Dead Stars (10 page)

     . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Steve Martin was telling Karen Armstrong how he applied the simple advice Carl Reiner gave him about screenwriting to his novels: Give 'em the rules in the first few minutes—

Maybe someone told Kafka,
Leave 'em laughing
 . . . . . . . . . . . .

Bud drifted again.

He'd read in an article that morning in HuffPost about Steve selling a Hopper for 28 mill. But Steve said the Hopper he
really
cared about, “The Lighthouse,” was still hanging in his living room. Bud idly wondered what a thing like that would cost to insure . . . . .

Last week, he wangled his way into an Art of Fiction Q&A with James Franco. (Sold-out, at the Chateau.) The actor had a new novel out, & was being interviewed by Liz Phair, a pre-millennium rockstar who supposedly made her name—Bud didn't have much of a file on her—by doing an album that mirrored
Exile on Main Street
, song for song. Which explained how a few years ago she wound up reviewing Keith Richards' memoir for the front page of
The New York Times Book Review
. At the time, Bud was surprised they engaged in that sort of “stunt reviewing.”
*
He quickly emailed the editor, touching briefly on his career as a journeyman screenwriter (currently in mid-novel), suggesting it might be “great fun” to pair him with any Hollywood books coming down the pike—unauthorized biographies of stars, say, or the more respectable A. Scott Berg–type histories of agencies and studios, of Jews in the business, even Hollywood fiction. Bud had the whimsical idea of enclosing a satirical
Shouts & Murmurs–
style essay (to give the editor a sample of what he could do) on the reality star Lauren Conrad's
New York Times Best Seller
trilogy
L.A. Candy.
Ultimately, he decided not to, because he didn't want to look like he was auditioning. He did his best to lay the groundwork. You never knew. Maybe the next time they were casting around for a “Hollywood insider” take on a new novel by Lauren or Snooki or the Kardashian family, they'd give him a shout (not a murmur).

There was another writer Bud wanted to study: Fran Lebowitz. Some days he was of a mind that he could learn even more from Fran than from JCO. Fran was an examplar of a phenomena Bud always found as puzzling as it was terrifying: to
wit,
the counterfeit being taken for the real. Fran
signified
for the culturati, complicit in promoting the myth that she was of the same bloodline as Thurber and Wilde. Pundits and benefactors to whom those men were as foreign as Bud was to Proust had inexplicably anointed her as such and Fran made sure to sit very still as they lowered the papier-mâché crown upon her epigrammatically-challenged head. Because
Bud
was a writer who hadn't really written, not in the way he was
about
to, not just
yet
, it was galling that Fran became famous—lionized
—
for (not) doing the very same. Bud was alternately in awe and enraged, & obsessed with solving the riddle of how she had managed to pull that off. Bud felt that as a preemptive measure, should he never be able to finish his book, he could sit at her feet and take notes. Why kid himself? He
too
wanted a hagiographic HBO documentary, he
too
wanted a Nobel Prize-winning friend singing his praises! Bud went online and scrolled through Fran's aphorisms:
Calling a taxi in Texas is like calling a rabbi in Iraq 
. . .
Humility is no substitute for a good personality 
. . .
Your life story would not make a good book—don't even try
 . . . Bud thought: The tables are not round at the Waverly!——but why was he so angry? Was it mere jealousy? What business was it of his if the Empress's new clothes were Weejuns & 501s? Why was it that her papal, erroneous mini-lectures on the difference between
witty
and
funny
—unseemly advertisements for herself—set Bud's teeth on edge? Why, when what Fran had was what he wanted? Maybe he resented her because he wrote comedy for so many years. (Occasionally, Johnny Carson and Jay Leno used his stuff, though most of Bud's material never made it to air.) Fran despised the very thing she was:
a comic
. She was no Louis C.K., nor was she George Carlin or a cross between—she was weak borscht, a third-string
tummler
in a tux
,
a poor man's Steven Wright. An impressionist——no, an impersonator——no,
illusionist
——an Oscar Wiener Oscar Wilde. But just when he was in the thrall of h8ting on Fran, he fell into awe again . . . he had to admit his guru was possessed by social genius. She sure could pick friends. Hanging with Toni Morrison
fifteen years before
the Nobel. The perfect marriage: the bride wore black.
Now Steve and Karen were talking about W. G. Sebald as the writer who influenced Steve's placement of paintings throughout
An Object of Beauty . . .
Bud checked out again, letting the African ladies carry him down a ruminative stream
 . . . Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, Maya Angelou 
. . .
Toni Angelou, Maya Walker, Alice Morrisangelalker
—
more
writers whose books he'd never crack . . .
crazed
black swans dressed as royalty (but don't forget the royalties)—best look out when they hit the ground runnin' to collect their awards. Cause dese bitches'll run you
down.
Deez
scary bitches are award-
crayzuh
, ebony & ivory don't mean
nuthin
to dese bitches but
black- & white-tie
, as in
gala
, as in neverending
shitstorm
of tributes & lifetime achievements hoohahs celebrating mediocre lyrical gifts, shameless shamans mainlinin Kennedy Center Honors like heroin, bitches never had to go too far to cop, cause more
mutherfuckin
awards be waitin on every street corner! But the
Nobel 
. . . woo woo woo! Toni & her
Nobel
——uh, well,
whoa
. Nuff said. Nobel be duh Big One, bigger than der Bingle, fo sho. So big nobody
dared to dream
, nor pay heed, nobody had the
vision
, nobody saw it
comin
—nobody but Fran! The
Nobel!
Took
everybody
by surprise . . . . . everybody but——

 

Hey ho Hey ho

It's off to Sweden we go.

With S. J. (Ron) Perelman in tow

Hey ho!

 

She would offer him lessons not just in patience but endurance. A long-distance careerist, Fran knew how to pace herself to win. Bud dreamed of that moment when his
own
Nobelist would be climbing up his ass in a sold-out Q&A at the New York Public Library . . . the air crackling with pulse-pounding chic, that nearly unbearable, blackout-inducing,
we-have-no-more-tickets-folks,
I-can't-believe-I-am-here! they-are-legends-and-this-is-history!
mania. Fran astonished him. Only a serious hairdon't kept her from being the 4th Kardashian———————————————Steve and Karen were standing now and awkwardly embraced. As they held hands, Steve playfully mimed an exhortation for the audience to stand in ovation, which it did, the appreciative mob laughing and applauding. The talk had been rather serious, at times
strenuous
, a bit heavy going—the mood suddenly lightened, and pleasant relief abounded. Karen couldn't help herself from cracking up as Steve, clown prince, mugged for the crowd, clapping back at them. The applause grew rhythmic as Steve began the Zorba dance. Egged on by her interviewee, Karen Zorba'd too. Sweet pandemonium.

Steve would be signing books. Bud thought about waiting in line, but there were too many people.

MISSED CALL/VOICEMAIL was on the face of his phone.

He listened on the way to the lot.

It was the office of Chris Silbermann, leaving word.

The president of ICM.

EXPLICIT

[Reeyonna]

gossip girls*

*(white girl mobbin)

She

sat next to Rikki in the school auditorium where some early
Glee
episodes were filmed. Rikki, lightskinned pharaoh-looking Rikki, father of her relatively soon-to-be-born child, gender unknown. The speaker was a darkerskinned handsome-ish young man who was once a child soldier in Sierra Leone. He evidently slaughtered a lot of people (so he said) not just because the commanders of various so-called Lord's Armies brainwashed him to but because he and his murderous schoolboy friends were loaded on some kind of gunpowder he said they were forced (yeah right) to snort by their leaders, that was like snorting coke.
Oh, is that your excuse?
It was like
The Hunger Games
, but all black and without the games.

His name was Ishmael Beah.

The darkerskinned handsome boy stood at the lectern in coat and tie saying he/they killed men, women and children, even members of their own families. Rikki was more interested in what he had to say than she was, which was actually an understatement, it looked like Rikki was
obsessed,
studying
the fellow. Man-boy crush time. Rikki & his friends were enjoying hearing about the drugs & the killing, and how this fellow—his name was Ishmael—never even had to go to jail. He wrote a book about it instead that made him rich & famous and now he worked for the U.N. Ishmael went on to say that there were other (former) childsoldiers, all his rehabilitated homies, who now lived in Seattle or wherever, pursuing careers in rap.

. . .

Afterschool, Reeyonna and her girlfriends kicked it at the house, & smoked purp.

– Did you know about Laurence Fishburne's daughter?

– I can't remember who Laurence Fishburne is. In my head.

– He's an actor. Lemme use your phone.

– No—I have it. Oh! Yeah! He's on
CSI
?

– But not anymore.

– He was in
The Matrix——

– That is one
ug-guh-lee
nigga.

– He is
not.
I think he's
hot.

– You think
Steve Tyler
is hot.

– His money is.

– Money makes the man.

–
M-m-m-money on my mind, money on my mind . . .

– Youngmoney cashmoney.

– Who's that actor with the eye—the freaky eye—

– Forest Whitaker.

– Shit, you gotta a
lot
of information in your head, girl.

– I think his daughter used to go to John Burroughs. I think she was a senior when we were freshmen.

–
So
much information.

– Forest Whitaker is
really
good. He won an Academy Award for Best Actor.

– Really?!?!

– What was Laurence Fishburne in?
The Purple Mile? Shawshank Whatever?

– Hahahaha! It's
Green Mile!
Hahaha!

– She's got purp on the brain.

–
The Purp Mile . . .

– That's funny.

–
The Color Purp—
hahahahahahaha!

– The color perp-walk.

– I
loved The Color Purple
.

– Yeah well now you're lovin the color
.

– Isn't that a Prince song?
Purp Rain.
Ahahahahahahaha.

– Was Whoopi in that, or Oprah?

– Whoopi wasn't in
Purple Rain
.

– I love her on
The View
.

– This shit is
strong.
I am
so stoned . . .

– Yeah it's good.
No sticks, no seeds, just Al Green . . .

–
That purp, that bomb, that kush—

– Psycho
denk . . .

– I never saw
The Matrix
.

– Netflix it, girl. Stream on. Get on it.

– It's kind of like
Inception.

– No, you can't instant it, it's only on DVD.

– O bullshit. Really?

– No, look—see?

– I totally watched that on my phone last week. Totally!!!

– Can someone tell me what the fuck a
Blu-ray
is?!?!

– I didn't like
Inception
. I hate that girl Natalie Portman.

–
Oh my God, you are so stoned.

– That's not Natalie Portman! It was the girl who played the pregnant girl—

– from Canada?

–
Juno . . .

– I loved that movie! What's her name?

– Ellen! Ellen Page.

– Look—she's from Halifax. Nova Scotia.

– Can I see?

– Oooh she's pretty.

–
I
want to be from Nova Scotia, I
love
Nova Scotia—

– Oh my God, she's like
twenty-five
.

– Really? I can't believe she's so old!

– It says 1987. February 21.

– That's my brother's birthday!

– She looks so young. She's one of those women who will look exactly the same until they're, like, seventy.

–
Natalie Portman!
ReeRee is fucked up. You saw
Juno
, didn't you, Ree?

– She gets pregnant while she's in high school?

– Um, gee, doesn't that sound familiar?

– But she's really
responsible
about it. I mean it's
so
not
Teen Mom
. She is so not psycho white trash!

– What about Laurence Fishburne's daughter?

– Why does he call himself
Laurence
? It should be
Larry
, right?

– It's like he wants to be all
English
. Like Dr. House.

– Dr. House is not English.

– He
totally
is. The guy who plays him? Oh my God, he is
so
English!

– Tallyho.

– Tally
ho's!!!

– Would anybody care for a spot of tea?

– Sir Laurence Fishburne would love a spot of tea!

–
Sir Laurence of Arabia Fishburne.

– Sir Lawrence of a Labia.

– That is disgusting!

– My little brother said that to me. I don't even think he knew what it meant!

– Why doesn't he just call himself Larry.

– Because Larry smells like
ass
. Movie stars do
not
name themselves Larry.

– Right?

– I can't think of any.
I can't think. I can't. Of any.
Oh my god I am so stoned.

– Larry Fishburne's daughter! What were you going to say!

– She's a pornstar.

– Yeah, that's old.

– Wazzup witt huh?

– Yeah! Tell us wazzup with huh!

– I was listening to huh on Shade. & she's like promoting huh porno, whatever. Huh real name's Montana but huh porn name be Chippy D.

– Whoa. It's like a Ben & Jerry's. Schweddy balls . . .

– Chocolate fudge brownie—

– Banana
split—
schweddy clit . . . . .

– Boston CREAM pie!

–
Muddddd sliiiiiiiiiiide!

– That's a good pornstar name!
Mudslide.

– It's quite evocative, as the English say.

– She should just call herself Larry!

– Have you seen her movies?

– Rikki has. On his iphone
.
I told him I don't want to
see
that shit. I do
not
want to see Chippy D chomping on a dick!

– Didn't she go crazy?

– I think she went to a mental hospital but they said she was faking it. She tried to kill herself?

– I feel sorry for her.

– Feel sorry for her
dad!

– Can you imagine how fucked up it must be for him? I mean, your daughter's supposed to be going off to college, but she decides to stay home & major in dick-riding!

– O! I mean, anywhere he shows his face, someone's gunna—people are like
snickering . . .

– She said on this show—on Eminem's show—that her dad would one day see, like, her
Big Plan
, & they would totally mend their relationship.

– Whatever. I really feel sorry for her. He must have had to totally have done some shit in her upbringing for her to be doing that shit she does tho.

– Like molesting?

– No. I mean he
could
have. Don't all dads molest their daughters?

– That's gross.

– But he doesn't seem the
type
. & she probably would have been talking about that already, bitch so
crazy.
I'm just sayin he must have done
something
. I'm jus sayin.

– She's jus sayin.

– Maybe he
didn't
. Sometimes you can be a really good parent and your kid winds up shooting kids at school or whatever.

– Oh my god, Reeyonna, what if your kid does that? That would be so weird!

– I'm just gunna do my best to be a loving mom—

– We could give it a list of who to shoot.

– Ooh hoo! You better
hope
he doesn't
columbine—

– All I know is, I don't want to put any pressure on the baby. And I don't want him to have expectations.

– Him? Is it a boy? Are you going to have a boy?

– I don't want him
or her
to have expectations!

– Expectations about
what
? Girl, you cray-zee.

– You Jay-Z.

– She doesn't want to know. She told the doctor and nurses not to tell her like what the gender would be.

– I could
never
do that.
I would totally need to know!

– Well if it's a girl, don't name her Montana.

– Hahahahahahahahahahah—

– AHAHAHAHAHAHA—

–
hahahahahahahahahahaha—

– So she was on the
Shade
.

– That's Eminem's channel?—

– And she's telling em porn is like a
stepping stone
in her career. You know, like it was for Paris and Kim.

– Did you see the Kim tape?

– No but now I
want
to.

– Did you know he's Brandy's little brother?

– Who is.

– Ray J Ray J Ray J Ray J.

– Gimme some of that, Swisher Queen.

– Lissen to her! She thinks she's Kreayshawn, but you just a basic bitch!

– Girl, I'm a
bad
bitch. I'm
fag swag
.

–
Fag swag
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

– The guy in the tape with Kim.

– He's an
asshole
. Didn't he leak that to the internet?

– He leaked a lot.

– Hahahahahahahahaha!

– He leaked it all over.

– And Chippy D . . . she talks about Sasha Grey too—

– OMG Sasha Grey is
such a slut!

– Montana talks about her like she's Meryl Streep!

– Montana is just
dumb
. She looks like a donkey.

– That's mean.

– Sasha Grey is
nasty.
Rikki showed me a gangbang tape she did—I got
totally traumatized
just watching it! There was like this whole
roomful
of guys in line to fuck her in her butt! &
nobody
was wearing a condom.

– That is so disgusting.

– It's sick. It's like—
sick
.

– She is beyond slutdom.

– The d.p. queen.

– She needs an exorcist.

– And like, the DJs are saying—one of them's saying, like, “Montana, I was jacking off to one of your movies this morning”—

– Oh my God, he
said
that? On the
radio
?

– It's satellite.

– You can say anything on satellite.

– O my god.

– He like just totally says “I was jacking off to one of your movies but like I kept seeing your dad's
face
cause you really kinda
look
like him”—

–
Oh my God.

– Hahahahahahahaha!

–
ahahahahahahahahahahahaahahahah—

– So what did she say?

– She said she was proud of her new “feature,” that's what she called it, a
feature film—

– That is
so, so sad . . .

– Sick.

– They ask her about the
feature
and she says she does
everything
in it, you know, facials, anal, she even
squirts—

–
What
is
squirting?!?!!!

– You know how like some girls can
gush
when they cum.

– Rikki showed me this
compilation
—have you seen that?

– Where would I have seen
that?!?!

– I don't know, maybe he showed you.

– You should just ask him!

– But I——do you mean
water
squirts when they cum?

– Water,
whatever
.

– Diet Squirt.

– Rikki said Louie told him that he had a girlfriend once who could squirt, like the shit that came out was
hot
, like
hot water
, & they had to always have like two
big towels
next to him when they fucked, & sometimes before they even finished the towels would be
soaked—

–
Oh my God . . .

– That is
beyond
disgusting.

– Like Yellowstone.

– Thar . . . she——

–
Blowwwwwwwwwwwws!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

–
ahahahahahahahahahahahaahahahahahahahah

– Old Faithful . . .

– Right, the geyser—what do they—

– You know that actress Thora Birch?