In the movie “The Postman Always Rings Twice”, Lana Turner stands with her hands on her hips and snarls at John Garfield: I used to think the reason I fell for you was because you were smart. Now I find out that you are smart, she says. It’s a really great line in a really great film. I mention it here apropos of nothing. Or everything maybe. I get those two mixed up all the time.
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"Everything is everything." I wrote that once when I was on acid. Scribbled it. Scrawled it. Boy was I proud. It sounded deep. It sounded profound. I said to myself, I bet no one else ever thought that before. Turns out I was wrong. Everyone has.
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In '94, I went to Mardi Gras with the boyfriend du jour. A few weeks later, Kurt Cobain died. He joined that club. The 27 Club. It was very sad. But not a surprise. Everyone thought he would join that club.
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When I was about ten I was playing outside, and I fell down hard on some concrete steps. Fell backwards, in fact, and broke a bone at the base of my spine. Excruciating. In the emergency room they gave me painkillers. I like painkillers. So did Kurt Cobain.
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In “Double Indemnity”, another great film, Edward G. Robinson says to Fred McMurray, I hired you not because I think you’re so smart, but because I thought you were a shade less dumb than the rest of the outfit. It’s another great line, delivered as only Edward G. Robinson could. I mention it here apropos of something.
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You can never go home again, Thomas Wolfe wrote, and all junkies know that and that’s why they’re junkies. Pill heads, junkies. Six of one. Only pill heads and junkies will quibble about it.
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I saw an interview once with a child molester. The man had seduced his teenage niece. To his credit, I guess, he was remarkably open and candid about it. When it started, he said, he was tender and caring. But he changed over time. Became selfish and cruel. The girl told him one day she wanted to end it. I need this, he said. I don’t care what you want.
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"Weird Al" Yankovic called Kurt Cobain to get his permission to parody Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” Cobain asked, will it be about food? Al told him no. Kurt Cobain was referring to some of Al’s previous efforts. I call him “Al” as if we’re acquainted. Like our paths have crossed. Could be they have. Everything is everything.
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When I was still with the boyfriend du jour, I was hooked on painkillers. I would take thirty or forty a day. The BDJ was a really smart guy. Genius smart. That’s why I fell for him. He caught me one morning, eating painkillers like rainbow Skittles. BDJ said I want you to stop. I need these, I said. I don’t care what you want. BDJ dumped me like a rotten potato. Then I found out he really was smart.
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I was in rehab for two long summer months. Dope sick and blond. Like Kurt Cobain. In rehab they tell you, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, and expecting a different result each time. In rehab, they say this over and over. They expect you will listen each time that they say it.
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Repeating mistakes is what I call living. Insanity, life; six of one.
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In ’94, when me and the boyfriend du jour were still happy—when we went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras—we were on Bourbon Street one night and the BDJ said, isn’t that "Weird Al" Yankovic? I turned and I looked, and sure enough, it was. I dare you to kiss him, said BDJ, and because I’m a shade more dumb than some others, I cut through the crowd in my Bourbon Street T-shirt, and gave Weird Al a big kiss on the jaw.
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And he kept right on walking. Hardly knew I was there.
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New Orleans still has Mardi Gras. Kurt Cobain’s still dead. Al Yankovic still doesn't know I exist. The Bourbon Street T-shirt finally bit the dust. I'm smarter maybe. Or a shade less dumb. There's still no way to go home again. But I'm still clean, and I'm still alive. And everything is still everything.