Stefan and Jason (continued)

 The only time I got mixed up in his bullshit was when we charged people to park across the street from Hollywood Billiards. It was a parking lot that no one was using- I think it was for some closed businesses, but Jason had me set out some cones and he would collect to every guy pulling up in his fancy car. Most of them wouldn’t question it. When someone caught wise, we were all ready gone. 

 

My girlfriend Lee, myself, and Jason hung out together, did Karaoke at the Billiards, until Jason got his ass banned, probably for the parking thing- I think they actually had his picture on a wall somewhere. 

 

I think he owed me some money, but it wasn’t like a huge chunk like the first time, so I gave him some time, I’d see him less and less. I’d always run into him eventually- the guy was on foot every day all day, unless he was on the train or on some bus. Back and forth from Hollywood to Downtown and back again. Once he was gone for a couple months, said he’d been in jail.

 

He always turned up though.

 

I even put him in a 16mm film for LACC. It was a terrible film called, "I SHIT ON ART FILMS", and he purposely did some obscene gesture to a religious symbol. I tried to fit in every student art film cliche- guy shooting himself at the end, that kind of thing. Turned out to be a lot worse than an actual student film, and I failed the class because I never showed up to the final screening- I was too embarrassed. That was another thing, he had fake IDs, I don’t know what his real last name was, but he was going by Jason Goldstein. He’d make every kind of race joke possible, and let every slur fly- he was an equal opportunity racist. Let the homophobia out too, with the occasional, "You a fucking fagoot man- get the fuck away from me."

 

We were walking down the street and he was telling me he had tried speed, and his arm was all fucked up because he’d been trying to dig under his skin. Bugs under his skin. It didn’t sound like he’d try this shit again, he was spooked.

 

One night he was going to pay me back and I wasn’t at my apartment. He got in the front door somehow, walked down the hall and banged the shit out of my door, waking up all my neighbors and seriously alarming my Landlady. He left before she could call the cops.

 

The last time I saw Jason I took the elevator up to some random room at the Motel 6, and some skinny looking junkie answered the door. I asked for Jason and he was in bed. There were a couple of other guys in there too, half dressed and not dressed, looking seedy- like they’d gotten high and fucked each other- it was weird.

 

Jason answered and sounded out of his mind. He only had a chunk of the money and said he’d have to get the rest back to me another time. He always reassured me he was good for it. I knew he was, because he had his scams. His arm was still fucked up and he looked like he shared the same symptoms of his Medicare patients.

 

For a long time we’d see each other on the bus, randomly colliding in each other’s paths.

 

"Where you coming from?"

 

"Hey man!"

 

"Marty!" from across the street.

 

"I’ll roll with you."

 

"So what about that girl?"

 

We laughed a lot. I wonder if he went back to New York. Something tells me he’s dead. You only get to meet a few larger than life people, and Jason was big enough for a lifetime. He made an impact on me. I haven’t thought about him in years and last night I was balling because I remembered what my old life was like and how this guy was a huge part of it.

 

<p style=”margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; line-height: 14.0px; font: 11.0px Lucida Grande; color: #333333″>My ex told me that he came out of the closet in private and he never really told me in person…probably thought I would hate him or something. He liked me too. He joked about the possibility to such an extent- joke after joke after joke, but always on the defense when anyone else tried to get him to own up to it.

 

None of that matters though. He should’ve known I would’ve been ok- he was the one yelling all the fucking slurs.

 

I took this picture of him outside of the Union Station.

 

I really miss this guy. If he doesn’t turn up I’ll have to make another therapeutic movie and cast someone that can really embarrass me.