| the truthbary 1 |
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| When I go to Mass three times on Sunday, shall I pray for our souls? HA HA – Me go to Mass? I’d rather eat gravel, which would be more productive. Saw a show last night on Damien Hirst. Yuck. He does know how to push buttons, but so did Dali and it doesn’t make it great art! I prefer shocking things that resonate and have substance. Madonna – she’s way too self-conscious. Takes herself WAY too seriously. Saw her on TV recently and she was affecting this AWFUL English matron type voice. Everything is way too deliberate. I saw bits of Evita on TV and it was totally wooden. I’m a diehard ‘Harold and Maude’ fan. Bud Cort’s a really bad drunk and pill popper. He lives in the Venice area of LA – a lot of people, including me, have seen him staggering around in a stupor. Sean Lennon was in Akbar, the gay bar. Apparently he’s there whenever he’s in LA. He talks like a queen but supposedly is marrying this Japanese woman. Yoko should forbid it damnit! She’s had enough gay friends in her life that she should forbid it. I dunno. I’m turning it into an Ibsen play. Chris Stein is one f***ed up guy! When she first met Chris, Debbie [Harry] had no idea, but over a short period of time, it became very apparent that Chris was completely fixated on his mother. Before they moved in together, if Chris was at Debbie’s apartment, she started getting these phone calls from Chris’ mother. At first it was nothing much – they’d talk for a few minutes, and that was it, but slowly, she’d begin to call CONSTANTLY!!! And Chris would spend way more time on the phone with her. Debbie and Chris move in together. Debbie gets very pissed off cos if Chris isn’t talking to his mother for hours every day, she’d show up unannounced and often wind up staying for days at a time. The mother became verbally abusive towards Chris as well as Debbie. Constantly calling Debbie a whore etc. She’d call at 3am, scream at Debbie and Chris, hang up, and call back later. Debbie finally got so mad that even though they were in a band together and she loved him, there was no way she could handle living with him and having his mother make their lives a living hell. So Chris would move back with his mother. And this starts a pattern that lasted YEARS. Chris finally told Debbie that he’d had a sexual relationship with his mother for years! And that even when they were together, he sometimes still did it [with his mother]. Debbie totally lost it. Threw him out. She wouldn’t talk to him for ages. She went into immediate therapy. And for talking about band biz, Clem Burke was the go-between. Gradually they got to the point where they could work together for short periods of time. But even in the studio or even on tour, Chris’ mother would call or show up to travel with them! Tina Weymouth and Chris Frantz started telling me these Chris Stein stories years ago. Both are fantastic people. Very funny, Debbie and Tina have been close friends for over – I think they met in 1975- so 24 years. I don’t know if Stevie Nicks lives in Phoenix – but it wouldn’t surprise me. It’s terrible there. Going to a band and an opening tonight. Hopefully it’ll be good. Free booze always cushions the blow regardless. My life story I thought should be called ‘Nobody From Nowhere’. ‘200 Bottles’ might work also – if it covers years up through to 1997. Bob Stanley once had a crush on me and at a different time, I had one on him. Now he’s basically lost his looks, but he’s a sweet and funny guy. David Geffen and Keanu Reeves were seen all over LA going into stores and spending thousands together. Geffen gave Keanu a Twombly, which he sold about a year ago. I think Keanu could turn in a good [acting] performance, but he has one fatal flaw in my opinion – himself. Used to think Keanu Reeves was kinda cute, but from the way he talks…stupidity that excessive is a turn-off for me. I love English papers – The Times is a must read. One of the few papers Murdoch hasn’t managed to spoil. I’ve always believed in making a big entrance! And it’s weird enough that I hope the other few people get freaked out. Russ Meyer was lecturing at an art school in Pasadena. I’d been into his stuff for a while, so decided to go. First bought a pic of Russ so I could have it signed. It was a pic with Russ directing a nude woman in bed. I went to the school, parked my car and got out. Such a cliché, but as I was walking to find where Russ was gonna be, I saw him walking out of a car park, so I went up, introduced my self, said I was big fan and asked if he would sign my photo. ‘Jesus – haven’t seen this in f***ing years’, Russ said. ‘It’s from ‘The Ten Minutes’.’ He signed it for me, I thanked him and went and put the pic back in my car. I walked back to where he was and Russ was wandering around with a reel of 16mm film. ‘Hey – uh, Chad, right? Do you know where the auditorium is? Can you show me?’ ‘No, Mr Meyer. I’m not a student here, I just came to hear you talk.’ ‘Well, let’s go find it together then.’ So, here I am, a young fag, walking around this campus with Russ Meyer! We found the auditorium and were really early. We walked around and ended up in the school cafeteria, so we sat down and talked some more. After a few minutes he pulled a large silver flask from his jacket pocket. He unscrewed the top, took a big gulp or two and finished with an ‘AHHH!’ noise, wiping his right hand on his sweater. Handed the flask across the table and said, ‘Here – you want some, son?’ My first thought was – god knows where this man’s mouth has been! Then thought – am I really going to pass up a chance to drink with Russ Meyer? F*** no! So I drank some, and it was the cheapest bourbon I’ve ever tasted. He was fun to talk to in the 30-40 minutes we spent together. He talked about how he got into movies and pornography after the war, doing girlie shit and lots of photos in the early days. A lot of his war buddies ended up working for him – publicity, accountant, cinematographer, etc. He told stories in such a way that the mundane seemed fantastic. His talk was great, closing with arguably his finest post- ‘Faster Pussycat! Kill!! Kill!!’ work, ‘Up!’, which culminates with this woman sticking dynamite up this guy’s arsehole and blowing him up. When it ended and everyone left, I asked him the two things I’d forgotten to ask earlier: how his meeting with Fellini went. He said he loved Fellini, and all they talked about was big tits. Then I asked him if he’d ever heard of the Russian director, Andrei Tarkovsky. He replied, ‘No, but I love to pay tribute to Sergei Eisenstein!’ A few months later I phoned him at home, because I’d heard he was hiring people to work and maintain his archives. He remembered me but said, ‘Oh no! Only hirin’ the biggest titted women I can find!!’ We said goodbye and that was it. Nice guy. Hetero in a completely surreal way. |
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