It is late now. Outside the soft Bel Air darkness has fallen, and I sit here in my grandmother's bed, in my grandmother's house in my grandmother's city. Alone with my memories.
-The duck with the broken wing me and Viktor found by the creek and got 2 keep. For five weeks feeding him cornflakes, Sprite and love until one morning his box was empty.
-Sunday shopping with dad @ the mall.
-Me overhearing mom complain 2 dad 'bout the stench from the "fucking duck carcass" in the dumpster.
-The 164 cigarettes me and Evan smoked behind the fence towards the hill (yes, I counted them)
-Me leaving Evan 4 Europe. Without a word.
Life is strange. Now I'm back, and all I can think about is the person I left without a word.
But until Evan returns I will make do with what I've got. And what I've got is a 52 year old homosexual nobleman from France called Zombie and lives in one of the half hidden guest houses in granny's back garden.
My new found friend believes Hollywood is as interesting as a Dancing Bear with a strange red hat. "Interesting 2 watch perhaps, but not someone you ask for guidance in spiritual matters."
Apart from despising Hollywood, Los Angeles and USA in general he also has this obsessive idea of "hanging out" with me.
Strangely enough he seems 2 have some sort of influence, because there's a lot of important lookin' people comin' and goin' in his small back-yard shed.
And oh yeah - he will stay until the funeral.
(It's all, I'm sure, grandmother's idea of humor. I can almost hear her laugh from wherever they keep her now.)
Finally, 2 celebrate my loneliness I've spent the evening writin' something extra 4 you diehards. It's about Evan.
Press "Like" on Facebook below and then visit my Facebookpage 2 get the password.
(Yeah I KNOW there's a lot of Facebook begging these days but that's the only way 4 me 2 know what u ppl want. And I'm nothing but a slave 2 ur affirmation)