"Did anyone ever tell you Harry, that you have beautiful brown eyes?"
(((((You have beautiful brown eyes)))))
(((((You have beautiful brown eyes)))))
(((((You have beautiful brown eyes)))))
(((((You have beautiful brown eyes)))))
(((((You have beautiful brown eyes)))))
"..."
Harry clutched the seat of the booth for dear life. He was afraid that his legs would betray him and sprint out of the restaurant down to the freeway. He couldn't bear another Gomez split-second. Flee Gomez, flee L.A..
Point me in the direction of Albuquerque
I need to go h-o-o-o-ome
I need to go h-o-o-o-ome
I want my room. I want my bed. I want my basement. I want to hibernate there for the winter. Or maybe longer.
I wanna go home.
I wanna stay.
"...?"
You have beautiful brown eyes. What next? "Shall we dance dance?"
And Gomez knew he had blurted out yet again The Cry of the Moron, but that was just him. Nothing to be done. Sigh. Nothing to be done.
It wasn't a come-on line. Not for Gomez, who at thirty-two years old, still wasn't sure what he was. Am I or ain't I? Is he or isn't he? He didn't have a fucking clue. A hunch, okay, a feeling, yeah, but shit, Harry had beautiful brown eyes.
Poor tactless Gomez. Always pushing it, pushing it till something goes oops. Dumb questions, embarrassing questions, inappropriate questions, annoying questions. Questions, questions, questions. But after a while, people like Gomez get used to the eyes rolling, the guffaws, the sneers, the turned shoulders. Life as Gomez, "Good grief."
"No, that's not what I meant, y'know," Gomez back-tracked. Yeah right, yeah right. "Just that you've got kind of a dangerous look."
Dangerous look?
I wanna go home. Take me home.
"Like maybe you should do acting instead of writing?"
Like maybe I should punch out your fucked up Gomez head, Gomez.
The Law of Putz Attraction in motion.
"I did some acting in college. Majored in theater actually," Harry bragged while simultaneously hating himself for feeling that way. The only thing more pathetic than hanging out with Gomez, was trying to impress him. Harry wanted to weep.
"Why'd you stop?" Gomez bit his lip. He actually withheld saying, 'You'd make a great leading man.' There's hope for us all.
"Choked...Literally, on stage during a production of Waiting For Godot. Long story but I can't get on a stage anymore..."
"Well, the camera's not a stage..."
"Look I can't, Gomez, I just can't. I have no desire to act." Which was anything but true. Harry hungered for the spotlight, any kind, any way, but he lost his nerve and that was it. Shalom.
"Okay, okay. Just asking. In case we go into more casting for the series if it gets picked up."
Ding ding ding. Be nice, Harry. Remember, Gomez is a connection. Networking is about making connections. About browning your nose. Maybe mom is right? Become a radiologist. No need to Gomez. Look at some pitchers (sic) and laugh all the way to the bank.
"I like writing because you don't feel so exposed.," Harry said. "Like there's something so pathetic about acting, so, 'Look at me, look at me!' Like a neglected child."
"True, actors are mostly a bunch of morons. Now I've got Wenzday Wilson threatening to walk if he doesn't get a personal masseuse on the set. Like fuck, we 're no even close to a green light...But more important, how's life with Wendy?"
First tell me if you really ever dated her, Gomez.
"She just adopted another pussy. Shared a joint with her last night and she coughed up a fur ball."
Gomez cracked up. "Seriously?"
"Yeah."
No. Embellished. Bullshit, but true in spirit. Cuz stories go better with bullshit.
"Welcome to California, Harry. One big freak-a-thon. Get used to it...So how's your room?"
"Okay if I never leave it. Yesterday I walked into the kitchen and there was an inch-thick line of army ants running from the garden into a discarded pizza box on the kitchen counter..."
Gomez gagged. "I hope it's not the same one from last week..."
"Here's something else to gag about. I kind of had a thing with her the first day."
Gomez sang, "Everyone loves Wendy," but was worried that she exposed him. They were only friends, just friends. "You didn't!"
"More like she did me. Bad mistake. Won't happen again." it did happen again. And again. "She has a pussy that smells like a pet shop, but man, can she fuck!"
Gomez blurted out a nervous laugh. Good time to change the subject. Preemptive move before you get exposed. "So did Dik-Dash read your Feldman script?"
"I think he's on it now. I'm actually supposed to call him back tomorrow."
"Follow up with him. It could be the big break you need, Harry. That's what LA.'s about."
Just one more thing to dread.
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