Madison Reese Is Saving My Soul...

It needs to be written.... it just does... I don't know why you sent me ** *** *** **** when you did...you said Monday night I had never asked to read it...not true...but that is neither here nor there...point being it was the perfect set up for me to hate it or misread it and be done...there was a shift Monday night like there always is in due time..I was coming off a ********* romance followed by a dive into ******* shenanigans rounded out by a day on *** ******* rooftop and finally a dinner with you...even if I had the capacity to care I didn't...I was on sensory overload...spending far too much time with far too many people...and giving away parts of myself ad nauseum....surely by Monday I would be a shell of a human being..but it was you and it was dinner...so we were off...me harping on the same subject over and over...you taking some of it in...some of it not so much...read into every move....every deflection...hey, old habits die hard...it was fine..it is what it is...gave you a sucker...drove away...felt like I had haphazardly tied a bow on the relationship...got my closure...would be okay...not the perfect end...but I got what I needed....woke up to rain...perfect excuse to spend some time with myself...reflecting...writing...figuring out my next move at leisure...then there it was no subject no text...** *** *** ****...aww fuck me I thought...remembering back to snippets in your blog...boo hoo some fucking **** ****** and his trust fund...screwing "world talent" to make himself feel whole...I had dated and known many **** ******* in my life and didn't feel like I needed to read his words to know otherwise...or so I thought...I have faith in your writing...stating the obvious??...and I am sure it would be thrilling ride through travels of the world and I could see it selling and I could laugh a little bit because there would be pieces of you, mr. smith, littered throughout...so what the hell...curled up in my bed...propping my pillows so I could lay sideways and plow through a couple of chapters....I will not bore you with a play by play of the next few hours...I will not rehash every emotion (lie)...but you should know some of it..I fell in literary love..harder than I have ever fallen before...tearing open my insides than had been so carefully concealed...inspired, inspired piece...I turned off my phone (you don't know this about me...but that does NOT happen...you should even feel flattered I didn't sit with the damn thing in my lap at dinner-okay I did that part of the time but not the whole)...anyway...I got lost in the story of *** and ****...every character so clear...understood a broken ****...fell in love with a sweet ***...laughed at ******* candor and wit...**** tenderness still resonates in the depths of my soul..******** so stoic..***** so crazed (****** letter to ******---stab me in the face!)...not to mention **, ****** (s), *****, ****, and ******...oh ******...I'm reading into this and I don't care if you tell me I am wrong...part of Reese is her...I saw it...poor thing....I had to make myself slow down and read every word...and then reread until it seeped in...branding my eyelids...searing my heart...the book grabbed ahold and would not let go...so much so that I cried for an hour after....whaling and writhing...mourning the **** ** ***...it's all so vivid...I was transported into a world I never wanted to leave...throughout the morning I have gone back over your words..making sure I didn't miss a beat...memorizing the rollercoaster...every turn every drop...like I said forever changed...seeing your real life characters make appearances...still can't get through a chapter-a sentence without weeping...pulling my hoody tight around my head willing myself to stop..jamming a ******* ***** ****** in my mouth in a feeble attempt to pacify my childlike emotions...that ugly contorted crying that sets ones soul on fire and somehow releases one onto the world....the brilliant part about last night is I had my hour of guts and heart on the floor and then I had to pick myself up for an important dinner where ********* had to be fully present...entertaining a table full of drunk wasps and old "friends"...because while I am a hurricane (inside and out) there was the composure, the wall up, keeping the secret...life carries on....and I feel sorry for the world for having not been privied to the world of **** ****** and *** *******...it is a fucking life changer...a wild ride...and I shit you not when I say I finished that last word...the wind fully knocked out of me..my mind whirling around 7,000 questions and feelings...it took a full minute to realize **** *** **** ********...*** **** *** *******...it is certain now...wasn't it always??.your talents should not be wasted on me...they have to be shared with the world ...again you don't need me to tell you this....but anyone who does not get this book...does not understand the world and what it needs...and for that they are fucking cunts...that forming chip on your shoulder...that pull to Thailand...is fully understood..I said it before I had even read it...but go my boy and write that brilliant fucking follow up to ** *** *** ****...because the world needs a lot more *** ********....but there is only one **** ******...and at this moment I don't think I can live without him...there you go my final assessment- you, ****** ******* *****, fucking surpassed the literary titans, don't you ever fucking forget it.

Madison Reese...

I think she said she wrote me sometime in July for the first time. Some kind of spill her guts e-mail saying things like, wow you're great...I've read your history - It's kept me up late nights many nights. Then she told me I was all at once an egotistical cocksucker...called me fascinating...then boring...smug and false...judging my missteps and conquests with women...dealing with all the dickhead selfish and hurtful things I constantly say and claim. Every now and then I get an e-mail from some girl posing either as herself or someone else, telling me I moved her, telling me I wow her, essentially wanting to have a better connection with me - some guy who writes about things on the internet, hopefully truthfully, maybe over dramatically, but always with honesty.

Anyway, Reese came to me because she was in need of something. At first, because we're trained to do so, I thought it might all be a bit too much. After all, here was a girl who wasn't even offering me her name, her identity, and she was spilling her life to me...asking me to spill my life to her. I don't remember the point, but there was certainly a point where things changed between us, at least for me. I stopped seeing her as some girl trying to reach out and grab something she could never have - statements like that piss her off wildly and she'll be sure to tell me all about it, leaning back on the ever too familiar, you're such an incredibly arrogant motherfucker, or something in the ballpark. I don't mean for this to sound overly sentimental, but at some point she turned into a friend...and at some point I sat back in my chair after sending a long reply to a long e-mail she had sent and thought to myself something like, wow...28 years old and does a girl in this world know me better in this moment than one I've never met...one who hasn't even given me her name. Interesting moment for a reflective soul, I'll give that.

It's something after 8 on a Thursday. We've both been busy for the past few weeks, trading e-mails about meeting up, a face-to-face but it hasn't yet been allowed to happen. Tonight works. I'm taking a drive to the Beverly Hills Hotel. I'm going to have a cocktail in the Polo Lounge and told Reese to meet me there. She'll read this sometime before or after she goes and will undoubtedly give me shit - especially for preemptively stealing her thunder about giving me shit for writing another post about her. I think she's thinking a little bit too much about this right now. I think it's working her up, nerves and such. I think she is nervous as hell to see me, to reveal herself to me and I understand why but don't. I love myself and think I'm hot shit but mostly for the sake of arc. Maybe she thinks I'm something I'm not. Maybe I fail to give myself proper credit. Is that even possible? I'm going to tell her that I don't want to know her real name...because to me it will always be false. Reality and truth came in the form of a false reach out a long time ago. Seeing this girl and meeting this girl isn't going to change anything for me. What she is has been engraved - this struggling and talented and fierce and wounded and confused fucking bitch that I want to sit in front of and say something like, I got you if you got me. We're gonna be just fine.

Madison Reese: "Expect Something In The Mail Soon..."

Honestly Reese, if it's anything less than Gweneth Paltrow's head, I'm going to be severely disappointed.

Madison Reese Is Pissed!!!

Because I mentioned her so glancingly on my blog last night. Maybe because I didn't do her enough justice on my blog last night. See, since that first and introductory post, me and Reese have been going back and fourth talking about the beauty and shit of the world. And she wondered why I didn't tell the world of her insanity or edge. She's fucking batshit, no doubt. I mean, she has to be to have held me this long. She absolutely deserves more, and deserves to know that I absolutely will always treat her with delicacy - and not only because this all started because of our mutual love for me. I am amazing - and we absolutely celebrate that! But I digress...because she's a talent in her own right - even if she's hiding behind shadows and names. At the end of the day, aren't we all? I certainly fucking am. She'll send me quotes from Kerouac and tell me they reminded her of me...she'll call me out and tell me I'm a cunt (I think she's called me a cunt...or something like it) when I step out of line and behave poorly in the world. If she doesn't write or respond for a good stretch, I'll wonder what I did...such a child.

How bout some of the best of Madison Reese - some scared and brilliantly interesting girl's alter-ego. She says she can't behave like this in the real world, that it only comes through e-mails sent to me. Fucking shame. But anyway, here...we hold up the Reeses...

I do hate people like you that can just be done with someone after a hang up----I will never know why yall do that—PERSONAL STORY ALERT—less than a year ago I stole my best friends boyfriend—yes I am the dirty mistress--im too addicted to the people I once loved to ever give up on them---because I choose to remember the good times and block out the bad---probably why I get stepped on and hurt by the same people over and over---im always gripping into darkness for control and coming up empty handed followed by I dive into cookie cake or vodka and cigarettes---either/or its disgusting and very Bridget Jones-esque---sexy?? I always just want what I cant have---it’s the inner 5 yo in me –but I also wont settle for less (hopefully?) than some great love story---because I am that asshole that believes The Notebook, Tristan and Isolde, and now Twilight are real---oh the shame in admitting that! A boy once told me “life is a lot less romantic than you think and the longer you believe that it is the longer you will be alone.”

I'm going to call you out---its what I do...why do you say your ex is so crazy?? what makes her so crazy?? did she throw shit? manipulate you??? key your car?? Did she live passionately?? did she lie and cheat and steal??? do you love her just because she is still beautiful or do you love her because she was always changing always challenging?? making you think you were never quite good enough....but then just when you thought it wasn't possible she would whisper sweet nothings in post coital bliss and you would think "i cant believe she mine I cant believe she picked me----no one has ever loved this openly and honestly and freely"

Don’t you get it? I am jealous of you! Jealous that you put yourself out there and you fight for what you want and you don’t take no for an answer. I call you cocky-you are- but I think the better word is confident. True confidence-you back it up with hard work and precision you take the steps to succeed but you somehow don’t seem desperate-what’s your secret?? I guess you are a breath of fresh air-I know I come off as a fan or a love sick school girl or some sort of admirer but someone should tell you---really tell you- without wanting anything in return that you have the makings of someone great---an don’t the great ones die young anyway? I didn’t mean to tear down something so rare- honest uncensored thought- I just wanted a reaction- some attention from you and I didn’t know another way----guess my “master plan” worked? Because even if you do make me angry at least you make me something! Its almost tomorrow and you will be over this girl “Madison” because deep down I know you wonder who I am- who I could be. Maybe im your fairy godmother sent to you to help you along in your success to test you the way no one else does.

She thinks she would disappoint me if I ever met her...maybe because I project poison on here sometimes...maybe because that's my shadow. When she says that, I'm ashamed of it. Somewhat. And at the same time, I am poison, absolutely. Saying anything but that would be deceit.

She sent me a picture of herself late last night. To me, it's fascinating...this dance that's so unnecessary but that I'll probably turn into a television show someday. Regardless of how one chooses to look at this situation, Reese has absolutely become a part of my life. And like Bob Greene wrote in the Sun Times or Tribune after he answered my mother's plea to get her children tickets to The Bozo Show in Chicago -- this wont happen a second time. At some point in my life, I decided the noble thing to chase would be no mask - to throw it all out there and sink or swim, give the best and worst of myself and lose any attachment to the consequence. Reese ain't quite there. That's fine. Maybe it's better that way - she knows me enough to know this wont be some movie romance. She knows. Regardless of anything and everything else, I think this is beautiful...a picture of my crazy bitch penpal. The second she tells me to take it down, I will. Until then, ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to the wonderful, the beautiful (no matter what kind of self depricating shit she'll throw back at me), the motherfucking crazed Madison Reese...

The Killers - Hollywood Bowl - 9/16/09...

I said something crazy and true to my friend tonight, something like I mark my life through the shows I've seen, the amazing shows...the ones that turn my axis by degrees at a time and make me a little bit something else for having witnessed. Tonight was a little bit like that, no doubt.

I turned at another point and said something about Brandon Flowers that I've said many times...that motherfucker speaks to me - everything he says and does, the manner in which he behaves. I wrote him into my fucking book - actual Brandon Flowers into actual We Are The Dusk...because it felt valid as some form of tribute - to mark the times and to mark my soul. That. Mother. Fucker. Speaks. To. Me. When I meet him, I'll tell him. On the last song, he said something exactly like, okay...we are going to play this song as hard as we can - I hope you try and receive it as hard as you can. Fuck.

They played Dustland Fairytale and Sweet Talk...fucking Sweet Talk. Amazing. Sweet talk. I left with my boy and we grabbed some Thai and talked about the world and our night inside of it.

At some point, they played the cover of that band UB40's cover - which was Elvis, correct? - and he was singing something exactly like, I can't help falling in love with you. I wished I had someone to kiss...someone to make me mean it.

I haven't slept in days or so it feels.

Madison Reese is writing me right now. The Madison Reese. We've been trading blows for a month or two now. No idea who this girl is. She saw me on my birthday, a little more than a little tipped at Katy Perry and said nothing. Tonight, she told me she was going to find me at the Bowl and introduce herself or something like it. Never happened. There were 2 girls who thought they were coming with me tonight and I don't know what happened. I invent distance. I saw Hands lurking in the crowd and wanted to say hello. I texted her. I'm not sure what happened. I've been losing things lately. I've been drifting, working very had...very hard. My eyes are so heavy right now. That show was remarkable. I want to give chase. I want to give chase.

Madison Reese...

Every now and again, I get reader e-mail. This one turned my head for a handful of reasons, and since I'm a glutton for fodder, perhaps it's best we discuss it here...because I'm a firm believer that with smoke comes fire...because fires need to either be fed or extinguished. I'm not sure which I'm doing here. The only thing I'm taking out will be potentially identifiable characteristics. I haven't a clue who this...but someone might. So...

...

Your Blog...

So here is the thing….I have debated for months on whether to write you or not….you came into my world in the fall of 2008----I took you spinning class at equinox---no I wasn’t one of the ******* ** ***** * *** * ***** ** **** ******* *** ******* huffing and puffing and trying not to get ass sweat (sexy I know). I thought you were gay….dont be offended being a ******* girl I think most men in LA are gay…unless they tell me otherwise. You never noticed me. You never looked in my direction…but I took your class a couple more times listened to you guide us with your cosmic energy watched as you pushed the girls (and lets be honest most of the guys) with your charm and your playlist….heavy on Kings of Leon and Radiohead….I could tell you were a lover, a manipulator, and man with a story. It wasn’t until 5 months ago when I began reading your blog that I began to put your life together…extremely confident, somewhat talented, and the most passionate person I have ever known (seen/read/been aware of). I guess to say I know you would be wrong. I know the point of your blog is to put your thoughts out there I don’t know if its for peace of mind or the hopes that your true love will read it or someone in the industry namely Danny McBride (I asked BJ-his asst---he hasn’t heard anything about it) would stumble upon your yearning to write for EAD. You make me happy and angry all at once. You are so confident, almost cocky, we have mutual friends, I respect you for some, I question you for others. I admire your commitment to health (this shouldn’t mean much I mainly eat my feelings---mostly mcdonalds---and rarely exercising---it’s a form of self loathing). I think you are a great hustler in a town of hustlers---you have waited on me before----I was with * *********---a ****** *****----you barely looked at me---instead you told a story of baseball and Illinois---and made quips---you thought were charming----I thought were annoying. You have magnetism---and you know it. You are very self aware---and to be honest you are a great writer---I wonder if you have a small dick---I get that you have huge balls---but where are the faults??? You say all these women hit on you---I do not doubt it----but no self deprecating humor---no questioning---every time I read your blog I buy into the bullshit---ive read it in its entirety---I have a lot of a sleepless nights---im **********---ok to be honest ive never really been ********---living off of * ***** and hating every minute---we are beyond different---our problems are never the same---so I guess the reason I am writing is to find out----is it real??? Are you this person or are you projecting?? Have you had the successes with your specs and scripts or are you moonlighting as someone on the verge of success??? Do you believe in happily ever after??? I don’t know what answers I am looking for I don’t even know why I am writing ----just give me something---another letter will come again---when my thoughts are more clear----until then…..

Ps I used no punctuation and bad grammar to piss you off??? Did it work?? Do you get mad about stuff like that???

My name isnt madison reese----it isnt even close----im too much of a coward to reveal my identity---too scared you wont respond

pps this is by far the creepiest thing i have EVER done

Madison

...

I wrote back saying this is the kind of thing I would do, writing someone like this. I'm the kind of guy who has dozens of unsent e-mails sitting in his outbox, addressed to guess who(s), never having any intention of sending them. So I get it, and the whole art of expression through words. I don't know why exactly, but I felt like this one needs to be taken on here. This is not creepy. Or, if it is...then I'm creepy too and fuck the world. I'm right, they're wrong.

I got this e-mail as I was leaving to drive to San Francisco on friday and it moved me through some self-reflection, which is essentially what this entire blog is. It's selfish and self stroking and now this letter is a part of that, because to be honest, it got me off...and I don't think that was the intention. Sure, there are some digs and it might make you wonder if, say, my confidence is compensation for having a small dick, but in full disclosure, it's an ego feeder. So thank you, sweet Madison. Now, this may be a one time thing and I'll be over it tomorrow, but if you write a blog in this world and people get invested...so much that they come at you...I think you owe them something. So, let's begin...

- Not Gay.
- Somewhat talented? Please.
- Peace of mind.
- My true love (word choice) will never have to read my blog.
- No agency is going to give a spec episode of EBD to Danny McBride, too much hustle too little money.
- Hustler? I could have fucked my way out of the service industry a long time ago. I work.
- I make quips behind the bars I work. I am charming. You probably weren't THAT annoyed. I know what I'm doing.
- I am very self aware, hyper sensitive. Sometimes, I have a hard time dealing because of it.
- No.
- My blog, so far, is essentially about my failure to be the two things in this world I desire to be - a lover and a writer. I've never put a term on that before, because that's not the kind of thing I do, but if I had to pick a term, what would it be more than self-deprecation?
- I've had "success" as a writer. You're writing me, aren't you? Truth, no...not really. After all, I still work in a restaurant and have made that pretty clear. People like me don't choose to work in a restaurant. In terms of EBD...all that stuff is either true or a large handful of industry people are conspiring to fuck with me. It's 30 pages, it's a great script. I can write. I played baseball. As you know, I have something of an ego. I know recreational drug abuse. Clearly, you know the show. Do the math.
- Did my last spec get love then get blasted in studio coverage? Yes. Did it get me signed? Yes. Am I on the verge of success? By world definition...I believe so. Could I be wrong? No.
- Happily ever after? I think you're asking about two lovers and I don't know that. If I died tomorrow and someone were writing my story, they could say I lived happily ever after. And I'm alone. Right now, I've everything I need. So yes.
- Bad grammar pisses me off. Spelling is worse.

Is this me? Am I this?

Yes.