A Legend in His Own Mind-11

April, 1980

Dear Lázaro,

There's this beautiful blonde girl doing the show. She has her hair corn rowed just like Bo Derek. She says it took her eight hours to do. Can you imagine sitting still for that long a time?

She plays my sister in this other show about a hippie holdout. “LSD and Me.” I play this psychedelic guy with a tutti-frutti Afro and a dog leash. I’m starting to do character parts. That’s good! ‘Cause you know when the leading man looks start to go….

Anyway, she invited me to a party somewhere in the Valley (that's the San Fernando Valley for you East Coasters). When I got there I noticed this blue and white cylindrical thing in the middle of the coffee table. It was real pretty and it was smoking. And people were grabbing it and sucking from it.

I found out it is something called a bong. You put hashish in it. It's amazing all the intricate ways that these people have of getting stoned. They all looked like the Caterpillar in "Alice in Wonderland." Circling around this object that had a few straw looking things also made out of porcelain.

You should have heard the uproar when I said I didn't want to participate. It was like chanting "Hell no! We won't go!" at an army recruiting office.

I think I made it even worse when I said I'd never done it nor cared to. I had offended the mighty Lord Cannabis and his reefer wielding followers were not having it. Except for the girl that invited me, the rest just shunned me. I stayed for about a half-hour more. I didn't want to offend the host.

I'll never understand the desire that people have to make fools out of themselves. At least I know when I've been an ass. Maybe that's why they do it. So they can't remember.

Can you imagine if Mother had ever found a joint in my room? She would have strapped me to the front pew of Our Lady of Perpetual Pain and left me there for a month. The nuns and priests hovering over my body like vultures waiting for me to die.

I could hear the Dragon Lady screeching, "I left Cuba so jou would not end op a feelthy Communist and now dees contry has torned jou into a feelthy drog addict."

A seminary school in Spain would have been my future. What a horror! Locked up in some windowless building with a bunch of men dressed like executioners. No electricity. I wouldn't be able to play my disco records. Can you imagine? Living without Donna Summer!

As if this party hadn't been eye opening enough, the following night I went to see "Pink Flamingoes." Have you heard about it? My friend Don took me. I told you about Don. He's a commercial writer from Cleveland and he has this really warped sense of humor. I met him in the show. He's actually a close friend of Wendy's. I think he's writing comedy material for her stand up routine.

Anyway he just says the strangest, funniest things. So when I asked him what this movie was about and he said, "Oh it's about this three hundred pound drag queen that eats dog shit.” I didn't believe him.

I should have. He wasn't kidding. I had never seen anything like this in my life. Not even when we snuck into the Show Palace at Times Square and saw that lady pulling a pearl necklace out of her vagina. Remember?

Anyway this movie! My God! They had two people making love with a chicken in between them and these women with pubic hair dyed like tutti-frutti ice cream.

I told Don that I wouldn't leave until the last person left. I didn't want to be seen leaving this theatre. Now I know how Abuela felt when I took her to see "Lipstick." She put on her dark sunglasses the minute Chris Sarandon took Margaux Hemingway from behind and never took them off. She left with this kerchief wrapped around her head. She looked like a fortune teller incognito.

I knew Don was slightly strange but I didn't realize how much. He took me to this store called the Pleasure Chest. It's a sex toy store. Can you believe that they actually have that in West Hollywood? It's like FAO Schwartz. But instead of toy trains and marionettes it sells French ticklers and ben-wa balls. I didn't know things shaped like rubber oranges were inserted. Who would want to do that? You think I should have second thoughts about Don after that?

I managed to make some use out of this store. I bought two inflatable rubber dolls. A man and a woman. You see, people were always telling me to be careful driving all alone so late at night through some of the desolate areas that I had to go through. So I figured if I dress these two up and put them in my car, it will look like I'm driving with other people.

Don took me to my first gay bar. The Apache in Studio City. It looked like a barn. It had wooden planks for walls. I was bug-eyed staring at everything. This didn't look like the Studio 54 I had seen in pictures. No big strobe lights and no bare-chested boys in jeans. It was dark, dinky and full of old men.

Don went to the bathroom and didn't come back for hours. I think he got lost coming back. He couldn't be in the bathroom that long. That would be one hell of a line.

So I sat on a barstool waiting. A man with very wide sideburns asks me to dance to Donna Summer's "Love to Love You, Baby." This is the same song that got Megan so excited that night at Osko's.

I was kind of freaked. I had never been asked to dance before. Especially by a man. I didn't know what to do. I mean...who leads? But I didn't want to offend him so...

As the song begins its multiple orgasms, he attempts to pull me closer by my hand and ended up tangled in my extra long sweater sleeve. Am I ever glad that my observant uncle brought a sweater for me from Milan that was three sizes too big.

This guy looked very strange. He was a cross between John Lennon after Yoko and Mike Nesmith from the Monkees.

On the ride back, Don told me that he wanted to start his own commercial writing company and would like me as a writing partner. I had helped him with a Taco Bell ad already. I was flattered that someone as intelligent and witty as Don would even consider me helpful.

We sat in his apartment on Mulholland Drive overlooking the Hollywood Hills. Let me tell you, that is an incredible view. Once you get above the smog, L.A. can be quite striking.

He set fire to brandy inside these beautiful snifters. Told me that was the only way to drink it. I didn't want to offend him and tell him that I don't drink. The revenge of the pot worshippers from the Valley loomed over me. So I took little sips. It actually tasted like warm licorice.

We spent the night brainstorming while listening to the soundtrack to "Gigi." Every time Maurice Chevalier would sing "Thank Heaven for Little Girls," Don would substitute the word boys.

It had never occurred to me to do that to a song. I guess that's why I always preferred songs sung by women.

A Legend in His Own Mind-9

February, 1981

Dear Lázaro,

You got a freaked out mind, man. I'm not "tying my dick down and putting on a dress". I do those numbers in a bathing suit. That's what makes it funny. I'm a guy, looking like a guy, doing the girly numbers. I don't expect a New Yorker to really appreciate the artistry of that. This is real California.

I'm enjoying it too. I get to dance and I get to pick whatever songs I want to do. And I get to sing them to this Robert Redford look-a-like named Larry. See he plays Chaps Posse, the Texas cowboy who moseyed in here by accident. But he seems to enjoy Go-Go's performances so much he comes back every night just for the show.

I think I'm going to do "Big Spender" from "Sweet Charity" next week. I can see myself climbing all over Larry with that one.

Now I know I'm playing a gay go-go dancer but Gary is always looking at me and making innuendoes. I politely turn him down. You know it's not cool out here to say get outta my face or anything like that. Everybody's like walking, talking smile buttons. And he's really a nice guy. Besides the attention feels good either way.

Speaking of attention, Megan, the nymphomaniac, has been taking me dancing. She says Dudley doesn't like to. We went to Osko's the other night. That's the disco where they filmed "Thank God, It's Friday"

That was wild to be inside that place. You know I had to touch the stage where Donna Summer sang "Last Dance," don't you? That's the woman of my dreams and she was actually, physically there. I don't think I can wash that hand ever again.

I had been noticing two Japanese girls staring at me all night. So when Megan went to the bathroom, I asked one of them to dance. She wasn't a hot dancer but she was real cute and kept staring at me like I was John Travolta or something.

Well Megan came back and saw me. She was not having it. She yanked me away, clasped her thighs around mine and started to gyrate her pelvis up and down my thigh. I felt like the whole disco was looking at us. I know, I shoulda known better. Everybody was too whacked out on coke and screwing someplace else to really care. But I was still embarrassed.

She looked like something out of a bad B -movie. She's dancing all over me, wetting her lips with her tongue and rolling her eyes. Is that supposed to be sexy? If she did that to me in bed I'd call 911. It looked like she was having a seizure or something.

She got down on her knees and tried to unzip my fly with her teeth. I pulled away. Enough was enough, don't you think? I couldn't let her expose me to this whole disco. Especially not in front of the stage where Donna sang. That's like a shrine.

As we're moving around the dance floor, I could've sworn that I saw Dudley in the crowd. I know some blond man waved at us. I wouldn't be surprised.

Do you think they're like Hollywood swingers?

Then something really mind blowing happened and I don't know how to tell you this. I don't even think I want to. But who else can I tell this to? I mean we've been together forever, right?

We went to Norm's on La Brea to eat and she grabbed me and started to kiss me in the car. She started playing the Pointer Sisters "He's So Shy" on her car stereo. I froze up. I kept seeing police lights all over me. It turned out that Norm's is a Hollywood version of a doughnut shop. All the cops hang out there.

All I keep thinking about is that we're going to get arrested for indecent exposure. We're not kids, you know. I'm twenty-one. I don't want to go to jail.

I didn't say anything though. I just kept doing whatever she told me to. I didn't want to offend her. At one moment she takes my hand and puts it between her legs and then puts her hand between mine. She's grabbing me. I mean, all of me. And I'm grabbing...her jeans. The rough, Levi kind too. And I keep thinking one thought over and over...I want to grab what she's grabbing.

Lázaro, I hope you're still there. I hope you didn't drop the flashlight from the fire escape and hit Carlucci's Dalmatian on the head with it. He'll wake up the whole neighborhood.

I'm freaked out, man. I had never thought anything like this before. That clearly anyway.

You know I used to look at the Playgirl centerfolds but that was to check out the celebrities. I mean after Burt Reynolds did Cosmo every major male star went nude. I was studying poses for my turn.

And I used to hang out at the locker room for a long time but you know it was 'cause I admired those swimmers’ bodies. I always wanted to look like that.

I have never been with a girl (I lied about Tina Theocarides) but that was 'cause I'm very shy. And besides Abuela always raised me to be a gentleman and respect girls. Right?

What does that mean? I'd rather be touching what she's touching. I don't think I meant my own. Hell I've been doing that since I was ten.

Of course always while watching “Lost in Space”. Usually when Major Don West was ranting about something.

Oh my God! I think I meant another guy's. Lázaro, what did I mean?

February, 1980

Dear Lázaro,

What do you mean you always suspected? Why didn't you tell me? Don't you think it would've made things clearer for me? Like why I never wanted to pick up the girls' skirts and look underneath them. Or why I always wanted to be close to George Everett even though he was such a jerk.

You think I'm gay? You think that's why I enjoy playing Go-Go so much? And climbing on top of Larry? And Gary's attentions?

I've been thinking about all of this for days now. I don't know which way to go. The other day we were filming a scene for "Queen's Reich" where this actress attacks Go-Go and tries to seduce him. When Rose Petal climbed on top of me and began to kiss me I closed my mouth. I had read in an acting book somewhere that the proper way to stage kiss is to press both sets of lips together with a closed mouth and then move your chin. This gives the illusion of deep tongue kissing without any actual penetration.

So that's what I did. Well her tongue was all over my lips. The more she licked the tighter I pressed them together. Finally after the show was taped she asked me if I was gay. I thought I was just being a gentleman and not taking advantage of the situation. But now I don’t know. Did she spot something that I missed? I'm so confused.

A Legend in His Own Mind-4

August,1980

Dear Lázaro,

I'm doing a TV show! Okay it's for Public Access cable but it's still TV. And I'm on every week. You'll never guess what I'm playing? A Brooklyn guido disco dancer named Donny who lives in this run down Hollywood apartment with all these other star wannabes.

This show is taped in back of an antique store in Studio City. The producer, Merrick, says it's the best way to break into television. He says since there are no sitcoms on public access so we're breaking new ground. He already has two half-hour slots and is working on a few more.

Everybody in the cast gives a hundred dollars a week to Merrick. For expenses like tape or camera repairs. But we're on half-hour shows on television. Anybody important can see us.

The color on the cameras isn’t balanced properly so when you switch from one to the other the color changes too. Merrick says it makes it look psychedelic. He says that it worked for "Laugh-In."

There's this big guy named Slovak who looks like Herman Munster. He plays our landlord. This is great casting 'cause I'd be scared to skip out on the rent. Wendy is this real funny lady from San Francisco. Johnna is Merrick's girlfriend. She's writing a musical about her experiences with the downtrodden of society. Working title, "Danny Drop the Gun." Gary is this guy who actually says he's gay. Can you believe that? I've never heard anyone say that before. Totally open about it.

I mean out here it's totally cool. I've seen guys walking holding hands down the street. And I mean guys! Not the velour and paisley crowd stepping out of Greenwich Village bistros. These guys look like lumberjacks. Buzz cuts, moustaches, muscles and jeans. That's fascinating to me. And nice. Very nice.

Then there's this woman, Megan, who acts like she just had a Spanish Fly martini with an oyster chaser. She just doesn't stop. She grabs and gropes every guy on the set. And she's always talking about her husband, Dudley.

I thought she was lying about the husband. You know how Maria Porcari used to invent a boyfriend in The Tombs whenever she wanted to scare away any guy who was getting too hot and heavy for her? But she didn't act like she was entered in the Xaviera Hollander marathon either.

Anyway, I met Megan's husband. He came to do the show also. Skinny, wimpy blond guy. And she didn't stop doing anything. She even did things in front of him. I hate to sound provincial but you know back home that kind of behavior would have gotten you a lot of wailing old ladies at Dimitri’s Funeral Parlor.

Well after a night's shoot, Merrick gathered the whole cast and lit up a reefer. I figured that's what it was since everybody sat in a circle and passed it around. It finally came to me and I saw this teeny tiny cigarette with a flattened out tip. I grabbed it and put it to my mouth making sure that my fingertips were covering its tip. Then I passed it over.

I figured they would all be so stoned that they wouldn't notice that the reefer never touched my mouth.

All I kept thinking about was that I couldn't put anything in my mouth that had been in all those other mouths before.

How gross! That's unhealthy too, right?