interview subjects in those clips taken from Kimberly’s movie? I was fascinated by that clip. There are even remarks in my novel about pubic hair removal, and the narrator’s dislike of it. It amazes me that people go right along with what they’re ordered, culturally speaking, to do. Short hemlines! Okay. They’re long now! Sure.
It’s more complicated than this, obviously, but I’m commenting in a rush. Please call me Duke, will you? Everyone does.
Comment by Marni Grossman
2009-07-13 12:09:10
I refuse to give up on relationships. I will hound you until death unless given a reason to do otherwise.
I’ve never had a guy ruin a friendship, but I once had a friend break up with me over our alleged political differences.
Said differences were, largely, in her head. But, in the end, it didn’t matter.
“I have enjoyed our time together but now our friendship, as an entity, is over.”
For real. She actually wrote that.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 12:43:29
I haven’t given up on the latter friendship (I mean in the piece), but it needs repair, and I can’t repair it alone. I’m working on it by withdrawing, in my view. My friend undoubtedly doesn’t see it that way. I think he feels that much of this is, as you say of your friend, in my head.
Our mutual friends, incidentally, think it’s funny to refer to the situation as a “breakup.” Maybe it is funny. I wasn’t laughing so much about it when I began this piece, which was sparked by a fresh exchange, but I feel much more light-hearted about it now. That’s the power of writing.
What does “as an entity” mean? Do you know? I’m trying to wrap my head around that, and I can’t quite manage it.
Comment by Marni Grossman
2009-07-13 17:45:23
I know, right? It’s ludicrous.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 17:47:31
I was actually pondering it as I was walking back from the store a little while ago. I still don’t get it.
Comment by David Breithaupt
2009-07-13 12:28:31
I wonder if Julia Roberts is a worse bitch than Christoph? As I grow older, I have less patience with such relationships. I’m going to be one of those old farts who lives alone with his dog. Which doesn’t sound so bad really.
An amazing piece, your slice of life!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 12:36:44
Thanks, David.
Very funny remark about Roberts/Christoph. I think the part of the problem with them was that she apparently had a bit of a thing for Christoph and he didn’t reciprocate as she felt was her due, so she turned on him. This was just before she’d sealed the deal with her now-husband; when she’d famously caused marital problems for him and it wasn’t immediately apparent that he was going to leave his wife.
At the same time, I talked to others on that set, and nobody liked Roberts. There’s one hilarious story about a clash she had with her co-star, but I don’t feel comfortable putting it out there.
I’ll visit when it’s just you and your dog, so you can quickly tire of me and throw me out. I’ll more than understand.
Comment by Erika
2009-07-13 14:47:29
Hello D.R.,
I’ve been a reader of this site for a while now and don’t usually comment (although I always love reading the comments) but your blog hit home with me today, so I decided to.
I recently was dumped by my best friend of over six years.
I know you might be thinking I slept with her man but that was not the case.
He actually cheated on her (long crazy story which involves him soliciting sex from strangers on craigslist) and as every girl with low self-esteem does she got back together with him.
Although she dumped him for a few months, deep down I knew she would get back with him, so I was cautious not to say anything bad about him.
But because she was/is embarrassed to be back with him I got dumped.
This week, for some odd reason, has been particularly hard for me in regards to this situation.
In fact the whole situation seems to be harder to get over than a breakup with a boyfriend.
My heart is heavy.
I can totally empathize with you.
Everyone keeps telling me that this to shall pass and I know it will but just want to wake up one day soon and not have this weigh so heavy in my heart and mind.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 20:12:56
Erika, if you should read this before I’m able to post a proper response, please know it’s forthcoming. The phone keeps ringing!
Comment by Erika
2009-07-13 21:58:31
Hi D.R.,
No worries…actually thank you for attempting to commenting on my comment!
As I mentioned before I’ve been hiding in the shadows and been to shy to actually comment on anyones blog.
I might just get enough confidence and begin to comment every now and then.
And when Reno finally lures some of you TNB writers to host a live event in our lovely city of Las Vegas I can attend without feeling like a total TNB stalker.
Some might call this a domino effect.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-14 00:29:39
Okay!
I was in the middle of answering your first comment when the phone rang. An acquaintance had just finished reading my novel, and once we started talking, I could not get off the phone. I realized at some point that was going to be the case, and I threw up what I regarded as an interim comment so that you would hopefully know that I wasn’t ignoring you. Yours was a remark that I wanted to address in detail.
First of all, I’m flattered and honored that my humble piece would lure you out of the shadow, as you put it. Thanks for emerging. I always wonder about those readers who aren’t contributors, and I’ve frankly wondered at times if I personally have any, so your comment was reassuring to me in that way, as well as touching in others.
The situation with your friend, or your feelings about it, mirrors my own. I was vague about the circumstances, because I have friends who follow me at TNB, and they in turn know the friend from whom I’m estranged, and I obviously don’t want the situation to escalate.
At the same time, I’m bothered by it. I understand completely when you say your heart is heavy. The other day, when I ran into my friend for the first time in six months, I was in physical pain—chest pain; heart pain. It didn’t happen right away. Rather, there were text messages swapped after he sent me an e-mail a couple of hours after we saw each other, and the e-mail wasn’t the kind I would’ve preferred to receive. It wasn’t malicious. It was just, I thought, kind of callous, considering the way things stand. He managed to dig up what I regarded as an embarrassing clip of me and send it to a number of people we know in common, with me included in the loop and an instruction at the bottom of the message for me to call him.
So I saw it as another power game. He knows things aren’t right, and rather than write to me privately with “Hey, let’s clear the air,” he chooses to interact publicly, so to speak; to keep others in the room, even when it’s a room online. Also, it’s a way of saying that I’m just one of the gang, and I am one of the gang, or I have been, but part of my problem with this guy is that, over time, our dealings have become more and more impersonal. And this struck me as more of the same.
So I got pissed and fired off a text message, at five in the morning, and he immediately fired one back. Mine was angry. His wasn’t. He didn’t apologize–not that I expected an apology. He basically just said he didn’t see the clip as embarrassing, and I think he honestly doesn’t, though he’s missing the point.
Then, the next day, I had a long talk with someone who knows us both, and I ended feeling worse about the situation. Because it just became more and more clear to me that there’s no way out of it unless I acquiesce, and that’s hard for me to do, because just as my friend apparently can’t change his nature, I can’t change mine. Also, I don’t do well with passive-aggression, just as don’t do well with ye olde “My way or the highway.”
So then I think, “Well, okay, I’ll take the highway.” But that doesn’t feel right either. And the thing is, I know this standoff is hurting my friend, because he’s discussed it with others (but, of course, never with me), and I don’t want to hurt the guy, and it bothers me that that’s the effect of it, when all I’m basically trying to do is have a conversation. But I can’t do that when the burden all falls on me.
Anyway, the more I thought about it, the worse I felt, until finally, as I said before, I was in physical pain. I hadn’t felt this bad about a conflict with a friend since another conflict with the same friend about a project we were supposed to pursue together and from which I was cut. That was the worst. But this was almost as bad.
And do you know how I made myself feel better that time? I wrote a song. And the cure this time was to write this piece. And I have to tell you, I felt better by the time it was done. I knew it was risky, because, as I said before, I don’t want to worsen the situation. At the same time, it’s my life, and this is something that’s weighed on me, so I’m going to bloody well write about it. And I feel I was tactful in the way I went about it.
I know this is an incredibly long response, but I did promise you one, didn’t I? And I wrote it because you shared something with me, and I wanted to share something in return, and to say: I understand. I don’t think people always understand how it can hurt to lose a friend, as they understand about loss in romantic situations. I think the latter is more expected. There are formula responses, almost. With friends it’s more nebulous. Maybe it’s because, in America, friendship isn’t really valued that much. In any case, yes, it can and does hurt—a great deal, in fact.
Meantime, I hope you will indeed comment more often. And I hope you’re right about the domino effect. I’m looking forward to meeting Reno. Do you know him personally? If so, perhaps you can prompt him to show up here in L.A. in the attire I suggested to him below.
Oh, and please call me Duke.
Transmission (finally!) ended.
Comment by Erika
2009-07-14 11:54:31
Duke,
Thank you so much for such a great response to my first TNB comment this might just give me the confidence to comment every so often.
I dont know how I ended up with out my friend.
I woke up one morning and the earth floor had fallen from beneth me and my whole world changed.
We actually made attempts to repair it but all that happened her walking out on me at a cafe b/c I just wasnt saying what she wanted to hear and a couple of emails were exchanged after that but nothing to change how we each were feeling during those exchanges. There is more to this mess but dont want to bore you with all the details as well as rehash all that grade school nonsense.
I hate being vulnerable and only let my guard down around certain people and she was one of them. She was my “person,” my Vegas family. I let her in more to my emotional being than anyone else including my siblings, family, or other best friend of 22 yrs (who is actually more like a cousin now).
Its been a couple of months now that we have not spoken but I did run into her at the gym last week. We both were walking in at the same time. I didnt try making contact I just stood back. I went about my workout pretending that I was ok. However while I was on the eliptical a song came on my ipod which made me start crying (fyi it was as sad in reality seeing myself cry at the gym than the loop of it playing in my head).
I started crying because I realized that we would never be friends again. Nothing said or done would ever repair what we once had.
Anyhow I promised myself that this week I would soldier on….onward and upward. Being a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, ie prompting my first comment on the TNB site, I just have to keep the faith that I will be ok as I am sure you know you will be too.
I dont know Reno personally (although I do hope to bump into him someday and sing his praises to him face to face). I dont know any contributors personally.
I became a TNB groupie due to Brads blogging days on myspace before he started TNB and just followed along.
Now that I’ve taken a tremendous amount of comment space on your blog…..thank you! It’s so weird that a few exchange of words from a complete stranger can make it everything a bit better.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-14 12:26:37
My friend was family also. Or maybe he still is. I don’t know. There hasn’t been any official declaration that we aren’t friends. I’d like to think this is a sabbatical.
So I wouldn’t assume that you and your friend are done forever. It could well be temporary. If, for instance, things go awry with her boyfriend–and it seems to me there’s a good chance for that, given what’s happened in the past–she might remember that you were right and see you in a different light.
The trick at that point, obviously, will be for her to swallow her pride and contact you. Also, you might not be so eager to get started again, after being dumped previously. That’s the problem with fallouts: there’s considerable damage done. But the damage isn’t necessarily permanent.
So you were following Brad at MySpace? I remember when he’d blog over there. Every piece generated at least 200 comments, or so it seemed. I was jealous, even though I barely blogged at MySpace. I did, a little, but I only to amuse friends–including the friend in question.
I hope this exchange has, in fact, made things a bit better. That image of you crying at the gym is a sad one.
Comment by Erika
2009-07-14 13:15:52
Maybe you’re right, maybe its not over. It is said that time heals all wounds…. but it will never be the same.
I will never be able to trust her in the same way. I will never be able to hold her in my heart as I once did.
Because I had a feeling that she would get back together with him I never said anything negative about him or the situation which was hard as hell considering I am very opinionated. And I never said anything negative because when all was said and done it was not me going to bed with him every night. It was/is not my cross to bear.
Plus no one ever really knows what happens between two people in any type of relationship so her need of him in her life is unknown to me. Which is a huge part of the demise of our friendship.
While she shut me out of a very huge part of her life I was expected to give a hundred percent of mine to her. I couldnt accept these terms.
I still cant. I cant give what I’m not getting in return. It’s to hard to keep loving someone more than they love you and quite honestly I really love myself….. a lot.
I’m all in for a compromise and do realize that sometimes the “give and take” shuffles between those involved, but it tiring always being the one giving.
Anyhow time to head out to the Las Vegas lights and earn my keep; which for a few hours is a welcome relief to have something else quite the noise in my head.
Once again my most sincere of thank you’s to you.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-14 18:22:27
I hear you big time on a number of points:
– It will never be the same. (It never is, once people fall out. The damage, I’ve found, is permanent, though some repair is possible.)
– It was hard as hell to keep from speaking out, even though I’m very opinionated. (I’m also very opinionated, and I find it extremely difficult not to comment where something doesn’t strike me as right.)
– I couldn’t accept these terms. (So it is with me in my current situation.)
– I can’t give what I’m not getting in return. (As above.)
– It’s tiring to always be the one giving. (Ditto.)
I think maybe when your friend breaks up with her boyfriend, and my friend is done with his girlfriend, we should conspire to match them. Sounds like they might get on.
I hope the Vegas lights treat you well, on this night and all others.
Comment by Erika
2009-07-15 01:36:03
“I think maybe when your friend breaks up with her boyfriend, and my friend is done with his girlfriend, we should conspire to match them. Sounds like they might get on.”
-hehehe that really made me laugh.
After my shift this evening I had a late night sushi dinner with a friend of mine whom (or is it who,…. damn the english language with the subject-verb-object pattern rules) inquired about the standing on my friendship status with Michelle.
And for the first time in along time I was able to answer with out trying to hold back any tears or anger.
My response…”we have gone our separate ways and I honestly dont see us our paths crossing again.”
No resentment or hurt in saying this… just saying what my heart feels and mind knows. I might be getting a little bit of closure.
Maybe it was the tasty cold sake talking but I’m putting my money on our trading of stories.
Totally therapeutic…if we were part of the peanuts gang and you were Lucy, I would owe you at least a quarter.
Ahhh those crazy Vegas lights…nothing like home sweet home.
If your ever in town let me know and we can exchange our sob stories over a couple of drinks (from your other entries I’d assume to take you to the Double Down or some other seedy like dive bar) but hopefully by that time they can be exchanged with less pain and more drinking and if we are lucky Reno might be there giving us some more of his sage advice such as …. “keep on keeping on and i hope you get your dick wet w/o the drama.!”
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-15 03:31:30
The tremendous Lenore Zion described herself as God with regard to her ability to “manage” comments on her posts, so, in my own capacity as God, I’ve taken the liberty of deleting the first of your two comments earlier this morning, which were identical, except for some additional thoughts at the end. I hope you don’t mind. It seemed to me that the second comment was the one you wanted to stand.
It’s funny that you mention Dr. Lucy of Peanuts, because a few weeks ago I contributed a piece about the tendency of friends to turn to me for advice, and one of the images I included, by way of mocking myself, was of Lucy awaiting “patients” in her psychiatric booth.
The truth is, however, that if I’ve in any way helped you (and it’s flattering that you or cold sake have decided that could be the case), then you’ve helped me also. Because, if you’ll notice, I didn’t go into much detail about my current situation until you posted a few details concerning your own. Then, because I couldn’t help but respond to your honesty, I delved deeper. I mean, bloody hell, how long was my comment? And you met it with more still more details regarding Michelle. And I responded again.
That, I think, qualifies as a domino effect. I now feel much, much better about my situation. If you hadn’t prompted me to share details, I would’ve withheld them. And I think that’s what people in situations like ours want: to get it out. That’s why I wrote this piece in the first place: because I was looking to exorcise something I couldn’t think to do in any other way. But even then, I was holding back, and you inched me forward, without realizing that was what you were doing.
So I should really be thanking you. And I do.
Meantime, any description of cold sake is bound to make me crave it. I’m a sucker for intoxicants. And dive bars? Damn straight! And I just know, if and when I hit Vegas, we can get Reno to join us. I haven’t met him (though I will on Sunday night), but I’ve heard first-person accounts of him from TNB contributors. Dude will be down with us at the Double Down, I’m confident.
Comment by jmb |
2009-07-13 15:20:04
Whoa, man
I guess I wasnt ready for such
heady stuff here.
Emotion brother, emotion.
my my my.
beautiful and awful
and messy and poignant.
Just like real life.
ah.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 19:37:54
Thanks.
Do you ever have the sense, when you put something out there, that you don’t really know what it is you’ve written? I mean, you know, it’s my life, and I‘m not even sure what to make of it, so it’s particularly interesting to hear the input of others. You say “poignant,” and I think, “Really? Well, that’s good. I guess maybe it is poignant.” Or so I hope.
I owe you a message, by the way. Just kind of going through a crazy spell.
Comment by jmb
2009-07-14 06:54:05
I suppose there is beauty in the chaos
but it is so hard to see the
beauty in its time
not until you get it out of your head
and even then someone un-biased
has to tell you what it is.
Mostly though
its just frustrating
as hell
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-14 12:12:39
It’s a pity, isn’t it, that we can’t see the beauty in its own time. I’m trying to get better at that, however. I’ve seen again and again how wonderful things can look in hindsight. I want to bring my vision up to speed.
Comment by Reno
2009-07-13 16:18:29
you know, haney, i like you. now, watch out for the girl/boy thing. i love women. but they’re human which means things can get ugly. and dudes? don’t get me started…
this was good, haney. keep on keeping on and i hope you get your dick wet w/o the drama. but i don’t think that’s possible. there’s always something. something.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-13 19:45:17
Reno!
Hey, don’t get me started on the “Which is worse: men or women?” thing. Even though I personally think men and women are roughly eighty percent the same.
Meanwhile, to think that by this time next week I will have met you. Can’t hardly wait, to quote one of my favorite bands, the Replacements. I hope, coming from Vegas, you’re going to be wearing many sequins. You ever hear of Nudie, the guy who designed all those great C&W suits worn by the greats back in the day? I would see you show up in a Nudie suit.
Here’s a shot of Nudie with one of his most famous creations: the gold Elvis suit, worn by the King himself. You have to scroll down just a little to see it, however: http://plaidout.wordpress.com/2009/04/16/wilco-the-nudie-suit/.
Comment by Reno
2009-07-14 10:50:10
can’t wait to meet you, brother. it’s gonna be happening. a suit? eh. i’m a white t-shirt blue jean type of guy. but i’ll look cute enough. pucker up, fucker. i’m coming in…
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-14 12:15:44
Duly puckered.
I knew already you weren’t the Elvis-suit type, but I couldn’t help but hope. The Vegas thing and all.
Comment by N.L. Belardes |
2009-07-13 20:02:18
So many pieces to this puzzle. But that makes this piece so attractive. It’s the mysteries we writers can weave, even while being raw and honest.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-14 00:44:32
Well, you know, some of it’s a mystery to me, and by writing about it, I suppose I was trying to work through it and better understand. I don’t know that I succeeded. It was tough to tie it together. Also, of course, I was trying to keep it as short and sweet as possible, so much inevitably had to be omitted.
I’m curious: How much do you censor yourself as to what you think is acceptable to write about? I’ve had a couple of skirmishes over previous TNB posts by people who didn’t like the way they were represented, or, in one case, being removed altogether. And I took some risks with this one. But as I wrote in my novella-length reply to Erika above, I sort of feel like if it happens in my life, then it’s my material, though I generally do aim to be tactful.
Comment by Brin Friesen
2009-07-14 06:40:05
Which is worse: men or women?
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-14 12:34:12
Where’s the accent in that question?
Which is *worse*?
Or which *is* worse?
You, as a Salinger admirer–he of the well-placed accent–can surely appreciate the difference.
For my part, this question something I’ve pondered in terms of loyalty, mainly. And it would be accented more along the the lines of the first example.
Comment by oksana marafioti
2009-07-14 10:57:22
Yes. Julia Roberts is, indeed, a bitch. I can vouch for that!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-14 12:36:14
Ah! Corroboration!
I’d like details, but I have a feeling I’m not going to get them.
Comment by Erika Rae
2009-07-15 04:32:34
I like - no scratch that - ‘greatly admire’ your honesty. I swear I’m such a chicken shit - it would be hard to post the down-deep darkness of the boy-girl thing here for fear it would get read. (sorry for all the dashes. it’s early here, and dashes are my pre-caffeinated communication method of choice.) And not just by the wrong people, but really “read” by, well, anyone. What I’m trying to say in all of my apparent incoherent brilliance (ha!) is that I think honesty must make the writer. You’ve got the edge. And as for that Cristoph fellow - wow, he’s smarmy. Stealing your ideas without an ounce of credit. May his head turn permanently purple. Shame. (And what is it about beautiful French women? They can positively get away with anything. I swear, it’s true. I’ve known one or two in my life…)
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-15 06:57:57
I’m very pleased, Erika, to receive your comment. Thanks.
It may interest you to know that “Christoph” photographed a movie mentioned in your most recent post. I’d wanted to say as much in a comment following it, but I held back.
The incident at the barbecue occurred within days of his return from a location scout in wine country, to give myself completely away.
What is it about French women? I’ve never been able to figure it out, though I count myself its victim. It’s not physical beauty per se, that much I know. And incoherent brilliance is my favorite kind of brilliance, so even if that were the case with your comment–and it isn’t–I’d be predisposed toward it.
Congrats on the birth of your son. I regret that we didn’t “meet” till now.
Comment by Erika Rae
2009-07-15 13:32:57
Nice to finally “meet” you, too. Thanks, thanks on the boy. Crazy that Sideways connection. Sorry to have reminded you of him.
So…French women - I can’t say that I get it either, although it’s as real as the sky and the trees. I had a fairly close friend once who was French. She had this long red hair and an attitude like cut glass. And while she never could have been a supermodel, she was just so damn attractive. She could curse an old lady to hell for nudging her wrong…and you just wanted to hug her. Only…I never would have dared. To hug her, that is. I took what I could get with all that cheek kissing. Ha!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-15 18:46:16
Ah yes, the old cheek kiss. I also recognize the cursing bit. That’s the Mediterranean temper. The French are more Latin than many realize.
A lot of Americans hate the French, but I like them. I don’t mind their haughtiness. I think they’re entitled to it, after all the great art they’ve given the world.
Comment by Brin Friesen
2009-07-18 05:33:29
So what direction would *you* go with another novel? If you had to pick 3 subjects, what would they be?
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-18 17:01:12
You mean, for you or me?
I have my next subject all cut out. You’ll learn about it soon enough.
I read a comment once by Vonnegut to the effect that writers have no choice with regard to their material. I almost always write about conflicts with brothers, or guys who might as well be brothers. This undoubtedly owes to the fact that I have three brothers. Even the above piece is about conflicted brothers of a sort.
Have you noticed any overriding themes in your fiction?