The other day I saw Malcolm McDowell pumping gas at
the Chevron. Me, I was just there minding my own business
filling up my tank and getting some skittles. Bruce Willis
was at the corner store this morning buying apples and
chatting up the cashier for fifteen minutes when all I wanted
was to get some change for the washing machine back at
my apartment and because I was in a hurry and the lady above me
Courtney Love only does her laundry when I have to do laundry and
we only have one machine in the building that works because
the landlord, Anthony Hopkins won’t fix the other one.
The 50 most beautiful people in the world according
to People Magazine showed up at my grandmother’s
funeral. First off, how come my grandma wasn’t on the cover?
She was the most beautiful person in the world to me. She
looked after me when my parents went to Reno and she
made me sugar pie and croffins and my grandma took me
to the very first horror movie I ever saw when I was 14
“The Prophecy” a film about toxic waste and genetic
engineering just like the 50 most beautiful people in
the world according to People Magazine.
Jake Gyllenhal took my seat on the bus, Raul Julia bought
the last bottle of vodka at the Liquor Cantina, my buddy
keeps inviting Sam Sheppard over to play poker and every
time I decide to go on the wagon start up a cleanse and try
to treat myself better Darryl Hannah calls me up for drinks
and of course whenever I have to get condoms late at night
at the 7-11 there they are Christian Slater, Charlie Sheen and
Steve Martin all a little drunk eating burritos and making
fun of William Shatner who’s past out near the news stand.
It never ends.
I held a yard sale a couple weekends ago and Moby
came over and tried to buy all my 8 track tapes
even though I kept telling him they weren’t for sale
finally I had to say, “Moby, you’re a dick.” He was
nonplussed, “I get that all the time” he said. Then
a gust of wind came by and carried him away.
You know I really don’t need to bump into Brittney Spears
when I’m at the methadone clinic, and I really don’t want to see
Rush Limbaugh at the urinal beside me when I have to take
a piss at the Cineplex and when I go to the food court I have
no interest in watching Sammy Sosa eat Szechuan and chew
with his mouth open
These fucking celebrities are everywhere. They keep hacking
into my life. They want to text me, tweet me, friend me
fuck off. I’m the last anonymous man on the face of the planet and
I like it that way. I don’t want to be an idol I don’t give a fuck
who can dance or which coconut is a goddamn survivor.
I want the Garden of Eden, I want a cocoon, I don’t want their faces
their foibles, their Neverland sex lives, I can’t handle this unrequited
din. I want sit in the quiet write a good poem and if I’m lucky
just listen to myself breathe. Unfortunately Tom Cruise is coming
over to give me a colonic while Henry Rollins kicks me in the nuts.
