Oh, Woe to Me!

I Am Depressed

Lately, I’ve been fucking depressed.

I dunno what about, either. Well, I kinda know. Ready for some cry-babying?

This move to LA was really hard. Moving is really hard, but you already know that. And adding to it the fact that I didn’t really want to relocate to LA…well, that made it suck balls.

Swiss Balls.

Ever move somewhere you really don’t wanna be? In my case, I always had an escape route out of LA, and that was back home. Now, LA is home. And before you go bustin’ my balls with your comments on my waa-waa-waaing, I know there’s a lot of shittier places to call home other than LA.

Gary, Indiana, immediately comes to mind. I don’t care if The Jackson 5 hail from that god awful place, it’s still a Mighty Shit Hole. In fact, might as well lump in any city in the Midwest…including Chicago. I’d go as far as to say anyplace South of the Mason-Dixon line sucks, too. Anywhere in the northeast — sans New York City — sucks. Texas? Ugh. New Mexico? Ew. Colorado might be nice, but it snows there. In fact, anywhere north is too cold. Seattle can eat my ass; however, Portland is very cool, and I’d live there…during the summer months, anyways.

I miss San Francisco a lot, but there’s no work in SF…or Portland. Especially not in my highly specialized field of creating smut from scratch.

I dunno…maybe LA isn’t so bad. Amoeba is here, and so is Adrianna Nicole, and my pal Ira’s used book store; there’s Roscoe’s House of Chicken and Waffles, and The Vista (where Ed Wood, Jr., kept an office above the theater), and Intelligentsia and La Luz de Jesus; there’s some really cool museums I need to check out, and, I dunno…maybe I’ll learn to surf.

I’m bummed cause I also lost a very dear friend (and a partner in crime) recently…someone really special. Nope — no deaths to report — just some Tom Foolery that went awry.

Tom Foolery that went way awry.

Do you think — after it’s all said and done — something can be salvaged between us? Does anyone apologize for anything anymore? (This includes me, by the way.) Does anyone ever forgive anyone anymore? (This includes me, by the way.) Does anyone tell The Truth anymore? (This includes me, by the way.)

God damn relationships. I swear sometimes it’s easier to just buy a dog and be done with them.

Well, almost all of them.

I’m also really bummed cause I also lost an old friend recently. This one really did die. He wasn’t feeling very well, and he went to the hospital, but he didn’t have insurance, and he was afraid of more bills…so he went home and died. Alone. In his tiny apartment in the Haight. His landlord found him 4 days after he passed, and sometimes I worry a lot that’s how I’ll die — alone.

Maybe I need to be medicated.

I thought about that, too. Any fun meds you can recommend? I once lived next to a girl named Lisa Joy. That was really her name. Totally ironic, too, cause Lisa Joy was sad almost all the time. She told me once, “You know, Billy, they should just pump Prozac into the water. It would make the world a better place!”

To me, Prozac seems so 1991. Maybe that’s cause I lived next to Lisa Joy in 1991.

What else is there…besides Prozac, I mean? All I need is a little something to take the edge off…you know…so I can at least concentrate on a simple conversation with a friend, or not want to walk off the next bridge I cross…or walk into traffic.

I hear Xanax bars are fun, but they terrify me. I managed to eat 1/2 of one, once; nothing really significant happened. I slept really well, and I didn’t get hooked! I woulda ate the other half, but the next day a whore stole it — right off my desk — after we got done checking her AIM test before a scene.

Fuckin’ whores.

Maybe I need to stop making smut. Find Jesus. Start doing push-ups and knee bends every morning. Some sit-ups, too. Then, make a resumé and find and a good job with The State — or Big Corporation — just to reap all those wonderful benefits: 10 days a year of paid vacation, health and dental, and a suit and tie.

You didn’t see me sit back in my chair, reread that last paragraph, and wonder what the fuck am I thinking? but I really did just that. Jesus and Corporate jobs and suits and ties frighten me more than any addictions to prescription drugs.

A suits and a tie…oh man.

I talked to my very best friend the other day. We’ve known each other since about 1978. In fact, it was his Biff’s older brother — and his collection of Swedish Erotica Super 8 film loops — that introduced me to girls getting facials. Big, messy facials.

And I haven’t been the same, since.

His name is Bif, and he’s Corporate all the way. Suit and tie. 9 to 5. Wife and kids. The whole she-bang.

Half way through our conversation, he said, “dude, you’re my hero! Keep making porn!!”

Funny thing is, he’s mine; any one, I think, who can be a good family man, wins my Hero Vote.

OK — enough is enough. No more cry-babying here! Instead, I’m gonna go make a PB & J and put on side one of Meat is Murder — specifically for “I Want The One I Can’t Have” — and then I’ll start contemplating a future blog: “They’re all Tender Young Hooligans”.

Cause there’s nothing better than a little Morissey when you’re really down in the dumps.

7 thoughts on “Oh, Woe to Me!”

  1. You know, before the advent of Prozac and big Pharma, people learned to deal with their depression. Some maybe crawled into a bottle, or a vice sure – but many found ways to cope and deal with life, without the help of an ingested substance.

    I’m not saying drugs are bad – just that it’s not the only recourse. Albert Ellis was quoted as saying “You largely constructed your depression. It wasn’t given to you. Therefore, you can deconstruct it.” It takes time, and effort, but you’re quite capable of it. Mayhap Yoga? Meditation? Sports? There’s an answer somewhere, and it’s a shame I don’t have it.

  2. “on the day that your mentality / catches up with your biology”

    I’ve had my own struggles, and have recently begun taking lexapro. tonight is night #3 on 10mg. i took 2 weeks worth of samples before, and i did feel a positive change. minor problems didn’t feel so heavy, and it wasn’t possible for negative thinking to ruminate. I mean, it physically wasn’t possible. If I tested myself by trying to think of something dark, the thought would be “pushed out” and replaced by something a little more positive. After my sample ran out, I eventually felt myself feeling lethargic and depressed again. As a freelancer in television with no health insurance, I had to wait until my free county nurse got more samples of Lexapro. I waited a couple of more days, and started them again. She gave me two months worth of samples, bless her heart, and I am actually looking forward to feeling the positive effects again. I am curious how it will go.

    As a film school dropout, I’ve always been curious about making a living by shooting porn. Years ago, I shot a scene for Ed de Roo, and was looking forward to shooting more for Totally Tasteless. But, he sold the production company shortly after. I visualized a future of living the dream, but projected even further to a life where I may not be able to find love, of becoming bitter and lonely, of not being capable of loving. I tried to imagine if years of shooting porn could ruin a decent guy. It was an idea I wanted to explore and develop into a screenplay. A couple of months later, I read that Kevin Smith was making a movie about some dudes making a porno. Without much information, I imagined that Kevin’s movie would be exactly like the one I would hope to make, only 100x better. So, I never started to write it (see how negative thinking has a way of sabotaging one’s self?). What am I getting at? I am not sure. I think the world of porn is very interesting, and I’d like to make an honest, funny, and modern tale about it…maybe one day.

    Didn’t mean to blabber. I’m sleepy.
    Here’s a shot I took of Moz last summer…

  3. Billy, you are makin’ me so sad, I just want to give you a big hug ((*_*)) Hang in there, man, the world is a pretty shitty place and many of us are fed up and either pissed or depressed. You are not alone. We are all feelin’ it. I usually do one of these to cheer up, maybe it will help you: watch porn (wait, you make porn, that might not work for you), listen to some
    Bob Marley (if they could get inspired in the ghettos of Kingston Jamaica, it will probably work in LA), or do some qigong.com warrior breaths. Serious magick that last tip, it has changed my life. I can be in tears and doing the quick and easy 9 breath method they teach will completely change your outlook in minutes. They have events near LA so check it out. Hope you feel better. Let me know if you want to chat on IM anytime, my details are in my profile. I am in SF so hit me up when you are back in town and I will show you the breathing method if you want. BIG HUGS!

  4. What would life be like if you were happy 24/7? Just get balanced Billy. Change your routine. Go after what you think you’re missing in life.

  5. Play Judy Garland’s versions of:

    Put on a Happy Face

    High Hopes

    Doris Day will be acceptable.

  6. Dear Young William,

    Sorry to hear you are so down.

    I haven’t written in a long time but I have been reading your blog all along. I thought I should answer this one. Here are a few ideas you might like to consider before reaching for the Prozac (although it is a wonderful medication which allows a lot of people to do things they would never have been able to do before it was around). Some of the things I suggest I have done or now do, so I speak with authority (for a change).

    1) Go on vacation. Two weeks minimum, three is really better when you are feeling like reaching for the Prozac. Go somewhere you really like and get really into it. If it is beach then go get the tan of all tans and swim your ass off. If it is looking at old churches in France and Italy, then get the Michelin Guide for wherever you go and read that fucker from cover to cover while looking at every single cornice and gargoyle. Wear an ipod as much as possible while on both of these vacations (except while swimming). It should have that crap you call music on it but also something you know is good but have been ignoring for years (a Wagner opera, some Glenn Gould playing Bach, Tower of Power, Otis Redding, Winterreise, to name a few (you’re not getting any younger)).

    2) Plant a garden. If you have a small plot at home, get a good book about gardens, have some guy deliver some good dirt, then get in there and dig up the old shit that is growing and have some other guy haul the old turf, weeds and shit away, spread the dirt the first guy gave you, then go to the plant place, buy whatever you think looks good, take it home and plant it in the new dirt. Use fertilizer. (The best use for horse shit you will ever find). Then start watering and feeding them and watching them grow. Don’t forget to prune and weed. It will make you feel like God. ( In a good way).

    3) Invest some of all this shit load of money you keep telling us you make. Find a reliable broker, open a portfolio which will make sure you have financial security when you are my age (50). Also, buy a house to redo, rent or sell. Or several.

    4) I know you like the lifestyle and money you are making doing porn so no sermons from me about getting a real job, but maybe do less porn? You will need the time to spend on vacation, working in the garden, and following your investments, which, if you are anything like me, you just might find more enjoyble than working.

    5) This one, needless to say, I have not tried, since I don’t share your particular circumstances. Take out an ad looking to meet someone wherein you clearly declare yourself an unrepentant pornographer. Let it run for a long time and meet as many women who want to meet you, even knowing what you do for a living (provided of course, they are hot). This will allow you to avoid the moment where they get shocked, spill their Daquiri (or whatever it is young, nubile, Southern California women who don’t mind having a boyfriend who makes smut, and are hot,drink) on their microscopically short silk dress with nothing on underneath (or whatever it is young, nubile, Southern California women who don’t mind having a boyfriend who makes smut, and are incredibly hot, wear on first dates) and run out to their Prius (or whatever it is young, nubile, Southern California women who don’t mind having a boyfriend who makes smut, and are incredibly, mind bogglingly hot, drive).

    6) Start dating Sasha Grey. Needless to say I have not tried this one either, but something tells me it would cure any form of depression.


    Douglas Theatre

  7. When I first moved to L.A., a wise man gave me a pep talk and told me that “L.A. is good at making anyone feel small.”

    I’ve found temporary solace in dimestore wine and malt liquor, but I think the best way to get over the blues is to get out and get some variety: museums, movies, the ocean, ethnic food from a to z, oddball events that seem to happen every weekend — L.A.’s got a bit of everything for everyone.

    As other wise men (including Woody Guthrie, who possibly originated this) have said: “Take it easy, but take it.”

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