sliver of the past or my old life or
in the summer of 2003 i flew across the country to wisconsin to see the play version of one of my favorite movies of all time. i had developed a sort of relationship with the director by contacting him online. his name was gorman and he was quite older than me. i was 22 or 23, and he was somewhere around 46 or so. it was he who told me about the play that was happening, in madison, wisconsin.
so gorman and i are online friends and i'm pretty flattered that this guy, this director (this was when i was fresh out of film/video school - the first time around) wanted to talk to me. we talked about camera angles, and lighting kits, and all sorts of other dorky stuff. i spent hours chatting with him. at the time i LOVED this film that he had made. i was a stoner, and it was good movie to watch while fucked up. lots of bad jokes and gore. stuff i would most likely hate now. but this is when i was much more innocent (or was i?) and stuff like the objectification of women and blood was all good fun to me.
gorman contacted me one day to tell me that some guy also loved this film was putting on a play version. gorman, who is from connecticut, was going to fly out to wisconsin for opening night and stay for a couple of days. i'm not sure how it happened, but soon i had decided to go on this trip as well. my best friend at the time, alexandra, who also sometimes passed as my pseudo lover (she would get drunk and make out with me at parties, as long as people were looking, and we cuddled more than most good friends do, i believe) was going to come as well. we were excited by the dangerousness of it. who was this guy? would he kill us? where would we stay? we'd never been to wisconsin! we anticipated it for weeks.
so we flew out and dressed all nice and watched the play and went out to eat with gorman and some people who had been in the film, as well as the cast of the play. i was like the woman of the evening. gorman kept yelling about how i had "come all the way from boston to see the film version of my favorite movie" and everyone loved it and fawned all over me and bought me drinks and loved it. later, alexandra and i somehow ended up back at gorman's hotel room. we were wasted (especially me) and he was trying to get us to spend the night. we weren't having it, and it wasn't so much sketchy as sad, so around 2 or 3 or 4 am, we left and went back to our own hotel.
the next day we walked around madison and saw the sights. we saw gorman one more time before we left where upon he told me that i was the inspiration for his latest novel, the whole thing about me coming out to meet him made him feel better than he had in years, and he kept thanking me. i was flattered and we took several photos on a bench where i look like a 12 year old girl and gorman looks like a sad old man. i still have them somewhere.
back in boston, gorman and i kept in touch. this film of his, which he had made in the 80's, was suddenly getting tons of reviews. there were premiers and screenings, all to which i became his date. he only lived a state away and he loved coming up to boston to take me out. it was fine with him. the one problem with gorman was that he was married...and weird about it.
supposedly gorman and he wife hadn't had sex in years, and he didn't know what to do. he was constantly hitting on me, and i was constantly telling him that he needed to talk to his wife. perhaps i was naive, but i really thought that i may be helping him. oh well. this went on for a long time. he sent me stuff in the mail constantly: books he had written with personal inscriptions, original props from the film, movie posters, mix cd's. he seemed almost infatuated. he sent me pictures of models that he photographed, sometimes graphically detailing experiences with them, as if it would somehow get me to sleep with him. he was infuriated that i proclaimed myself celibate. I had taken a vow of celibacy for myself after my past assualt(s) and i was done with sex. gorman knew this, but somehow saw it as some sort of challenge and coudn't understand why i hated sex so much. (looking back, he wasn't the only guy this happened with.)
the last time i saw gorman he came up to boston for some kind of premiere or another and i was his date, once again and as always. we went out to dinner and then the premiere. somehow we ended up having drinks in the lobby of his hotel and then back up in his room. we did some drugs and hung around, drank vodka tonics, and smoked a joint by the hotel window. i remember feeling sort of weird, being in this guy's hotel room. i had on high boots, a red shirt and a jean skirt, my hair was long and dark and i had on makeup, mascara, eyeliner. at some point we started kissing. i can't remember if it was the first time i had kissed him or if we had kissed another night before this as well, everything seems blurry. i kept stopping and saying "you're a married man, we shouldn't do this," and he would put on this woe is me expression and say something, i don't remember what. i was drunk, and high, and flattered so on it continued. it was when he put his hand up my skirt that i realized that i had to get out of there. i told him i had to go, i got pretty upset, i remember yelling at him about it, sort of... he tried to convince me to stay the night and then he gave me some money for a cab, and off i went, high heels clinking across the lobby of the buidling, gorman on my arm, 3am, and I couldn't stop wondering if the people working at the hotel that that maybe i was for sale.
gorman and i still corresponded after that. he tried to get me to come down to connecticut to work on a film, but i had other things going on. he tried to get me to meet him in new york. i told him i wanted my own hotel room if i went. he started getting mad and would message me with stuff like, "what do i have to do to make you hang out?" but inside my heart, i knew i was done.
i don't feel any really bad feelings towards gorman. after all, he really is just a sad old man, who doesn't sleep with his wife, and keeps trying to recreate his youth and failing.
in any case, i was surprised when i received an email from last week asking for my mailing address. the book he had spoken about when we met that day in wisconsin was finally finished.
"larisa," he writes. "please send me your address so i can send you the book you so inspired. gorman."
so i sent it.
and today it arrived in the mail.
published and paperbacked. with my name stated first in the acknowledgments, the book, however, dedicated to his wife.
sometimes life is just so strange.
so gorman and i are online friends and i'm pretty flattered that this guy, this director (this was when i was fresh out of film/video school - the first time around) wanted to talk to me. we talked about camera angles, and lighting kits, and all sorts of other dorky stuff. i spent hours chatting with him. at the time i LOVED this film that he had made. i was a stoner, and it was good movie to watch while fucked up. lots of bad jokes and gore. stuff i would most likely hate now. but this is when i was much more innocent (or was i?) and stuff like the objectification of women and blood was all good fun to me.
gorman contacted me one day to tell me that some guy also loved this film was putting on a play version. gorman, who is from connecticut, was going to fly out to wisconsin for opening night and stay for a couple of days. i'm not sure how it happened, but soon i had decided to go on this trip as well. my best friend at the time, alexandra, who also sometimes passed as my pseudo lover (she would get drunk and make out with me at parties, as long as people were looking, and we cuddled more than most good friends do, i believe) was going to come as well. we were excited by the dangerousness of it. who was this guy? would he kill us? where would we stay? we'd never been to wisconsin! we anticipated it for weeks.
so we flew out and dressed all nice and watched the play and went out to eat with gorman and some people who had been in the film, as well as the cast of the play. i was like the woman of the evening. gorman kept yelling about how i had "come all the way from boston to see the film version of my favorite movie" and everyone loved it and fawned all over me and bought me drinks and loved it. later, alexandra and i somehow ended up back at gorman's hotel room. we were wasted (especially me) and he was trying to get us to spend the night. we weren't having it, and it wasn't so much sketchy as sad, so around 2 or 3 or 4 am, we left and went back to our own hotel.
the next day we walked around madison and saw the sights. we saw gorman one more time before we left where upon he told me that i was the inspiration for his latest novel, the whole thing about me coming out to meet him made him feel better than he had in years, and he kept thanking me. i was flattered and we took several photos on a bench where i look like a 12 year old girl and gorman looks like a sad old man. i still have them somewhere.
back in boston, gorman and i kept in touch. this film of his, which he had made in the 80's, was suddenly getting tons of reviews. there were premiers and screenings, all to which i became his date. he only lived a state away and he loved coming up to boston to take me out. it was fine with him. the one problem with gorman was that he was married...and weird about it.
supposedly gorman and he wife hadn't had sex in years, and he didn't know what to do. he was constantly hitting on me, and i was constantly telling him that he needed to talk to his wife. perhaps i was naive, but i really thought that i may be helping him. oh well. this went on for a long time. he sent me stuff in the mail constantly: books he had written with personal inscriptions, original props from the film, movie posters, mix cd's. he seemed almost infatuated. he sent me pictures of models that he photographed, sometimes graphically detailing experiences with them, as if it would somehow get me to sleep with him. he was infuriated that i proclaimed myself celibate. I had taken a vow of celibacy for myself after my past assualt(s) and i was done with sex. gorman knew this, but somehow saw it as some sort of challenge and coudn't understand why i hated sex so much. (looking back, he wasn't the only guy this happened with.)
the last time i saw gorman he came up to boston for some kind of premiere or another and i was his date, once again and as always. we went out to dinner and then the premiere. somehow we ended up having drinks in the lobby of his hotel and then back up in his room. we did some drugs and hung around, drank vodka tonics, and smoked a joint by the hotel window. i remember feeling sort of weird, being in this guy's hotel room. i had on high boots, a red shirt and a jean skirt, my hair was long and dark and i had on makeup, mascara, eyeliner. at some point we started kissing. i can't remember if it was the first time i had kissed him or if we had kissed another night before this as well, everything seems blurry. i kept stopping and saying "you're a married man, we shouldn't do this," and he would put on this woe is me expression and say something, i don't remember what. i was drunk, and high, and flattered so on it continued. it was when he put his hand up my skirt that i realized that i had to get out of there. i told him i had to go, i got pretty upset, i remember yelling at him about it, sort of... he tried to convince me to stay the night and then he gave me some money for a cab, and off i went, high heels clinking across the lobby of the buidling, gorman on my arm, 3am, and I couldn't stop wondering if the people working at the hotel that that maybe i was for sale.
gorman and i still corresponded after that. he tried to get me to come down to connecticut to work on a film, but i had other things going on. he tried to get me to meet him in new york. i told him i wanted my own hotel room if i went. he started getting mad and would message me with stuff like, "what do i have to do to make you hang out?" but inside my heart, i knew i was done.
i don't feel any really bad feelings towards gorman. after all, he really is just a sad old man, who doesn't sleep with his wife, and keeps trying to recreate his youth and failing.
in any case, i was surprised when i received an email from last week asking for my mailing address. the book he had spoken about when we met that day in wisconsin was finally finished.
"larisa," he writes. "please send me your address so i can send you the book you so inspired. gorman."
so i sent it.
and today it arrived in the mail.
published and paperbacked. with my name stated first in the acknowledgments, the book, however, dedicated to his wife.
sometimes life is just so strange.
posted by L | 9:49 PM
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