When Genius Failed


Matthew Sweet, "Farther Down"


Pikmin - still day four


Jeremy's Company

Or, anything from my wish list.

Two Days in the Valley
A Trip to Reseda in Three Chapters

Post Date: 9/78/04
Original Journal Date: Circa 1999

Here is the brilliant thing. Firstly, the brilliant thing is that I wrote this entry about how I was missing this archived entry and immediately, like, five people I didn't even know emailed me an old copy. But also, I am going through this somewhat tedious process of putting together the old archives for a project with Mrs. TTC, so we can all enjoy reliving some past entries as I rework them. But also, let me just say, if it weren't almost two in the morning, I would write an entry about tonight's Vegas Wreck. Maybe in the AM. For now, enjoy this old gem.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Miss T needed to go to LA to catch a fight, I had a hankering to take a couple of days off and hang with Stew and Brian in LA. It wasn't going to be anything big. Just crashing at their house. Catching up. Having conversation. Probably some booze involved at some point. We had all gone to high school together; Stew, Brian and I. Stew's mother and my mother had been friends. We had been close. We had almost had sex a couple of times. One time I threw a going away party for Stew before he left for the Navy. That night he passed out in the bed between Stephie and I, too drunk to make a move. I have this fantastically hot photo of him from that party - all Pennsylvania summer tan and shirtless. Brian used to climb trees in my backyard and show up drunk at my house in the middle of the night trying to get some. He would climb out of his basement window and sneak over. I loved those boys. Then they moved to LA to become Actors together. Capital A is intentional. I hadn't seen those boys in a while even though we were living in the same state, so I said to Miss T, "I'll drive you to LA and you can stay at the boys' place Friday night and I'll drop you at the airport on Saturday and I'll chill for the weekend."

Seriously, it seemed like such a good idea at the time.

Chapter One: Drugs
The Boys share a sky blue, ranch-style house in Reseda. Yes, that's right. The Valley. Perhaps you remember the line from the Tom Petty song, "It's a long day, living in Reseda?" Yes. That's the place. I counted no less than sixteen burrito stands from the time we got off the 101 exit. I counted almost double that number of low riders and places to get checks cashed. Miss T and I just locked our doors and rolled on through to the boys' shack of sins.

And it was. A shack, that is. We stepped over empty beer bottles from the first moment we headed up the sidewalk. The entire place had the scent of incense. Not the kind of incense you burn because it makes you feel calm and centered. The kind you burn because you're trying to cover up other foul, mysterious, better left undiscovered odors. Odors I would live with for the next three days. I'm pretty sure somewhere in that house there was raw meat just festering, but I can't be sure.

Stew met us at the door. Stew was available to meet us at the door because Stew has no job. Stew has no job because he fell and hurt his back rock climbing several months ago. That story went something like this:

Me
Is Stew okay?

Brian
Yeah. I mean, he was really high at the time, so he was relaxed when he fell, and that, like, kept it from being worse.

Me
He was rock climbing high?

Brian
Yeah, we were really spooked and shit when the paramedics showed up because, you know, illegal shit and all.

Me
He was rock climbing high?

Brian
It's LA and shit.

Me
Did they figure it out at the hospital? I mean, that he was high?

Brian
Fuck no. In fact, we smuggled shit in there just about every day to smoke. It made him feel all relaxed and shit.

Me
California is weird. This is not the real world.

Anyway, so Stew meets us at the door and gives us the tour. The bathroom. What do I say to that? I say that I will go three days without showering or peeing before I ever set foot in there. So.Gross. There is mold, yes, but beyond that there is also a trail of some kind of white powder that could be drugs, could be roach killer, could be any number of things. Who knows? I certainly don't, and I have a limited interest in finding out. Brian has opted not to have a bed in his room but instead ? a hammock! Yes. Girls apparently find that shit hot. Again, who knew?

The evening is uneventful and involves low key movie watching until, around eleven o'clock, Brian turns to Miss T and I and says, "Just so you know, Rico is showing up to make a transaction around midnight. You all should just stay in the living room and we'll keep him over there in the dining room because, you know, he can freak out and shit without anybody seeing it coming, and he'll be jumpy because you're here and shit like that."

The saddest part is how I immediately understood that Rico was the drug connection and this was a deal going down. In the dining room. Under the wood-paneled light fixture. In Reseda. I felt so Tom Petty. I felt so Valley. Where was my gang bandana when I needed it?

Me
We'll make him feel jumpy?

Brian
I mean, he just got out of jail and shit.

Me
Really? I'm probably going to regret asking this, but what was he in for.

To be clear, I didn't so much regret asking the question as I did regret continuing the conversation at all.

Brian
He stole a car.

Me
Yeah?

Brian
Except that really he didn't.

Me
How do you not steal a car and then go to jail for it? I'm confused, but then again I'm thinking everybody who goes to jail says they didn't do whatever it was that got them in there.

Brian
Well, it was his girlfriend's car. She was all pregnant and shit at the time, and they had this fight or something over shit, and he left in the car and she called the cops. So he was, you know, I guess technically in a stolen car or whatever, but she was just being a bitch.

Me
She sent her baby's daddy to jail?

Brian
I know. She's a total bitch.

Me
I bet he did something to deserve it.

Brian
I mean, he used to beat the shit out of her, but that bitch is crazy. She totally deserved it and shit.

Me
Are you for real?

Brian
These Latina bitches are crazy.

Me
Please stop talking. And if you can't stop talking altogether, at least stop talking racist.

Brian
Don't just say she didn't deserve it. You don't know. You're a woman. Of course you'll take that ho bag's side.

Me
Just, stop talking so I can pretend this conversation isn't happening.

Brian
I mean, it's just that he didn't steal that car, technically and all.

Me
Oh my God.

So Rico shows up. I don't think that's his real name or anything, but that's what we call him. Rico. Like rich. Or like that hottie Latin rapper from the eighties. The one with the hair extensions. The first thing I notice about Rico is that he has no teeth. I mean, he has back teeth and bottom teeth, but there are no top teeth in the front. This, clearly, impedes his speech, but I think he may have had a speech defect already because, even with all the extra air whistling through his mouth, I wasn't able to understand a word he said. Also, he spoke in a really high voice. I'm thinking something happened when he was in "the joint," but again, what do I know? Miss T and I tried to stay innocuous in the living room (which, by the way, is furnished with the finest of black pleather couches), but where there are vaginas, men who have recently been in jail will find their way. Fortunately for me, Rico was more interested in Miss T's fantastically large breasts. Unfortunately, she could not understand a word he was saying. By the way, please note that both fantastically large breasts and missing teeth become a theme this weekend. But for now, sample dialogue between Miss T and Rico.

Rico
SSSSSSSS Wssssp Shhhhaaahhhsss Wssssapppppsss

Miss T
I'm sorry, I can't hear you.

Rico
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS WSSSSSSSSSSSP SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHSSSSSSSSSSSS WWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPSSSSSSS

Miss T
Um?

Rico
SSSSSSSAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHSSSSSSSSSSS

Miss T
Well, um, uh?

And so it went. Just air shooting through this space where once there were teeth, and then an occasional squeak or a vowel sound. Brian looking totally uncomfortable like he was sure an armed raped was about to take place on his black pleather couches. Fortunately, just at the minute I was sure that Rico had said a word that sounded remarkably like "pussy," his cell phone rang. No, actually, it was his pager. Pager. That's right. So he makes a call and, suddenly, with speed that can only be achieved by either a super hero or a convicted felon, he rushes from the house to his 1983 Honda Accord.

That's right, a grey 1983 Honda Accord. That's the car that he went to jail over, my friends. A 1983 Honda Accord.

Me
Another deal called?

Brian
No, that was that chick.

Me
The one who sent him to jail?

Brian
Yeah. That bitch.

Me
The one he beats the shit out of?

Brian
Yeah. Whore.

Me
But, how does she understand a word he's saying?

Brian
Women are bitches. They bring us down. They pussy whip us.

Me
Please stop talking.

Brian
Bitches.

Me
So, um, how are the drugs?

Brian
Women are like fucking drugs.

Me
Oh my God. Please make this stop. Please make this conversation stop.

And then Brian stumbles out of the room and we don't see him for the rest of the night. Presumably, he got high and masturbated. In the hammock.

People, the hammock. Are you with me here?

Chapter Two: Booze
The next night, after Miss T has left, Brian and Stew both felt like I need to go to a "real" LA bar so I can see where "real" actors and "real" writers go to commiserate while they wait for their big break. For the record, I hate both actors and writers. I hate them more when they have bought into the whole scene, but I'm working with it for this particular evening. So we go to this bar, which is admittedly a really cool bar with atmosphere and pleather booths and it made me feel all like I was in "Swingers" or something. The Boys begin to scope out all the women before we even have our first round of drinks.

Brian
God, I love women with fake tits.

Me
But I don't have fake tits.

Stew
I mean, fuck, just look how perfect they are.

Me
I don't really know anything about boobs. Really.

Stew
Can you just imagine? Can you just imagine grabbing on to those and going for a ride?

Me
Do I need to be here for this conversation?

Brian
I bet if you wanted to titty-fuck her, she wouldn't even need to hold them together.

Me
Do you understand that those are not natural?

Brian
I wish all women had fucking fake tits. I mean, you can't make tits that good naturally.

Me
Do you even know that I'm here? I have really small boobs, but I like them. They're friendly.

Stew
Fuck man.

Brian
I'm going to hit that shit so hard tonight.

Me
Is this really how it happens? You just go out to a bar and look at fake boobs and that's all it takes? Seriously, do you ever really wonder why you're not in a relationship? I mean, do you think women want to hear this shit?

Stew
Damn, man. Fucking D-cups. Good God.

Me
That woman there? In the red halter? That's who you're talking about?

Brian
Yeah. I mean, just look at those. DAMN.

Me
You do realize she's missing teeth, right?

Stew
Just, like, put a pillow over her face or something.

Me
Is what you're saying that even though I have all of my teeth, you'd rather have sex with that woman than me because she has big fake boobs?

Stew
Damn, Jocelyn, chill out. I'll do you tonight if you want.

Me
THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT.

Stew
We can do the slap, slap. I'll make you holler.

Me
OH MY GOD. THAT IS SO NOT WHAT I MEANT. I WAS TRYING TO MAKE A POINT.

Brian
You know, that teeth issue might come in handy if she was blowing me or something.

Me
I have to go outside and get some air. You're making me want to hide under the table. You scare me.

But nobody notices that I've gone outside because a woman with one arm and triple D cup breasts has walked in. Or something like that. Me and my small breasts? We move stealthily like an invisible spy out of the back door.

Chapter Three: Porn
We get home from the bar. Shockingly, none of the boys have actually managed to score with the big boobed women who all seem to be missing various other body appendages. I'm going to argue it was because the boys would have been bringing those woman home to a hammock, but it could also have been that those women all seemed to be hooking up with men with multiple facial piercings and visible butt crack. Anyway, the boys want to watch some porn. There is no way to do this that is not dialogue. Work with me.

Me
So what are we watching?

Brian
The Wrong Snatch. We own it. I fucking love that porn.

Me
Yeah?

Brian
Yeah, I mean, it's even got plot and shit.

Me
Right. Okay. What's the plot?

Brian
It's a detective story. They're like, looking for this woman and shit, but the only way to find her is to identify her snatch, so the detective has to sleep with all these bitches along the way just to be able to identify the woman who actually has the secret code and shit.

Me
Are you fucking me?

Brian
Not yet, but this movie is fucking hot. Maybe you'll get in the mood.

Me
To have sex in the hammock?

Brian
It's the motion of the ocean, sweets.

Me
I really can't believe I'm about to say this, but why don't you put the porn in?

And so the porn starts, and Stew gets more and more into it. And then this. No, I'm not joking. This conversation really happens. In ernest.

Stew
That's the kind of girl I want.

Me
A porn star?

Stew
No, not a fucking porn star. I'm not gonna marry fucking porn star. Those bitches are all used up.

Me
I'm confused, but maybe it's just me. We're talking about the kind of girl you want to marry?

Brian
This porn is fucking brilliant. Look at that cum shot.

Me
Uh huh. Anyway, Stew, stay with me here. We're talking about the kind of girl you want to marry?

Stew
Yeah.

Me
And we're watching a porn?

Brian
A fucking brilliant porn!

Me
Yes, we're watching a fucking brilliant porn. I myself am captivated by the way the detective is trying to identify the woman's vagina by having anal sex with her, but take that out of the equation. We're talking about the kind of girl you want to marry, and we're watching a porn. Yes? Am I right?

Stew
Yeah.

Brian
Fuck yeah! Look at him go! Damn!

Me
I don't know what to do with this. Anyway, so if we're talking about the kind of girl you want to marry and we're watching a porn, then doesn't that mean that you want to marry a porn star?

Stew
No, I want a girl who looks like that. All tight and shit with boobs like that, but I want her to be a virgin.

Brian
Virgins are fucking hot.

Me
You cannot be serious.

Stew
I mean, it's so fucking frustrating. Why can't I find a fucking hot ass chick who wants to get wild in bed but hasn't whored around with a bunch of men before.

Me
It's like every time I think you'll stop saying things that are insane, you say something even more insane than before.

Brian
The redheaded chick is hot. Look at her going wild on him.

Stew
Fuck yeah.

Me
Are you even listening to me? Do you understand how insane what you're saying is?

Stew
I'm going to find that girl. She's fucking out there.

Me
Yeah. You think you're gonna find her in a bar like that one we went to tonight?

Stew
Those women had fine, fine tits.

Me
AND NO TEETH.

Brian
Blow jobs are fucking hot.

Me
This is happening.

Stew
I just want a girl who's fucking wild in bed but still really, you know, fucking pure and shit.

Me
Well, you're halfway there. It's Saturday night and you're drunk and high and watching porn. Better start shopping for a ring, cause that girl's right around the corner, my friend.

Brian
Look! Fucking look! She got his whole cock in her mouth! DAMN!

Stew
Wanna have sex?

Me
Me?

Stew
Fuck yeah.

Me
No.

And then, within minutes of each other, Stew and Brian passed out. I quietly turned the sound of grunting and anal sex down and went to bed. In the hammock.

Everybody should spend three days in the Valley. It's like going to a European country: Nobody showers, they all have bad dental hygiene and liberal views on drugs, and they live for art. If art is a walk-on part in a television pilot. Just visit though. That place will suck you in and before you know it you'll be confused between porn and real life. You'll rock climb while high. You'll, well, I mean, just don't move there, okay?

You know, all these years later, that shit is just as funny.

What I'm wondering is, whatever happened to Stew and Brian?