Narration into drunk phone call: What is the most important thing in the world, (dialogue from 3 kings) money! You blurted out, wrongly. Then George Clooney replied smugly necessity, he said, to his rhetorical question. Now, it frustrates and saddens me to see how consistent acts of kindness beget only indifference, and sometimes scorn. Taken for granted I am, but of course I understand (even if it pains me to do so) I know how helpless I am, in the face of your need. That overwhelming impulse you have to fill the hollow. An unrelenting drive that surges like lava flow to act out, to seduce, to impress, to absorb. To hold court, it's built to snag weaker minds, your web holds minions and the bats, bats and minions, the endless parade that makes you feel alive Including one old fool name Dave who's facing his demise (alone as we all do) Narrator pauses, and we hear liqour poured, he continues: However, we had a deal you promised you'd come back early. So we can be focused on the shoot tomorrow, but your needs take precedence over our collaboration. Oh sure I know you can be fabulous without sleep even with a sore throat Confronting success, you yearn for failure. You just gotta walk that tightrope, tempt fate. Stretch it to the limit, see if it will snap you and your web. And I'm the humpty dumpty who comes tumbling after. You make a mockery of all my works and me. By these small inconsiderate slights. Which are looming in my brain. When at 3:30 in the morning I can't sit still. Even after taking a Valium. Wondering if you're okay. Wondering if you're crashed out at Lucky's. Without even having the common decency to call me. Wondering if I can raise you in the morning at 8:00 AM When we were supposed to get ready, so we can catch the morning light. It's just not professional behavior Jeremi. And what's more it's a deep personal slap in my face. You do so take me for granted. Oh yeah thanks for the freebie (trick) I'd traded a dozen of them for one kind phone call in answer to my manic panicky pages. No, no.. I'm not mad at you. You're my lover and I'd do anything for you as I said and as you so well know. However, it saddens me that it's a one way street. Isn't it? THURSDAY, MAY 27 1999, 9:00PM (somewhere in america) - How's it going? - Fine, how are you? - You were completely psychotic last night, I wanted to let you know that. - And you were fine? - Whatta you talkin about, I was being the normal fuckin socialite that I am. - Did you hear what you said to me? - What? - On the phone? - {pause} - You don't remember? - Whatta ya mean I don't remember it like "that you count on your fuckin brother's fuckin credit cards", shit like that? - Everything you said. - Yeah, I remember everything I said. - Okay. - Whattayou think, I'm fuckin crazy? - Yep. - No. Listen David, everything I say is the fuckin truth man. All I ever been lookin for in my entire life is 'production'. Know what I'm sayin? Everything's been a pipe-dream. Everything's right underneath the illusion, the whole fuckin time. I don't care if I got The Horus Show on video to show my goddam friends. Know what they say to me? Wonderful! Wonderful, Chavez. You're still fuckin broke ... You'r e still going to fuckin jail for cultivating marijuana in fuckin July ... You're still nothing but a fuckin Hollywood hustler. I mean, c'mon! Really, man. What boat do you think I've been in. - (no response) - I mean you-you-you treat me like I'm-I'm like so me kinda Fantasm-o- Force, that-that is so capable of like, you know, capable of saving the fuckin universe! And really, I'm just oarin a fuckin galley-boat. Man. Oaring a galley- boat. And I just know how to throw a couple colors together, and a couple words together, and all of a sudden, I become like, the ultimate perpitrator of the manipulation. Shit. I mean incredible. Really. - So what did you call me for? - For my goddam sandals. Whatayouthink. - I beg your pardon? - Cuz I want my goddam sandals, whatayouthink. - He threw them out last week. (sal, the el salvadorian house boy) - Ohmygod, he threw my sandals out?! - Yes. You said, "throw them out." - I was being facetious about how I would throw them out cuz I thought you would replace them. But that's okay. - Is that all you called me about? - No that's not all I called you about, I was just checkin on prognosis, man. Hey, didja see how you acted in front of that chick that was grabbin my tits? Man, you were, you were by far the most totally obviously fuckin schizophrenic homo-homo-homosexual I've ever seen in my entire life. Do you think you tricked that chick, by like your tone of voice? You're totally dead wrong. She pinned you before I even fuckin laid claim. You know? - So is that what you called me about? - No that's not what I called you about, but I just wanted to let you know, that I mean, heh. Realistically: Y'know it's not like (this is wear pills and booze don't mix well) Ontario Airport, and like, Ross like leaving to Michigan into like, some ultimate fuckin sin lie bullshit threesome. ( I'm totally WASTED!) Really the bottom line is this: I used Ross for a few hours to get what I needed. And then after that he was on his fuckin own. (Ross is my child hood best friend) He can get to Ontario Airport anytime he sees fit. He wants to miss his fuckin plane flight that's fine with me, if he wants to cash in his ticket that's fine with me, I don't give a fuck. The bottom line is for four hours I needed him and that was irreplaceable. Because HE held the key to Michael fuckin McCarthy's mind! Wanna know why he held the key, Dave? Cuz he is the one who told Michael..what Michael wanted to hear. And what Michael wanted to hear was the exact opposite of what I know to be the facts. Now what the facts were was, is.. you know what, is that it was all Ross' scheme, but he turned it into MY scheme, I was the perpetrator, therefore I suffer. Obviously. We both knew that to begin with. We both knew that to begin with. (we stole the car and drove to vegas) Yet I still suffer for it. Because of what. Cuz we figured it out two weeks ago? And what now, it's just a big fucking you know, dice-roll? Like you claim? I mean c'mon man. What fuckin universe do you live in? - So what did you call me for? - (Sigh) I'm just callin cuz I have a couple of things of yours and you have a coupla things of mine. Group it together, I'll group mine together and we can fuckin switch up. - Fine. If that's what you want, fine with me. - (Sigh) I mean, I want more than that, what do you think I called you for, Dave? You know. - Well - You're the only fuckin window I've got to the outside fuckin world, you know? Got me in a helluva tight perdicament. What do I gotta do? Jump through fire? Prove myself to the galaxy? Be the ultimate homo, be the ultimate fuckin heterosexual? Be everything that I'm not? What kind of artist am I, Dave? You know? - Okay ... If you're calling me to harangue me and give me one of your monologues. - HARANGUE YOU!?! Man I'm callin you to tell you the fuckin truth! And you know what you shove it off like it's nothing anyway. It's typical. - Well, what is the truth, Horus? I don't know --. - The truth is. I am just a fuckin 24-yr-old man. Who wass born in 1974. Who wants to have a fuckin baby. And fuckin you.. you know, be an artist. Whooptie-doo. Big goal! House on the fuckin hill. Y'know, jet airplanes to France, man. What are my fucking goals? Nothing! Manipulate the gay? Doubt it. Only obstacle I have to face? Sure, I mean c'mon, you know the fuckin storybook. Whattayawant from me --. - I don't want anything. - I have a fuckin mind that is so fuckin phenomenally out there, man. ( luny) I'm so tied into more than you'd ever dream of. You'd make more money from me than anything you could ever think of. And you piss me away for your dick! - Jeremi, I don't want to talk about this. - Bullshit. Think about that. - I don't wanna talk to you about this anymore. - Y'know you never viewed me as a professional, David. Don't even fuckin lie to yourself. - Okay Jeremi. - Tell me you you viewed me as professional! - OF COURSE you're not professional! - TELL ME I'm a fuckin artist! - You're a rank amateur, a rank amateur. You're missing a moral thread without which your rug cannot be held together. - Aw man - You end up doing your devil invocations and -- - Dude, your moral thread is what society has taught you is the right brush-stroke. - Okay Jeremi. - Hey, know what would be the right brush-stroke? Hey, take directions, right? You've lost what the soul does! YOU CAN'T HANDLE what the soul does!! Can you (i'm gibbering mad at this point) - Jeremi, what do you want from me. - Fuckin creep, man y'know what? You know what? You guys have got your guidelines, you know what us artists really have, David? The drive to prove our point! You conform! We don't! You represent fuckin conformity! You're such a fuckin liar! - Huh. - You are such a fuckin liar. What do you conform to? - Jeremi, what do you want? - What do you mean, "what do I want!?" Listen to you, I want you to admit to the fact you're such a fuckin liar! - Jeremi, what are you calling me for? - You never, the only thing you ever cared about, dude. The only thing you ever cared about was fuckin my cock, and never a fuckin poem or never a fuckin brush-stroke. - Jeremi, come on - Admit it! - No Jeremi. - Fuck you, admi t it! - No Jeremi. - Oh yeah? - Never. - Prove that to me, huh? - I've been proving it to you since I've known you. - What. Shit. I mean what's the difference between me and Brad Pitt, he's got better fuckin dialogue? Huh? You left him alone, but you fuckin hadda what, y'know, entrap me? (you have got to be ill even to drag mr. pitt into the conversation this far along) - Jeremi. - What! - You're out of your mind now. - I'm outta my mind now, what, cuz Brad Pitt's a big fuckin star? Man lemme tell you something -- - Jeremi everything you're saying.. - There's no fuckin difference between me and ANYONE OF YOU fuckin complete irrational Hollywood mirrors ... - Jeremi, stop the drugs, it's making you nuts --. - Stop the drugs!? David! Lemme tell you something man. Lemme tell you something: Drugs are not, drugs are not, the truth is so fuckin relevent, that it's disgusting. - Jeremi -- - Y'know, lemme tell you why 1000 fabulous artists have killed themselves, David! LEMME TELL YOU WHY 1000 FABULOUS ARTISTS HAVE KILLED THEMSELVES, DAVID! BECAUSE YOU MOTHERFUCKING BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE CONFORM AND ROUTINE YOURSELVES INTO A PREDATORY LIFESTYLE OF SUCH FASCIST, FLESHIST, FUCKIN SODOMIZING VULGARIAN BULLSHIT,you couldn't appreciate a fuckin yellow upon a red!' (taken from the horus horror show tapings) copyright.. hell..po.box your momma. B.C.C anada. suckers!!!!!