martacious

November 19, 2009

Previous: Happy Accident For A Film Geek

Stefan and Jason

After talking to Alyse about Jason, and falling apart over the phone, he’s still in my head tonight. I can improvise a conversation between us and I’m surprised I can pretty much figure out his response. I don’t want to write this like its a fucking obituary, but maybe it will sound that way. He’s probably in New York. He’s definitely not in LA anymore.

I was really fucking stupid when I was 18. Even worse at 19, but probably not as stupid as 17. At 19, I moved out of my aunt’s, after overstaying my welcome by at least a month, and I finally found an apartment on Sunset and Western- right off of Harold Way. Across the street from a halfway house, just around the corner from Lucy’s Laundromat, and a wonderful variety of eccentrics and homeless making up the "neighborhood" As my friend loves to recall, he drove me back to LA from Colorado, and on the way I was telling him my neighborhood wasn’t so bad, and I actually painted a favorable picture. When he dropped me off, he pulled out, to see a homeless dude pushing a shopping cart and then pausing to light a crack pipe. That wasn’t in the brochure.

I found The American Radio Network in a newspaper ad and it seemed like a cool deal. They would teach me to run my own radio show. I had thought I had found my calling, I could write comedy shows, say whatever the hell I wanted, play whatever music I wanted, maybe raise enough money to fly my girlfriend out to Los Angeles…yeah, it’s pretty embarrassing to think I bought into that. Bought into the fantasy that ME- I had created. Big surprise, it was a scam, but it took me a few months to figure that out.

On the plus side, it forced me to write my own shows every week, and I enjoyed it for awhile. I’d buy my Big Ed ice cream sandwich and down a Jolt Cola. Invited a couple of friends to do comedy bits with me. I even invited a local singer to perform. You should’ve seen the look on his face when he realized I didn’t know how to mike him. Or the look on his face when another DJ told him that no one would hear the show. Or the look on his face when I gave him the one and only cassette tape that had captured this debacle.

After I found out that the girl of my dreams was getting married I broke down on "the air" and said, "You’re listening to KCLA FM 99.3- for The Wurst Radio Show…that’s right…the show where no one hears…a fucking thing." Like I said, no one was listening, so I left.

I was walking home, and I stopped outside the laundromat (back when they had tables) and sat for awhile, smoking a cigarette. There were two guys sitting at the table down from me. They were pretty loud. One dude was black, had thick dreadlocks, pretty fit- handsome guy- clearly a ladies man…haha, that’s funny he was EXACTLY like Tim Meadows, holy shit, I can’t believe I’ve never made the connection! Same fucking smile and same voice! Makes me wonder if Mr. Meadows ever ran into this asshole. Anyway, that was Stefan- this guy is a whole other fucking story.

Then there was Jason. The complete opposite, except they both could talk up a storm…and TALK SHIT. Jason talked like a brother, but he was a big bald heavyset white dude, frequently wearing jerseys or blue scrubs, always had some kind of heavy looking bling around his neck- rings. Both of these guys mouths were their biggest assets. Stefan could convince women to buy him shit, and Jason could convince anyone to buy HIS SHIT. Fake jewelry that he’d claim was real silver. Purchased for 10-20 bucks, sold for 40-80.

Somehow Stefan got me all soft too and I let him live in my bachelor apartment for awhile. We shared cigarettes, meals. He would make booty calls from my house and disappear for several nights. Then he’d come home drunk at 3 in the morning, pounding on my door, dropping several bags of loot in the hallway. Fucking shoes, and shirts-FOOD. A woman had bought him all this stuff! I thought wow, this guy really knows the ins and outs. I even had him on the radio show to talk about women, because he pretty much knew everything.

There were nights that I started losing my patience with the guy. He would argue over the phone with one of his girls, and it would get loud and really nasty. I was getting complaints from my neighbors, and Stefen wouldn’t shut the fuck up. This was back when I talked even LESS, I couldn’t tell the guy to shut the fuck up, and draw a line because I didn’t know how at the time. It’s too bad I didn’t, because the guy ran me over several times.

He finally knew when things were going sour when I didn’t let him have a cigarette. I was tired of him mooching off me, and he’d been living with me for free for awhile, but of course he threw it back in my face,

"I BROUGHT ALL THAT FUCKING SHIT BACK FOR THE BOTH OF US!"

He ended up stealing my camcorder and selling it. He had convinced me that it was someone else, this girl that was hanging out with us at the time, and I wrongfully accused her. Later on, by sheer CHANCE, a good friend of mine, Brad, stumbled onto my camera and got it back for me. He was checking it out (some dude was selling it) and there was still a tape inside- he played the footage and saw that I was on it! Stefan owned up to it and tried to justify it by saying I was an asshole and what-not, this was after I kicked him out of course.

Anyway, fuck that prick. Every 2-3 years I think I see him on the street and do a double-take. Our last encounter was at least 6 years ago, I saw him in passing and I looked him in the eye and he didn’t have the balls to say anything. I wanted to follow him for the rest of the day because I felt like I had beaten him, that he was the fucking loser in the same situation, and I was getting closer to my goal. He really got under my skin for awhile, I was hell bent on revenge.

One more thing before I move on, it always amused Brad and I to no end that Stefan like to enhance his vocabulary and add words that had absolutely no place in the conversation. After awhile we perfected a Stefan impression- if only I could do it to his face. He would get worked up and take the stage, making a performance out of it, he would always start with,

"Dude…you don’t even know…you don’t even know about the consequential evidence, I’m responsible for the reconciliation." "Dude…you don’t even know about the Aborigine."

That was the other thing, he was always trying to take credit for EVERYTHING, he truly was a know it all- and he always said it with the scoff like, "I can’t believe you don’t already know this dude"

I remember one day when Stefan was long gone and Brad had moved in, he said something that made me piss myself with laughter- I think he was improvising as Stefan for 20 minutes and we were throwing ridiculous quotes back and forth- then Brad suddenly pointed to my door and said,

"Dude…you don’t even know how I broke that knob."

I don’t know why but we were both rolling- it was a simple claim, and a dialed down statement, but coming from Stefan’s voice it was so absurd and hilarious. Plus I think he DID break the fucking thing when he lived with me which just added to the moment.

**********

Jason was something else man. While Stefan was from Louisiana, Jason was all New York, and like most New Yorkers, that was a badge of pride. We became friends and what a roller coaster ride that was. While I really got burned by Stefan, with Jason I was lucky. He could’ve burned me too, I loaned him some money when he was hurting, but he paid me back. He also returned the favor when I was completely fucked after being behind on rent. That was a common problem when I first moved out here, and my rent was only $385 a month. Even my dad helped me, but I pissed the money away, because I didn’t have a job. I think I spent most of it on dvds and cigarettes. It was shameful.

A typical day with Jason was wandering Hollywood, and he would run "errands" consisting of the aforementioned jewelry, and his Medicare scam. Recruiting homeless people and escorting them to treatment centers. As far as I could tell, he would get paid for the referrals by the doctors. The more patients he brought in, the more money he’d get. I’m not sure if the homeless had to pose as patients and then the doctors wouldn’t even treat them, I just know Jason would always spot the guy who was screwed up, obviously doing crack- he’d point out the signs to me. Bad skin, scratching- whatever. Not like it was always obvious, but Jason just knew.

"Hey man you have Medicare?"

This was followed by Jason usually trying to get the man to agree to meeting with him the next day, where Jason would escort the guy to the treatment center, and also give the guy some extra cash- say 20 bucks. Maybe the individual didn’t need Medicare, maybe if he was just eligible- I didn’t really know what was going on. A large sum of money was being set aside for these programs every month, and here was Jason cashing in by being a "runner" Fucking ov

er the government man, I guess it’s amazing I didn’t witness an arrest, or get in trouble myself for just being around the guy. Seriously though, I was soo stupid, and I never pried, and even if I did- would I have been able to grasp it? No. He probably fucking explained this shit to me, and I still didn’t get it. It’s not like he was hiding the information from me, but he didn’t give me a course either.

Aside from that it was usual lively banter. The guy will just say shit to people to their face because he doesn’t care. I would cringe like a gag reflex. He’d laugh at someone’s appearance and say something out loud once they got two paces behind Or some fucking mongoloid will walk by and he’d immediately say,

"There’s your girlfriend." I wouldn’t respond,

"Look man!"

I didn’t have to look, but he was never satisfied until I did. So I’d look, see the mongoloid, and shake my head. Then he’d cackle.

He stopped an elderly woman on the street,

"My friend thinks you’re attractive"

I wanted to DIE.

Usually his joke was met with bewildered looks or the reaction of, "What?" He wouldn’t stop there though, Jason wanted me to squirm,

"You remind him of his grandma."

I would just walk away and he’d catch up to me,

"Don’t you want to get her number?"

After several rounds of this he’d see I was getting genuinely pissed off, and he’d try to smooth things over.

"I’m kidding man, I’m sorry. I thought you would think she’s attractive."

I wouldn’t laugh and then he’d finally be sincere…for Jason.

"I’ll let you punch me…but I get to hit you back…seven times."

I would finally chuckle and then he would give me ten minutes to cool off before starting up again.

It wasn’t always like that, but that was actually part of the fun. It was also amazing to walk around with this guy because I was never scared- he was a big dude and seriously intimidating when he got pissed. Some homeless guy would want something or someone would try to hand out a religious pamphlet,

"Get the FUCK out of my face man!"

Occasional threats too, "I’ll fucking knock you out, and I’m not even playing." "TRY ME"

I started enjoying some of his jargon. Whenever I was telling him about my experiences he would relate with,

"I feel you, I feel you."

or if I said something that surprised him,

"Fo real?

I could make the guy laugh too and I suppose that’s why he liked me. He really dug this rap I wrote called, "White Ass Motherfucking Honkey Boy" I think the only time I really impressed him is when I took the stage at this open mike-for poetry night. Some actor who played Rufio in "Hook" hosted it- Dante something, this was on Cahuenga right below Hollywood. I really wanted to let loose, and I finally got the courage to do an Eric Bogosian monologue called, "Stag" I was performing to an almost all black audience and they were more than ready to watch me crash and burn. The first couple of minutes was performed to silence, while I was doing this stoner kid bit. My hand was soo slippery with sweat I couldn’t adjust the microphone. The monologue was another seven minutes long, so you can get the idea how much of a train wreck this was going to be.

Then the laughs started tricking in (its a hilarious monologue) and by the end I had large laughs and I was kicking ass.

Jason related how it looked really bad at the start and I could tell he had been dying with me., watching me lose and then cackling when I was doing all right.

Jason hung out with me on my 21st birthday. We went to the White Lion across the street from my apartment and they didn’t even card me. Most underwhelming celebration ever, and there was like five people there- all much older. I think Jason only had a few years on me. He could’ve been younger too, I really don’t remember- his mass threw me off.

Jason would stay at random motels, including some real shit holes. He didn’t really have a home. If he made good with his scams, he’d get a motel. Sometimes, he’d crash with me. Wow..I forgot about all the times I hung out in those random rooms, we watched all the season one Sopranos episodes. He was pretty disgusted when they did the weird CGI shit to bring Tony’s mom back for one more episode, after the actress had died. He used to do an impression of her big head moving on another actress’s body- cracked me up.

I had seen his CD collection, which was always a running joke. It had to be proof he was a homosexual. Boy George, Flock Of Seagulls, Queen- I think he had Celine and Barbara too, it was nuts. I only made fun of him up to a point because he would start to get hurt about it- like I was finally pushing one of HIS buttons. In all fairness he had his modest hip-hop section too.

Then there was that odd business where there were two heavy set women in the elevator with us. Like REALLY large. Jason introduced me and as always, I responded awkwardly. Later he told me that he hung out with them in the motel and they were freaky. They wanted to get down with the two of us, and I didn’t doubt it- they were giving flirtatious looks and looked capable of eating me alive. I backed out of course, this shit was too weird for me, and the idea of a friend being there was always taboo.

He might’ve got down with them later- he probably told me in detail too.