#Me: avoids social gatherings. Scurries away from my neighbors in terror. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ithinkimsoberyeah · 7 years

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Business Type with bag

Group C 3470 Wilshire

Third job of the day, i don't know what day of the week it is, the warm up comic at the trash chef talk show said it was her monday. The push to pump us up was hallowing for us as it was thankless for her. I'm coming down and i don't have anything on me. We're shooting in the subway, on the purple line where no one goes after dark, not tonight, it must be a weekday, i swear it was Thursday. The all too happy black ladies next to me cackle happily. Thank god for black women. They're the only one's that let me on the bus high and broke trying not to get mugged in downtown, and the one's who warm me at each and every call, looking in my red almost bleeding eyes and just smile.Shit.I look up from sitting on this train and there he is. I forgot this was his show. He looks wide from wealth and colder from fame. I can't believe i fucked this up enough to book his show. I never have and promised myself i would never. I've been high for weeks now i can't keep things together. Nothing seems real and pretending to fake everything everyday, two, three different times, winter in new york, a spring cafe in chicago, a sunny studio audience full of poor and starving angelenos wearing their sunday best to pretend enough to the home viewing drech their smiles are legitimate else they'll be ejected without their beggers pay. I didn't even notice which car i sat in. I always have the worst luck. Right by the camera. There he is talking with the director. I glace behind my seat to the scratch glass reflection. Two sores on my bottom lip, my eyes mapped out in veins and face without any color or recognizable shape. I can't keep telling every AD and PA i have the flu. Everyone knows, everyone tolerates in the background business if you show up on time, wearing whatever nondescript no pattern, no all black no all white and show up camera ready with hair and makeup. Hell i'm not even close to the worst that show up. Homeless sleeping in their cars, opiate addicts looking for their first meal in days, so many sleeping in holding, on location in front of camera ruining so many takes. Kathetine Heigl screamed a scream i never knew she had the real conviction for after some poor overworked dolt passed out right behind her in a courtroom galley. He was blacklisted but the show was cancelled in it's first season anyway, seems everyone is still sleeping on Heigls attempt to come back from being out as a bitch instead of what she really is, boring to watch, in anything. We're rolling, and already the doors slide open to reveal his bearded scowl, i dart down to my shoes and stop breathing. He's acting, i forgot, he's looking at everyone, i glance back up. I never read the sides. He's looking for a perp. Just a glance, he couldn't have recognized this shell. He's already to cars down, still glaring every back ground down. I think i'm safe when i see mcaughly fucking culkin enter my car, oh fuck. The perp guest star. Of course it is. I can't hide now. He has a black and green stripped backpack that's leaning over into my selfishly taken handicap seat. My trenchcoat is filthy with stains, i don't even remember going to wardrobe. McCulley is now trying to fake hide his face next to my real terror of being caught. What will he think? That i'm stalking him? God that is sick. I'm sick from the come down and can't breathe through my nose. I hope he just thinks i'm an addict, a loser at my lower rungs before death finally takes me. Everyone in our former social circle together already can't shut up about it between their cocaine sunsets to mimosa sunrises. Yeah, he'll just think i'm a desperate loser that is ashamed to exist. I was at his housewarming party. After years of being our neighbor in west Hollywood in the tiny Rosa apartments, and years of bit parts in movies, he finally scored co-star on network. Who knew. His new house across from jerod leto had it's own authentic collegiate locker rooms and stream. It was raining outside, a true rarity, and all i could do was smoke pot in his secret study room and avoid all his husbands friends. Once they all discovered my hiding spot with loud drunken howls and uber hollywood chit chat i had no choice but to hid between his recycle bins under the cover outside in rain. After just feeling the deep in and out of my lungs intensified by his legendary shared weed, i notice on the sharp incline of the hill, a stone walkway with what i thought was a overpriced statue, when all of a sudden it moved. The impossible trek of slipping to my death before reaching the wet summit only pushed me into the drizzle with a quicker step to see who else was avoiding this shindig. The white puff upon arrival gave him away, he was avoiding his own party. Without saying anything he shotgunned the pot smoke into a wet lipped drenched beard full on makeout in the rain, in the hollywood hills, where Leto could probably see us now in his kimono on a sunny day. Just a large shadow awaited me into the sliding door entrance, his husband. His spiked blonde hair and decade late goatee only showed me a grin and not so subtle hint at his timeline of checking out of his life. He never talked allowed, or angrily texted or sent vague death threats like so many significant other's of my other have before. He must know though, i never met one that hasn't. My phone by that time was full of jockstrap photos of his actor other half and text directions to my side entrance guesthouse and followup sextings. He just took a drag of a real cigarette, one to always refuse his man's major marjuana representation. He didn't smile or glare. He just let the smoke leave his half open mouth. Geo came down steps behind me and i scurried into the blitz beyond the kitchen before they were face to face. I haven't seen Geo since. I think with the money and network and his husbands late push to get him off the kush got him in a whirlwind to remember his lunch fuck buddy's slow shameful decline into oblivion. We've all got priorities.I snap back into the subway car as Geo pulls the emergency break. He's found mcculley incognito next to me. The car breaks into pantomimed pandemonium with looks of silent screaming make me feel what little blood in my face drain. I fall forcefully into mr home alone himself and see the glock in Geos leather gloved grip. My hearts racing, i push off the scrawny punk and fight off the two black woman once laughing, now clawing at me from the floor. Geo makes contact. His black saucers punch through me as i grasp at anything to escape. Here i am running through a fake train from my former fuck buddy with his fake gun drawn at a real mculleumy culkin with a subway car full of silent terror enacting my very real feeling in this made up situation. I remember now, it was Wednesday going into Thursday for this night shoot. It must be thursday by now. The AD plant in our car yells cut and there's a mad dash of crew piling in from the walkway to gather the stars and reset the absurd scene.Now i only have to relive this moment for four more hours. Looking at him in the eye each passing time, pulling his gun out at what looks pointed right at me take after take, giving no tell in his scowl about my grave condition and sad state of affairs. It's a perfect kind of hell i think kevin McAllister would appreciate. I have a day of dancing without sleep in the aisles of Jennifer Lopez ahead. My 4th job in 48 hours. (Hobbes) Shulz was always keen as he was right. It can always get worse.Action!Time for another take

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